Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1917-04-20

rs THERE A MIR. WILSON HERE7" SHE
ASKED IN AN UNCERTAIN vOICE
sunburst Of its originality he beat his
leg and roared speechlessly, while a
series of equally delighted but subdued
sounds behind him family stirred the
night.
Miss Helms Eyes glimmered and
danced as, with her elbows Oh hei
knees and her chin in her palms, she
watched Lame Mort shrewdly. did
you see what l put in that paper2" she
asked.
He nodded. "Know it by heart"
"You see. 1 hadn't no intention Of
m%arryin' a man I'd " seen. Well,
I've got other clothes in here"-she
slapped the end of the telescope, and
the hoe jingled against the rake-"but
| always wear mems clothes doin'
farm work, SO / jist kept EN- on to
come in, thinkin' that if Mr.. Wilson
was particular how his wife looked
he'd run away. But when 1 see you,"
naively, ~ wished / had the other
buds on!'
Here she paused, and Lame Mort
was aware of an unusual commotion
In progress beneath his left ribs which
interfered c%uriously with his breath
ing, blurring his vision and dulling his
hearing.
but he didn't wait to find out
whether l intended to marry him or
not" continued Miss Olga, the humor
In her eyes overlooking and attacking
the corners of her mouth. $50 I look
at it this way: Eve done my part, and
he hain't done his, so / don't W him
anything-do I?-my passage money, l
mean"
Lame Mort scratched his head and
chased after one of the ideas which a
brilliant thought had but just dissi-
pated. The commotion in his left chest
was growing apace and increasing that
dullness of hearing which shut out the
murmur of dissent floating put of the
obscure background.
mo, mol" he finally burst out. you
don't owe Goat a da-darned cent on
that hundred"
"Then you know all about it." inter
rupted Miss Helm in relief. But l
want to be fair, and here's this that's
botherin' me- She locked her hands
around her knees. 81 saved fifty of
that by comm third class on an excur-
sion. Now, does that belong to him or
me? l wonder" she interrupted her
self hopefully, 'how far he's run
A voice behind them detached itself
from the general eager murmur and
answered Unexpectedly: Fifty mile by
this time, jedgin' from the way he
hiked out. He won't never be back fer
~damages!'
This reply aroused Lame Mort to a
realizing sense of the divers interested
but shrouded ears, to escape the range
of which he moved close to Miss Olga
and sat down on a keg of mackerel.
His late brilliant thought had taken
complete possession of him.
81 can't see, Miss Heinz he began
in so low a tone that a wave of indig
nation swept in on them from without
the circle of light can't see where
a%nybody's bein' cheated In this ex
eeptin' -
"Who?" queried Miss Helm in alarm.
81 didn't know there was any one else
mixed up in it."
IT'S the justice of the peace" sol
EMMY. Hes waitin' to marry you to
some one, and it amt right to disap-
point him." Lame Mort hesitated.
choked, swallowed his heart, fshed his
voice up from a resounding vacuum,
observed Miss Helms reddening cheek
and finished so boldly that his words
penetrated the outer darkness. And
it don't make a bit of difference to
him whether it's Goat or me-"
ut makes a LIT of difference to me"
1etugned Miss IIetn mildly, but prompt
~. "Wherc does the justice liver
She rose and reached for her bundle.
but Lame Mort CALAMITY stayed her
hand, and a moment later the gloomy
background was resonant with a STAN
pede of departing footsteps. The male
population of Cody were speeding away
to prepare the justice for the change of
program.
The poorest way to face life is to face