The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1917-02-03

| and start over again?"
He held out his hand.
CHAPTER XVI.
Late September had come. The
Street had been furiously busy for a
month. The cobblestones had gone,
and from curb to curb stretched smooth
asphalt. To this general excitement
the strange case of Mr.. LIE Moyne had
added its quota. One day he was in
the gas office, making out statements
that were absolutely ridiculous. And
the next there was the news that Mr..
LIE Moyne had been only taking a holi-
day in the gas office and that he was
really very great surgeon and had
saved DR.. Max Wilson.
The Street, which was busy at the
time deciding whether to leave the old
sidewalks or to put down cement ones,
had one evening of mad excitement
over the matter-of K, not the side
walks-and then had accepted the new
situation.
But over the news Of KS approach
Ing departure it mourned. The Street
made resolve to keep K, if possible,
II he had shown any ''high and might
ness," as they called it, since the
change in his estate, it would have let
him go without protest. But when a
man is the real thing-so that the
newspapers give column to his hav-
Ing been in the city almost two years.
and still goes about in the same shabby
clothes, with the same friendly greet
ing for everyone, it demonstrates clear
", as the baritone put it, that ''he's got
no swelled head on him; that's sure"
A little later, K, coming up the
Street as he had that first day, heard
the baritone singing:
Home is the hunter. home from the hill.
AND the sailor. home from the sea-"
Home! Why, this was home. The
street seemed to stretch out it's arms
to him. The ailanthus tree waved in
the sunlight before the little house.
Tree and house were old; September
had touched them. Christine sat sew
Ing on the balcony. A boy with piece
Of chalk was writing something on the
new cement under the tree. He stood
back, head on one side, when he had
finished, and inspected his work. K.
tead in chalk on the smooth street:
Max Wilson.
Sidney Page. 8
The baritone was still singing; but
now it was ''Im twenty-one, and she's
eighteen" The light was gone from
KS face again. After all, the Street
meant for him not SO much home as it
meant Sidney. And now, before very
.ong, that book OF his life, like others,
would have to be closed.
He turned and went heavily into the
little house.
Christine called to him from her lit-
:ls balcony:
Il thought heard your step outside
i6nve you time to cor,c in?"
h. went through the purIor and stood
Il the Tong window. His steady eyes
4Nken down at her.
II see very little of you now" She
:onplained. And, when he did moi
taply Immediately: "llave sou made,
Any dCEnlre pans, A.E
II shall do NTux's work until he is
-ble to take hold again. After that
"You will go away?"
II think so. l am getting good
many letters, one way and another. !
suppose, now I'm back in harness, I'll
stay. My old place is closed. I'd 80
back there-they want me. But II
seems SO futile. Christine, to leave us
lid, because felt that had no right
to go on as things were; and now to
crawl back on the strength of having
had my hand forced, and to take ur
things again, not knowing that I've &
bit more right to do it than when
left!"
II went to see Max yesterday. You
know what he thinks about all that"
He took an uneasy turn up and down
The balcony.
"But who?" he demanded. "Whe
would do such thing? tell you.
Christine, it is impossible"
She did not pursue the subject. Her
thoughts had flown ahead to the little
house without X, to days without his
steps on the stairs or the heavy creak
IF his big chair overhead as he dropped
into it.
But perhaps it would be better If he
went. She had her own life to live.
She had no expectation of happiness,
but, somehow or other she must build
On the shaky foundation Of her mar.
riage house Of life, with resignation
serving for content, perhaps with fear
lurking always. That she knew. But
with no active misery. Misery implied
Infection, and her love for Palmer was
quite dead.
"Sidney will be here this afternoon"
"GOod." His tone was n00commit.
hi.
"Has It occurred TO yop. <. that Gid.