Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1917-03-01
in The world.

mysterious, which, so far, nobody
has been able to analyze. Why
are they cheerful? Why are they
glad to live? What makes them
c%ontented? Wrapped in dreary
ignorance, they enthrone them
selves on content and defy the
world. Why is it2 It's a pretty
little psychological problem which,
by careful study, | hope some day
to solve
He found himself now in a posi-
ton to continue his studies. The
room was occupied by Miss Elsie
Downey, a stenographer. She was
blond, by birth, and of a perfect
complexion, by purchase. She had
blue eyes, like a dolls, and she
overshot the height of fashion in
her dress. Her smile was eternal.
Her voice went into the nasal on
her high notes, and it was always
on a high note that she ended her
sentences.
Blond headed, ~boneheaded and
garrulous-bu good hearted" he
had described her on a previous
occasion, and had added: II won.
der why she is good hearted. |
wish | knew"
Good afternoon, Miss Dow
ney, he greeted her, going slowly
toward the typewriter desk at
which she sat.
How do you do, Mr.. Waller!''
She made the response shoot up in
linguistic sound, like a ladder.
lis that high minded, construct
i've statesman, Mr.. M~annersley,
around-or any other noble de-
fender of the grog shops?" he in
qulred, swinging his cam and
smiling.
Miss Downey became indignant.
'Iou shouldn't talk about Mr..
Mannersley that way!" she OBJ
jected.
'You are a disappointment,
Miss Downey," he sighed. "You,
too, spring hotly to the defense of
anybody who happens to be your
payroll"
ooh, Mr.. Waller" She turned
toward her notebook.
"And Mr.. Smith-has he been
in?"
What Mr.. Smith?"
The only Mr.. Smith in the
World-the somewhat energetic
gentleman who'll make the sky
lights of the House rattle before
he gets through"
"Oh, that Mr.. Smith," Miss
Downey,s enthusiasm broke her
record for staccato e%nunciation.
I'm just dying to see him. Madge
Atklns-she works down in Con
gresham Blore' s office, you know
-Madge says She seen him. She
says his shoulders are just .ovesl'
Waller balanced himself against
his cane and looked at Miss Dow
ney IN frank and open admiration.
Will YOU" he asked, "tell me
something's"
Why, certainly, Mr.. Waller!,'
"Now, then, do you believe
life's worth living2'
"Of course it is
Il thank you. If you have
found it so, it must be so. I bow
to your superior Judgment" He
bowed almost to the floor. "But
Mr.. Mannersley-is he in?"
Yes, he's in, but he's en-
gagged"
"Then III wait"
he took a chair at the table in
the center of the room. On his
right was the door leading into
Mannerslcy's private office. and
on the left another opening into
the meeting room of the com.
mittee.
He addressed another question
to Miss Downey.
u beg your pardon" he said.
IN his most winning tone, "but do
you drink?"
"Oh, | take a cocktail whenever
L go out to dinner, Mr.. Waller.n
"You do?" His surprise seemed
immense.
Why certainly!' Her manner
would have been the same if she
had slapped him on the wrist.
"Why?"
ooh, you know everybody
thinks you amt exactly-well,
swell, if you don't do that!"
Cholllewollie looked at her in 81.
lence a few moments.
Il was right" he assured her
solemnly. I've been right all
along. These whisky people who
say prohibition isn't worth any.
thing because, while the "dry''
territory grows, the per capita
CONSUMPTION of alcohol ;noro..