The Farmington times. (Farmington, St. Francois County, Mo.) 1905-1926, 1917-06-08

Blake pushed aside the lawyers arm.
Davis" his dry lips struggled fran
tically with the words-"pm going
to give you just one minute
to leave my house,"
The lawyer reached for his hat and
stick. very well, Mr.. Blakel | real
lze that my proposition was rather-er
sudden, and so, under these crcum-
stances, | cannot accept this decision
as final"
He fumbed in his pocket, brought
out a card and placed it face up on the
table. Il shall be in my office until
six o'clock this evening, he resumed.
"Good-afternoon!
For fully five minutes, brain whirling,
Blake stood in the center of the little
study, his cold fingers grpped at the
table edge. An utter silence fell and
deepened about him
Abruptly, bringing him back to the
world again, came the sharp twist of
the doorbell, followed by whistle.
Mechanically he answered it. The
postman spoke to him pleasantly and
handed him a package, securely wrapped
and sealed, With staring eyes Blake
read the single name in the upper
corner Then the understanding crush
ed upon him like some pitiless, leaden
weight. 1t was his novel; They were
sending it back. They did not want it!
Somehow he got back to the room
and dropped the unopened manuscript
into a lower drawer of his desk. Lift
ing his eyes after a moment he felt them
drawn, magnet-like, to the white card
still lying upon the table. He smiled.
without an effort, his mind quite clear
ne picked 1t up. He walked firmly
back to the hall, took up his hat and
went out the door into the street.
Half an hour later he was back.
without ,pausing he hurried up the
stairs and burst into his wfe's room.
She was deep among the pillows her
lace flushed, her lips colorless
Marjorie, Marjorie he cried, fall
ling upon his knees and placing his
arms about her slim form. Its
come! It's comet They've taken the
the novel dearl You're to go away-to
Colorado! You're to be well and strong
again, dear-well and strong again!"
1t was a very grave and judcious
council that sat around the long table
that Wednesday afternoon before
Christmas. They had been in session
since noon.
Blake sat, the last of six on his side
OF the table. His lips were set in
thin, straight line, his face was color
less, his hands fumbled nervously in
his lap. Minute by minute he was
steellng himself for the final vote that
was to come.
At four o'clock the president cleared
ms throat and arose slowly to his feet.
The final question before the council
this afternoon" he began quietly, "is
the plea of the Midtown Gas and Flee
trlc Company, at present operating in
TINS city, for a twenty-year renewal of
Their franchise. Against them new
company, composed of number of
citizens, has asked for franchise, The
situation before us, then, is whether
the old company's franchise be renewed
or, shall the new company be granted
permit to come into the city, thereby
cancelllng the former plea. "
Lengthy discussions followed, all of
which Blake listened to duly and lifted
no voice.
The voting began amid a pregnant
and Impressive silence, the men ap-
parently realizing the significance of
the question before them. As each
name was called by the president the
eyes OF the rest were riveted upon him.