The Watertown news. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1917-1919, 1917-06-11
CHAPTER XVI.

Late September had come. The
Street had been furiously busy for
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 it's 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 holi-
day in the gas office and that he was
really a 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 h, 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 night
ness" as they called it, since the
change In his estate, it would have let
him so without protest. But when a
man is the real thing-so that the
newspapers give a column to his hay
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
ly, as the baritone put it, that hes 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.
read in chalk on the smooth street:
Max Wilson.
Sidney Page.
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
long, 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
tie balcony:
Il thought heard your step outside.
Have you time to come in?"
Z. went through the parlor and stood
in the long window. His steady eyes
looked down at her.
Il see very little of you now" she
complained. And, when he did not
reply Immediately: "Have you made
any definite plans, K.?"
81 shall do Max's work until he is
able to take hold again. After that
"YOu will go away?"
81 think so. / am getting a good
many letters, one way and another. /
suppose, now I'm back in harness, Ri
stay. My old place is closed. I'd 60
back there-they want me. But il
seems SO futile, Christine, to leave as
did, because / felt that l had no right
to go on as things. were; and DOW to
crawl back on the strength of having
had my hand forced, and to take up
things again, not knowing that I've a
bit more right to do it than when I
left!"
II went to see Max yesterday You
know what he thinks about all that