The Press., 1918-04-18

blue blood in those thoroughly Ameri- can veins of his tn have made it worth while for any of those blue-blOOded ones to make his acquaintance.
 In towns such as the one in the West where he had been raised. he knew how differently he and his pals on the bridge would have been re- ccived. He had tO swallow hard some times as he thought of his own sisters and the cordial girls at home, who would have been glad enough to dance with him and his hOmesick compan- ions. But perhaps such towns boasted of less-tistinguished history. Surely they did not have so many old in- seriptionS on their tOmbstOnes, nor so many books in their library.
 So it was that in that library Tom found his only diversion. He was not naturally a hoOkwOrm. and at first he felt awkward as he sat there hour after hour pouring over the pages of ''The Three GuartlSmen" or "'rhe Count of Monte CriSto."
 Others came and went in the li- brary, but he sat there hour after hour, almost glad that no one spoke to him, for had they done so hc might have felt that Inc was unWoIcome even there. Btu there was one reader be- side himself who fingered long and came often. And that other person was a girI-young. anu. il seemed to Tom. very pretty. Sometimes he watched her face as she poured over the dusty volume before her. and wOn- dered if she were as blue-hInOded as her tOwnspeOple. He watched her face pointment she derived from what she was reading.
 Then one day the girl let drop a pencil. and Tom, with his pulse beat ing at rate that startled him. sprang from his chair and half way across the room 10 pick it up for her. The girl smiled kindly at him, and then, appar- ently looking to see whether anyone were looking on, thanked him for the courtesy. All that she said was. "I thank you very much.' with q pretty accent on the very, but Tom felt that he had found a friend. It was the first time a girl in the town had spoken to him. He looked abou: to see that no one was looking. and said.
 You seem to he a great reader. roo." for in his own estimation he had re- gently put himself in the class of book worm.
 After that the girl always bowed to him when she saw him. and sometimes when the librarian wasn't at hand she exchanged little comments about the weather. Gradually they found it con venfent tn take seats nearer. till finally they habitually sat at opposite sides of the same table.
 One rainy evening, when it was darker than usual at closing hour or the library, Tom had the temerity 10 hold the door open for the girl and io open her umbrella fo. her. He had no umbrella of his own. naturally. and instead of taking hers from him. the girl asked whether he would mol hn'd the umbrella over himself. too. They walked along. he fog and rain shielded them from the gaze of townsfolk. who would surely have been Surpri Aad ln NtN d ~AttlttI MtIkiIS AlNH ttAt VI t'i' nice girls" of the town.
 Again on rainy day, when Tom and the girl had been reading till clos ing time. they walked down the street together under the girls umbrella.
 Don't yon ever grow tired of sit ting there, pouring over those books? Tom asked. He himself was frankly weary of it. He came there now only for lhe sake of the smile that he knew the girl would give him.
 ''ieS. l do," she said: "and very dis couraged. You see. I'm looking for SOldier-"
 Tom caught his breath and laughed. The girl laughed hack and looked teas ingly into his eyes.
 'Not the kind of soldier yOu think mean" she said. I'm looking for q soldier. Y6n see. cur