The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1918-03-01
EVENING STORY
CoallesS Monday.
BY MARCIA MEREDITH.
Copyright 1918, by Mcclure Newspaper
SyudicateO

VIII you please get OH the wire
The voice, tho young and feminine.
was not entirely pleasant.
Il believe I took my receiver off
first came back good-naturedly. Il
am trying to get the janitor. Are you
the janitors wife,
How ridiculous! Where is the ele-
vator boy to answer the phone?
want the janitor."
A laugh came back thru the tele-
phone Everybody. wants the janitor.
The last 1 heard he had gone out to
try and buy some coal. L dare say
you're in the same boat that l am
frozen to death in your apartment.
kick, but, like me, nothing else will
keep YOU warm
There was no answer. Freda Til
sons receiver slammed back on the
hook that held it, and if she had been
incliI.ed to talk to herself in her little
apartment she might have muttered
something about an impertinent crea-
ture who dared to talk to girl when
he did not know her, and that she
hadn't the most remote idea who it
was. That would have been a fib.
however, for she really did know that
it was the young man who dwelt in
bachelor state in the somewhat more
spacious and luxurious apartment in
front of her own, the greater luxury
and higher rent of his apartment be-
ing Ole 10 the IaCL tndl W nile ne nldH-
aged to draw to himself a weekly
check for SIS for writing ''thrillers"
for a popular weekly, she pounded
typewriter somewhere in the down
town. district to the tune of sixty
month.
To her, having an apartment of her
own. with a little place she could call
home, was a luxury that she had
earned by much economy in the way
of amusement and pretty clothes. To
him living there was put down to his
New England origin. for Victor Paige
was more of a miser than a spend
thrift, and he had rather dine alone
on the simple fare that his visiting
colored housekeeper made for him
than to spend many ducats in allur-
ing restaurants. Now it happened
that the typewriter that Freda Tilson
pounded was located in the very office
whittier Victor Paige occasionally
strolled to deliver his manuscript, and
mayhap chin with the editor. Per
haps she felt a secret grievance, be-
cause, tho she had noticed the coin
cidence that he frequented her office
and also abode under the same roof,
he had sought no excuse to speak to
her as they passed in the halls going
home or venturing forth. 1t does
seem strange that Victor never sought
the excuse. for Freda would have been
good to speak to. And there was
nothing repeliing in her round blue
eyes. But then, Victor came from
New England.
AS Freda performed the task of
busting and Strengthening up her little
apartment. clad to the chin in a
sweater and wearing gloves on her
hands as she worked, she listened in
tently for ring at her doorbell that
would mean that the letter she was
waiting for had come. When all
descended to the entrance to make
sure that the boy in attendance there
had not failed to deliver it to her.
Strange that Victor Paige should
have gone forth at the same time. He
waited while she made her complaint
In the first place." she said, lit is
perfectly ridiculous that on the one
day in the week when we have to be
home, and when it would really seem
that apartments and houses ought to
have enough coal to make them COM
Portable, we should be made to suffer
in this way. How I am ever going to
write on my typewriter, with hands
stiff from cold, is more than l can tell
1t seems most extraordinary that my
manuscripts did not come by the mail
this morning My Office is closed, and
it is absolutely necessary for me to
typewrite some revised manuscript
that the editor was sending by special
has come for me?''
The dusky skinned attendant nod
ded in the negative.
And is there no hope of any heat p"
Again a negative nod.
We'll, then, the only thing for me
to do is to go and get some oil. Thank
goodness. L bought a stove"
Now it was Victor's inning Having
heard Fredia's plant and the unsatis-
factory replies, he did not mention the
I - L.
apartments as well as in hers
Il say, Obadiah-beg pardon, 1 for
! got your name was Hannibal-you
haven't seen anything of stray mes
senger boy with a typewriter, have
you? OF course you haven't. Rut-
copy is closed, and L was going to
pound it out for myself today, so 1
| sent for a typewriter. But 1 guess
they had too many orders before
| mine. Well. if there's no hope for
| heat I'll have to burn OIL
! And he returned to his rooms, CALI
ing the name of Dinah, who came
! every day at noon to keep house for
| him, blessed, because she had sug-
gested to him that when steam heat
failed the temperature could be i'm
proved by burning oil stoves.
| The fact that fate had some deep
(! design in choosing to have Victor
| Paige and Freda Tilson take apart
! menus III the same mouse really might
have been suspected when, a quarter
| of an hour later. another accidental
meeting occurred 1t was at the
| corner grocery. Freda came hurryine
in with the base of an oil stove, her
| elf-consciouSness at having to carry
| this awkward burden only making her
cheeks pinker and her eyes rounder
please fill this with OIL" she told
| the grocers boy, and then blushed a
| little roster as she realized that Victor
Paige was standing at her elbow. He
| took off his hat, and then. when
Freda averted her look he awkwardly