Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1918-09-06
Beecher Street
@0
BY r. RAY BAKER
Copyright, 1918, by the Mcclure Newspa-
per Syndicate.)

BY r. A BAKER

per Synolcate')
If Ethel Drayton had done some real
reasoning instead Of leaping at con-
illusions and acting on impulse, it is
likely that her park Of romance, with
Cliff El3ridge in command, would have
sailed serenely down the river of agree
ableness into the sea Of matrimoDy
without encountering a storm. On the
other hand, that kind of journey would
not have been real romance-it would
have lacked zest-so perhaps it Is just
as well that Herman Hartell came over
to Ethel's desk that dreary, rainy after
noon in April and unfolded the secret.
II have something to say that Is
very disagreeable to me-" began Har-
tell as he brushed a hand caressingly
over his miniature m%oustache and
looked down at Ethel's curly brown
hair coiled on the back of her head in
a business-like knob that served as a
pencil holder. Nevertheless" he went
on, II feel in duty bound to say it."
Ethel jerked a sheet of paper from
her typewriter and turned her black
eyes up at the head shipping clerk.
Liz Lluys UllSSAluB AAO6C VI man Oh
Hartell's upper lip forced a smile TO
her face, but this was dispelled when
Hartell explained:
"It's about Clifford. You see, last
night"
While this conversation was taking
place, the subject of the remarks sat
on a high stool at the other side of
the Lewis Wholesale Paper company's
shipping office and poured over a file
of orders. Out of a corner of his eye
he saw the head shipping clerk APP
proach the stenographer's desk, and
he frowned.
Hartell leaned owe Ethel's chair as
he revealed the secret, and Cliff ruf1ed
his flaxen hair with one hand and
thrummed on his desk with the other.
Half an hour later Cliff slipped from
his stool and into his light %overcoat.
Carrying his hat, he approached Ethel,
who was still busy at the typewriter.
He passed and smiled pleasantly, but
she continued rafting the keyA
"You needn't trouble yourself to
wait for me-" she informed him in icy
tones without pausing in her work or
looking up. "Il be a little late, and
Mr.. Hartell has promised to see me
home"
Cliffs smile vanished. Before he had
a chance to reply, she had slipped a
ring from a finger of her left hand and
extended it toward him. She looked
into his eyes with a stare encrusted
with ice.
II can't wear this any longer" she
said, latter the way you have acted
lately. I have heard that all men must
SOW wild oats, but I assure you that
my man won't. If you must gamble
and ~carouse, you can't expect to be-
come my husband. / have learned all
about your going to a saloon or gam
bling den on Beecher street almost ev-
cry night, and that's enough for me.
Goodnight"
Cliff stumbled down the steps to the
street and walked three blocks, heed
less of the pouring rain, before he
came to himself and found the ring
clasped in his hand. Then he stopped
dead still in the middle of q street
crossing, undecided whether to leap in
AAO LAFCA VI 81 OdNh - 4 AAOA
man Hartell from the roof of the six
story Lewis building. He decided to
do neither; instead, he headed for
Beecher street.
Ethel completed her work and was
escorted to her rooming place by Har-
tell. At the door she took his hand
and said earnestly:
"You don't know how / appreciate
the revelation you have made to me.
I know It must have been hard for
you to come and tell me about seeing
Clifford go into that terrible place so
many times; and 1 am grateful"
"Don't mention 1t, please" protested
Hartell, striving unsuccessfully toreach
his mustache with his tongue. Il
couldn't bear to see you throw your
self away on a worthless fellow. l
save a good many blocks by cutting
through Beecher street on the way
home and that's how l happened to
notice hin there"
The next day Ethel failed to appear
at the office, telephoning that she was
suffering from a headache. The sue
ceeding day was Sunday. The rain
had ceased but the weather had turned
chilly and the sun hid behind clouds.
Ethel listened in vain for the door
bell or the telephone, hoping Cliff
would appear as he had done each Sun
day for more than a year. True, she
had told him it was all over;
theless, she had expected him to come
and make some kind of a protest and
attempt an explanation. The morning
passed very gloomily for her.
Early in the afternoon the landlady
summoned her to the telephone, and
Ethel tripped over a chair in her haste
to answer the call.
"This is Mr.. Hartell," said the voice
on the wire. could 1 call on you this