Belington progressive. [volume] (Belington, W. Va.) 1912-1927, 1918-03-28

YOU to say you liked me better than
anything else. OF course you must go,
Lark. / really take all the credit for
you and your talent to myself and it's
as much an honor for me as it is for
you, and want you to go. But don't
you ever 90 to liking The crazy old
stories any better than you do me-"
Then she picked up Lark's gloves,
and the two went out with an arm
around each others waist
1t was dreary morning for Carol,
but none of her sisters knew that most
of it was spent in the closet of her
room, sobbing bitterly. 'It's just the
way of the world" she mourned, in the
tone of one who has lived many years
and suffered untold anguish, ''we spend
our lives bringing them up, and loving
them, and finding all our joy and hap
piness in them, and then they go, and
we are left alone"
Lark's morning at the Office was
quiet, but none the less thrilling on
that account. Mr.. Raider received her
cordially, and with a great deal of
unctuous fatherly advice. He took her
into his office, which was one corner of
the press room glassed in by itself, and
talked over her duties, which, as far as
Lark could gather from his discourse,
appeared to consist In doing as she
was told.
"Now, remember" he said, in part,
"that running newspaper is bust
ness. Pure business. We've got to
give folks what they want to hear, and
they want to hear everything that hap
pens. Folks want to hear about the
private affairs of other folks. They
pay us to find out, and tell them, and
it's our duty to do it. So don't ever be
squeamfsh about coming right out
blunt with the plain facts; that's what
we are paid for"
This did not seriously impress Lark
Theoretically, she realized that he was
right. And he talked so impressively
of the press. and it's mission in the
world, and its rights and it's pride and
its power, that Lark, looking away
with hope-filled eyes, saw high and
mighty figure, immense all-powerful,
standing free, majestic, reckoning her
to come. 1t was her first view of the
worlds press.
But on the fourth morning, when she
entered the office, Mr.. Raider met her
with more excitement in his manner
than she had ever seen before. AS a
rule, excitement does not sit well on
v,fo min cIyi
Lark" he began hurriedly, "do you
know the Days? On Elm street?"
eyes, they are members of our
church. know them"
He leaned forward. "Big piece of
news down that way. This morning
at breakfast, DAILY shot his daughter
Maisie and the little boy. They are
both dead. Daily got away, and we
can't get at the bottom Of it. The
family is shut off alone, and won't see
anyone"
Lark's face had gone white, and she
clasped her slender hands together,
swaying, quivering bright lights be-
fore her eyes.
"Oh, OH" she murmured brokenly.
"Oh, how awful!''
Mr.. Raider did not observe the white
horror in Lark's face Eyes, isn't it?"
he said. 81 want you to 60 right down
there"
eyes, indeed" said Lark, though she
shivered at the thought. "Of course,
WILL" Lark was a minister's daugh-
ter. If people were in trouble, she
must go, of course. 'Isn't lawful?
1 never knew of-such thing-before.
Maisie was in my class at school. /
never liked her very well. I'm so sorry
didn't-oh, I'm so sorry. Yes, I'll go
right away. You'd better call papa up
and tell him to come, too"
81 will, but you run along. Being
the minister's daughter, they'll let you
right up. They'll tell you all about it,
of course. Don't talk to anyone on the
way back. Come right to the Office"
"Yes-yes." Lark's face was fright
ened, but firm. Give never gone to
the houses much when-there was
trouble. Prudence and Fairy have al.
ways done that. But of course it's
right, and I'm going. Oh, do wish 1
had been fonder of Maisie. I'll go right
away"
And she hurried away, still culver
ing, cold chill upon her. Three hours
later she returned to the Office, her
eyes dark circled, and red with weep
ing. Mr.. Raider met her at the door.
did you see them2"
eyes," she said in low voice. "They
they took me upstairs, and" She
paused pitifully, the memory strong
upon her, for the woman, the mother of
five children, two of whom had been
struck down, had lain in Lark's strong
tender arms, and sobbed out the ugly
story.
Would it have been honorable
for Lark to write up the tragic
story-even though it was her