The Catholic bulletin. [volume] (St. Paul, Minn.) 1911-1995, 1918-11-02
THREE SQUARES A DAY
Continued from last week.

Nearly three weeks after the heart
shaking news of her brothers death
Kathleen spent a long, sunny day in
the park at Washington Square. Late
in the afternoon her eyes wandered
from the volume of o. Henry that lay
in her lap. AS she glanced to read
the direction of bus which trundIed
through the arch she became aware
of a familiar figure approaching. She
leaned forward and met the enchant-
ing smile of Pat McKeen.
500, another artist comes to Ho-
bohemia" he greeted her.
mot l." she said, making room for
him on the bench. Its the park l
come to. Are you villager?"
me? Heavens, no." he answered in
vast scorn. 1--WE been down lower
Broadway putting through deal for
the firm"
Still the same busy business man."
Kathleen uuizzed.
why" ne answered, "we're turning
out thousands of trucks for the gov
eminent. Can't give 'em enough.
What we honestly need" he chuckled,
lis seven or eight extra hours a day"
Wistfully her glance fingered on his
comfortable, handsome face. They'll
be putting you to work making those
cars instead of selling them," she
warned him.
mot much" laughed Pat McKeen,
joyous braggart.
At that moment war seemed incred-
IDLY far from the sun-soaked park
where the fountain whispered and the
busses logged past. Yet-elsewhere,
she recalled the many stories she had
read of children and harmless old
people tortured, nurses murdered and
the very wayside crucifxes of France
hacked into observation posts. In
Flanders trenches liquid fame crum-
pied the lungs of tortured boys, spat-
tering bombs wiped out horribly, clean
young lives
Shuddering, Kathleen rose. 81 must
go she told Pat McKeen.
Raising amazed eyes he saw her
fleet past him and swing aboard a bus,
a second before the starter raised his
hand.
All the slow way uptown she shut
her eyes upon the sunny gayety OF
late afternoon Fifth Avenue. She lei
sorrow have it's will with her. Again
the black waves Tapped the edges OF
her brain. At last she stumbled into
the wide, cool lobby of the Home
Club and asked for her mail. The
young woman behind the desk handed
her single letter. For the space oil
a heartbeat the room went black. Or
the envelope was the familiar scraw
of her dead brother.
Not until she reached her room die
she open Peters letter. There, she
read it through quietly, fearless.
Somewhere in-You know.
Dear Kathie: You mustn't get peev
ed if my answers to your nice, fat
letters come slowly You see, we
don't have much vacant time here
Any left over minutes we use in max
ing up sleep. One night last week
caught myself doing off at the whee
of my car. Never mind Cest Il
guerre! l guess if my little old Til
Lizzie holds out l can.
Say, Kathie, | might as we'll breal
it now. Next year, please God, In
going into the regular fighting. Yol
people over there can't understand
this war is awful, but it's got t
J be done-like putting out a blaze
, Those rotten Heinies don't play tn
game. If you could see one man the
had gassed you'd know what NEAR
Our bunch has a victrola at tn
billet now. The records are old an
extra scratchy, but, believe me, it.
great. l wish you could see your bi
brother one-stepping to the tune G
} "Everybody's Doing It."
f WE'LL so long. I've got to go out an
' hop my car over the shrapnel hole
, now. All my love. PETE.
S P. S. I'm sending.a clipping from
S new Fable of George AIDES. Renaen
Der my little yellow copy of the F;
bles? Wish I had it now.
!, Automatically, Kathleen's eye
sought her bookcase. At the end
I the second shelf was the little COZ
/ of the Fables-yellow as a spot
y sunlight Above it on the wall shor
y the dauntless grin of Pete-merr
/. square Pete who had played Il
game to the end, whose clean, fiji
{ life was over and done at nineteen.
Kathleen CROPPED in the enveloI
i and found the clipping.
: Is it better to eat three Squares
day for great many days and
true to the same mattress all IL
Time or go down the Highway
. Experience, for just few days, blov
a ing silver bugle?
e "A silver bugle," she whispere
e The wall telephone spoke harshl