The Little River news., 1919-12-24

III 6OiAS IO ulop OuI.
 No, you're not" it was Millys cue l to say. You're no quitter. You just need the big chance, an you'll write as good as ever. The chance will come-an I'll never see you again."
 As the weeks passed Milly repeated more and more often those last words -"Tn never see you again." So il had always happened in the past, and she knew it must come in Spades case. Fight as she would against the feeling. she realized that she was be- ginning to dread this boys departure from Peters as she had dreaded that of no other-save possibly that of Rose
 Young ladies who are addicted to chocolate creams and James K Hack cit will pronounce Milly in love That thing is so absurd that the very thought of 1t would have shocked her Milly knew well the limitations of wa tery eyes, unclassifiad hair, and sallow cheeks. Though she was fond of read, ing about it in cheap magazines, she
 
 it as far and unattainable But quite attainable for one of watery eyes, she knew, was the role of sympathetic friend, and she played it huugrily. ever longing for new lines.
 It was her love of this role that must serve as the only explanation Of her conduct on the night that Rodney Grant drifted into Peters chop house. that and the thoughts inspired by the chance return of Rose
 For Rose came back: The cub of other days, whom Miily's comments had cheered to his first success. wan dered back one evening for another look at Peters dirty walls and word with Milly. The latter caught glimpse of him as he entered, clad in tweeds, jaunty stick in his gloved hand, a chrysanthemum in his buttonhole, the smile of the well-fed on his face. She nearly dropped the plate of mac aroni in her hand.
 He sat down and smiled into her eyes.
 Well, Milly, Pm back"
 "So l see. It's not for long?"
 "Well-no Just for one more meal. Merely to recall old days"
 "What-what will you have?"
 He laughed
 Aren't you glad to see me, Milly?"
 She looked him over.
 Sure I am," she said What's your order?"
 He gave this choice of the lesser evil in the old days. There fell an un- comfortable pause. Milly wanted to talk, but the words would not come. Her old formula of sympathy, with which she cheered the hopeless, seemed foolish twaddle in the face of Roses evident success. In the pres ence of the tweeds, the chrysanthe mum. the smile, Milly was as silent as one of Peters clams Rose began to regret that he had yielded to his whim.
 Soon his order was ready, and he looked St the concoction with an ab- surdly serious face as he removed his yellow chamois gloves. Had he ever really eaten such stuff as this? The steak was thin and leathery fried in gloomy grease. His well-bred stom- ach, pampered in many gilt grill rooms, revolted
 At that moment Jimmy Clark, mas ter of the small touch, his breath elo- quent by it's strength of his weakness, crept along the counter. His voice sounded in Rose ear.
 Say, Rosie, I'm down an out. Hun gry, an not a cent in my jeans"
 Rose turned to him quickly.
 Hello, Jimmy" he cried, this is luck! I've just ordered a steak and haven't the time to eat it Sit down and help yourself" He was already sliding from his stool.
 Clark's cheeks flushed almost as red as the nose between
 Not good enough for you, eh?" he said Well, it ain't good enough for me either, then It ain't good enough for me. Understand?" And he shuf- fled out of Peters into the dingy alley. Roses face flushed as he climbed back to the stool. One or two minutes over the steak proved his limit of gameness, and with never 8 look in Milly's direction, he hurried away
 For some time Milly sat looking straight ahead of her. She saw Roses great mistake. Peters chop house and her own faded smile were not for those who had made good. gulf ten thousand times wider than her counter lay between her and all such She could only serve her brief ap- prentice friendship to the boys who had yet to win-and once they won they could never come back to her. These thoughts were in her mind the night Rodney Grant drifted into Peters and sat at the greasy counter. This is in no sense Rodney Grants story, try as he may to make it his own. He was fond of the limelight- the proud strut upon the garing stage and he had his turn. But before he came to Peters for cup of coffee | his act had been ended and the cur, tain forever down upon his heeting