The public ledger. [volume] (Maysville, Ky.) 1913-1968, 1919-04-17

ments In winch the Yankee boys had
conducted themselves with a heroism
that upheld the traditions Of their
country began to leak through, to &C.
cupy prominent places in the news
papers.
Corwin noted the change in the at.
mosphere of Falltown. There had
been deep concern In most Of the
faces Of Falltown's citizens. Some Of
the faces had borne a harried appear
ance, and the haunting usefulness in
the eyes Of some had betrayed their
fear Of the outcome. There were men
who passed their friends without a
nod OF recognition-their minds, their
hearts, their souls were in France
with their sons who were facing the
appalling hazard of death. There we're
others who scowled; still others whose
eyes were luminous with pride; there
were still others whose eyes glowed
with sorrow that would be eternal.
Falltown had been a place OF sub
dued voices-of dread expectancy. 1t
had seemed to be waiting-waiting
for something to happen.
And that something had happened.
Fa1ltown had been awaiting the news
1t had now received. And in the faces
Of men on the streets; In the faces of
women and children, there had come
a new expression. 1t was that Of grim
joy-the savage exultation Of the vic
tor.
Corwin was sitting at his desk one
day in November. He had not been
able to work. Somehow, though he
had no sympathy with the war, he felt
eager, expectant. 1t seemed to him
that great events portended. A dozen
times during the day he had got up, to
go to one of the windows and look
down into the street. He saw people
hurrying, with springy step and alert
manner-as though they desired to
finish the tasks before them before
that something for which they waited.
should occur.
Corwin did not see Molly King
watching him; he did not see in the
girls eyes certain CLEAN Of under
standing and pity. For Molly knew
that the end was near-that victory
for the army in which her brother was
fighting was imminent-and she knew
that there would come a day for Cor.
win when he would wish, sorrowfully
and regretfully, that he had been
an enthusiastic supporter of the Gov
eminent.
And some glimmer Of that regret
was already clutching at Corwin. He
was uneasy, restless. For he, too, felt
that victory was at hand, and he had
done nothing toward winning it.
Something lacked in Corwin; there
was a void somewhere in his heart
He felt as child feels who has not
received an invitation to party
which all its friends will attend. He
was an outsider-forgotten, unconsid
cred.
Corwin's face was grave and slightly
pale when he walked away from the
window and resumed his chair at the
desk
1t was not long after Corwin droppe d
into the chair until the screech of a
whsle floated into the office. The
sound was loud, insistent, continuing
1t seemed to shrek exultantly-seemei
to bear message-the message. II
rose, clear and penetrating. rocking
the air with its resonance. Then il
was Joined by others-hundreds, il
seemed-of varying degrees Of power
and volume. Huge and deep, they
came, and shrill and piping-trebles
basses, baritones-harsh, soft, trilling
blatant-a chorus, bedlam Of sound
At the first long, continuing blast
Molly King bounded out Of her char
and ran to an open window. Her eyes
flashing with delight, her cheeks
flushed, her voice high-pitched and
eager, she called to someone in the
street. Corwin heard the reply:
"The Armistice has been signed!"
Falltown was already celebrating
A multitude Of varying sounds arose
and pddind through the office windows,
OIL.