Wausau pilot. [volume] (Wausau, Wis.) 1896-1940, 1919-12-09

the long journey to his post. George
went with him to the station, and
their farewell was heightened by the
trains being several minutes late.
Il may not see you again, Georgia. -
Anderson said, and his voice was q
little husky as he set kind hand on
the young mans shoulder. Its quite
probable that from this time on we'll
only know each other by letter-until
you're notified as my next of kin that
there's an old valise to be forwarded
to you, and perhaps some dusty curios
from the consulate mantelpiece. Well,
it's an odd way for us to be saying
good bye; one wouldn't have thought
it, even few years ago, but here we
are, two gentlemen of elegant appear
ance In state of bustitude. We can't
ever tell what will happen at all, can
we? Life and money both behave ike
loose quicksilver in a nest of cracks.
And when they're gone we can't tell
WHEREOF what the devil we did with
'em But 1 believe I'll say now-while
there isn't much time left for either
of US to get embarrassed about i'll
believe I'll say that I've always been
fond of you. We all spoiled you ter
ribly when you were a little boy aud
let you grow up en- prince-and |
must say you took to it But you've
received a pretty heavy jolt, and /
had enough of your disposition, myself,
at your age, to understand a little Of
what cOcksure youth has to go through
inside when 1t finds that 1t can make
terrible mistakes. Well, with my train
coming into the shed, you'll forgive
me for saying that there have been
times when / thought you ought to be
hanged-but I've always been fond
of you, and now l like you! And just
for last word; there may be some
felt about you like that-fond of you,
/ mean, no matter how much it seem
ed you ought to be hanged. You might
try Hello, / must run. I'll send
back the money as fast as they pay
me-so, good bye and God bless you,
Georgie!"
He passed through the gates, waved
his hat cheerily from the other side
of the iron screen, and was lost from
sight In the hurrying crowd. And as
he disappeared, an unexpected poigst-
ant loneliness fell upon his nephew so
heavily and so suddenly that he had
no energy to recoil from the shock. IL
seemed to him that the last fragment
of his familiar world had disappeared,
leaving him all alone forever.
He walked homeward slowly through
what appeared to be the strange
city, and, as a matter of fact, the city
was strange to him. He had seen lit
tie of it during his years in college,
and then had followed the long alb
sence and his tragic return. Since that
he had been scarcely outdoors at all'
as Fanny complained, warning him
that his health would suffer, and he
had been downtown only in closed
carriage. He had not realized the
great change.
The streets were thunderouS, vast
energy heaved under the universal
coating of dinginess. George walked
through the begrimed crowds of hur-
rying strangers and saw no face that
he remembered. Great numbers of
faces were even of kind he did not
remember ever to have seen; they
were partly like the old type that
his boyhOOd knew, and partly like
types he knew abroad. He saw Ger
man eyes with American wrinkles at
their corners; he saw Irish eyes and
Neapolitan eyes, Roman eyes, Tuscan
ewes. eyes of Lombardy, of Savoy,
Hungarian eyes, Balkan eyes, Scandi-
navian eyes-all with a queer Ameri-
can look in them. He saw Jews who
were no longer German or Russian or
Polish Jews. All the people were soil
ed by the smoke-mist through which
they hurried, under the heavy sky that
hung close upon the new skyScrapers,
and nearly all seemed harried by
something impending though here and
there a woman with bundles would be
laughing to a companion about some
adventure of the department store, or
perhaps an escape from the charging
traffic of the streets-and not infre-
quently a girl, or a free-and-easy
young matron, found time to throw an
encouraging look to George.
He took no note of these, and, leav-
ing the crowded sidewalks, turned
north into National avenue, and pres
emily reached the quieter but no less
begrimed region of smaller shops and
old-fashioned houses. Those latter had
been the homes of his boyhood play
mates. old friends of his grandfather
had lived herein this alley he had
fought with two boys at the same
time, and whipped them; in that front
ward he had been successfully teased
into temporary insanity by Sunday
school class of pinky little girls. On
that sagging porch a laughing woman
had fed him and other boys with
doughnuts and gingerbread; yonder he
saw the staggered relics of the iron
picket fence he had made his white
pony jump, on a dare, and in the
shabby, stone-faeed house behind the
fence he had gone to children's par
ties, and, when he was a little older
he had danced there often, and fallen
in love with Mary Sharon, and kissed
her, apparently by force. under the
stairs in the hall The double front
doors, of meaninglessly carved walnut,
once so glossily vanished, had been
painted smoke gray. but the smoke
CRIME showed repulsively. even on the
smoke gray; and over the doors n
SMOKED sign proclaimed the place to
be a "Stag hotel"
This was the last walk home" ne
was ever to take by the route he was
now following: up National avenue TO
Anderson addition and the two big
olo houses at the foot of Anderson
boulevard; for tonight would be the
last night that he and Fanny were TO
spend in the house which the Major