The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1919-02-17
EVENING STORY
On the Common Little Street.

there there's a little stretch of COM |
mon streets before the nice ones be- !
gin again.
Miss Elisabeth Brown, aged s., and !
her young niece. Phyllis Firth, were
leaving the big uptown hotel. where |
they had stayed their first two weeks
in California, to look for rooms il.
quiet district.
Price Hill avenue, high and beau
tiful, overlooked the city. They had
considered tasteful and luxurious
suite of rooms in a private home, with
the most exquisite fuchsias climbing to
the top of ITS porch. and had prom
ised to telephone whether or not they
would take the rooms, when Miss
Elisa beth caught sight of a long wind
ing fligh. of steps that led to the street
below.
Wondering at her sudden whim to
go down them, Phyllis patiently ac-
companied her down the wearying
flight. Beside the bottom step, where
sat a long resting bench provided by
the city, stood a tree, as big as I.
bearing apple tree
"Auntie-Auntie Beth, see that"
Phyllis cried out. ''Why, it's a-castor
bean pla at, It's so mild here the VIM
ters haven't killed lit and it's grown
to be a tree
Miss Elisabeths plack pansy eyes,
There was always a clump on the
side lawn when 1 was a girl" She
touched the thick grayish green leaves
of the tree. 1T might almost be one
of those that grew in our yard, by the
white iron bench, alive all these years
alive all these years, 1 was SO happy
then, so happy. Phyllis, for a little
while,"
Phyllis hardly knew the familiar
face; it was young, as young as if
ssfrS tender memory, had smoothed
away the touches ce time.
I'D Nike to stay near here" Miss
Elisa beth muruured. I'VE could find
rooms on this street, perhaps,
Phyllis?"
Tit doesn't look very promis-
ing," Phyllis stammered.
The houses were scattered and
small. Across from the hill-steps was
a short row of tin-roofed shaoks, with
lines full of bleaching shirts outside,
and Industrious Cinnamon bent over
smoothing irons within.
There's a nice looking house over
there, Phyllis"
But this-tllis isn't a very stylish
street. Aunt Beth and you-you-,
Phyllis hesitated. 1t didn't seem quite
right for her to suggest to her aunt
that she could afford to live on the
most aristocratic street in the citv =
auntie, who had brought her to Cali
fornia as favor, when she could as
well have brought her negro maid,
who was more competent at waiting
on her.
Auntie hadn't had her moneY1ong-
only since distant cousin Reuel, every
body thought had been lost at sea forty
years ago, two years ago had come
home with a fortune made in South
America, and dying, had left it all to
Aunt Elisabeth. Before that for
h Ir~fxr e-e+t1-
ing, And she had never been quite
able always to remember all the rules
of living of a. fine lady.
The house was new and smart with
fresh paint, there were beds of thrifty
red geraniumss in a green grass plot
IN front--an oasis in a desert of dried
up yards around. Without hesitation
Miss Elisabeth agreed to take the Sec
ond-floor suiteNof rooms showed them.
Phyllis caught her breath. What did
auntie mean?
The floor mattings and white swiss
window curtains were new and fresh
but, oh, the velvet rugs and the Bat
tenberg window hangings-the taste
full luxury of the rooms on Price Hill!
Phyllis had become acquainted with
many pleasant people in the church
they had selected to attend. Auntie,
with her gentle, cultured manner. had
made a fine impression; to Phyllis
the young people had been delight
fully cordial, and Volney Brohner
(Phyllis had begun to dream of this
most attractive and worthy young
manD had asked if he might not call
as soon as they were settled?
Late that afternoon when Miss
Elisabeth rested in the rooms on
Fremley street, Phyllis went to the
poStoffice. Coming back, in the car,
Mail Carrier Darrell Lee moved his
pack to make room for her. She
smiled her thanks, and something in
the upward lift of her lips took the
old man to his youth. He noted she
of his route.
That evening he sat for long time
thinking of Dimple-he often thought
of her now, since Sophie was gone.
For the old old reason that her fam
lily thought his family not as good
hers they hadn't let him marry the
good girl he loved. so he came away,
and here out West, Sophie married
him. 1t had been because he was
sorry for her struggle with poverty;
ira VACANT shrew who never allowed
him to save a penny in the forty years
she handled his mail carriers PAT.
Only their youngest child grew UP,
and she had married and gone to live
in Maine. And Sophie had died, and
he had been transferred to another
city If he didn't always have to be
sending Mona money he often thought
he might be able to save little Tor
the days when he could no longer
comfortably carry q postman's pack,
but the Bradys were thriftless, and he
hadn't the heart to deny Mona'S in
sistent demands.
All, well, it couldn't be helped--the
child might have been less selfish if
DimpIe had been her mother but they
hadn't let him marry Dimple, If he
had married her and she had died,
like Sophie, even his loneliness would
be bearable. he thought, and he would
have had happy memories of her.
One damp day when Phyllis received
letter addressed Miss Phyllis OAR
relI Firth" old Lee with whom she
had become quite friendly smiled as
he handed it to her. CAN Sophies
nagging had not quenched his ready
smile).
My first name is Darrell. my
70 r,1i1v name. Parbaf,s yve