The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1919-11-14

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apartment building instead Of these
| houses"
"An apartment building! Here?"
eyes; that was my idea"
George struck his hands together de-
spairingly. "An apartment house! oh,
my Lordl"
Don't worryl Your grandfather
wouldn't listen to me, but he'll wish he
had, some day. He sticks 1t out that
apartment houses will never do in
town of this type, and when / pointed
| out to him that dozen or so Of 'em
already are doing, he claimed it was
just the novelty, and that they'd all be
empty as soon as people got used to
'em. So he's putting up these houses"
''Is he getting miserly In his old
age?"
"Hardlyi Look what he gave Sgd
ney and AmeliaI"
II don't mean he's miser, of
course" said George. "But why on
earth didn't he sell something or other
rather than do thing like this?"
"As matter Of fact" ANDERSON re-
turned coolly. II believe he has sold
something or other, from time to
| time"
81 suppose you're joking-or trying
to!"
"That's the best way to look at IT,"
ANDERSON said amiably. "Take the
whole thing as joke-and in the
meantime, If you haven't had your
breakfast"
II HAVEN'T"
"Then if were you I'd so in and get
some. And"-paused, becoming seri-
GUS "and if / were you wouldn't
say anything to your grandfather
about this"
IT don't think I could trust myself
to speak to him about it," said George.
II want to treat him respectfully, be-
cause he is my grandfather, but don't
believe I could if l talked to him about
such thing as this !"
| And with a gesture of despair, plain
ly signifying that all too soon after
leaving bright college years behind
him he had entered into the full
tragedy of life, George turned bitterly
upon his heel and went into the house
for his breakfast.
His uncle, with his head whimsically
upon one side, gazed after him not al
| together unsympathetically. Being a
philosopher he was not surprised, that
afternoon, in the course Of a drive he
took In the old carriage with the Ma
| jor, when George was encountered
upon the highway flashing along in his
runabout with Lucy beside him and
Pendennis doing better than three
minutes.
"He seems to have recovered" Am
berson remarked.
II beg your pardon"
"Your grandson" Anderson ex-
planned. "He was inclined to melan-
choly this morning, but seemed jolly
\ enough just now when they passed
u.s.
"What was he melancholy about?
Not getting remorseful about all the
money he's spent at college, was he?"
The Major chuckled feebly, but with
sufficient grimness. II wonder what
he thinks I'm made Of" he concluded
ENORMOUSLY.
"Gold," his son suggested, adding
gently, "and he's right about part of
you, father"
"What part?"
"Your heart"
The Major laughed ruefully. 81 sup
pose that may account for how heavy
it feels, sometimes, nowadays. This
town seems to be rolling right over
that old heart you mentioned, George
rolling over it and burying it under
When think of those devilish work
men digging up my lawn. yelling
around my house."
"Never mind, father. Don't think of
1t. When things are nuisance it's a
good idea not to keep remembering
'em."
II try not to-" the old gentleman
murmured. 81 try to keep remember
ing that won't be remembering any,
thing very long" And, somehow con-
WINGED that this thought was a mirth-
full one, he laughed loudly and slapped
his knee. "Not so very long now, my
boy!" he chuckled, continuing to echo
his own amusement. "Not so very
long. Not so very longw
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