The Rice belt journal. (Welsh, Calcasieu Parish, La.) 1900-19??, 1920-02-07

SeHlIal! lie 1dlFly rOareQ lulS
time.
That girl is on the line again.
"You can't tell me she isn't. / know
her vOice.-Yes, dear, this is l. Sweet
heart, where are you? Tell me quick
ly. I'll come right there. Tell me
quickly!
"NOw, Central, steady moment I'M
til l find out where this girl is. Where,
dear? Where? Where? Louder! She's
gone, Central! She's gone! She's
gomez"
But suddenly he was talking over
dead wire. At the other end, badly
frightened little telephone girl was re-
porting to the chief operator the
strange calls from the Telegram Of
flee.
Virry walked back to the typewrit-
err and wrote:
ut was you again, but 1 couldn't
near you.
"If l only knew where you were, I'd
come to you right away. If l only
knew in what direction to go, I'd start
out. But perhaps you'll call again,
and so I'll go on with my letter.
There are other nights than Satur-
days that are lonely.
Sunday nights you used to go to
w oil nd
the same pair Of seats, you remember.
"HOw many songs l can remember
that you and l have heard together!
I Shall Never Forget My First Meet
| ing With YOu'-remembe it?
"Then there was "A Woman's Just
Woman, My Boy, but Good Cigar Is
Smoke l remember you didn't like
the song, until it came to the last
verse where it runs, "A woman's still
woman when a cigars gone up in
smoke'-I don't know about that,
though; l can always get another
cigar.
'Then there was that song, Dearie.'
How that word echoed and pulsed and
beat through that magnificent chorus,
just as it echoes and pulses through
my mind!
"Oh, there we're so many songs, so
many plays. so many hours, so many
events, so many thoughts, so many ex-
periences, so many pleasures How do
you suppose 1 can write them all
| down?
"They are crowding by the thou
sands up into the front of my brain,
demanding Il place on this paper-but
here you are again. If don't get you
this time I'll"
The telephone really rang this time.
In two bounds he reached it.
Hello" he said. "Now, Central, be
more careful this time. If you only
knew how much I want to talk to
her why, it's l! Why, Virry, the
city editor! Keep off the line, sir!
"Yes, dear, l hear you. I'll talk to
you when this man gets off the line.
Hurry up and tell me where you are
before he bothers US again. I'll come
right to you.-The chief? Yes. But
keep off the line, chief. I'll talk to you
later.
"What am 1 doing here? It's eleven
O'clock? Well, what of that.-Get off
the line, sir! BY God, get off the line !!
You've got story for me? No, won't
come downstalrs.-Wait a moment,
sweetheart.-You'll send somebody up
here? Well, / don't want to be both
cred"
A logged tone was creeping into
Virry's voice. Somehow it didn't seem
strange that the chief of police should
be asking him to come down to the
sidewalk.
He was determined to stay at the
telephone until he talked with the
girl.
The pain in his head suddenly be-
came sharper; he thrust his long fin
gers through his hair right over the
place where the ache seemed the
greatest.-1f she could only hear
him
Sweetheart! Sweetheartw he
shouted frantically. Suddenly he be-
came silent His eyes turned to one
of the doors that opened into the hall
way.
Suddenly he rushed toward the door,
his arms extended. Darling he
cried.
All the longing of his mans heart
sounded in that pleading, ecstatic cry.
He folded his arms, and embraced
nothing!
His right hand went to the top of
his head. He staggered and fell. face
forward, against the door. His head
struck the glass, which, breaking,
made rattle and crash that echoed
and reechoed through the Railways of
the great deserted ten-story building.
Virry fell to the floor, miraculously
uncut. But he did not try to rise.
A big policeman carefully broke
away the remaining jagged pieces OF
glass, so that they might not fall on
the PROSTATE form within. Then Hen
messy. the little police surgeon,
climbed through the aperture.
"Hemorrhage of the BRAIN" he said
shortly. HE stopped me on the street
only last Saturday and told me that
his head never stopped aching.
II told him he was working too hard.