New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1920-09-05

something" he said to one dalin-
quent tenant Of his fathers best cA-
emit; and turned and walked away,
humming bright waltz tune while
the man was still coughing as q pre-
liminary to his monthly explanation.
The tenant was as. pleased as sur-
prised.
The entranced collector was pre-.
occupied with sketches Of wonderful.
flashing d'Artagnan things to do
things that Julia and, of course,
MIR. Atwater, too, might see with
their own eyes, or at least hear de-
scribed by an enthusiast. The ideal
action would be one performed for
their sakes, to "save" them-and he
would dash away, not waiting for
one word Of thanks, but letting them
come and find him, to pour out their
gratitude and other feelings while
ne said: EMO, mol 1t was nothing,
less than nothing. It ia I who should
be grateful, not you, Julia; not you,
Mr.. Atwater!"
And as he sat musing alone, near
a window in his fathers Office late
IN the afternoon, his exalted mood
was not affected by the falling of q
preternatural darkness over the
town, NOR was he aroused to action
by any perception of the plain facts
that the other clerks and the mena-
bers Of the firm had gone home an
hour ago; that the clock showed him
his own duty to lock up the office and
not keep his mother waiting dinner
and that he would be caught in g.
most outrageous thunderstorm If he
didn't hurry. No; he sat smiling
fondly by the open window and at
times made q fragmentary gesture
as OF some heroic or benevolent
impulse in rehearsal. Meanwhile,
paunchy with great portents ofwind
and wetness, outlandish clouds came
smoking out Of the blackened west.
Rambling, then roaring, they drew
on. From cloud to cloud dizzying
an1azements Of white fire cracked.
staggered and doomed the wireless
signals for assault; then the watts Of
the winds were opened, the tanks of
deluges unbottomed-and the storm
took the town. So presently Noble
noticed that 1t was raining and de-
cided to go home.
With an idea that he was fulfill
ing his customary evening duties, he
locked the doors Of the two inner
rooms, dropped the keys gently into
q wsstebasket, and, dreamily passing
by an umbrella which hung upon the
wall, went out to the corridor, leav-
ing the door Of the suite open behind
him; and thence stepped into the
street of whooping rain.
Here he became so practical as to
turn up his collar; and, substantially
aided by the wind, which was at his
back, he was not long in leaving the
purlieus Of commerce behind him for
Julia's street. Other people lived on
this street.-the did,, himself, for that
matters in fact, it was the longest
street in the town, and it had an
official name with which the word
Julia" was entirely unconnected,
but for Noble Dill (and probably for
Newland Sanders and for some
others in age from nineteen to sixty
odd) it was "Julia's Street, and
nothing else.
1t was tumuItuous street as
Noble splashed along the sidewalk.
Incredibly Timber, the shade trees
were practicing calisthenics, though
now and then one outdid itself and
lost branch; thunder and lightning
romped like loosed scandal; rain
missed upon the pavement and ca
pered ankle-high. 1t was q storm
that asked to be left to itself for a
while, after giving fair warning that
the request would be made; land
Noble and the only other pedestrian
in sight had themselves to blame for
getting caught.
This other pedestrian was some
forty or fifty yards in advance of
Noble and walking in the same d.
rection at about the same gait. He
wore an old overcoat Of some flimsy
material, running with water; the
brim Of his once rigid straw hat had
begun to sag about his head, SO that
he appeared to be wearing bucket;
all in all, he was q sodden and pa
thetic figure. Noble himself was az
sodden: his hands were wet in his
very pockets: his elbows akimbo
seemed to spout; he, too, was bucket
ed rather than hated atop-yet he
spared generous pity for the desc