The Little River news., 1921-06-29
The Rose and the Story Book.
By FREDERICK CLARKE

1rOnt Of new Dank building and watched the crowds enter and depart with q token of dull interest in his weary eyes. Old men and women young ladies and little children, all chattering and happy. passed by the desks and counters loaded with q small fortune in carnations and roses.
 Opening day"-"new bank"-"giv- ing souvenirs" fell upon the ears of the friendless man. As his turn came Q face a counter he was handed out a beautiful rose.
 Married" was all the floral distrih- utor had asked. The man had nodded sadly. Any childrenT he was asked as he passed a second counter. The man gave a start as if waking up, and pretty picture book was handed him. Carrying both in half dazed way, he crossed the street, sat down on a doorstep, and. his eyes fixed on the two souvenirs, he seemed to lapse into . profound day dream.
 Twenty-four months previously hs had been John Dunbar, inventor, in this same town, delicate, sensitive man. impracticable as to business, de voting his life to the completion of an invention that had been its one dream.
 Working on the perfection of his model and then waiting for capital, knowing only how to think and not to work, his resources had dwindled away and his father-in-law, Judge Graham, stern and merciless, had come to him one day.
 "Give up your idle dreaming and go to work like man," he had said. "If you don't, there will be home for my daughter and her child, little Ruth, with me, but you must shift for your self"
 There were no reprOaches from gentle, loving Ethel, his wife, but the inventor sought work. Unskilled, wage and position offered were to him degrading. He wrote q brief note to his wife
 "Go home to your father" 1t ran. T have given up my dream, must give up you and the child. Your father can have the patent. l cannot face humiliation and defeat among my equals. l am a coward"
 John Dunbar had heard of q won- derful silver mine in Mexico. He went there, worked like a peon and at the end of a year hired an overseer to send his earnings to his wife. Later he found that they had never reached her. He worked . second year. The mine was flooded. With a bare $500 he escaped with his life. He started of his little earnings, and now he had landed in his native town-a pauper.
 "All that I have in the world" he said bitterly, regarding the two bank souvenirs-"twO years exile, and these !- Why nOt?"
 A sudden resolution had seized him.
 Unrecognized and as a stranger he threaded old familiar thOrOughfareS finally reaching the last home he had known.
 An inquiry conveyed to him that strangers occupied the house. The Dunbars? The husband had gone away, the wife and child had moved to her fathers home. The judge had died . year since. Mrs. Dunbar was living at such and such a place.
 It was almost dusk when the refu- gee reached a neat cottage set in the midst of rare garden.
 The table was set for three. He wondered at that. Softly, on riptoe, he advanced into the apartment. Be side the plate at the head of the table John Dunbar placed the rose. At the tiny tray near to childs familiar high chair he laid the little picture book and withdrew. Then mother and child entered the room.
 "Oh, mamma, look lo0k!" cried tho little one eagerly, taking up the book.
 Ethel Dunbar was dressed iD mourn ing.
 "Who brought them, mamma, and whyT" asked little Ruth. "Oh, how preety!"
 Ut must have been some neighbor, dearie," said her mother in dreamy tone, some neighbor who knew"
 "Who knew what, mammal" pressed the curious Title ono.
 "It Is just two years tonight since your dear father was lost to us," said the mother, and her voice died away in . low sob.
 "Won't he ever come back again, mamma2" asked Ruth.
 "We will hope and pray for 1t, my child," answered Ethel. Always his place shall be ready for him."
 Ethel had broken down utterly. In her pretty way the child was trying to comfort her. John Dunbar stole into the room and seated himself at the table.
 "Ethel-my child" he said, like one in a daze. "I am here. I have come back empty handed. Only the rose, the poor little picture book"
 Loving arms were about him. tiny hands holding his bronzed own and kissing them, and voice of rare ten derness was saying: "YOu have brought yourself-it is all we ask, all we need. My husband, oh. my hus- band !"
 When John Dunbar learned later on that the Title cOttaQe was called