Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1922-03-01
THE DAILY NOVELETTE,
ONE WHO DARED
BIZ Clavissa Mackte

OnID you hear himT gasped Miss
- Fletcher as the district manager
left the room. did you hear him,
Lucy?"
"Yes" breathed mouse like Lucy,
as she resumed her rapid clicking OF
the typewriter keys.
'.The---the big--goose I" substituted
Miss Fletcher for a more descriptive
word to apply to a chief who up to
that moment had been the most polite
and considerate of men; "all about
some branches Of bittersweet on my
desk" She rearranged the brown
twigs, heavy with rich red and orange
fruit, and held her fingers in position
to resume her work at any moment.
''Barked at me, he did. Says he.
What's that? and I says, Bitter
sweet from the country, and all It
needs is some wild clemntis. all gray
and feathery and 'Humph! ! he
barks again and goes off. What are
you tittering at, Lucy LeeY'
"You are so funny, Jane! Try TO
bark 'Humph! yourself and see
'You are shallow interrupted Jane
Fletcher, as she ratified the keys of her
own machine, and drowned all further
attempts at conciliation on the part of
her CO. worker, but occasionally her
eyes roved to the closed door Of the
private Office.
Behind that closed door, Cleve Lara
bee stood motionless, his broad shoul-
, western window. A wonderful view
could be had from this high window
busy New York harbor-scores of ships
coming and going--ferryboats, barges,
fishing craft, the low, gray bulk of a
torpedo boat destroyer-there was con-
stant din of, sirens and whistles and
horns from street and harbor; an
ocean steamer bayed its farewell, an
airplane droned overhead. the sun
flashing on its tilteu wings. Beyond
we're the smoky hills of New Jersey.
Cleve Larabee saw nothing save
winding lane in Otcober---frost touched
SONS the orange fire of bitter
sweet tangled with the curly gray ten
drills Of clematis, and Annabel Day
standing there. He turned from the
window and sat down heavily in his
chair. He had almost forgotten Anna
bel Day!
Fifteen years ago he had LETT Moss
dale and sought living in the city.
His parents had been dead year, he
had little patrimony, and no prospects
in the little Vermont village. So he
had said good-by to Annabel, refus-
ing to bind her by any promise.
For a while they corresponded, bu,
after a couple Of years she had stopped
writing. He believed her tired of wait
ing for him, and that some one else
had won her love.
Strange to say 1t had never troubled
him--by that time he had become i'm.
mersed IN the pursuit of money--slic-
cess. So great was the rush, so heated
the competition. that he never paused
to analyze his own feelings. He had
never married; his clubs and his Office
satisfied him; he was always wei.
come addition to the parties OF his
friends, and his vacations were spent
in the West. where his firm had val.
liable interests.
So he had come to be the district
manager of a great corporation; and
ne had believed he was happy-until
this afternoon, when the sight of
branch of bittersweet had stirred up all
the old boyish love of the countryside
where he had been born and raised, and
where Annabel Day had lived and
loved him.
His brooding eyes gradually came to
notice the flat package on his desk
the name of a well known photographer
was in one corner.
Idly he lifted knife and severed the
string and opened the. papers half n
dozen photographs were soon scattered
around him. enlargements Of smaller
pictures-and now, everything vanished
and he was back in the hill country
again--on the right was the deep gorge
filled with snow and on either side the
tall hemlocks weighted with the fleece
OF winter, their tops seeming to touch
the sky. Once when they were children
he and Annabel had played these were
Christmas trees and hung them with
all sorts of bright baubles before him
was the slope of the mountain, snow
capped and friendly, where the little
birches ran down to the edge Of the
gorge; here to the left was a bit of
autumn road-there, glimpse of some
quiet pond rejecting the old bridge and
the bending willows
Suddenly he woke up and gathered
the photographs into pile. Then he
searched the wastepapcr basket for the
wrapping paper. An inQuisitive Office
boy, opening the door to leave some
letters. withdrew hastily and glided to
Jane fletcher's desk.
Boss is crazy as a loon," he con-
fided.
What is he doing now?"
'Grubbing in the waste basket"
"Furies! 1t makes me creepy to hear
about him. moaned the stenographer.
Jaw, he's in love! That's nothin' !"
gibed Jimmy as he boldly entered the
district managers office.
Mr. / nrDhpa fyinu o,lo
very carefully. and then he put on his !
hat and overcoat, and locked his desk
and passed out of the office with a few
words of instruction to his bookkecpcr. |
And the office breathed freer as the
door closed gently behind him, for he
was whistling cheerily as he went.
So unused the pale clerk at the
photographer as he scanned the pho ,
tographs on the counter. II remember
now Mr.. Kulow sent them over for your
approval. They are very popular
among people who are from Vermont.
Great country up there, and this is
fine photography. There's girl up
there who does it all herself-makes a
good living at it, too--some artist, she |
Is, too--see the grouping Of those trees !
and this-thats n fine dog-goes with |
her everywhere. she says. We have a
picture Of her somewhere. Here 1t is"
Clcve Larabee stared at the strong,
graceful figure wildly portrayed against
IL background of dark hemlocl freight