The Ontario Argus. (Ontario, Or.) 1???-1947, 1922-10-26
HIS ANGEL
BY MoLLlE MATHER
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Copyright, 1922, Western Newspaper Union

kept watch of the STAIR For either
maritan, must go. The hall of the
rooming house remaining for a time
silent, Geoffrey sought the window
He was still weak and uncertain as tC
walking, but as it was possible that
light step might ascend that old
stair while he was not there to see
he returned to his post.
He must have been in this gloomy
room now, for more than two weeks
The flu had put him out of his head,
so that he could not measure time.
Its interest vanished with his sud
den illness. All that Geoffrey Gordon
could distinctly remember was SON.
moning his landlady, with the con-
fused request that the woman who
cared for his room be retained to give
him such care as might be necessary.
The doctor, used to calls of the
friendless and unremunerative, looked
the unresponsive Geofffey over, pro-
nounced his case grip, and departed,
leaving medicine behind. 1t was not
his affair, certainly. whether that med
icine was bestowed or not.
"What's his name?" the doctor
briefly asked Mrs. Simpson.
"He says it's Stinson," she replied
"George Stinson."
So the author who loved to study
at close range his subjects, who wrote
of people as they are-lay among those
of whom he would have written, him
self needy and unknown.
Across the blur of his pain came
then an angel directly from heaven,
to minister to him. Like frightened
reassuring comfort Of firm, soothing
hands. Over his hot forehead the cool
hands moved rhythmically, charming
his pain away. And when he awoke
to momentary consciousness the fol-
lowing morning the faded insufficient
coverlet had been miraculously re-
placed by warm blankets of dainty
satin bindings.
1t was when he reached weak but
sure convalescence that jellies and
tempting small cakes and mullins
found their way to the stand by the
bed. The delicious cakes which he
ate so hungrily brought to him a sting
of mother-memory. The mother of his
boyhood-gOne so long, but still bit
terly missed
Godfrey, watching the stair, knew
at last why success and the many
beautiful things of life still left a
great lack which had never been filled.
And so, wondering speculating, he
questioned, and vainly, concerning his
secret deliverer-and watched hope
fully, despairingly, the stair. For the
girl or woman must of course be an
occupant of this dingy rooming house
And to settle this eager curiosity of
his he must know her.
Many went down the stair each
to places of employment,
many came back each night Soon
Godfrey must go away, but first he
must know.
There was one lovely girl j; her dark,
dancing eyes sought the invalid out in
his watching place.
called to the girl under pretense of
asking her to forward message to
Mrs. Simpson. The girl smiled charm
lngly..
Sure, I'll tell the old DAME" agreed |
his supposed angel. "but you'd better |
believe it'll take her some time to get |
a move up here. Some weight, that |
old girl Any other little thing / can |
do for youse?"
mo, thank you," answered Godfrey |
sadly.
That night inspiration came to him.
Dne who had so unselfishly cared for
a sick stranger would naturally still |
,e interested in his condition. The next
lay found him suffering an appar-
ent collapse; his groaning might even
nave been heard by sympathetic lis.
.ener OF the long hall. Geoffrey be-
san his groaning directly after Gus
.omary office closing time. He de-
lucted that his Angel was among the
She was-and at that pre-
Use moment opening can of pine
lpple for her supper
Dear me-" murmured the Angel.
that sounds exactly like my sick
nan. What pity he has no mother
'r sister or-wife to look after him."
She decided to take a peep into the
nvalid's quarters. When her wide
yed glance revealed her former
harge again PROSTATE, Bessie Mac
Donald, late of Grove Village, slipped
oiselessly into George Stinson's room.
The carried, some of the pineapple
With her. AS she supposed, the pa.
tents lips were hot and dry; thought
ully considering, Bessie fed him the
ineapple.
Furtively the patient opened his
yes.
No, she wasn't exactly pretty, nor
lodish at all. Her soft capably
lolded hand made assured, graceful
iovements toward his lips. Her dark
rows drew together concernedly, as