St. Tammany farmer. [volume] (Covington, La.) 1874-current, 1922-04-29

"They won't" he promised serenely.
'When you're ready, Bee," suggested
Bromfield in bored voice.
She nodded casually and walked out
Of the room like a young Diana,
straight as a dart In her trim slender
| ness
Clay slipped out of the house by
the back way.
From the top Of bus Clay Lindsay
| looked down a canyon which angled
across the great city like a river Of
| light. He had come from one land Of
| gorges to another. In the walls Of this
one, thousands and tens of thousands
of liff-dwellers hid themselves during
the day like animals Of some queer
breed and poured out into the canyon
at sunset.
Now the river In It's bed was alive
with throbbing tide Cross currents
Of humanity flowed into 1t from side
streets and ebbed out Of 1t into others.
| Streams Of people were swept down,
caught here and there In swirling ed
| dies. TaXis, private motors, and troll
ley cars struggled in the raceway
All this Clay saw In a flash while
his bus crossed Broadway on its way
to the Avenue. His eyes had become
accustomed to this brilliance in the
| weeks that had passed since his
descent upon New York. but familiar
ty had not yet dulled the wonder
| Of it.
He had Eecome fast friend of Miss
Whitford. Together they had tramped
through Central park and motored up
| the Hudson in one Of her fathers cars.
They had explored each others minds
| along with the country and each had
| known the surprise and delight of dis
coveries, Of finding in the other q
| quality of freshness and candor.
The bus jer;ed down Fifth avenue
| like Il beat IN heavy seas pausing here
and there at the curb to take on q
passenger. While 1t was getting under
way after one such Stop, another
downtown bus rolled past.
Clay came to a sudden alert atten-
ton. His eyes focused on girl sit
ting on a back seat. In the pretty
childish face he read wlstful help
lessness, patletic hint Of misery that
called for sympathy.
Arizona takes short cuts to It's ends.
Clay rose instantly, put his foot on the
railing. aud leaped across to the top
of the bus rolling parallel with the one
he was on. In another second he had
dropped into the seat beside the girl.
"Glad to meet you again, Miss Kitty"
he said cheerfully. "Bow the big
town been using your"
The girl looked at him with little
gasp of surprise "Mr. Lindsay!" Sud
den tears filmed her eyes. She forgot
that she had left him with the promise
never again to speak to him. She was
in far country, and he was a friend
from home.
The conductor hustled down the
aisle. Say, where do you get this
movie-stuff? You can't jump from the
top of one bus to another. That amt
the system of transfers we use in this
town. You might a got killed"
ooh, well, let's not worry about that
now"
I'D ought to have you pulled.
Three years I've been on this run
and"
Nice run. Wages good7''
7
tell you one thing. You've got to pay
another fare.'
Clay paid 1t.
The conductor retired to his post.
"What about that movie job7 Is It
pannln' out pay gold?" Lindsay asked
Kitty.
Bit by bit her story came out. It
was common enough one. She had
been 1n,-hammed out Of her money
by the alleged school Of moving-picture
actors. and the sharpers had decamped
with It.
AS she looked ut her recovered
friend. Kitty gradually realized an out
ward transformation in his appear
ance He was dressed quietly in
.lot'1ez Of nerfect fit made for him by
Colin Whitford's tailor. From shoes
to hat he was a New Yorker got up
regardless Of expense. But the warm
smile, the strong, tanned face, the grip
of the big brown hand that buried her
small one-all these were from her
own West So too had been the non
cialance with which he had stepped
from the rail Of one moving bus to
that Of the other, just as though
this were his usual method of trans
fer.