The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1922-03-01
EDening Story
One Who Dared.
By CLARISSA MACKIF

Did you hear him % gasped Miss
Fletcher as the district manager left
the room. did you hear him. Lucy p
"Yest' breathed mouse-Ike Lucy.
as she resumed her rapid clicking of
the typewriter keys
''The--the big-goose!'' substituted
Miss Fletcher for q 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 hittersweet 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, 'BitterSweet
from the country, and all it needs Is
some wild elematiS, all gray and feath-
cry and .Humph!" he barks again
and goes off What are you titterins
at, Lucy Lee?''
You are so funny. Jane! Try to
bark .Humph.' yourself and see
You are shallow" interrupted Jane
her own machine, and drowned all
further attempts at Cancellation on the
part of her co-worker, but OCCASION
ally her eyes roved to the closed door
of the private office
! Behind that closed door; Cleve Lara
bes stood motionless, his broad shout
ders blocking out the light from the
western window A wonderful view
could be had from this high window
busy New York harbor-scores OF
barges, Fishing craft, the low, gray
bulk Of n torpedo boat Destroyer
there was constant din OF sirens ana
whistles and hcrns from street and
harbor: an ocean steamer bayed its
farewell, an aeroplane droned over
head, the sun flashing on It's titled
wings. Beyond were the smoky hills
of New Jersey.
Cleve Larabee saw nothing save
winding lane in October-frost-touch
ed leaves dropping around like tinted
blossoms; the orange-red fire or Dir
tersweet tangled with the curly gray
tendrils- of clematis. and Annabet Day
standing there. He turned from me
window and sat down heavily in his
chair. He had almost forgotten Anna
bel Day.
Fifteen years ago he had left 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, refusing
to bind her by any promise
For a while they corresponded, put
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 it had never troubled
hirxl-by that time he had become i'm
mersed in the pursuit of money-suc-
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 a well
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; aRd
he had believed he was happy-untfl
this afternoon, when the sight of a
branch of bitterSweet had stirred UP
all the old boyish love of the country
side 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 photog-
rapher was in one corner.
Idly he lifted a knife and severed
the string and opened the papers; halt
a dozen photographs We're soon scat
tered around him, engagements of
smaller pictures-and now, everything
vanished and he was back in the hill
country again-0n 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 MIN was the Slope OF
the mountain, snow-oapped and
friendly, where the little 'birches ran
down to the edge of the gorge here
to the left was bit of autumn road
there, a. glimpse of some quiet pond
rejecting the old bridge and the bend
Ing willows
Suddenly he woke UP. and gathered
the photographs intora pile. Then he
searched the wastepaper basket for
the wrapping paper. An inquisitive
office boy, opening the door to leave
some letters. withdrew hastily and
glided to Jane Fletchers desk
BOSS is crazy as q LOOM" he con-
fided.
What is he doing now?'
"Grubbing in the waste basket"