The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1928-09-07

III TIE iuteTioT Oh Il HlDet- NcSbtt -
starting this week to join the party
now In the field. and I'm going with
him."
Doris felt that the time had come
when she must say something, so she
asked: "How long shall you be
gomez"
"Tve no tdea-One year, two years,
maybe five. And so fear that I
shall not be present at your wedding
But plan to have part In It. none
the less. And as your wedding gift
from me, my dear fellow. present
you with all my interest right, title
and all that kind of thing, in the bust.
ness now managed under the style of
Stanley and Waterman"
"My dear Jim"
Now don't say no. I'm through with
it. I'm sick of the Street I've had
six years of It and I'm tired of the
game. You enjoy it. You're good at
it. I'm afraid at times the limitations
I've imposed upon you have irked you
a little. I'm afraid I've been a bit Of
a drag"
"Not at alI." murmured Waterman
politely
ooh. yes, | have seen that there
were many times when you were irri-
tated by my ultra-cOnservatism. But
now all that is passed. The business
Is yOurS-lOck. stock and barrel"
"But | say, this is mighty sweet Of
you'll"
mot at all. An event of this Inn
pOrtance, an alliance between my two
best friends, requires to be commend
rated by something more substantial
than the presentation of pie-knife
or a mantel clock. There, there-say
no more about it. Now must be Off.
Good night, Doris" He took her hand
again. "Pll see you again before
go. but again let me say how charmed
| am. Next to being happy ones self.
the most delightful thing In the world
is to be assured of the happiness of
the two people in that world one loves
the most"
you enOugh-such princely present. I"
objected Waterman.
Nonsense. Why here you are, my
two old friends. going to be married
I'd like to do something nice for you
and, well, this is it-that's ALL And
you know perfectly well ! can afford
1t. | ask only one thing of you In re-
turn
whatever II is. it's yours" smiled
Waterman.
I'm the first place, be happy, but
much more than that, make her happy
because you see that's about the
d-dest most important thing In the
world"
"You-yOu'u write, perhaps" asked
Doris, feebly.
"Oh, now and then, maybe, and
when come back, Rollin," he added
With smile, you shall render me an
accounting of your Stewardship Good.
night, Doris, dear. Goodnight, Rollin,
old boy" he gripped both their hands
again. AS he reached the door he
turned once more and beamed upon
them. "You two dear people," he said,
>"l love you both and always shall I"
With that be was gone.
Waterman turned uncomfortable
toward the girl.
"ROllin, oh, Rollin, Rollin," she whis-
pered brokenly, as she slipped again
intn
can't believe it."
Stanley plunged down the steps as
the heavy door closed behind hin, and
hurried blin6ly across the Avenue
There was tumult in his BRAN. He
had not expected defeat Not that he
nourished any overweening estimate of
his personal attractions or that he re-
garded them as In any way superior
to those of his friend. On the con-
trary, in his eyes Waterman was quite
the best looking man of his acquaint-
ance, the most winning and the most
agreeable. Yet Doris had always been
to him everything that was kind and
sympathetic and understanding He
had never, Ii is true, made love to her
directly, yet she must have known, he
thought, what he thought of her, and
being uncommonly intelligent. she must
have guessed that before very long he
would ask her to be his wife.
He had no suspicion whatever Of
the truth. By no conceivable means
could he possibly have guessed the
devious route by which Waterman's
success had been achieved. He could
not know the sudden shock to which
the girls whole nature had been sub.
jected. nor how much she suffered al
the conviction of his turpitude. He
could not know that Doris In her sui.
fering had unconsciously, blindly, put
out her hand, yearning for comfort,
and had taken. almost without know
ing IT. the only comfort that offered
itself.
No suspicion of all this crossed or
could cross the mind of the stricken
Stanley. His nature was of the SIM
plest and most direct. Life had been
too easy for him. Everything had been
plain sailing. This was the first great
shock of his life and II shook him to
the core of his soul.
Resolutely, consciously, he endeav-
ored to put the past behind him. He
would burn all his bridges, sink all
his boats. Yes, that was the thing.
Immediately he burned with the wish
to be gone. He waved his hand at
passing taxi whose driver pulled up ST.
sharply that his rear wheels skidded
slightly against the curb. Ten min
utes later, In his own apartment, he
was telephOning:
as that you, WilsOn?-Yes. yes, I'm