Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1929-10-08
THE EVENING STORY

should be very grateful" Even in her
one-eyed state Sally could see that he
was young and far from unpleasing to
look at.
A momen. Of tense s:lecoe, q deft
twist with the corner Of white hand
kerchief, and the stranger announced
triumphantly that that particular r::..p
Of coal would bother her no more.
She thanked him and turned quickly,
giving him no time to make social ad-
vances. but he followed determinediy at
her side.
Il say" he pleaded, whats your
hurry? Couldn't we walk along to-
In panic she turned on him, saying
sharply:
Il suppose you strike up acquaint-
ances with girls every day by making
yourself an indispensable hero I con-
slider man who makes himself an
noying no better than an ordinary
bum"
Before he could utter a protest she
flashed into an Office building.
At five minutes to Sally mounted
the steps leading to spacious recep-
ton room, her shoulders carried well
back, her chin tilted at its most charm
ing angle.
You have an appointment with Mr..
Westfleld?" Intercepted the girl be-
hind the great carved desk.
NO" stated Sally. frankly. "but
there Is no reason why he should not
see me. I shan't take more than five
minutes OF his time if he thinks I
won't do"
IT am sorry, but Mr.. westf1eld has
made it a rule never to see any one
without an appointment"
Sally went out, her steps tagging, her
head bent in seeming detection.
Shortly after o'clock, Paul Westfeld
threw down his brush to rumple his
thick blond hair with paint-stained
fingers.
Mary" he called to the girl at the
desk, come here a minute. please. I
want you to take good look at me.
DO look like common bum to you?"
why. no sir; you don't. You look
just as usual"
Mary went out, wondering what had
come over her employer, who was in
variably even-tempered.
| Who's there?" he shouted In answer
to knock at the back entrance of the
studio.
The door opened slowly, as though
only by the greatest effort could it be
moved at all, and there appeared q
stopped. shaggy old figure, her face
half hidden in a peasant, shawl, In her
hand bucket and scrubbrush.
'rMeester Westfeld?" she quavered.
my seester, shee too seeck to work. I
take her place" ,
Every WELL" he nodded indiferently.
| The old woman-she looked all Of 70
In her dirty sweater and voluminous
skirts-tottered slowly across the room
to fill her pail. All during the clean
ing-up process she talked in high,
querulous voice that drove the already
disgruntled illustrator almost to dis
traction.
my good woman. I'm sorry, but
you'll have to stop that talking I've
had hard day, and must have quiet"
Out Of the sudden quietness his out
burst had created. he heard q quiet
voice behind him say:
"Mr. Westfield, should like so much
to work for you. Won't you give me
chance?"
He wheeled about, upsetting the vase
at his elbow. to stare at Sally. over
whose face a mixture Of mirth and
fright were struggling for mastery.
THE girl with the cinder in her eye"
he Stammered. But how in the deuce
did you get in? I've been right here
all the time"
"I am the scrubwoman," she quav-
cred. slumping down. "My seester, she
seeck. work for her"
"Well, I'll be I" He stopped
short to stare at her in undisguised
admiration.
But where did you pick up this crazy
outfit" touching the sweater.
"Oh," Sally explained calmly. "I
convinced an old woman in the next
block that she wanted to take nap
while transacted some important busi-
ness. I'll have to get back or she's
liable to try to get into my suit. Don't
you think" and there was real fatigue
and anxiety in her voice, II could be
Of use to you?"
He hesitated. regarding her out Of
eyes almost closed with laughter. Sure
ly nice girl like you wouldn't be safe
working for q common buml''
Her smile flashed out, but she man
aged to say gravely enough, "I1l do my
best to reform you"
| (Copyrieht. 1921