The Daily Alaska empire., 1932-04-02
CHAPTER IT. TWO KITTY'S

CHAPTER IT.
 TWO KITTY'S
 David shook his head He did not look at her.
 "Oh, David-why doesn't he send me some word? IT can't bear it."
 "Oh, yes, you can, Kitty" He spoke gruffly.
 Shed said that before to David, and he'd answered her like that. And invariably she's stiffened herself to her unbearaible heart ache. She did now with a quick lift of her chin which David saw.
 I'm eating with you girls to- night. Oysters" he indicated a carton he was carrying carefully. Maybe Max will drop in and give us some music"
 And just as David wanted her to Kitty thought of Max and his music. The fun of sitting around the old table in what Dorcas called her night club" eating the oys- ters.
 Dorcas was there before them. a big gingham apron tied around her. The lamps were lit, little fire kindled on the hearth. Cof- fee was boiling.
 Dorcas usually enlivened such times with a vivid recounting of her day. Her assignments ranged from accused criminals to social ties.
 Today she had had a particular ly delightful experience. The Times thought its publicity had been un- covering rare old editions for a lo- cal bookstore. A letter had come to DorcaS' attention, written in a fine script. Reading it, seeing the delicate pointed handwriting, she had sensed a story and followed it up.
 q wish you could have seen him, David-you'd used him for a character. He had shawl around him, actually. White hair, like fine little mist around his head and pink cheeks. And so polite-I must have the only conn., fortable chair in the room and he must stand lowing until sat down. And, David, what do you think he owns? A first edition of the Old Curiosity Shop-You should have seen how he caressed it. It had been given to his fa- tfer by Dickens himself. Will he sell it? Thank God, nol'
 But Dorcas' enthusiasm was for the little old man rather than for the rare old book. He didn't know anyone in Winston; he'd lived here because his grandson put him here in the back room of board ing house. Dorcas had touched on a hunger that had not been sat- isfied He's an exile"
 A mischievous look had leaped to her eyes. T am going to take him with me to Aunt Lydia's Sunday. She says there isn't any real gentlemen left in the world. I'm going to show her she's wrong. Won't they look sweet talking to- gether?"
 Frequently Dorcas spoke with affectionate amusement, of her Aunt Lydia, who was, she had ex- plained to Kitty, her one root. Kitty had gathered that to cer- tain age this relative had direct ed Dorcas' life. She it was who had sent Dorcas to the girls school near Poughkeepsie, of which Dor cas spoke often, scornfully. Dor eas had left it to "go on her own" But her precious independ- ence hadn't quite barred Aunt Ly- dia. Every Sunday she dressed with great care and with a degree of elegance in marked contrast to the carelessness of her appear anee, during the week and went to her aunts for dinner. But Aunt Lydia, as far as Kitty knew, never came to Ketchum street.
 Max Adler appeared with his violin before they had cleared the table. And after him, Mark Quinn bursted in noisily. He'd been pro- noted at the garage. Now he could afford another evening with the life class. He sat on David's cushion before the fire, staring in- to it, dreaming, until David push ed him off. Emil Schelling ran in smiling, expansive with the good