The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1938-03-11

him that miracle or boarding
houses: an empty bathroom; and
after indulging in shower and dom
ming the minimum of garments, he
left the house, unable to contem-
plate the inevitable dish Of sloppy
oatmeal that awaited him in the
dining room below.
A roll and glass Of milk at the
nearest restaurant made life look
brighter for a moment; and out Of
sympathy for the waitress (wilted,
even at this early hour) Don's tip
was twice the cost of his simple
meal. Her surprised question::
'sIsn't this a mistake, Mister?"
brought a glimpse of the engaging
grin that had been absent from his
countenance for many days.
cts feeble attempt to counter
act the weather." he responded, ris-
ing. elbow it in on ice cream sodas
if you survive" and the girls spon-
taneous smile of amazed gratitude
stayed with him a while, the one
bright spot in the hectic subway
jam.
So the day began, day that was
to be of vast importance to Don, to
Nora, and to her father also. BY
ten o'clock the sidewalks swarmed
with shirt-sleeved figures. BY noon
the ambulance gong was sounding
with alarming frequency. When one
of the stenographers collapsed and
was sent home in taxicab, Don
envied the girl. He found it well
nigh impossible to get down to work
Ito concentrate. Yet there was an
error somewhere, which, he thought
nervously, must be located before
Ned Lambert happened in. And
to make things worse his head had
begun its Internal hammering. Per-
haps when the others were out at
lunch and things were quieter, it
would clear up.
They were gone at last. The noisy
typewriters were silent; and save
for the rumble Of traffic far below,
the room was still. Don stood at
window in an effort to fill his lungs
with better air; but it was too hot
to be refreshing, and back at his
desk again encouragement engulfed
him, thick and impenetrable as
London fog.
Four months more! He could new
er stick it-even for Nora. He was
mo good-absolutely. That wise old
man had certainly shown him up.
Nora once said that she wasn't
worth all that these months had
cost him. Well, he unused bitterly,
was she? Was anything worth this
terrible inertia? Was anything worth
taking the joy from life?
Joy? Don started, raised his head
as if wakened rudely from a bad
dream. He was a fool-a damn
fool not to see things clearer. What
joy would he find anywhere-with-
out Nora? What sacrifice was too
CREATOR her? He had been right
last evening when he said that his
morale was slipping. Why else
should he have such thoughts? He
must buck up.
It came to him then with sense
of healing, that the opinions of 9TH
ers didn't matter, if Nora under
stood. And she did-bless her loyal
heart! His girl knew that he wasn't
a weakling. She didn't scorn him
because his nerves were junpy and
he couldn't sleep. She realized the
truth, if no one else did: that moth
ing in life had fitted him for job of
this sort, and that when the damna-
BILE year was over and he got away
from everything
Don turned, nerves quivering
again; and with gesture meant to
appear casual, covered his open
ledger with the morning paper. Ned
Lambert, apparently cool, obvious
ly unruff1ed, stood on the threshold.
Something about his SNUG, immacu-
late appearance maddened Don,
though the older man said pleasant
ly enough: "Have you been to
lunch7"
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