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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 4, 1923)
The Master Man By Ruby M. Ayres Michael laughed. “Oh, all right 1 I’ll wait.” Mr, Philips arrived punctu ally on the stroke of nine. He apologised profusely when he asw Michael. “He had no idea,” he said, agitatedly. “If he had anly guessed—” “You couldn’t have guessed,” Michael interrupted bluntly. Me rather liked old Philips, and Jousted him, even while he had •to paijence with his slow 'daethods, v here,” he broke out again, “I’ve found Miss Rolf. I thought you’d like to know. It was quite an accident. I ran in to her Hi the street.” He laugh ad at the elder man’s amazed faee. “8hc’s as obstinate as aver/' he went on cheerfully. **She’s living with a fat Irish woman in a beastly neighbour hood—and refuses to move.” Mr. Philips smiled faintly. “In that case I should be in clined to leave her where she is,” he aaid, “A few weeks of—er— comparative discomfort may work miracles.” “It may and it may not,” Michael agreed. “Anyway, I don’t feel inclined to risk it, and that’s why I’m here. I want to know if she’s got any friends— not people like the Shackles— hut genuine, decent people, pre ferably poor 1—whose address you can give me.” Mr. Philips cleared his throat - jutd rearranged some perfectly tMy papers on his desk with irri tating precision. “1 know very little of Miss Rolf's friends,” he said at last? “Let me see now—not the Shackles type, you say?” “I do, most emphatically.” There was a little silence— then Mr. PFiilips said hesitating ly “There were some people — I can’t quite remember the name - know your father objected to them very much—because they were what ho called ‘shabby genteel’—they lived—now let fete see whercLdid they live!” Michael frowned impatiently. “If you don’t know' their name or where they lived—” he began, but Mr. Philips interrupt ed: “Kensington they lived?” he mid in triumph. “Kensington, J am sure it is! And their name— I h**lieve it was Smith!” Michael made a grimace. “There are probably thou aands of Smiths at Kensington,” he said with sarcasm: “so if that’s all you can toll me—” “Oh, but it isn’t!” Mr. Philips hastened to assure him. At least I can find out, the real address and all particulars and ring you Xtp. What time will you be at your rooms, Mr. Rolf?” “I am going out to lunch.” “If you will tel! me where you Are lunching I will send a clerk . along with a letter.” Michael told him. “And these Smiths—what are they? Who are they?” he asked. Mr. Philips ^liook his head. “I'm afraid I know no more about them than that Mr. Rolf objected to them chiefly because Mias Rolf sent them money and elothes from time to time,” he answered reluctantly. “It seem "rd to annoy him exceedingly, * though why I never quite under Wabd.” *‘My father objected to most wags/’ Michael said a trifle bitterly, hut his heart warmed towards Patricia—perhaps after all she had not been so selfish as he hfl4 believed. “I understood also,” Mr. Philips added, “that these peo ple—the Smiths—thought a great deal of Miss Rolf.” “Naturally,” said Michael, then wondered why on earth he had said it. He looked quickly at the lawyer and flushed rather jelf-conseiorisly. Well, I’ll be off,” he added, femriedly. “You’ll send a note •long then!” He went back to his rooms. There was more than an hour v yet before it was time to call for Patricia. He changed his suit «nd wandered up Regent-street. There was a great bunch of iiothouse violets in Gerard’s win dow, and with sudden impulse Michael went in and bought them. They igguld brighten up Patricia’s dingy sitting-room, «nd Chesney had once mention >«d that violets were her favorite Lowers I Michael was just giving Mrs. Plannagan’s address to the at tendant when someone touched feint on tbs arm, and a voice said 8 with a sort of vague suspicion: “Hullo! Yon! Who are you buying flowers for?” and turn ing swiftly, Michael found Ber nard Chesney at his elbow. Michael flushed. Chesney was the last person on earth whom he wished to see at that moment; but he managed a not very successful laugh and answered with suspicious haste: “Hullo!—wait a moment, I’m just coming along—” He turn ed to the girl who was looking on impatiently. “Lend me the pencil and I'll write the address down,” he said. He seized the pencil from her and hastily scribbled Patricia’s name and address, then, seizing Chesney by the arm marched him deter minedly out of the shop. His one idea was to get rid of him—the time was passing quickly and he knew that it would take him at least twenty minutes in a taxicab to reach Mrs. Flannagan’s uninviting abode. “I was going along to your rooms when I saw you,” fchesney said. “What are you doing today? Will you lunch with me?” A sleepless night had taught Chesney wisdom. He realized that he bad made a mistake by quarrelihg with Michael and that far better results could be obtained by remaining friends with him. 4> Sorry—got a business en gagement,” said Michael brief ly. “To-morrow, if you like—” “Business engagement?” Chesney echoed, the vague note of suspicion once again in his voice. “You with a business en gagement?” “Yes.” “Well, can’t I come along, too? I shan’t interfere.” Michael looked at him square ly in the eyes. “That’s just what you would do,” he said calmly. “Meet you to-night if you like—or come round to my place if you care about it. I must run now—so long!” Tie had turned away when Chesney caught his arm. “Ts there any news of Patri cia?” he asked, and his eyes were pathetic in their anxiety. “Nothing since yesterday,” Michael answered hastily. It was the truth, and yet it was a lie—he could have kicked him self with pleasure as Chesney turned dispiritedly away. He stood for a moment looking af ter him undecidedly. Why not recall him and tell him where Patricia was? She had liked Chesney and he knew that Ches ney adored her. Surely it was the best and easiest way out of a responsibility which was daily becoming more irksome. He moved a step forward to follow his friend, then stopped. “I’ll be dashed if I do,” said Michael Rolf, and, hailing a taxicab, he drove off in the opposite direc tion. He glanced hurriedly at his watch. Five minutes to one! Whatever happened he was bound to be late! This was Chesney’s fault. Michael cursed him roundly as he leaned out of the window and shouted to the driver to hurry. Patricia would never forgive him if he were late. But in spite of reckless driving and hair-breadth escapes round cor ners it was a quarter past one, before the taxicab stopped out-* side Mrs. Flannagan’s, and Mic hael flung himself out and dash ed up the steps. It seemed an eternity to his impatience before he heard steps in the passage—an eternity be fore Mrs. Flannagan opened the door a couple of inches. When she recognized Michael she smil ed broadly and widened the gap hospitably. “Well, I never!" she said re gretfully. “ And the young lady only just this minute gonel" “Gone!" Michael echoed blankly. “Shure, yes. And it’s herself that was put about," said Mrs. P 1 a n n a gan sympathetically. “Kept asking me, she did, if the clock was fast—" Michael cut in bluntly. “Where did she got" Mrs. Plhnnagan did not know. Neither did she know what time her lodger intended to return, but she cordially invited Michael to step in and wait, on the chance that Patricia might be back soon. But Michael - knew Patricia better. She would give him second chance, he was sm# He went back t6 the waiting taxi. What the deu?e could he do now? It was all Ohesney’s fault, confound the fellow. “We came fast, sir,” the driver said with a grin. “We did,” Michael agreed dryly. “But not fast enough.” He gave the name of the res taurant at which he had intend ed to lunch. She could not have gone far and they might over take her. ‘And drive slowly this time,” he added. But though the taxicab went at a snail’s pace, and though Michhel sat leaning forward, staring at every pedestrian in the hope of discovering Patricia, he was doomed to disappoint ment. Presently he was sulkily eating his lunch alone. It was the devil’s own luck, he told himself. Everything seem ed to be against him; the next disappointment would be that Philips would fail him, too. But even as the thought crossed his mind, a youth, hugging a bowler hat nervously under his arm, hesitatingly threaded his way through the rows of tables, and, spotting Michael, fell upon him triumphantly. "From Mr. Philips, sir—” Michael grabbed the letter and tore it open. “Dear Mr. Rolf,—The address you require is 41j Ilchester Street, Kensing ton, and the name, as I thought, is Smith.” “No answer,” said Michael. This was something to work upon anyway, and he finished his lunch with more appetite be fore he started off to Kensing ton. Ilchester Street proved to be so far out of Kensington proper that even the local police dis claimed all knowledge of it, and it was only after making dozens of inquiries that Michael found himself ringing the bell of No. 41. The bell was brightly polished" and the steps were spotless. He noted these facts with satisfac tion before the door opened and a girl stood looking shyly up at him. She was a slim, pretty girl, with wavy brown hair and dark eyes, that reminded him a little of Patricia’s. He smiled with a queer feeling of friendlipes? to wards her as he asked if Mrs. Smith was at home. The girl nodded: “Yes, it’s mother. Will you come inf I’ll go and tell her. What name is it, please?” “Rolf,” said Michael, “Mic hael Rolf.” He saw the girl’s eyes widen and the flush deepen in her cheeks, but she made no com ment. She led the way into the front room, which, though poor ly furnished, had an air of home comfort about it that struck Michael agreeably. One could see at a glanee that gentle people iived here, he thought. He looked around the room interestedly. The carpet and chair coverings were shabby, but there were flowers on the table and a sleek cat curled up by the fire. Then he saw something else that took him over to the mantel shelf in a couple of strides—a portrait of Patricia. Patricia in evening dress, with the arrogance in her face which had so irritated him when they first met—the Patricia of old days, not the girl who had cried and clung to his arm last night. How great a change a short time had made 1 Then he turned swiftly as the door opened and Mrs. Smith came into the room. She was a faded likeness of the girl who had admitted him, with a rather sad face and anxious eyes. She looked a little nervous and flushed as she came for ward. “Mr.'Rolf!” she asked; and then: “I hope—I hope there’s nothing the matter with—Patri cia!” ’ She was so obviously anxious and interested that Michael liked her at once. Here at last was someone genuinely fond of the girl—not a fair weather friend, as Effie Shackle had been. “No, there is nothing the mat ter she is quite well,” he ans wered. “She did not know I intended coming here, and I don’t wish her to know.” • He smiled a faint embarrass ment. “You probably know nothing about me,” he went on boyishly. “But I am Peter Rolf’s son. I have been abroad for years, and only came home just before my father died.” “Yes, yes, I know.” Mrs. Smith interrupted. She groped for a chair and sat down, her hands clasped in her lap. “We knew—we heard,” Ae * ' went on. “I was so glad Mr. Rolf left Clayton Wold to you, after all. It was the right aifd just thing to do.” Michael smiled. “I am afraid Patricia did not think so,” he said. “However, that is not the point. I got your address from 'Mr. Philips, my father's law yer. Possibly you may have heard of him?” “Yes.” “Well, he told me about you, told me he understood that you had always thought a great deal of Miss Rolf and been a kind friend to her. Mrs. Smith, she needs a friend now badly.” Michael spoke very earnestly, but the woman opposite him did not answer or raise her eyes, and he was conscious of disappoint she was going, and I found her by pure chance last night.” Mrs. Smith raised her eyes, merit? “You know, of course, that my father left her nothing,” he went on. “But you probably “And—where is she now?” do not know that she—Miss Rolf —will accept no help from me. I was unfortunate enough to of fend her at the beginning, ahd I am afraid she will never forgive me. She left Clayton Wold without letting me know where sue asiced anxiously. Michael told her at once. “She is quite safe and well, but she can’t possibly stay on in that house. She refqses to leave fct my suggestion, and so I hit up on this plan of coming to you.” He paused hopefully. “I’m afraid I don’t under stand,” said Mrs. Smith. There was a little nervous quiver in her voice: “I mean,” Michael explained, haltingly, “that I thought if you would write to her—without let ting her know that I came to you, of course—if you would of fer her a home with you—ask her to live with you — let her feel that you really want her— and—and—eare for her—” he stumbled a little. “She has had some bitter awakenings over her so-called friends, I am afraid. But I thought if you would do this—somehow I feel sure she would be very happy with you. I should be only too delighted— too proud—to—to—pay ... If you will allow me, I should feel tt an honour—” He flushed up to his eyes in embarrassment. He had not thought the suggestion would be so difficult to make, but there was something about this little grey-haired woman, a pathos and quiet dignity, that left him at an unhappy disadvantage. After a moment he went on, with a rush “I hope you won’t be offend ed, or—or—misunderstand me. It’s only that I am so anxious'lo do all I can for Miss Rolf’s hap piness. I hate to feel that it is I who have turned her out of Clay ton. I hate it because she will accept nothing from me, and if this—if you will only help me in this way—” Mrs. Smith rose to her feet. She looked up at Michael as he towered, above her, and there was a mist of tears in her eyes. “I am not at all offended, Mr. Rolf,” she said gently. “I think I understand you very well. I think: it is most kind of you, most generous, but—” She looked away from him for a moment, as if weighing some decision in her mind; then she went on slowly: “But there are a great many difficulties that—that I am afraid may prevent me from helping you. Oh, it isn’t that I don’t wish to do so.” she broke out, as Michael flushed. “I should be only too glad and pleased, but—Mr. Rolf, pardon me—how well do you know Patricia t” Michael shrugged his shoul ders. “I have not known her very long, if you mean that,” he ad mitted. “But I think I under stand her sufficiently to know— to nope—” He floundered hope lessly, before he asked in desper ate bluntness• “Is it that you don’t care for her enough to want to help hert I know she is diffi cult—I know she’s obstinate and as proud «s the devil—oh, I beg your pardon 1 ’ ’ Mrs. Smith smil ed faintly—a little smile that en couraged him to go on. “People don’t understand her, you know! I don’t think they trouble tol In spite of all her—nonsense—there’s a great deal that is good in her. I—well, I admit that I have changed my mind considerably since we first met, and I am not a man who is easily influenced.” “No,” said Mrs. Smith, “I can quite beljeve that.” She scan ned his anxious face with sym pathetic eyes. “Patricia may refuse tq dome and live with me,” she said quietly. Michael shook his head. "Somehow, I don’t think so, and—pardon me but have you since this affair of my father’s will?” ever suggested it to her? I mean Mrs. Smith’s delicate face quivered. She clasped her hands agitatedly. Oh, it has been my thoughts so often,” she said. "It was my first impulse, when I heard what had happened, but—Mr. Rolf, though I have known Patricia all her life, I have never dared imagine that I have ever under stood her. I have always been afraid to open my heart to her as I have wished. She is so proud, so uncertain, and, dearly as I love her—” "Then you do love hert” Michael’s face cleared as if by magic. "Then you won’t refuse met You can’t! It’s just splendid! She’ll be safe here with you— safe and happy— He looked around the room with satisfied appreciation. "And it only remains for you to tell me what I may be allow ed to pay.” He smiled deprecia tinbly. "I know it sounds hor ribly like driving a bargain, but I hope you won’t look at it in that way. I am a rich man, Mrs Smith, and whatever you say— five pounds—ten pounds a week —any sum!” tie DroKe otr hopefully. MrS. Smith was standing with downbent head; it almost seem ed as if she was not listening. * ‘please! ’' Michael urge4 anxiously. Joo^ed up then, and there was a curious little look of pain in her gentle eyes as she said clearly: “I don’t know how much Mr. I Philips may have told you. about me, Mr. Rolf, but there is one thing which I am sure he has not told you—” She drew a breath like a sigh before she added almost in a whisper: “And that is—that I am Patricia’s mother.’’ Michael stared at the pathetic face of the little woman with utter incredulity. (Continued Next Week.) Three 8lm!lar Murders. Only a short time ago William Olander was hanged for the murdei of a grocer in Fort Dodge, the mur der occurring In connection with an attempt at robbery. From th« psychology standpoint, at least. on« would think that the next person at tempting to rob a grocer In For: Dodge would remember Olander*! fate and hesitate about pulling thi trigger when resistance developed. / But it did not seem to work out that way. Within less than 10 dayi after the Olander hanging an un known bandit attempted to rob a grocer at Fort Dodge and shot tt kill when the grocer resisted. At th! time this Is written the grocer’s re covery Is considered doubtful. Both of the Fort Dodge cases, so the news account reminds, are simi lar to the murder at Des Moines of George Fosdlck, a grocer, for which orlme two men were hanged a few months before the execution of Olan der. The bandit Involved In the re cent Fort Dodge shooting had at least three Impressive warnings if he had been folowing news af4l fairs in Iowa. Yet they did not-stay his hand at the crucial moment Whether capital punishment does or does not discourage murders, most people are agreed that l.iose who ruthlessly kill law-abiding citi zens, whom they are trying to rob, ought to be put out of the way on general principles. The unanimous admission of the Irish Free State to the League of Nations will rob many an American politician of one rather potent talk ing point It would be more than Interesting now if the Free State carries out her announced intention of offering full control of her arma ments to the league. ine Han Katael, cal., speeder who paid a $5 fine in pennies and was fined $50 and five days in jail for doing so probably has a greater con tempt for the court now than in the first instance. But he will be' a lot more careful about what he does to Indicate it. Automobiles coming from Nevada are being searched at the California line, not for liquor, but for a much feared alfalfa pest. It must carry the veteran tourists back to the days when some of the states were “bone dry” and others "wide open”. Senator Brookhart advises "all brain workers who earn their living by useful employment" to unite to redress what he pictures as economlo injustice. Does the senator perhaps imagine that he could qualify for membership in such a union? The first man to be rejuvenated through the gland process is dead, two years after the operation. The biblical waining as to the results of putting “new wine in old bottles* apparently still bolds good. OLD “FOUR HUNDRED” DEAD " y i Best American Society Nowadaya Models Itself After the Court of St. James. The fiction of a four hundred lead ing limelighted Americans has been dead a long time—longer than the aged patrons of Ward McAllister’s Newport picnics at $10 per guest care to remember. “The best American society nowa days models itself aft^er the court of St. James. In London beauty, brains und hreeding can obtain entrance any where. Even in America those familiar terms “exclusive,” “well born,” “smart set” have been pitched out of the snob ^iytlonary. 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