The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927, March 18, 1923, MAGAZINE SECTION, Page 2, Image 44

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    back into her corner of the bench
as if instinctively responding to the
repudiation of his first glance.
His reaction was an apologetic em
barrassment. He had startled her.
Sl*e looked like a fluttered wild
tiling. That would not do at all.
He was not tbe sort who alarmed
girls. He rushed into .speech.
“I’m awfully afraid I frightened
you,” he said. “To tell the truth, I
didn’t see you when I flopped down.
I was thinking of something else."
She held her pose in the far cor
ner of the bench, but she still star
ed at him, and as she did so her
slight young figure relaxed and the
look of fear left her ey< s. She did
not speak, however, and for a long
moment their glance held while he
waited, expecting her to do so. Then
self-consciously and feeling much
snubbed, he dropped his glance from
her face and it took in the surprising
fact that on this cold and stormy
day the young girl on the bench be
side him wore no coat. What ho now
saw was no longer an offended girl,
but a shivering fellow enuture, blue
with cold, clad In a dark blue gown
• cf the sort Dora had called “one
piece.” Not even a scarf protected
the thin young throat from which
the neck of the gown was brh fly cut
away in the familiar lines of the
popular fashion. Not daring again
to raise his eyes to her face in the
light of this discovery. David let
them drop to the level of the girl's
phoes. They had been well 'made and
shapely little shoe. Now one of
them, the right, ' unconsciously
thrust out a little In the girl's quick
recoil at his sudden appearance,
showed a long split on the side and
a glimpse of black stocking.
David sat back In his place, closed
Ills eyes, and deliberately made him
self think, lie had loved his dead
mother and adored Ills dead sister.
• ITe had learned from them to honor
women, nut lie was a city boy. mid
lio was not unsophisticated. He
knew uuite well the difference l.e
tween “nice girls" and the other
kind, nnd he realized that the situa
tion of this strong, girl on the park
bench beside him was. to say the
least, anomalous. She might, or
might not. be a “nice girl." He re
called his one direct look into her
wide, frightened eyes. That, certain
ly, had been reassuring. Sh<- had
shown herself so young and so
afraid, and she had not responded
when he spoke to her. Also, she was
shod like a b- tfgar and dressed hardly
better than one, though there was a
suggestion of one-time smartness of
the right kind about the now shabby
frock and the close fitting litt’e
hat almost covered her brown hair.
Her eyes, he recalled, had been
brown, too—beautiful eyes they
were, but eyes with an odd look In
them—something other than the
fright he had caused her
His rede, lions ended suddonlv.
They had be. n checked by an un
expected development. The slight
figure, so remote In it. corner
though so near, load suddenly
drooped, then pitched forward. It
would have fallen from the bench
but for David s fluick grasp, which
caught and steadied it. He settled
It back against the benrh, an<l then,
springing to his feet, stared at it
helplessly. Its eyes were closed.
Its face was ghastly. Most obvi
ously, even to the mind of a rather
suspicious young man, the girl had
fainted. Hhe could not simulate
that gray pallor, that drawn look
around lips and nostrils.
Ho bent down, seized a handful
Of snow, and vigorously rubbed hep
face with It. For a moment he ac
tually thought she had died there
beside him. There was no pulse
that he could detect, and he had
much recent experience with a
girl’s failing pulse. He stretched
the stranger out flat on the bench
and continued bis rubbing, sending
desperate eyeshots up and down the
lonely path ns ho worked, In the
hope of seeing a mounted police
man or a pedestrian. Hut seem
ingly he and the girl were alone
In the world. What was done for
her must be done by him. He
continued to rub her fuec. and st
last a little color came Into It and
her brown eyes slowly opened.
For a few Instants their expres
sion remained blank. Then fear
again rushed Into them a fear so
great that the heart of the young
man contracted. It drove him Into
swift, reassuring speech.
"Flense don’t Is frightened." he
said "You see, you fainted, and
I'm trying to help you. Are you
better now?"
•She tried to struggle to a sitting
position, but fell back weakly. He
put a strong arm behind her and
helped her to her old position in
the comer of the bench.
Better how?” lie repealed cheer
fully.
“Yesw-I tlrttik so Thank you."
The gill's voice was weak, but It
was also lovely. Her accent and
manner were thoi <• of a well-bred,
w-’ll-educated girl of hia.own class.
Ib nderson's heart leaped at tin dis
covery. In that moment he told
himself this gitl was all right, tllrls
who wire nut "all right'' did not
■ nk like itint, nor did they ajlow
tie tnsco. es to stntve and f-ec«e
|l . fo put at nin e the words he
knew weald most quickly reassure
her.
‘‘You must let me do what I can
for you,” he said in a matter of fact
way. “I've had a lot of experience
with this kind of thing. My sister
was an invalid for a long time and
I took care of her. So please let me
take you safely to your home and
turn you over to some one who witl
put you to bed for a day or two.
Do you think you could walk as far
as the nearest park gate?” he added
UP she-did not speak. "We can get
a car there, or perhaps I can pick
up a taxicab.”
She shook her head. There w is
utter helplessness in the gesture.
Then, with a quick breath, she
spoke.
"No, no,” she said. "Please leave
me here. I shall bo quite all right."
He began an energetic protest.
"But, good heavens, I can’t do
that!" he pointed out. "It wouldn't
be safe. Anything might happen.
Just let me take you to your door
and see that you get inside. Then
I'll clear out.”
For another momea^die hesitat
ed. Then bluntly, In flat tones, she
gave hint the truth.
• "I haven’t tiny home. I was
turned out of it this morning be-#
cause—because I couldn’t pay my
rent. I suppose," she went on un
steadily, "you will have to take me
to some Institution. Would they
take me into a hospital, do you
think? I'm not rettlly sick, though.".
Ho knew now what was the mat
ter. He understood the gray pallor,
the pinched lips and nostrils, the
terrible look in tho brown eyes. The
girl was starving. Hhe had un
doubtedly pawned everything she
had except, literally, enough gar
ments to clothe her nakedness. She
had even parted with her coat. He
rose.
Come,' ho said. “I'm sure you
can walk to the park gate. There Is
a little restaurant arrows the street
where it will he warm and comfort
able. We can have some lunch
there and talk things over."
lie mot her eyes as he spoke,
then Ills own dropped again under
the unconscious revelation In hers.
For an instant the expression In
those brown eyes was nothing short
of horrible. It was a thing animal
like In Its Intensity. As if con
scious of It, she turned her face
away from him.
“No," she said thickly. “No. I'm
all right now. Please go."
Hut the look had made departure
a physical impossibility for Dora
Henderson's brother. He could no
more leave the girl there alone than
if he was bound to her by chuins.
“See here," he said desperately.
“For Clod's sake look at me and
make up your mind to trust me.
I>on’t you see that you can? Eet
me help you In memory of my
sister. She died last week."
She slowly turned to him at this,
and he went on eager!}-. “It w ill ha
she who Is helping you, not I . Can't
you see that? Come. It s what she
would want.”
She rose without another word,
but for a moment she stood sway
ing unsteadily, evidently t. sting her
strength. At last she made a slow
step forward and he took her arm,
supporting her as much as she
would let him. Even weak as he
now was, he coubl have carried her
slight figure, and he longed to do
so, but she was walking more easi
ly, evidently buoyed up by thought
of the food and warmth to come.
The Journey to the gate was not
long. In a surprisingly short time
they were seated on opposite sides
of a small table in one of the
ubiquitous chain restaurants where
food la good and clean and cheap.
The warm, bright room was almost
empty, for It was 2 o'clock In the
afternoon. In a few moments
David's taut nerves relaxed under
the satisfying spectacle of his guest
eating a thick, hot, nourishing
soup and trying to do It slowly ami
causually. When she had emptied
the dish she smiled at him. It was
the first time he had seen her.
smile, and his heart contracted un
der the pathos of it.
“Why aren't you eating?" she
asked, observing the fuel fo’r the
first, time.
I had my lunch before l came
uptown.”
David told the lie glibly. He was
thinking of the amonut of $2 #0,
which was oil he had In his pock*
<ts. save the wonderful check f<r
$500. Two dollars and sixty cents
might not cover a substantial lunch
eon for two, and this girl must havo.
a substantial luncheon.
"I think some chops should bo
the next thing In order,” he sug
gested, picking up the menu. She
shook h»r head.
"I’d love them,” she confessed,
“but T don't dare. You see”- her
prmifmttto haul dropped under the
humiliation of the confession, and
a pale flush stained her * hocJ(s —”
I—I— haven't eaten for days. I
must begin carefully. If I can have
s«*mo bread and milk that’s all I
ought to take — and. perhaps, a
< up of <mffee.”
I Is k vi m,v she was light and ga>e
I he orrt#|*.
' V\ • kave m hangup dinner to
night,*’ lie cheerfully predicted, re
membering his check.
As she ate bread and milk he
talked keeping resolutely to the
facts that would reassure her.
"I know all about these tempo
rary streaks of hard luck,” ho told
the girl, leaning toward her boy
ishly, his elbows inelegantly on the
little table, his dark grey eyes on
her face. "My sister and I went
through them. We were still going
through them when she died. Then
today, when I didn’t ••are what hap
pened, I had a streak of luck. I got
this.”
" lie took the letter and check
from his pocket and showed them
to her. He touched on the Irony of
the belated editorial appreciation.
He described his momentary rebel
lion, his resolution of the morning.
He confessed to the sale of his fur
niture and to his own temporary
homelessness. Then he said calmly:
"So. you see, It was all mtjant to
he. Things like this don’t happen
by chance. When you started out
this morning, imagining yourself
homeless, your good angel and mine
put their heads together. Mine
knew what it would mean to me
to have someone else to think
about and plan for Just now. So
It's settled, and all you and I have
to do is to follow the plan. Itight
after lunch we will go to the hank
and cash this check. We will have
Just time before the bank closes.
Then we'll take a cab and find the
right room for you, and after that
we'll go out and buy a coat for
you and have a real meal."
At this she laughed a little, and
David found the sound enchanting.
He grinned hack at her boyishly.
When she had finished her meal to
its last morsel he paid the check,
tipped the waitress, and royally de
manded a taxicab. At the door of
the bank he loft her in the cab's
safe shelter while he cashed his
check—an enterj rise simplified by
the fact that he had cashed hia one
hundred dollar check at the same
institution and that the paying
teller remembered him and the in
cident. When he Was back In the
cab with his roll of bills distending
a trousers p ket the girl made Jur
first suggestion. O
"I might go back to my own
room,” she brought out, hesitat
ingly, "If you really are going to
lie good enough to—to lend me a
few dollars. All my furniture U
there, and my trunk, and I know
the landlady will take me in if I i an
pay a mtie on account. 8he really
hated to turn me out this morn
ing. but she had given me a lot of
time, and. besides, it wasn't snow
ing then.”
"All light." *
Ilavld was immensely relieved Now
that things were straightened out
for the girl his temporary alertness
was leaving him. He felt a return
of the odd, dizzy, dreamy, blind sen
sation of the hour liefure. He
wanted to see the girl settled and
provided for, and then he wanted to
go somewhere and rest. He passed
on to the driver of the taxicab the
address she hail given him. and. on
a sudden Impulse, took ant his roll,
divided It at random, and pressed
the bills Into her hand. As she be
gan to protest he put liis hand on
hers urul crushed her Angers shut
over the money.
"No time to argue the thing.” he
said, nlmiist irritably. "I feel queer
I've fi-lt queer ail day. Perhaps
I'm going to be sick. Anyway, I
want you off my mind. I'll go up
with you, if you'll let me, and give
your landlady the once over. Tell
her I'm your cousin. Just In town
for the day. Hhe may not believe
It, but it's the best we can do, and
she'll never see me again, so it
doesn't matter. But I've got to lie
zuro you're all right before I go
away. Besides, we want some din
ner.”
subsequent events were a little
hazy to Henderson, lie did not take
In the simplicity and good taste of
tliA girl' little sitting room, but
with the last flicker of vitality and
intelligence he did take In the iwr
sonallty of the landlady. Hi formed
the Impression that the woman wag
thoroughly respectable and not laid
hearted creature, who was genuine
ly glad her un renujnera11ve lodger
liad returned with enough cosh to
pay her way. V’P to this point I>a
vtd conducted himself very well.
Now. quite suddenly, he demanded
a drink of cold water and began
to babble In a way that meant noth
ing but which Immediately aroused
the blackest suspicions of the land
lady. He realized this and tried to
reassure her by speaking to her
slowly and painstakingly. He heard
the girl's alarmed voice.
"Ho toM me he felt 111," she was
Baying. Boon he was again plain
ing something, this time to a man
with a i>eiemptory manner, who In
sisted on his taking off his coat
and who kept punching his chest In
a way that annoyed him abominably.
After this he had a confused sense
of voices ntul lights, and flnslly of
bed and of racking pain atul burn
ing fever, anil of odd processions
around a room whose walls kept
contracting and expanding.
At times he heard a voice—-a fa
mlllnr and loauttful voice, speaking
sometimes to him, sometimes to
someone else. Occasionally he
caught a glimpse of brown eyes and
brown hair. But it was ail chaotic
indeed, until one morning he sud
denly heard a surprising weak voice
which seemed to come from ids own
throat.
"Hello," it said.
At the word someone rose and bent
above him — someone now glori
ously familiar, someone with brown
eyes and brown hair. The voice that
had been part of his dreams, sound
ed again, bushed, but oddly excited.
“Ito you know me?" it asked.
David gazed with deep content at
ihe girl who stood beside his bed.
The last time he saw her she had
been falling off a park bench; no.
she had been eating soup; no,
she had been paying her landlady.
O, it didn't matter what she ha/1
been doing. What she was doing
now was offering him something
from a cup and tube.
“-Drink this," she said urgently.
When he had obeyed she repeated
her question.
"Do you know me?"
"X guess so,” said David. He
raised something that evidently be
longed to hirn and regarded It with
strong disfavor. It was his right
hand, and It was disgustingly thin
and white and shaky.
"Have I been sick?'’ he de
manded.
"Yes."
"How long?’’
"Two weeks."
- “What was it?”
'Pneumonia. You're all right
now, but you must not talk any
more.”
Am I In a Hospital'
“No. Mrs. Jackson look you
right in as noon as she realized that
you were really 111. Fortunately she
had nn empty room, and we helped
the doctor to carry you there. I
told you she was really a good soul.”
David passed lightly over tlm
goodness of Mis. Jackson. It did
net deeply Interval him.
“And. have you nursed me all this
time?” he asked faintly.
"O, I've been in and out. Mr Jack
son has helped, and one of the
maids. And the doctor has been
kind. But giow you must not say
another word. Just go to sleep."
He closed his eyes. The ' next
time he opened them the dix-tor was
there, very breezy, and greatly
pleased with himself and his pa
tient.
"But no talking, mind.” he warn
■si the latter. “You've had a close
shave, and you're got to lie mighty
careful for another week.”
He turned to the brown eyed
girl.
“If he begins to talk to you. g» t
_U[i and leave the room,' ’he di
rected.
She was an amazingly obedient
brown-eyed girl. After that she
seemed eternally having the room,
while Iktvid caught back the trail
ing ends of his remarks to her.
Finally he learned his less m and
lay watching her contentedly as she
waited on him or moved about the
sickroom. She was constantly
feeding him. Borne form of liquid
nourishment was always at his
lips. Also he realized with grati
tude there was no restriction on
her speqrh She talk- d to him
when sbe chose, telling him of the
dear sunshine outside, of the brae
ing air. of the d<-tor's orders, of
how. soon, he would lie up and
about.
On the third day. in answer to
one urgent question, she gave him
some aulot.il,graphii .il details Yes.
she was quite all right now. thanks
to hlin. She was not yet looking
for work, because she—well, it
seemed bet ter for her to be there
till he wns well. And Mrs Jack
son was letting her have her meals
hi the house, which was part of the
new and surpassing goodness of
Mrs. Jurkson. She wanted David
to know she had all his money,
locked safely In her desk, and she
was paying from It his expenses
from week to week, and, tempo
rarily, her own But she was keep
ing track of every p> nny, and
amount she owed him was not
large._ Now that she was on her
feet again she would soon hav
work. Had she told hirn she wa.- "
an illustrator? She was, but Just
starting out, and three months agt
she had lost her position on the art
staff of a magazine. But today she
had heard of another position, a
good one. which would be held open
for her a w'eek or two
"Work?” he exclaimed weakly.
"A position? What's the IdeaT
Great Scott! Don't you realize yet
that you can't take another pos:- \
tion? You're going to marry tfie 1
and let me take care of you!” M
It was at this point that she left
the room again She continued to
leave the room abruptly as sdfi U
ho began to talk about their W
rlage, which became his favorite
topic, even though he was not per
mitted to make more tiian on* re
mark at a time. Still, one could
make those remarks tell!
It was on the fifth day of his con
valescence that he made the great
discovery. He had known all the
time that he was not so well when
she was not in the room. Indeed he
was not well at all. He was nerv
ous, restless, and feverish. His In
gratitude for the attentions of Mrs.
Jackson and the maid deeply pained
those ministering angels. When
she came into the room acaln. how
ever, he was Immediately better. Ite
was even entirely well. He was <
strong enough to sit up and talk
as he carefully explained to her.
Hi.s greatest desire wa« to sit up and
talk and he listened to. There were
millii ns of th ngs he had to sa/
htr. It would tak- the r- st of lilf”
lifeiime to eay them. Yet she was
eternally disappearing through that
U r. and on the fifth day he had
made the great discovery that she
was d -liberately keeping away from
him. Phe would now hardly np
proru h his tied. Phe would not meet
his eyes. Ruv late in the afternoon
*h. venturi'! too ti-nr. and he
• aught her hand and held it close.
-Ph-. sii uggled, but she could rot
n ve Then she sto 1 very still.
nd f ;■ one blinding no mmi looked
down at him.
The lot k illumined the w orld for
Davl.l Henderson. For a moment
he wutchid it. gb-t < 1 in U. apd In
the - lor that slowly mounted to
the very edge of her brown hair.
Then she sfsjke.
•'You musu't talk, you know"’ »
' I'm going to t Ik to you all day
tomorrow,' lie firtniy am.-runced.
"I'm going to nuke the d-*"or let 1
t- .|o u We re i i g to i t the ^
ii.fi f. r our wedding and make all
•our plan*. l:ut in the meantime,”
h- added, siili I - liilug her eyes and
her hand, its s.inply be--tally for
a fellow to lie here or. his back and
not know even the first name of the
girl he la going to marry. Po I'm
going to have your name right now.
Is it Margaret?''
Phe sh<wk le r in hi) head and
tried to slip away, but he held her
hand tight.
"No," she said at last
■ Is It Katherine? Or Maud or
Genevieve or ' Iwen.dolyn?
"No.”
What is it then? ' _
Phe flushed. *
"it isn't a fancy name at all. 1 m
awfully afraid you won’t like it. It's
just a plain ordinary, cvervday
name. It's—Dora."
"Dora!” lie breathed the name
after her, slowly taking In the
wonderful, beautiful, incredible fact.
Then, very quietly, he laid Ids face
against the hand he still held His
eyes were wet.”
"Of course It’s Dora," he mug
mured •* It just had to be I>ora.’"
T By Swinnerton
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