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About The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 1, 1896)
THE HESPERIAN little of toner. " But ho never did; for ho found no time. Parker was busy, too. The other newspaper men told him he was killing himself, but ho only laughed and staid closer to his desk, until ho seemed almost a fixture to it. At night ho always bought roses the deepest of rod ones, for a girl of whom ho thought things ho dared not spoak not while he was sub-editor. Ono time he saw Poindextor give her some roses, and she blushed when she took thorn; she had never blushed when she took his roses; so Parker did not go to see her any more, until the day when she became Mrs. Poindextor, and ho wont as best man. Several times after that ho called at night to see Mr. and Mrs. Poindexter; but, some how, things wore vastly difforont from tho college days. Poindextor was a perfect host studiously polito; but it was a polite ness that made Parker scorn queer and uneasy; and he would go back to his rooms feeling tired and lonoly. Poindexter found no timo to roturn his calls; so finally Parker ceased to call, and they apparently drifted out of each other's lives. Ono day Parker read of a doal by which Poindexter had cleared half a million. His little "cubby-hole" in tho big newspaper building was dark that afternoon so dark he had to light tho gas. Nearly everything danced before his eyes, and tho piles of manuscript jeered at him as ho worked. Ho could not think, and ho folt tho need of frosh air and sunlight; but ho did not caro to leave tho office. Ho longod for ono afternoon, or a few hours, of tho old life at Milford; but that was denied him; so ho worked away, quietly awaiting for night to como. On tho paper in front of him two largo intertwined "P's" kept appearing. They wore plain at first; but, as ho looked, they grow dim and faded away. Ho wondered if the two lot tors still remained on tho door of their room at Milford. Then ho called himself a ro mantic fool for indulging in such fancies ; and bent closer to his work. Of course, ho was tirod ; and it would seem very nico to live over old times with Poindextor. Bu Poindextor was busy making money, so there appeared to bo nothing to do except to peg away in the office and do what little good ho could on the side. When night camo ho laid his pon down wearily, as if it were a weight to bo lowered, and started for his rooms, stopping as usual to buy somo red roses for tho old lady who roomed across the way. To-night tho streets seemed so dirty accursed of hoavon, al most; but ho fondled tho roses in his hands and strode along. Suddenly somo ono camo up tho dark street and joined him. At first he scarcely noticed that it waB Poin dextor, who commenced to talk about some thing of which Parker could not catch the drift. Poindexter urged him to call oftonor and asked him up to spend tho ovoning; but Parkor thanked him, saying ho was tirod and needed sleep. They walked together for a few blocks, when Poindextor turned and wont up a sido street. Parkor stood still and watched him as ho walked away, so straight and with such a quick, strong stop. It was growing dark and chilly, but Parkor did not notice it until Poindextor was swallowod up in tho distance. Then ho almost staggorod home. There was an open firo in his little don, and it seemed to mock him. It was so bright and choorf ul ; and soon tho arc light on tho street corner began to glare. Every thing was shining bright when it should be dark. Ho shut his oyos, so as to shut out tho cruel light; and folt bettor; for ho folt tho kind warmth of tho firo without boing mocked by its laughing light. Then, too, ho could soo back over tho yoars, and ho fancied h" could hoar two boyish voices pledging a life-long brotherhood. Ho wondorod if ho had done anything to break tho plodgo; and accused himself of fickleness of hoart. And then, away back in a dream, almost, it was so long ago, ho hoard himsolf repeat the promise ho had made to tho little woman with tho largo, bright oyes. "You'll bo good to Arthur, won't you Jamie?" Ah,