walls had crept the Harbinger. It was ridiculous,
and yet - Well, it is a rat trap, and you, madam
and sir and all of us, are in it.
Red and fat and crying like Niobe or Niagara,
Mrs. Peters threw her arms around her lord and
dissolved upon him. Mr. Peters would have striven
to extricate the dollar bill from its
deposit vault,
but his arms were bound to his sides.
"Do you love me, James?" asked Mrs. Peters.
"Madly," said James, "but -- "
"You are ill! " exclaimed Mrs. Peters. "Why
are you so pale and tired looking?"
"I feel weak," said Mr. Peters. "I -- "
"Oh, wait; I know what it is. Wait, James. I'll
be back in a minutes''
With a
parting bug that revived in Mr. Peters
recollections of the Terrible Turk, his wife hurried
out of the room and down the stairs.
Mr. Peters hitched his thumbs under his sus-
penders.
"All right," he confided to the ceiling. "I've got
her going. I hadn't any idea the old girl was soft
any more under the foolish rib. Well, sir; ain't I
the Claude Melnotte of the lower East Side? What?
It's a 100 to 1 shot that I get the dollar. I wonder
what she went out for. I guess she's gone to tell
Mrs. Muldoon on the second floor, that we're recon-
ciled. I'll remember this. Soft soap! And Ragsy
was talking about slugging her!
Mrs. Peters came back with a bottle of sarsapa-
rilla.
"I'm glad I happened to have that dollar," she
said. "You're all run down, boney."
Mr. Peters had a
tablespoonful of the stuff in-
serted into him. Then Mrs. Peters sat on his lap
and murmured:
"Call me tootsum wootsums again, James."
He sat still, held there by his materialized goddess
of spring.
Spring had come.
On the bench in Union Square Mr. Ragsdale and
Mr. Kidd squirmed, tongue-parched, a
waitingD'Artagnan and his dollar.
"I wish I had choked her at first," said Mr. Peters
to himself.
WHILE THE AUTO WAITS
Promptly at the
beginning of
twilight, came
again to that quiet corner of that quiet, small park
the girl in gray. She sat upon a bench and read a
book, for there was yet to come a half hour in which
print could be accomplished.
To repeat: Her dress was gray, and plain enough
to mask its impeccancy of style and fit. A large-
meshed veil imprisoned her
turban hat and a face
that shone through it with a calm and unconscious
beauty. She had come there at the same hour on the
day
previous, and on the day before that; and there
was one who knew it.
The young man who knew it hovered near, relying
upon burnt sacrifices to the great joss, Luck. His
piety was rewarded, for, in turning a page, her book
slipped from her fingers and bounded from the bench
a full yard away.
The young man pounced upon it with
instant avid-
ity, returning it to its owner with that air that seems
to
flourish in parks and public places - a compound
of gallantry and hope, tempered with respect for the
policeman on the beat. In a pleasant voice, be risked
an inconsequent remark upon the weather that in-
troductory topic
responsible for so much of the
world's unhappiness-and stood poised for a mo-
ment, a
waiting his fate.
The girl looked him over
leisurely; at his ordinary,
neat dress and his features
distinguished by nothing
particular in the way of expression.
"You may sit down, if you like," she said, in a
full,
deliberate contralto. "Really, I would like to
have you do so. The light is too bad for reading.
I would prefer to talk."
The
vassal of Luck slid upon the seat by her side
with complaisance.
"Do you know," be said,
speaking the formula
with which park chairmen open their meetings, "that
you are quite the stunningest girl I have seen in a
long time? I had my eye on you yesterday.
Didn't know somebody was bowled over by those
pretty lamps of yours, did you,
honeysuckle?"
"Whoever you are," said the girl, in icy tones,
"you must remember that I am a lady. I will excuse
the remark you have just made because the mistake
was,
doubtless, not an
unnatural one -- in your
circle.
I asked you to sit down; if the
invitation must con-
stitute me your
honeysuckle, consider it with-
drawn."
"I
earnestly" target="_blank" title="ad.认真地;急切地">
earnestly beg your pardon," pleaded the young
ran. His expression of
satisfaction had changed to
one of penitence and
humility. It was my fault,
you know -I mean, there are girls in parks, you
know - that is, of course, you don't know, but -- "
"Abandon the subject, if you please. Of course
I know. Now, tell me about these people passing
and crowding, each way, along these paths. Where
are they going? Why do they hurry so? Are they
happy?"
The young man had
promptlyabandoned his air
of coquetry. His cue was now for a
waiting part;
he could not guess the role be would be expected to
play.
"It is interesting to watch them," he replied, pos-
tulating her mood. "It is the wonderful drama of
life. Some are going to supper and some to -- er --
other places. One wonders what their histories are."
"I do not," said the girl; "I am not so inquisi-
tive. I come here to sit because here, only, can I be
tear the great, common, throbbing heart of hu-
manity. My part in life is cast where its beats are
never felt. Can you
surmise why I spoke to you,
Mr. -- ?"
"Parkenstacker," supplied the young man. Then
be looked eager and hopeful.
"No," said the girl,
holding up a
slender finger,
and smiling
slightly. "You would recognize it im-
mediately. It is impossible to keep one's name out of
print. Or even one's
portrait. This veil and this
hat of my maid furnish me with an incog. You
should have seen the
chauffeur stare at it when he
thought I did not see. Candidly, there are five or six
names that belong in the holy of holies, and mine, by
the accident of birth, is one of them. I spoke to you,
Mr. Stackenpot -- "
"Parkenstacker," corrected the young man, mod-
estly.
" -- Mr. Parkenstacker, because I wanted to talk,
for once, with a natural man -- one unspoiled by the
despicable gloss of
wealth and
supposed social su-
periority. Oh! you do not know how weary I am of
it -- money, money, money! And of the men who
surround me, dancing like little marionettes all cut by
the same pattern. I am sick of pleasure, of jewels,
of travel, of society, of luxuries of all kinds."
"I always had an idea," ventured the young man,
hesitatingly, "that money must be a pretty good
thing."
"A competence is to be desired. But when you
leave so many millions that -- !" She concluded
the
sentence with a
gesture of
despair. "It is the mo-
otony of it" she continued, "that palls. Drives,
dinners, theatres, balls, suppers, with the gilding of
superfluous
wealth over it all. Sometimes the very
tinkle of the ice in my
champagne glass nearly drives
me mad."
Mr. Parkenstacker looked ingenuously interested.
"I have always liked," he said, "to read and hear
about the ways of
wealthy and
fashionable folks. I
suppose I am a bit of a snob. But I like to have my
information
accurate. Now, I had formed the opin-
ion that
champagne is cooled in the bottle and not by
placing ice in the glass."
The girl gave a
musical laugh of
genuine amuse-
ment.
"You should know," she explained, in an indul-
gent tone, "that we of the non-useful class depend
for our
amusement upon
departure from precedent.
Just now it is a fad to put ice in
champagne. The
idea was originated by a visiting Prince of Tartary
while dining at the Waldorf. It will soon give way
to some other whim. Just as at a dinner party this
week on Madison Avenue a green kid glove was laid
by the plate of each guest to be put on and used while
eating olives."
"I see," admitted the young man, humbly.
"These special diversions of the inner
circle do not
become familiar to the common public."
"Sometimes," continued the girl, acknowledging
his
confession of error by a slight bow, "I have
thought that if I ever should love a man it would be
one of lowly station. One who is a
worker and not a
drone. But,
doubtless, the claims of caste and
wealthwill prove stronger than my
inclination. Just now
I am besieged by two. One is a Grand Duke of a
German
principality. I think he has, or has bad, a
wife, somewhere,
driven mad by his intemperance and
cruelty. The other is an English Marquis, so cold
and
mercenary that I even prefer the diabolism of the
Duke. What is it that impels me to tell you these
things, Mr. Packenstacker?
"Parkenstacker," breathed the young man. "In-
deed, you cannot know how much I
appreciate your
confidences."
The girl contemplated him with the calm, imper-
sonal regard that befitted the difference in their sta-
tions.
"What is your line of business, Mr. Parken-
stacker?" she asked.
"A very
humble one. But I hope to rise in the
world. Were you really in
earnest when you said
that you could love a man of lowly position?"
"Indeed I was. But I said 'might.' There is the
Grand Duke and the Marquis, you know. Yes; no
calling could be too
humble were the man what I
would wish him to be."