A PENNYWORTH OF ROMANCE

Press, Volume LIX, Issue 11244, 9 April 1902, Page 3

A PENNYWORTH OF ROMANCE

The stage swayed around Washington Arch and started up Fifth Avenue at a brisk trot. The unusual speed of a member of the most leisurely of public conveyance lrafcernities was attributable to the fact that -Murphy, who held the ribbons, had just refreshed himself at tie ''power house"— the popular alias, among the stage drivers, of Mr O'Eourke's corner establishment.

It was not a matter of .life, and death that Thornton should catch that particular stage, but if you had seen him rush along the north *ide of Washington Square you would have thought it was; which merely proved that he was too good an American to let an opportunity —or a crowded vehicle —pass him by. He gave chase, thougli the papers were again printing their favourite hot weather announcement that it was the warmest day in thirty years, and boarded the vehicle hot and dishevelled.

Murphy had well-defined views regarding the relationship of capital to labour. They found expression—after a visit to the "power house" —in driving straight up Fifth Avenue, unmindful of brandishing umbrellas and "hays"! At such times Murphy felt that the down-trodden working man was not without compensation. Of course, if a man wished to make an acrobat of '"himself, chase the stage, and swing on, like ThorntonMurphy had no objections.

But on the particular trip in , which Thornton thus distinguished himself/ Murphy caught a glimpse of a would-be passenger at Twelfth street, that made him pull up his horses with a jerk and breai. his record. She—of course, this epoch-making passenger was a woman —stood on the corner making vague passes in the direction of the oncoming; stage with the point of a ruffled white parasol. She seemed to confer the grace of a Victoria on the great, clumsy vehicle by her mere passive presence, and Thornton, as he caught a glimpse of his red perspiring countenance in the adjacent scrap of mirror, alternately cursed his stupidity in chasing the stage till h& presented suoh a spectacle, and rejoiced in the speed that had made him her fellow-passenger. She opened her purse and began to poke about it for her fare—she puckered up her mouth which brought about the bewildering co-operation of two dimples, and when Thornton could tear his attention frd!b these ■ items to go on ( with the entagling inventory, he found a pair of brown eyes that completed his undoing. They had warm tints, "like sherry that is held to the light, and the brown hair matched the eyes to perfection—indeed, a. conscientious shopper could not have matched them better had she taken a whole morning to it. She was still engrossed in an apparently I futile search for change, and while Thornton hoped with fruitless optimism that she might not have it-r-and he, perhaps, would have the privilege of paying her fare—she cut short his hopes and fears by rising and depositing five pennies in the box—to judge by th« jingling rattle. "Oh-hh-! rat-tat-tat-tat!" and the- point of the beruffled white parasol was sharply ; knocking the window. ' "Phwat is it?" and Murphy applied his watery blue eye to the little round hole in the glass' via which change and communications are passed between driver and passengers. "Driver," she said, "I've dropped a fivedollar gold piece in with those pennies, and you must get it out for mc." "Begorra! I can't do that, miss. Sure, the box is locked, and pwhat goea in shtays in." " """"""* She vindictively regarded the box; a picture of bewitching .rebellion against the total depravity of/inanimate things. She pounded.it with, her little white-gloved fist/ she peered through the .dingy glass, but the pennies huddled stupidly in a heap. Thornton knew it was his chance to acquit himself by suggesting some brilliant solution of t"he problem. But as lie struggled to live up'to the opportunity, vouchsafed by the gods, he could only mop his head and think. "But you must , do something, really."" She half-entreated, half-commanded Murphy. "You really must." "Sorry, miss, but there's nothing to be done but for .yourself to ride to the md of the route; and mesilf will re-port the intire ochurrince to the rasayvir; an' fwhin he orthers the box opened yoursilf can claim the gold piece." " " "But I can't ride to the end of the route," she protested. "I'm on mv way to the Grand Central station, and I'll miss, my train." "Thim's the rules of the coompany.'V And Murphy turned to his horses, as if it were useless to argue further. Then Thornton had his inspiration; not a brilliant" one, certainly, but an expedient that at least suggested good intention—and kindness:

"Pardon me—it does seem a bit complicated—but couldn't the matter be arranged this wayr—l am not in the least pressed for time, and if you will permit mc to give you five dollars I will ride to the end of the route and claim yours."

She hesitated, blushed, then thanked him with th«j entangling accompaniment of the dimples. "It was so stupid of me, , -' she said, with just a suggestion of confidence, "but I thought the gold piece was a new penny. I didn't realise tmafterwards that I had a, five-dollar gold piece in my pocket."

Thornton mumbled something about his pleasure in rendering so trifling a service. M-urphy, with his eye glued to the hole, assured her he would'explain the situation.to the "rasayvir/ , and she left the stage at Forty-second street.

When they reached the stables Murphy clambered down from his seat, and with a, "Come on, you, now," which did not signify the disrespect it implied, but, rather, the fellowship shared by the participants in some unusual adventure, led 1 the way to the office.

The receiver heard Murphy's redundant recital of the facts with the reserved scepticism that.made Thornton long to throttle him He fetched the box, however, upturned the coins on the top of his desk, and spreading them flat with the palms of his hands prepared to search. There was no glint of gold among the tarnished pennies and dull nickels thus revealed in the ensemble, and the receiver - began a coin-to-coin hunt, deftly checking, off each with the tip of his middle right finger into the palrnof the lelt hand.

"I guess there ain't any five-dollar gold piece," the receiver said, after checking offthe last penny.

Murphy broke into a perfect crescendo of laughter. "Do you moind that now, .th' little divil, to go an , do a dhirthy thrick like dthat, an , her wid th' face ay an angel!"

Thornton silenced him, and after explaining to the receiver, who appeared to have some difficulty in maintaining his official dignity, that it was undoubtedly a mistake, and that the young lady would probably call to rectify it, left his card.

On his way out, he heard Murphy entertaming a group of drivers with a recital of the -very latest skin game—and you'll do well to be afther watching out for it. ' In leaving his card, Thornton hod decided that he had no right to prevent her from repaying an obligation that would be irritating to a sensitive girl, besides, there was the latent hope that should she remember so simple an. expedient as writing, he would thus discover who she was, and an acquaintance begun under such unusual circumstances might—but poor Thornton, wno 'has just lost .five dollars, is certainly entitled to a few thoughts of his own. But as he: received no word from the stage company, he even went the length, of reading the personals in die daily papers, in the 'hope of finding something beginning, "Willi the gentleman who,assisted lady in Fifth' Avenue "stagey— ~\ ", But it was f inconceivable to,think of a girl like that , employing the personal columns in any exigency. So the episode drifted into Thornton's limbo of experiences, where he found a little grim humour in ticketing it as •ail "It nnght have been." Mra Severie had a black cook who prepared terrapin in a way to make a man think twice before declining an invitation to one of her" dinners. When Thornton received one, he never thought at aUj he accepted with an alacrity that proves there are compensations even in the lonely lives of bachelors. I blush to tell it of a hero, but Thornton Tvent to Mrs Severle's dinner with a mind in ■which terrapin was the predominant thought. Perhaps that is why he was prevented from giving it a moment's further consideration—the fates having guch a sense of humour when it comes to mortal affairs—at all events, he looked at and thought of Mrs Severk;e niece who sat beside him, far more often than was consistent with the proprieties.

For Mrs. Severle's niece had dimples and eyes like sherry held toward the light and hair to match them Ah, you-recog-nise the description! She had not changed in the intervening two years.

They had parried a little tentative dinner English during the earlier courses, and she had summed him up to the imp of her inner consciousness as, "plain boiled man, heavy, likes to give undivided attention to Ms dinner." She had summed him up thus critically, not knowing what havoc she was making of an estimable 'bachelor's digestion—not to gay, heart. The while he wrestled Bitterly with the demon of wounded vanity—how could ehe have forgotten him so utterly?

Thornton was determined to bring the conversation round to Fifth' Avenue stages or lose faith in himself as a , strategist; to this end, he made a wide detour around automobiles, stopping just long enough for a word on their -delights, dangers and disadvantages ; then came the decline and fall of the horse, the chance of an improvement in

the condition of equine survivors, now that the ignominy of street-car hauling had been taken 'from- them. She listened vaguely. Why luul Aunt Serena sent her into dinner Vith such a bore? Street cars, horses, automobiles — the creature must be the president of a. traction company! She stifled a yawn, but Thornton knew of it.s passing by' the flush of those dimples—they nerved him to persist in the teeth of failuro. hoped to see the day when the Fifth Avenue stages would be "run by electricity!" She looked even a trifle more bored, and helped 'herself to salud. They were actually at the salad, and he had made no more progress: • The condition of the stage horse was pitiable, slipping on the ice'in winter, dropping with the heat in summer " "Ah," she decided", "he belongs to lh<s Soceity for, the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals—nothing can stop him." Thornton rattled on, making no visible progress, feeling himself beaten, yet hating to acknowledge it.. • " ' "Stages," she said at length, a trifle wearily, "are a sorry subject to mc. If we must talk public vehicles,' let's make it Broadway cables, or even Pxillmans—as a conductor of heat, what do you think of Pullman car plush on- a summer day?" (He could have embraced her Before them all. •'Certainly, by all means, we might even make it hansoms; but do you know, I am unwarrantably curious to know why stages axe a sorry subject to you?" "I have spent two years in trying to find a man who, once eat opposite mc in a Fifth Avenue stage." "Happy man V r eaid Thornton, aod he meant it. . "He is anything but,a happy man," eaid Miss Meredith, "inasmuch, as I 'buncoed* him—so my brother calls it—out of five dolkre." "My dear child," said Mrs Severle, "please don't tell that etory again. You are getting to.be like the ancient mariner. I begin <to fear that you will yot stop people going to weddings—-or was it ", please, Mrs Sev«rle, I've never heard it, pleaded Thornton. "You dion't know what v you have to be thankful for," ,aaid Tom Meredith, her brother* froui; acrose the table; "we've beard nothing else for two years. At first, she used to send mc, charging after strange men in theatres and such, places, to ask if they were it: but, of late, I've objected.* , ; "It ibas all the delights of matching a ribbon,' with the added delight that the ribbon is never matched, "■ said Mrs Severie. "It represents a' continuous shopping performance." . » "Do I look like the missing man; Miss Meredith?" asUced Thornton. "That's ■ the difficulty, I never looked at him—l was in such a hurry." "The family has made Rowena promise that she won't tell the stage story till after New Year's. No use urging it, Mr 'xnornton," and Tom smiled teasingly. "If you will permit mc, Miss Meredith, I will tell you a stage story after dinner," Thornton said, as Mrs Severlo gave the signal. t4 the ladies. They were seated on an oaken settle in the ingle nook of the library, and ire had , begun'his stage story. "It was at Twelfth Street that she got on, and she carried a ruffled white parasol and dropped five pennies in the box, and she thought one of them " "Mr Thornton!"—but it was too delightful to let every pne know immediately, so they lowered their voices and kept it to themselves. "Has Thornton been going in for anything particularly good lately?" asked one of the men. "He looks about ten years younger." "He's talking to Miss Meredith—isn't that enough?' , said the other, rather sourly. He had expected to talk to Miss Meredith hmself. Just then, in the sudden drop of conversation, they heard Thornton say, "iou don't agree with Mrs Severle that the ribbon will never be matched, do you?" ■ Her answer was too low to "be heard. "Idiot!" said the other man, "to talk U a girl like that about ribbons!" ft was announced in the spring.