SHORT STORY.

Lake County Press, Issue 2254, 7 January 1909, Page 7

SHORT STORY.

[PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT.] THE VIOLETS.

(By Harriet L. Smith.)

As he came iniu the office the fragrance met him like a friendly greeting. His heart warmed as if in answer to ka smile, and he had an unwonted sense *bf home-coming. He was aglow with the consciousness ot being made welcome before his intellect, lagging behind his heart, told him why. "Someone has been here, Thomas?" "Yes, Dr. Jim, a lady. She left a note for ygu—an' them posies." There were gray threads in the doctor's dark hair, but to the old man who had served his father, he would never be anything but " Dr. Jim." Thomas was proud of him, as one may be proud of the precocity of a child, but to have acknowledged him the equal of "the old doctor" would, to his mind, savored of blasphemy. "Violets!" exclaimed the doctor, with incredulous pleasure. He leaned back* in his chair with half-closed eyes, drinking deep of their fragrance. He had a momentary sense of escape from the routine of his work, from his anxiety over patients who were not doing as well as he had expected. A vision of April woods passed before him, bare branches a-throb with returning life, rotting leaves, violets pushing up through the mould, the riot of spring in the air. Then he came back to realities with a start, and unfolded the note Thomas handed him. "Dear Dr. Paxton: "There is a boy at 1306 North Bald-win-street, Willie Dole, who is sadlv in need of your help. You will find him on the third floor. Please do the best you can for him, and send the bill to me. "Sincerely yours, Josephine Irwin." "Miss Irwin," repeated the doctor. The old incredulity was in his voice, and something more than the old pleasure. He looked again at the violets, but they no longer suggested the April woods, with the faint blue of the April sky above them. Instead, no saw a woman's, face, not pretty—he would have resented the term almost indignantly—but strong, vivacious, intensely alive. Philanthropy was her pastime, and so their paths had crossed frequently. She often summoned him to her assistance in cases in which she was interested. They had looked into each other's eyes across more than one death bed. and he had seen the colour Hood her cheeks, when his glance told her that the victory was theirs. But the violets were a step in advance. They seemed to him like the reaching out of a friendly hand across some intangible barrier. It was not difficult to find the patient on the third floor of the dilapidated building on Baldwin 'Street. "Willie Dole," repeated the frowsy woman who kept the bakery on the first floor. "Lord! All you've got to do to find him is to follow the whistle." And the doctor climbed the rickety stairs, met half way up by the feeble piping of a popular air, which was to guide him to his patient's bedside. Willie Dole regarded the doctor with interest from his only service able eye. The other was temporarily closed, apparently by a blow. "Bless me, my lad," exclaimed the doctor, after a brief exclamation. "WWat have you been trying to do to yourself?" Willie Dole's pale lips were twisted with pain, yet they emitted a cheerful chuckle. "Why, it's my old man. He ain't no slouch wtih his fists, but when he gets a chair-back to help him, he's a winner, all right." His impersonal admiration of his father's proficiency in brutality was not without interest, but the doctor's thoughts were wandering. "So you know Miss Irwin ?" he suggested. "Know her? You bet I do. She's the best ever. Friend of yourn ?" But yesterday the doctor would have answered cautiously: "i nave met Uer several times." But to-day, under the fetid, fervent atmosphere ot the tenement house, some unnamed sense detected the" fragrance of violets. "Yes," he answered quietly, "she is a friend of mine." "She comes down to our club pretty near every week/' explained Willie Dole. 'That's where I see her first. Ever hear her play the planner?" Dr. Paxton acknowledged that he had never had the pleasure. "Gee, but she's a bird. Ought to see tne way her fingers hop 'round. Fleas ain't m it! Sue can do a thunder storm down in the lower end, you know, till you get to thinking that maybe you'll be struck by ligntning, and sing! Did you ev«r hear her sing coon songs?" "I never have," said Dr. Paxton, and he chuckled softly, knowing that Miss Irwin's musical taste was regarded as somewhat severely classical. "She don't have to take a back-seat for nobody," said Miss Irwin's admirer. "An' I know what I'm talking about, for I hear the best of 'em at the continuous. I don't mean looks," he explained, with an evident determination to be fair, "though there ain't no telling how well she'd look if she'd make her cheeks red, and wear a frizzy yellow wig, like those other girls. But when it comes to singing, she's got 'em all skinned, a mile." The day had been a hard one. but at his solitary dinner the doctor made the discovery that he was not tired. It occurred to him that it would be a very fitting courtesy to call and enlighten Miss Irwin as to the welfare of her protege. Yesterday this would have seemed unneccessary —if not presumptuous. But the violets seemed to promise him that his call would not be an intrusion. Thomas brushed the doctor's evening clothes and complained that the trousers needed pressing. "You ought to tell me when you are thinking of going out, and I could have things ready for you," scolded the old man. Dr. Paxton accepted these reproofs meekly. With his peers he was a man of unusual dignity, but with) Thomas he always felt himself a boy, lucky to be let off with than a scolding. The of which Mis s Irwin was thc^^^^Hlis tress was brilliantly Birikle of a piano floated out H, and with a start he real'zejß might not be alone. The sflH H)f the recluse suddenly At her very door he half turraa away. And then the keen winter air blew into his face the breath of violets and, he rang the

bell, assured that he would be wcl come. He had never seen her before in evening dress, and for a moment he found- it hard to connect this richly gowned woman with her whose sad eye had sought his over a dying baby. But there were violets in her hair, and it did not need her smile of welcome to make him at home. The people in the room were not of his class. Pleasure was their vocation, and his rare indulgence. But he suddenly resolved to meet them on their own ground. He would not talk shop to-night. . lie would wait till another time to teil her of Willie Dole, unless she cared to ask. He found himself discussing matters as far from the routine of his daily work as the European capitals, where he had spent his student life, were far from the sordidncss of Baldwin-street. He detected a gratified surprise in Miss Irwin's manner, occasionally, as if he were showing her a new side of himself, and she found the revelation pleasing. Later in the evening she sang, her rich, cultivated voice appealing in its deep, passionate notes to something more than his love of music. When she had finished he had the sensations of a spent runner. His pulses were t'hrobbing, his breath came hard. He did not know what whimsical impulse prompted him to say: "And now won't you sing me a coon song?" For a moment she looked at him in stupefaction. Then the light of understanding leaped to her eye. "Willie has been telling tales," was her only comment, as she turned again to the piano and broke into a rollicking melody. She santr it inimitably but refused to respond to the plaudits of her surprised audience. "This was a special concession," she explained, with a smiling glance in Paxton's direction, and her assumption of a mutual understanding, from which the others were included, seemed a very long step ahead in their intimacy. After Willie Dole's complete recovery removed the most evident excuse for their frequent meetings, their friendship /Still made progress. She called on him for help quite as freely as of old, and he fought disease and death with an ardour more than professional. He saw her often at her hv/xne, and once or twice had been invited there to meet persons of more or less distinction. He had a comfortable consciousness that he had acquitted himself well on those last named occasions and that her manner had suggested a pleased pride in him that savoured of proprietary ritrhts. A number of times he had sent her violets, and though he never inclosed a card, if did not surprise him that she invariably guessed the donor. He was sure, too, that sheunderstood why he never chose any other flower. The spring had come and the intoxication of April was in his blood, when she s,poke to him one day over the telephone. "Oh, is this you, Dr. Paxton? I've tried half a dozen times to get you. Willie's father has been beating him again." "Outrageous !" "Isn't it? I'm determined that 'it shall end here. The boy must be taken away or the father confined. But in the meantime he is suffering greatly." "I'll come at once. I must stop to see a patient on Hanover-stroet who is in a critical condition, but I'll tret to Willie inside half an hour." "You'll find me there. I've just left him and am going back immediately. Good-bye." . In spite of his added incentive for haste, it was an hour before Paxton was able to get away from his first patient. As he climbed the stairs of the ricketv building on Baldwinstreet, he was vaguely conscious that he missed something, and after a moment he knew it was Willie's whistle. Then his steps wiere arrested bv a voice, a voice authoritative, sternly commanding, harsh —with some emotion Paxton did not understand. "I tell you to sit down !" A torrent of profanity made answer.

as if a vicious hate, seething lava-like in a heart had suddenly overflowed the side of the crater. "You are to sit down now! Do you hear? In that chair by the window! Do you understand?" Paxton looked about him. He felt sure thati his heln was needed. He was not certain where. "I will give you till I count three," said the voice, "One, two—" Paxton leaped up the stairs like a man distraught. The door or willie Dole's room was locked, and that delaved him till the pressure of his shoulders had t'orn the crazy hinjres from the rotten wood. Then as he sprang- over the ruin he saw Josephine Irwin standing- erect in the middle of the room, her lips bloodless, her eyes narrowed to a slit and her steady gaze fixed on a wretched being who was cowering in the chair by the window, lifting his hands as if to screen himself from a fire that; scorched him. She swayed where she stood as Paxton reached her side. Her dominant strength was suddenly replaced by appealing helplessness. "He came in and locked the door," she cried like a child, recounting a grievance. "And then he said he was going to whip Willie again." She sobbed against his shoulder for the briefest of instants and Paxton turned furiously toward the wretched heap in the corner that only cringed and whimpered. He had been thoroughly cowed, and for the present was not dangerous. The doctor turned away with an exclamation of disgust. . There was no whistle in Willie today. All his pluck could not force a smile to his white lips. But the admiration in his eyes overshadowed all else. "She made the old man back down," he said. "Just regularly scared him to death. You'd oughter seen it. It was great." - After Willie had been cared for, and his fond parent placed where he would be temporarily incapable of carrying out the benevolent impulses of his liquor-crazed brain, the doctor called a carriage and took Miss Irwin home. He made no effort to speak as they rolled from the squalor of the dingy streets out upon the asphalt of the boulevard. She, too, was silent, but at her door he paid the cabman and followed her inside as a matter of course. . She looked at him a little doubtfulv as they stood together in the hall. "We'll go upstairs to my own particular den," she said, "It's more cosy, and no one will interrupt us. The big room full of evidence of cultivated taste and abundant means, did not meet Paxton's conception of the word "cosy," but that was a matter of minor importance. All he wanted was to be alone with her. tic had held her in his arms for one instant when the relief of his coming had robbed her of her self-possession, and he had never before been so sure of himself. > .it "How (positive lv disreputable J look." said Mis- Irwin, scanning herself in the long Venetian mirror with ' much disfavor. "A verbal scrimmage with an. intoxicated man may be ex-

citing, but cettaiuly^B Ihe man did not answer. ]■ cognized indulgently the pulse to postpone the he drew from his pocket a iii'tlJH age wrapped in lavender Reverently he unfolded it and 1 on the table before her. . "What is it?" asked Miss !■ bending down, "Are you a mod™ man, and is this one of the chart! by which you work your cures?" Sin sniffed thoughtfully. "Why, thcy'n flowers, aren't they ?" "Violets," said the man. His void had a ring as of triumph, and sh( looked up quicklv, but her face was blank. "Six months ajjo," said the doctor standing before her, "1 came hom< .ned one night, and found a note irom you, asking 'me to look attei Willie. It wasn't the first of youi calling on me to help you with om oi your proteges, but, this time yo. left the violets." She was looking down now, and hj( could not see her face, but something in the droop of her bowed head made him less confident. He went on mor< slowly, like one feeling his way. "We were far from being strangers as you know, but I should have saic we were just as tar irom mends. 'lucre had always seemed u me to be a chasm between a professional man, dependent on his exer aons for his bread and butter, anc a wealthy woman whose generosity ied ner to spend her leisure in help ing the poor. But that bit of impulsive friendliness made me Wondei it 1 had been mistaken. lour violets,", said the doctor, voicing t inougiit that had come to him long before, "were like a friendly banc L..d out across the chasm." Still no answer, and he felt agair the poignant stab of doubt. "Von can't have forgotten," he said piteousiy. It was inconceivable that the thing which meant so much to him should have escaped her memory. She looked at him for the first time since he had begun to speak. "If 1 had left! violets tor you, Dr. Paxton,' she said, "1 should not have forgotten it. But I did not do it, at least not intentionally!" In the silence that followed she went on musingly. "I have a faint recollection of stopping at the florist's when 1 left Willie's. I had an order for a dinner party at the end of the week, and 1 wanted to see the man personally. He gave me a bunch of violets and 1 must have dropped them on your desk when 1 sat down to write you. My mind was so full of Willie that 1 never missed the violets. That is all." Yes, that was all. He looked down at the little black heap that once had been fragrant blossoms, and realized that his hopes were as withered and lifeless as they. His castle of dreams had been built upon a blunder. He was again the hard-working young physician, and she the wealthy woman to whom he could be useful in her charities. The chasm between them was as real as he had ever fancied, too wide for them vo clasp hands across it. Pic was very pale. His hand trembled as he drew out his watch. Odldly enough it came to him that at this juncture he could not afford to fall below the standard set by Willie Dole. Instead of imitating Willie's whistle, he tried to smile. "Almost six o'clock. I did not know it was so late. I ought not to keep you longer. You must be unstrung after your trying- experience. Let me advise you to spend a very quiet evening. But I must tell you before Igo how brave I think you. I am proud to have known so brave a woman." He was moving toward the door, but she checked him with authority in her voice. "Dr. Paxton, will you please sit down a moment." She pulled off her long gloves deliberately, then went to the mirror and arranged her hair. He had called her brave. He little guessed that she was rallying her courage for a supreme test. "Dr. Paxton," she said, as if weighing each word, "I don't know why I told you of your mistake except that it is instinctive with me to tell the trutn and the whole truth. 1 did not plan to leave the flowers on your desK. We were comparative strangers then. I had seen a little of your selltorgetfulness. I admired your skill. But I had not discovered the thousand _r.s which set vou apart and above other men." A long silence. "I didn't drop those violets on your desk," Miss Irwin reiterated, apparently losing a little of her self-control, "but I seem to have lost something else of mine, and it is waiting for you to pick it up. Oh, Jim. why don't you help me out ? It isn't fair to leave all this ..: a woman." The withered violet's had been pushed to the floor, and lay there unheeded. He trod upon them as he strode across the room to take her in his arms, grinding them to powder. But there was no need of violets now to tell him, by their subtle fragrance, that tine chasm could be crossed.