VALUE RECEIVED.

Northland Age, Volume 2, Issue 41, 22 May 1906, Page 2

VALUE RECEIVED.

BY GEORGE DURNELL; Across the. hall, with its tiled floor and its marble wainscoting, the light from an open doorway fell. The man who had just alighted from the 14ft and was slowly strolling along paus- ; ed by this doorway and looked In. It i was not alone curiosity that held j him there ; a sudden slight faintness had attacked him and he was glad of the support of the door frame. He clutched at this as his eyes searched the interior of the room. It>was an office bf some sort, with several desks and numerous chairs, but its only occupant was a girl at a typewriter table near the centre of the room. The man in the doorway looked hard at the girl—she was quite unconscious of his presence—and he liked the peise of her head and the way her hair was dressed, and the dainty collar about her white throat. And there was something fascinating about the play of her white fingers above the keys. And then all at once the white fingers seemed to blend together, and he found his clutch on the dopr frame growing tighter. Perhaps the girl had heard him as he strove to hold himself up. Anyway, she suddenly looked around and saw him. In a moment she had risen and pushed her chair back and was coming towards him. "You are ill," she rapidly said. He tried to mumble something in return, but the words refused to take shape. "Come to the window," she said, "I'm sure you need air." She took his arm and half led, half supported him across the room, and put him in an easy chair by the window and raised the sash a little higher. Then she turned to run to a corner and returned with a glass of water. When she returned his head had dropped back He had fainted. When he came back to consciousness a soft hand was moistening his brow and two sympathetic eyes were looking down into his. He let his own eyelids close again, and took a long breath of satisfaction. "Are you better now ?" It was a delightful voice. "Much better, thank you." He opened his eyes again. She had drawn back, and her hand no longer rested, on his forehead. "Here is a glass of water." He sipped a little. "Thank you," he said again. "So sorry to have troubled you." ’ "The trouble is nothing. You are sure you are getting stronger ?" "Yes. I would like to rest here for a few minutes if you don't object. I will go just as soon as my, strength comes back." "You are welcome to stay as long as you like." "Thank you once more. It was foolish of me to collapse in that weak fashion, but I have been ill." "Yes, I see you have," "It was a fever, and I am not myself yet. The sun affects me so quickly. But I am drawing you from your work." "No. I want to know that you are all light again before I go back to it." "I’ll be all right in a few minutes.' "Do you wish me to call anybody?' "No, no. All I want is a little rest and the fresh air." She looked at him keenly. His clothes were plain and they were not "Have you had any breakfast ?" "Very little," he answered. "Perhaps that is one reason why you grew faint. Excuse me for a moment." He followed her with wondering eyes as she went. When she returned she had something wrapped in tissue paper. It was a toothsome-looking sandwich. "Eat that," she commanded. "You need not be afraid of being observed. The desk hides you from the doorway, and Mr. Millikin will not be back before noon ;" and she put the sandwich in his hand. "But I am robbing you of your luncheon." "I am sure you need it more than I do. ,Eat it, please." She spoke as if he were an obstinate child, and he obeyed her. She watched him for a brief moment, bhen turned back ~to her typewriting. When she came back a little later every crumb had vanished. "It was awfully good," he said ; "but that goes without saying. Y'ou see, I havn't left even a crumb for a souvenir." She looked at him keenly, again. "I’m afraid," she said ; that you are not as good to yourself as you should be. Why don't you eat when you need the food, and why do you walk in the street when the sun affects you ? But there," she hastily added, "it is no affair of mine." "I am glad to have your sympathy," he said "It is a novelty to have any one show a kindly interest in my wellfare." "Have you a home ?" "No." "No relatives ?" "No." "Are you looking for work ?" "Yes," he answered. "But you are not well enough.^ "I must work." The look of sympathy in her clear eyes deepened "And have you had any success in your search ?" "No." She frowned a little. - "How does it happen," she asked, ‘that you are in these unpleasant straits ? You look like a gentleman. You speak like an educated person. Why are you so unsuccessful ?" "Circumstances, perhaps," he answered. "Lack of ambition, maybe.' She frowned again. ‘‘You must have had some experience. You are not a young man.” "I am thirty-three.” "Isn’t there some employment you are specially fitted for ?" He shook .his head. "I'm afraid not;" and he sighed. Then he came and faced her. I will not bother you any longer," he said. "You have been kind. I am grateful for your sympathy, and I am glad you consider me a gentleman. Good morning and he turned away. ; "One moment she said. "Take care of yourself. I wish you good luck " and she put out her slim hand. "Good-bye." He took her hand, and when she withdrew her fingers he found a florin in his palm. He looked at it after he reached the hall, and a sudden smile crossed his face. He was still holding it when the lift took him mV* l

Miss Nellie Blanchard was alone In the office of Milliken & Co., nit.wuftMturers' agents, the next morning’ when she becafhe conscious of a form in the doorway. She looked up with a little start. It was the stranger of the day before. He seemed brighter and better. "Good morning," he said. "May I come in a moment ?" She pleasantly nodded. "You look much better." "I am better. I’m taking your advice and treating myself with more consideration. I enjoyed a good breakfast this morning, and I'vekept out of the sun." "That’s good. Won’t you sit down a bit ?" "Thank you. I will for just a moment. I was passing by, and saw that you were alone." He paused, and then suddenly added : "But I havn’t brought that florin back." "Never mind that and the girl laughed, His tone was so serious. "I’m glad you had a good breakfast. And how about the chances for . employment ?" "They are brightening.’’ "How is that ?”

"I’ve got an opportunity to do something in an estate agent’s office."

The girl shook her head. "Too many in that business now," she .with a little sigh. "That was my father’s business. He was considered successful, but he went in too deep at a time when he should have been slow and careful. A certain allotment swamped him financially. It broke his heart, too, and no doubt hastened his death. I have little cause to think well of an est ate agency.'' "Evidently not," said the stranger. "But it seems just now as if it was the one easy thing for me to get into." "Well," said the girl, "I wish you success in it." "And may I report progress to you occasionally ?" The girl hesitated. "I don’t think there can be any harm in that," she said. "Of course, it must be progress." "Of course." ' "Very well." "One thing more. You mustn’t think I’m going to forget 1 that money." "I don’t expect you to pay it before you have the means," said the girl, with another little laugh. "Thank you," he said. "And perhaps I'd better tell you my name. It seems more business-like. It’s Rhodes." The girl smiled. "I shan't forget it, Mr. Rhodes. It will be easy to remember. It’s the name of the owner of this very building." "You mustn’t get us mixed," said the stranger, with a sudden laugh. The girl looked the man over in her quick way. "I’ll promise not to do that,” she said. The stranger arose. "I hope I’ll have something definite to report soon," he said. "I hope you will." "Good-bye, Miss Blanchard." "Good-bye, Mr. Rhodes." And it was not until after he had gone that she wondered how he had learned her name. It was two day,s later before he again appeared. He looked still ; better. There was a spruceness a- 1 bout his attire that appealed to the j girl’s critical glance. He seemed to have gained in manliness too. "Congratulate me, Miss Blanchard," he said. "I have a situa- ' tion at last." "I am glad to hear it," she said ; "and I hope you will keep it." “Oh, A r ou must have confidence in me. You know you encouraged me ! •to look for it, and you mustn’t cloud my gratification." "I don’t mean to do so," said the girl. "Is it a good place." "It will keep the wolf from the door," he said, cheerily. "That’s a j good deal to me just now, you know. Places are scarce, and the pay is only moderate."

"But it’s a place." "It’s a place." "And it means daily toil, and useful discipline, and manly - independence." "Yes." The girl looked at him with a little nod. "Good," she said. A soft flush stole into her cheeks. "If you are in need of a little money before your salary is due I think I could help you.”

"No, no ;" and he shook his head vigorously. "I owe you money now. No more until I pay that." "I hope you’ll require no more after you pay that," she said. They were getting on good terms now, and the more she saw of the stranger the better she liked him. And as they became better acquainted she told him about her own struggles—how her father's death had left her mother and herself penniless, and how it was necessary for her to find employment. She told him how she had hunted for work finally found it. And what a struggle it was at first ! And how after a time she had won her way and was in receipt of a fair salary,, and could support herself and her mother in comfortable circumstances.

And the stranger had listened with much interest, and had said some pleasant things about her perseverance and her energy. But he had said little about himself. He deserved no credit for anything he had done, he claimed. He meant to do something in time. Sp his brief calls continued, and the progress he reported was of an encouraging sort. His health was greatly improved, too, and one morning he came in wearing a new suit of clothes.

"If you are not careful," said the girl, as she shook her finger at him, "they’ll be taking you for the Rhodes who owns the building." "Not so bad as that," he cried. "They tell me he's not a man to be envied, in spite of his wealth." "I don’t know anybody who has ever seen him," said the girl. "They say he’s a misanthrope, and old before his time. I don’t envy him. I’m only sorry for him." "I'm not exactly sorry for him," said the man. "Perhaps he only needs something to wake him upsomething to rouse his ambition and his energy." Whereat the girl suddenly flushed, although there seemed no occasion for it. * # * # #

And then one morning come | in and invited her to take an electric car ride with him the following Sunday, and she had agreed, on condi- . tion that he would take dinner with Iw- matter andteraelL

ried out. The guest found the dinner in the modest home a delightful one, and Mrs. Blanchard a charming woman. And after dinner he and Nellie went out again. "Of course," he said, w,jth a little laugh, "I must plan my excursions according to my income. Some day I hope to reach the luxury of a steam yacht and motor-car." And Nellie professed to like the electric cars the best, because they were safe and entailed no responsibility. "This line," she suddenly said, "takes us to the allotment of which I have told you—the last one that my father planned. Would you like to lookjt over ?" He said he would, and so they wandered about among the pretty new homes and along the well-paved streets, and presently she stopped at a corner and looked back. "This row of houses was to have been mine," she said, with a gentle smile. "That’s what papa told me the last Sunday we came here together. ‘That’s where your pinmoney is to come from, Nellie,’ he said, in his laughing way. ‘You’ll be quite independent with the income it will give you.’ Poor papa, he always was so optimistic and she gently sighed. The,man at her side looked the houses over carefully. "Who owns them now ?’’ he asked. "Villiers and Smith," she answered. "They were security for a loan." The afternoon was wearing away when they turned homeward. "Let us walk part of the way," said Rhodes ; and they slowly strolled down the thoroughfare that led towards the home of the Blanchards. Presently the man spoke, and his voice was low and earnest. "Miss. Blanchard—Nellie," he said, "it is nearly a month now since I met you, and it has been a happy, month for me. I. can’t tell you of the good your friendship has done me. lam a man with new purposes and new hopes, I need you, Nellie ; I feel that I cannot do without you. Will you be my wife ?" There was a little silence, his face was eagerly turned to hers, but she did not look at him. “L like .you very much," she presently said, in her quiet way—"better than any other man I have ever met. But marriage is a serious problem. We must look at it in a practical way. I am independent, and useful and reasonably happy. And then I have someone to consider Resides myself. If I married you I would have to give up my . present employment ?” "Of course,” he cried. "And are you in a position to care for both my mother and myself ?’’ She asked the question with a gentle frankness, her tender eyes turned upon him. He slightly flushed as he met her gaze. "And will you marry me when I am ?" he asked. She hesitated a moments "Yes," she answered, "I will." He laughed boyishly. He looked ten years younger. "Oh, I'll promise you it won’t be long," he cried. "It won’t be long" and he fell to whistling a merry tune. "Oh, I forgot it was Sunday," he said, with a comical grimace. "And there's our car. Come, let’s run, dearest ;" and he caught her hand as they sped along. There is no doubt Nellie Blanchard was disappointed when her Sunday guest failed to appear in the office of Milliken & Co. the next morning. She had expected him, and he did not come ; and as the moments wore along with no tidings from him, she began to realise how much his companionship .meant to her, But the busy Milliken hadn’t been gone from the office more than five minutes that afternoon when the missing man appeared. He came in quickly, and the girl noticed that his face was flushed and his eyes bright indeed. "A little late," he said, "but there were so many details. It's all right though. I’m going to make my last report on progress." “Your last report?" she echoed. "Oh, I don’t mean to stop progressing," he cried. "I only mean that I am going to stop coming here." "I don’t understand," she said, a little faintly. "Things are looking so bright," he explained, ‘that I have actually come in to settle the little indebtedness that has bothered me so long." "What indebtedness ?" "Why, the florin you lent me, of

course." She shook her head at him. She even smiled. "It’s hardly worth making all this ado about," she said, i "Oh, yes, it is," he cried, and drew from an inner pocket a long envelope ! From this he extracted a legel document, and laid it on the table before her. "For value received," he said. "For me''?” she asked. He eagerly nodded. "Read it," he cried. She glanced rapidly tlirough the paper, and her eyes' dilated as she read. "The consideration is two shillings, as you see," he said. She looked at him, and her voice ( trembled as she spoke. "Does this mean that you have given me that row of houses In York-bury-Road—the row that my father j promised me ?’’ "That’s the deed," he said, “and it’s sealed, signed, recorded, and delivered. And now, please, maefam, j will you kindly clink out your resign- j tion to Milliken & Co., and then name the happy day?" Her eyes were still upon him. "You—you have deceived me,” she murmured. "I'll promise never to do so again,’ he eagerly announced. "You ate my sandwich," she half laughed, "and you took rny two shillings, and now you prove to be a fairy prince. What am I to expect next ? You may even be' the misanthropic Mr. Rhodes who owns this building." He laughed merrily. "Why not ?" he asked.—" Weekly Budget."

Every telegraph pole in the remote districts of Norway has to be continually watched on account of the bears which have a mania for climbing the poles and sitting on the cross-beams, swaying backward and forward till the pole finally falls.