the same old guy you used to like. Come on, Lisle! Don’t be a quitter!”
Lisle looked troubled and drew her hands away.
“I’m not a quitter, Victor, but it seems to me that you are. You had good standards and principles when we were children, and now you have cast them all aside. I do not like the way you talk.”
“Say, Lisle, be yourself, and give me another chance to show you. Just one more chance, Lisle! Be a little fair to an old friend!”
Victor knew how to make his handsome eyes plead, how to use his expressive voice in pretty arguments, how to throw utter sorrow and despair into his mobile face, until one glance his way would make strong argument for him, sowing doubt in the mind whether one had been quite fair to him.
Lisle turned perplexed eyes toward her mother.
“Should I, Mother?” she asked.
Her mother gave a troubled glance toward the boy and then looked at her young daughter with worried eyes.
“I am sure whatever you decide to do will be right,” she said hesitantly, but there was question in her own voice.
The boy grew eager.
“Aw, now Lisle, be your old self. Stick to your old code! Be fair to me just once more!” he pleaded.
Lisle’s face, though it did not soften, grew decisive.
“Very well,” she said almost coldly, “I’ll go, this once!”
“But you can’t go in that dress,” said her mother, rousing. “You’ll have to dress, and it’s getting late.” She glanced at the clock. “Besides, it’s growing colder.”
“Take your time,” said Victor, settling back in his chair again, with a look of almost defiant triumph in his eyes.
“I’ll put on my fur coat,” said Lisle. “It’s right here in the hall closet. I won’t be a minute.”
“That old shabby coat,” complained her mother distressfully as Lisle made a dash across the hall and came back, sliding into her old beaver coat and a little brown felt hat.
“It’s all right,” said the girl, with a wry smile. “It really doesn’t matter what I wear. Come on, Victor! Let’s get this thing over!”
“Oh!” said the young man, with an offended grin. “Is that the way you’re taking it? Well, come on! I’ll see it through no matter what odds you give me!”
And so with unsmiling faces they went away to their test, and the mother went to the window and watched them with troubled eyes. Had she done right to assent to her daughter’s going? Would harm come from it, or would there come a possible reconciliation? And would that be good for her child or ill? She turned away from the window with a sigh after they were out of sight, and in her dignified, conservative way, did what she understood to be right in the way of making a troubled prayer to offset what harm might be done.
Chapter 4
J ohn Sargent walked a full block before he realized that there was someone walking in step with him. Long, loose steps, as if they were old friends. Then, as they crossed the next corner and a good many other pedestrians turned away down the side street, the man was still there. John turned and gave him a quick look, taking in the keen eyes, the slouching gait, the assured set of head and shoulders.
The stranger met his gaze with a steady look and then spoke. “Well, you’ve had a busy day, haven’t you? I been watching you quite a spell off and on. You’re a good worker. Seems like you ought to be able to hold down a better-paying job than the one you were at.”
“Thanks!” said John, giving him another quick searching glance, but saying no more.
“You been working for this company long?” asked the stranger, after waiting for a more comprehensive answer to his first remark.
John gave the man another sharp look.
“A while,” he answered shortly.
The man studied him a moment.
“They pay you pretty well?” he asked insinuatingly.
“What’s it to you?” John barked out.
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all,” said Kurt Entry apologetically. “I was just thinking a man like you in these times
Lisle looked troubled and drew her hands away.
“I’m not a quitter, Victor, but it seems to me that you are. You had good standards and principles when we were children, and now you have cast them all aside. I do not like the way you talk.”
“Say, Lisle, be yourself, and give me another chance to show you. Just one more chance, Lisle! Be a little fair to an old friend!”
Victor knew how to make his handsome eyes plead, how to use his expressive voice in pretty arguments, how to throw utter sorrow and despair into his mobile face, until one glance his way would make strong argument for him, sowing doubt in the mind whether one had been quite fair to him.
Lisle turned perplexed eyes toward her mother.
“Should I, Mother?” she asked.
Her mother gave a troubled glance toward the boy and then looked at her young daughter with worried eyes.
“I am sure whatever you decide to do will be right,” she said hesitantly, but there was question in her own voice.
The boy grew eager.
“Aw, now Lisle, be your old self. Stick to your old code! Be fair to me just once more!” he pleaded.
Lisle’s face, though it did not soften, grew decisive.
“Very well,” she said almost coldly, “I’ll go, this once!”
“But you can’t go in that dress,” said her mother, rousing. “You’ll have to dress, and it’s getting late.” She glanced at the clock. “Besides, it’s growing colder.”
“Take your time,” said Victor, settling back in his chair again, with a look of almost defiant triumph in his eyes.
“I’ll put on my fur coat,” said Lisle. “It’s right here in the hall closet. I won’t be a minute.”
“That old shabby coat,” complained her mother distressfully as Lisle made a dash across the hall and came back, sliding into her old beaver coat and a little brown felt hat.
“It’s all right,” said the girl, with a wry smile. “It really doesn’t matter what I wear. Come on, Victor! Let’s get this thing over!”
“Oh!” said the young man, with an offended grin. “Is that the way you’re taking it? Well, come on! I’ll see it through no matter what odds you give me!”
And so with unsmiling faces they went away to their test, and the mother went to the window and watched them with troubled eyes. Had she done right to assent to her daughter’s going? Would harm come from it, or would there come a possible reconciliation? And would that be good for her child or ill? She turned away from the window with a sigh after they were out of sight, and in her dignified, conservative way, did what she understood to be right in the way of making a troubled prayer to offset what harm might be done.
Chapter 4
J ohn Sargent walked a full block before he realized that there was someone walking in step with him. Long, loose steps, as if they were old friends. Then, as they crossed the next corner and a good many other pedestrians turned away down the side street, the man was still there. John turned and gave him a quick look, taking in the keen eyes, the slouching gait, the assured set of head and shoulders.
The stranger met his gaze with a steady look and then spoke. “Well, you’ve had a busy day, haven’t you? I been watching you quite a spell off and on. You’re a good worker. Seems like you ought to be able to hold down a better-paying job than the one you were at.”
“Thanks!” said John, giving him another quick searching glance, but saying no more.
“You been working for this company long?” asked the stranger, after waiting for a more comprehensive answer to his first remark.
John gave the man another sharp look.
“A while,” he answered shortly.
The man studied him a moment.
“They pay you pretty well?” he asked insinuatingly.
“What’s it to you?” John barked out.
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all,” said Kurt Entry apologetically. “I was just thinking a man like you in these times
Similar Books
