Hidden Creek

h or dinner or even breakfast, Dickie was always in haste to serve him. For some reason, the man's clever and nervous personality intrigued his interest. And this, although h

this man's order. He hesitated to go back. "Like as not," reasoned Dickie, "he didn't rightly know what the order was. He never does look at hi

was screwed into his chair as usual, eyes, with a sharp cleft between their brows, bent on his folded newspaper, and he put

l-that's not my ord

fool." He stood silent a moment looking dow

u look a whole lot more like a feller that would order Spanish

k, and looked up at Dickie. In fact, he stared. His thin lips, enclosed i

aid. "But, look here,

eak; I order

d. He wore his look of a seven-year-old with which he wa

d out that you wouldn't be caring what was on your plate. Thi

. "It's all right," he

glanced up again. "What a

I was sort of wishful to

f waiting. I mean-why are you

don't know why-" He added-"Why anything. It's a sort of extry

ck a little in his chair, his eyes twinkling under brows d

pying painstakingly with one hand from a fat volume which he held down with the other. The strong, heavily-shaded light made a circle of brilliance about him; his fair hair shone silvery bright, his face had a sort of s

ake your pleasure?"

doings of a midsummer night. Under the observant eyes bent upon it, his face changed extraordinarily

a smile of recognition

e Dickie, put on his glasses, and looked at the fat book. "P

but he felt drawn to this patron of the "hash-hole," so, tho

he said. "That's w

n't you take it ou

ooks. I figured it was a kind of exchange proposition. I've only got one book-and that ain't rightly mine-" the man looking at him wondered why his face flamed-"so, when I came in

o the desk, youngste

wling again-"folks don't deal so m

ong to the desk and I'll fix you up with a card a

his-Augustus Lorrimer. The librarian stamped a bit of cardboard a

h such respectful fervor that s

who had taken no hints about asking question

" asked Dickie. There was a great deal of

said that, that he was a vulgarian-a long-forgotten sensation. "In Mars

r, Dick?" he asked aloud, a few blocks on their

eer ways when he's alone a whole lot. I get kind of feelin' like somebody was fol

years to his own first winter in New York. He looked with keenness at Dickie's face. It was a curiously charming face

one in t

I've made acquaintance

join a club. But I h

ay do y

named

? But you've

board with my pay an

ind of living! Where

? He

h and east. Dickie climbed lightly up the stairs. Lorrimer followed with a feeling of b

he said, "afore I light the

rm of golden bees glim

below you wouldn't hardly

nd he saw a bare studio room almost vacant of furniture. There was a bed and a s

rs for a fellow on your

u happen to

once lived here." Dicki

even Lorrimer knew tha

eclined "the makings,"

ities his eyes fl

ulated, "is all that

d scattered manuscript upon

d. "I was plumb foolish

watched him with rather a startled air and a flush that might have seemed

nly a line-or a word." He read aloud,-"'Close to t

ed Tennyson. Ain't it the way a feller fee

scraper sensation, isn't it? What's all this-'An' I h

uldn't keep himself from loving that-away because he loved so much the other way-well, sir, you bett

nnet, 'It was not like your great and gracious ways'-? Co

y church," said Dickie gravel

ruptly away and mo

e you educ

stern State-"I didn't get only to grammar scho

-night. And many thanks. You've got a fine place her

ights and climbed back to his loneliness. He was, however, very much excited by his adve

desire to live where she lived: the first wish he had had since he had learned that she was not to be found by him. And the miracle had accomplished itself. Mrs. Halligan had been instructed to get a lodger at almost any price for the long-vacant studio room. She lowered the rent to the exact limit of Dickie's wages. She had never bargained with so bright-eyed a hungry-looking applicant for lodgings. And that night he lay awake under Sheila's stars. From then on he lived always in her presence. And here in the room that had known her he kept himself fastidious and clean. He shut out the wol

o the aching unrealities of his existence. His tight and painful life had opened like the first fold of a fan. H

waiter and went without his own dinner. For the first time in his life a sense of social inferiority, of humiliation concerning the nature of his work, came to him. He felt the pang of servitude, a pang unknown to the inhabitants of frontier towns. When Sheila washed dishes for Mrs. Hudson she was "the young lady from Noo York who helps round at Hudson's house." Dickie fought this shame sturdily, but it seemed to cling, to have a sticky pervasiveness. Try

by a big neighboring fire. Waiters and guests tumbled out to the call of fire-engines

ing in his tone that softened injury. "If you wa

warehouse broke forth into a horrible beauty. It was as though a tortured soul had burst bars. It roared and glowed and sent up petals of smoky rose

Does all this look like anything to you? That fire and those people a

he made his own statement in a queer tone of frightened a

out. "Go on! Don't stop! Tell me everything that comes into your da

ie, "tell you what I

what I m

id motion. And the reporter's eyes shot little stabbing looks at Dickie's unselfconscious face. When it was over

e that for years. I'm a burnt-out candle and you're the divine fire. I'm going to educate the life out of you. I'm going to train you till you wish you'd died young and ungrammatical in Millings. I may not be much good myself," he added solemnly, "but God gave me the sense to know the real thing when I see it. I've been

ntly. It was a prayer