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Show Children of Babylon X By EFFIE SPOFFORTH X (Copyright, 1915, by W. G. Chapman.) The boy, once back in his hall bedroom, bed-room, threw himself down on the narrow nar-row bed and remained there motionless, motion-less, his eyes closed. Sometimes, when be came home from the warehouse he waa physically inert like this. He was only twenty-one, and the contrast between be-tween the hopes with which he had gone to the great city and actuality was harder than the physical fatigue. He worked at eight dollars a week, packing books for Vincent & Co., publishers. pub-lishers. With a high school education and literary aspirations, he ought to be able to do something better than that. "We'll give you a chance in the basement," Vincent had told him. "If you make good there an opportunity may arise upstairs." "I'll take it," the boy had answered. At half-past seven the following tnorning the boy went to work. He had worked there for four months. He did not know that Vincent was trying him out, that there really would be a chance for him, first at clerical work and then if he proved efficient effi-cient in a minor role among the literary staff of the publishing company. com-pany. Vincent had had his eye on him all the while, as was his way. Of all that the boy knew nothing. He only saw himself hammering nails Into packing cases, among a crowd of Ignorant, and not too high-minded as-eociates. as-eociates. And often he had thought of giving up and going back to the farm, to face the sneers of the neighbors, the silent reproaches of his father, and, worst of all, his mother's pity. Then temptation had come to him. There was a man named Dutton among the employees. Dutton had shown, him friendliness, had won his confidence. confi-dence. "You're a fool, boy, to look forward to a life of this sort of work," he said. "There's easy money to be picked up In this city. Now listen to me " In the lunch hour he had outlined a plan by which money was to be She Had Lost All Faith in Herself. "picked up" as he phrased it. It involved in-volved plain robbery. But, though the boy shrank away, horrified at the suggestion, sug-gestion, the plausibility of the man worked on his mind and the temptation proved a real ona in spite of his scruples. Dutton had learned a secret about the safe. Every house has its secrets, se-crets, its weak points in its defensive system. On Saturday nights there was often a sum of two or three thousand thou-sand dollars in the safe. The night watchman was an old man. The safe was tot a new one. The boy's part would be simply to engage the old fellow fel-low in conversation until the confederates confed-erates got their opportunity to hit him on the head and take the keys. For that five hundred dollars was to be his. And, so strangely is the human mind fashioned, that the boy had felt that, to tell Vincent, would be a betrayal be-trayal of confidence. The atmosphere of the packing room was not a good one. The boy had gone home and flung himself down on his bed, and bis mind was in a turmoil. lu the next room the girl had come heme and flung herself into the an cient arm-chair with which the land lady had supplied her when it became too shabby for use in the parlor. She felt utterly unwrought after her day at the department store. She had worked there at six dollars a week for nearly half a year. When she left the little country town, equipped with a good education, she had confidently expected to take tha city by storm. In fact, she was an artist of rare ability. But what is the use of ability unless someone has brains to recognize it? So day by day she had besieged the offices with her drawings. Once she had sold one. and she had lived on that lingering hope until the remain, der of her money was gone. Then, at her wits' end, she had accepted the position which the landlady told her could be obtained at Darrow's. At Darrow's she had toiled behind the counter of the hosiery department, at the beck and call of vulgar, frock-coated frock-coated floorwalkers, a cipher among ciphers. She felt crushed by this atmosphere at-mosphere that surrounded her. She felt utterly out of place among the young women, of a different type and education, with whom she came into touch; and they, sensing the difference, differ-ence, were not slow to let her perceive their resentment. Then temptation had come to her, too. It had been in less loathsome guise than with the boy. It was not one of the floorwalkers, but the son of the owner, young Darrow, fresh from college col-lege and taking his fling before settling set-tling down in the world. He had come into the store with his mother, who was making some purchase there. With worldly wisdom he had not approached her while the other clerks were present. But he had found the means to see her twice or three times. And he had asked her to dine with him the following evening. "I'll have to accept or go home," she thought wearily. If she could have known at that moment mo-ment a letter, signed by the editor of the magazine, enclosing a check for seventy-five dollars for her drawing, and asking for more, lay in the wire basket beside the desk of the editor's stenographer, ready to be posted on the morrow if she could have known! She got up from her chair. The boy was going out of his room at the same moment. They knew each .other by sight; sometimes they sat near each other in the cheap little restaurant restau-rant where they got their meals whenever when-ever they could afford the luxury. They were both too shy to speak to each other, and desperately alone; but now, staring into each other's faces in the deserted hall on the top story of the rooming house, they drew toward to-ward each other like abandoned barks drawn by some current into a vortex. "Are you going to dinner?" asked the boy timorously. ''Yes," she answered, looking at him with shy approval. "Let's go together," he said, greatly great-ly daring. They descended the stairs together. At the street door she took his arm, and they proceeded toward the restaurant, restau-rant, without a word being spoken. That was the most wonderful meal either of them had ever had. Their conversation was monosyllabic, but there was little need of words in the happiness of this strange sympathy. And afterward they strolled together up and down the lit streets. They paused at the theater door. Women in costly furs, accompanied by men in evening clothes, were going in. "I'm glad I'm not among that crowd," thought the girl, and wondered how many young Darrows there were among them. And the boy, utterly abashed at the thought of the temptation that had come to him, and feeling himself wholly whol-ly unworthy of the girl whose arm was still linked in his, was planning to see Mr. Vincent on the next morning at nine and tell him of the conspiracy. "It's great, isn't it!" said the boy. "Just living, I mean." "Yes, it's great," the girl answered, and she knew then that she would have strength to refuse young Darrow Dar-row and to remain at her post. It was only a humble post in the outworks out-works of civilization, but suddenly she felt like a soldier. "I thought once of going home and giving up all this," said the boy vaguely, as they strolled homeward. "But now I'm going to stay." "And I'm going to stay, too," the girl answered. They reached the door and went up the stairs together in silence. At her door the girl turned. "I have enjoyed it so much," she said. "I have spent such a happy evening." eve-ning." She blushed at her own audacity. au-dacity. "It has meant such a lot to me you don't know how much," she continued, feeling absurdly conscious of the moisture in her eyes. "You don't know how much to me also," he answered. And he never knew how It came about, but the next minute they were in each other's arms, and her lips met his in that first kiss which everybody knows to be the sweetest. "We'll fight it out together," said the boy. |