THE RIGHT MAN.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume LII, Issue 41, 13 March 1909, Page 4

THE RIGHT MAN.

"I declare, if tlhe expressman hasn't sopped beforo the house!" exc£ «t £ n. Pa ", g tho wtMo * as ■*» "ind 1,,' ', WmaoW tt " d W"* «•»»■ And he 5 bringing in-a, box! R uu . Helen, and see what it is." Helen threw down her book aad obeyed with alacrity. The morrow It her birthday, and-wiio knew! She returned presently with th„ ,box, wbk .|, •bore Jicr own name, and that of a florist ■in a .neighboring city. "It's flowers!" «£,. ( , l . ie j_ .. R j do hope. Led mc your scissors, mother." '

Her mother, brought the scissors ami Jicrseli opened the box. -They are roses!' said the 'girl, clasping her hands with, delight. "Oh, mother' And there's a card—"

Mrs. Cay lifted the card aud read: , U Jf™ 11 "}"' greeting for Helen, from

"James Robinson," Helen said, her face falling a little. "How generous he is!" -Mrs. Cay was too pleased to notice Helen's disappointment. "Just see! A full two dozen, and every one a perfect beauty." Helen lifted one of the roses and swelled it. Then her face liuhkneo with sudden thought. "Why, mother, I can wear some of these to-night. They will be beautiful .ou my cream silk and keep people from noticing that it isn't in the strictest style. lam grateful to Air. Robinson," ami she ran to get a bowl of water for the long-stemmed beauties. "So Robinson serit them, cJb!" her father said, being called upon to admire the tlowerswhe.ii he came home to supper. "JusC like Him. Jim Robinson's one of the best-hearted fellows that ovei lived."

Helen made a grimace. "The roses almost make one forget that his hair is as grey as yours, dad, and that he puts on glasses when he reads. He's extravagant. No wonder he's poor." "He% (had bad luck and a good many people besides himself to look out for," -Mr. Cay said. "There was his mother, sick ten years, anyway, and a crippled aister, and I don't know what else. He has earned money enough, but toe has given 'it right and left to folks less fortunate than, himself. And he's to be honored for it." "He's a good man," Helen admitted, "but you are 'gooder.' Now I'm going up to dress. Watch out and you'll see something pretty when I come down." ■Sllic kissed her father and ran off laughing.

"Dad!" An hour later she interrupted him ae he sat absorbed in liis paper, Me laid it do'wn and looked at her over liis glasses. Sha, was, indeed, fair to secj this girl of*his, and in his delight he "failed to notice that the cream silk was neither so fresh nor so modi6h as it niiglbt have been. "How do I look?" demanded Helen, tilting her chin at him and pinning on some of James Robinson's roses.

"Just as your mother did when she was your age. You make me think I'm a young fellow again."

"You're the dearest old fellow in the world," Helen 'said, trying to get a full view of herself in the mantel mirror.

"Robinson not excepted, eh?" teased her fatter.

The door-bell rang. "That's Rex Russell and Anna, come for me," cried Helen, Hying to get her wraps. "Where did you get Bliose roses?" asked Anna of Helen as they laid aside their wraps in the dressing-room at Mrs. Litchfield's. Downstairs the house was a-quivcr with the gay sounds of many voices and the subdued twang of strings as the musicians tuned up. "Oh—father's fricad, Mr. Robinson, sent them," Helttn explained. ■ "How nice of him! I thought perhaps it was Parker 'Sturgia sent them, lie's here already. I saw him talking to Florence Wilson as we came upstairs. Jihe has on a new dTess—pink sonrethina or other, and.her hair, is marcelled to 'the last agony. Don't let her cut you out, Helen." Helen merely smiled. When, downstairs, Parker Sturgis came up to write his name opposite the best dances on her programme she tried not to act too glad., Her cheeks were pinker than tflie roses on her shoulder as she waltzed ■with him past Florence Wilson, who stood partaerless. Florence was jealous and angry—Florence in her new pink Vrepe de chine, with her hair as elaborately coill'iin-d as time, skill, ami plenli'lul hot irons could make it.

Xcver had Parker Sturgis, fashionable young man about town, with moro money than. Ac could spend, despite certain gambling and betting tendencies, paid so much attention to any girl as he was paying to Helen, and Helen knew it. Her little head was quite turned 'with the triumph of it. She fancied ■that sh<; more than liked him, he was ■so handsome, so graceful. Besides, it •was such fun to cut out the other girls, all of whom were obviously setting tlbeir ■caps for him, : "They are ready to eat me with rage," she thought. ''Poor little me, in an old 'frock not one of them would think fit to wear." Her mind was in a whirl of delightful memories when at 1 o'clock in tire morning she bade good-bye to her friend's at her own door. There were lights in Hue hall and sitting-room, and the could hear subdued voices. Had her father and mother waited for her? But when she reached the sitting-room door she stopped in amazement. There stood her mother, and before her in a bath robe, with a sliawl about her shoulders, sat their next-door neighbor, Jlrs. Brant.

"Manimla, wliat has happened?" demanded Helen. Her mother came to her quickly and took hold of her.

"Oh, my dear," she moaned. "I supI pus*.- you may as well know at once. Mis. Brant has had a telegram, and she caiut over to tell us. Tho six o'clock suburSiin out of Chester was wrecked this evening, laden witlh business men going home from work. Her son was hurst very slightly, but—" she appealed to Mrs. Brant with a look to finish. "Tom wired that a man named Robinson—James Robinson—had beeu hurt; killed outright—" Helen' swayed against her mother. "Where's dad?" she asked, faintly. "Gone to telegraph—Helen, you're not going tu faint!" Helen freed herself from hor mother's anxious hold. "No, I'm all right. Let me go, i motlttT. I—want to be alone."

S'hc was lying face downward on her bed with the roses crushed under her when her father came up. He bent over ■Mini' laid his hand tenderly against her cheek. "Helen, dear," She -s'tinred. "It's true?" sie whispered. "I'm afraid it is." He waited a moment. "I'm going on i]i e early train, il.im has—hadn't anvont in particular to look after things—" he broke, off, abruptly, and presently Helen heard him' tiptoe out- of the .room. She lay very still afterwards thinking. It was wonderful how clear her bra in wa.s and bow many different memories and ideas raced 1 through it. She seemed 'to see the kind young-old face under Pile grey hair tvs plainly as if it were only a haud'sdm-adth away; to hear the low voice, so sweet at times. He would never come again, never send her any more rost-s. She tore the roses from her drc«s and kissed them. Whv could; she not cry? She had believed people always cried when they had great griefs. Surely her grief ' was deep enough for many, jutiny. tears.

'•(*, Tiliy wasn't I kinder to him? liu loved iiu', oven Vhou T wa« most hateful. And now—" Die wide blank oi tine future, empty ofTiis presence, thrust itself before her and sent lier cringing hito the pillows. After si long, long time, she smelled the odor of coffee downstair*; footsteps paltered here an J there, then the front door (dosed and she knew that, her fcclicr had gone. Her mother came softly up t'o see her. "It is six o'clock," she said. '-You had better get up and take off thai dross. I'll help you. Then I'll bring you up a cup of good, strung toffee." "I'll go d'owu and get it," Helen said. Why should she not go downstairs* She could not sleep. Would sJie ever be able to sleep again'.' When she look»d into the glass she hardlv knew the while little face rellected there. She looked as if i-.he might be going to die. and she [almost wished she would. Tier mother, too sad for speech, helped her tiliange her dress iu almost utte.i"v silence, after which they went down- { stairs .together. Helen sat down in the [ rocking-chair by the windows and looked I into the ritreel. It seemed to her that' she could not bear the sight of the room, where he had sat so often. At ten I o'clock; sflic saw a messenger boy hasten- ] ing toward the house with a telegram.. Her heart seemed to turn right over I in her side and the very breath of lifci leave for a moment. The door-bell rang) ihkl lier mother went to answer it, The M

strip of yellow paper was in her hand. | Helen heard her shriek. Then-

"Helen, Helen, it isn't true. It was some other Robinson. Jim is all right —■'j But Helen had fainted away. By the time she had recovered sulliciently to read for herself the telegram which Jim had sent, another caiue from her father. "Found Jim O.K. Mistake. Am bring-, ing him home with me." The two men arrived together that evening. Helen, radiant in iher old white brilliantine, to which a rose in her belt gave a festive look, opened the door for them and was taken right into a pair of anus that were not her father's. "Oh, "iin!" she cried, then fell to laughing and sobbing like a little wild thing. Her father gave one look at her and went on to And her mother, w'ho

was in the kitchen improvising a salad out of potatoes and parsley. "That was a queer kind of inix-up," he said -to her. "A man by Jim's name

was killed—literally cut into bits. But Jim didn't go out on that train. You see, one of the boys had a shock or something, and Jim, of course, took him home aud worked over him all night long with the doctor, lie never iheard about the wreck at all until after eight this morning. Then he rushed oil a telegram to us to reassure us in case we had heard. But for his kindness to that sick fellow he would have been on that train with the rest of those poor creatures. It was a lucky chance, but it might never happen that way again. I've persuaded him to give up boarding so far out, even if it is cheaper." "Maybe he'll have a home of his own before"long," Mrs. Cay said. "Poor Jim," her husband sighed. "Hedeserves a good one if ever a man did.'' He pondered a moment. "You think—" he began. "I think," Mrs. Cay answered emphatically, "that at last Helen has found out he is the right man."