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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, August 13, 1913, Image 18',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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? LEILA'S SACRIFICE
By George Elmer Cobb.
It was "Blue Monday" for Max
Wilber, with a vengeance! It was
after a bright, blissful Sunday, for
'had -he not seen "Leila Marsh and
passed with , her one of the most de-
lightful evenings of his life? Not that
.affairs were settled in that quarter,
j but he could not forget the bright
feyes and radiant cheeks that had
greeted him, nor the parting moment
! under the waving cherry blossoms,
'with the white moonlight drifting
A Bronzed, Bearded Man.
i down upon that rare head of burnish-
Then, too, up to the hour of the
. opening Of the bank, Max. had felt
something more than cheerful and
happy. He was thirteen hundred
dollars to the good, had a permanent
position, enjoyed the confidence of
the bank officers, and was led to look
to a cashiership in the near future.
And then the reaction; the formal
call to the office of the stern ant
dignified president, who waved him
to a seat and tossed a note across the
glass-topped table with the single
Max turned a little pale as he
scanned the bit of paper. It was a
note ninety days old, signed by Simon
Marsh and indorsed by himself,
amount $1,000, and pinned to it was
the notation of fifteen dollars interest
overdue, and one-fifth of that amount
for protest fees. He was consider
ably perturbed, but looked up stead
ily with the question:
"It could not be renewed?"
"Scarcely," sententiously remark
ed the president, his declaration fixed
and somber as the utterance of fate.
"I will pay it, then," said Max
quietly, drew out his check book, cal
culated the gross ,and passed over
the earnings and savings of two
All this was done quietly arid strict
ly according to bank ethics, but even
when Max had turned to leave the
room he could feel those probing, re
buking eyes of his superior fixed
Hence "Blue Monday;" hence at
the noon hour Max disregarded lunch
and visited the dingy room where
the man he had befriended lived. He
found Simon Marsh bending over a
worn satchel, trying to close its top
over a bulk beyond its capacity.
"Sorry you came," he observed,
straightening up, but looking em
barrassed and guilty. "I was just
going after that thousand dollars I
owe the bank."
"You owe it to me now," advised
Max, with a nervous laugh.
"Eh how's that?"
"Well, I deceived -you. When you
wanted that money, and wanted it so
bad, and seemed to have such glit-'
tering prospects, I hated to refuse
you. I submitted your application to
the directors, together with your se
curity a deed for that ten acres of
mining land out in the Black Hills.