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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, May 04, 1914, NOON EDITION, Image 19',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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"Just make my exouses at the ten
nis party, will you?" he spoke to
VZounds, man!" exclaimed Girton,
"you can't be thinking of disappoint
ing Miss Barton?"
"I must," replied Warren. "This
girl's story apeals to me vitally. I
am going to investigate it. I may be
later at the park."
But Jasper Warren did not join the
gay, bright party to which Miss Bar
ton had especially invited him. And
Val Winters conveniently forgot to
carry to that young lady the apology
tendered. Result Warren wondered
why he was not included In later
invitations. Miss Barton acted rather
distantly to him when they met.
Hence, present distressed mood.
The case of tie little child and the
scene she had led him to that day
well night forgotten now. At the time,
however, all that was noble In him
had come to the surface. The girl had
led him to a squalid hut on the fiats
where the big factory employes lived.
He found a powerfully built man, one
John Little, prostrate on a bed of
sickness, his wife also ill, three small
children nearly famished, Warren
provided for their wants, saw Little
restored-to health and hoped the fam
ily could now manage to get along.
"I shall tryio see Irene once more,"
Warren now told himself. "If she
still acts indifferently, as of late, I
shall go away and try and forget her."
At that very hour his deaf one was
in the critical peril of her Jiffi,. She
had locked up the house securely and
sat in her boudoir engaged in a curi
Upon a-little stand phe had placed
three photographs those of her trio
of suitors, Winter, Girton and Jasper
Warren. She flushed consciously as
she glanced from one fo the other.
Then shyly Jrer pretty lips framed the
Which, indeed! They had been all
of them very kind to her, they had
made her summer a- constant round
of pleasure. Yet every time her eyes
rested on the photo of Warren, her
face grew grave, then tender. Sudden
ly a ring at the door bell sent her
down the stairs.
"Mectric light man," spoke a gruff
voiced, unshaven man, who carried a
little satchel containing tools. "Want
to take the meter."
"Oh, I see," said Irene quickly. "It
is in the attic. Follow me."
She led the way up the stairs, but
as she passed the open door of her
room the man pushed her across its
threshold roughly, with the ominous
"This will do, mum. Now, no out
cry, or it's this," and' he extended
a deadly looking revolver.
Irene shrank and paled,. She knew
that if she shrieked the burglar would
"What is" it you want," she palpi
tated. "That jewelry and what money
you've got," was the prompt reply, as
the man's gloating eye rested on
some rings and a purse upon an es
critoire. Then as she turned to gather
up the plunder demanded,- she was
startled at the swift exclamation from
The word was sq emphatic and ex
pressiverthat the nerveless fingers of
the affirighted Irena dropped the jew
lelry she had gathered up. She glanc
ed at her fierce visitor.- He was star
ing at the three photographs.
"Say," he hroke,out roughly, "who
are these fellows?"
"They are friends of. mine," falter
ed. Irene, wondering at the strange
"This one particularly," pressed
the man, his pudgy finger indicating
ithe portrait of Warren.
"An esteemed friend, jes, replied
Irene, wishing in, her heart of hearts
that the original was there just then -to
T doji't want your jewelry," spoke v
the burglar. "Lady, forgive me for
the fright and trou&le I Have caused.
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