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THE FLUID SOUL
By George Elmer Cobb
Dan Nevins, roofing a one-story
garage, uttered a string of very rep
rehensible words as hisTpile of asbes
tos shingles, swept by his careless el
bow, went sliding down the slant! His
fellow workman, a novice at the task,
Ned Walworth, put out his foot and
halted the moving mass and restored
it to its rack.
Still Nevens continued to rave out
his rage perversely. A bland-faced,
kindly-eyed old man, standing below
watching the work in progress, mov
ed nearer. He was the owner of the
garage and the beautiful mansion and
gardens in the front of it
"My friend," he said, quietly, "I see
you have not the fluid souL"
"Whatcha mean?" growled Nevens,
"Just this: Your soul is solid;
won't do. I have discovered a new
theory. I call it the 'liquid souL'
Why? Because such a spirit is ready
to diffuse. "Give out!" is the cry of
creation but give out good. What?
Smiles, blessings, kind words, sun
shine. Give out, expand. Under
"I don't," muttered Nevens, stub
bornly. "Your soul is petrified, shut in;
each day it narrows until some of
these days when you can't feel love,
'riendship, humanity, you'll regret
oul a fossil, not liquid."
"Is his soul liquid?" challenged
Dan, nudging his elbow contemptu
usly toward Ned Walworth, his com
anion in labor.
"It is," announced Mr. Roscoe,
landly, his eyes shining commenda
ory and benevolent. "He's in some
kind of trouble, my prescience tells
me; he's a blundering workman, as if
unused to his work; but his soul is
liquid. Thus: I heard him whistle
cheerily yesterday and four robins
fled up on the roof and piped to him.
He don't swear " ,
"He ought to now! Thunder, man,
you've done it!" abruptly shouted
The young man had uttered a
sharp cry. Then he held up a hand
reeking with blood. In trying to as
sist his fellow workman he had
swept his hand across the keen-blad-ed
knife used to trim the shingle
"You'll do no more roof work for
a time, I'm thinking," was the com-
"You Are in Pain, in Trouble."
ment of Nevens. "Here, give us
help," he said to their employer; "the
Ned was pale, experiencing excru
ciating pain, and he swayed under
the shock of his injury.
"No, no!" he said, but weakly mo
tioning Dan aside. "I'll be all right
in a minute," and descended to the
"Let me look," spoke Mr. Roscoe,
and he glanced at the bleeding hand.
"You'va spit one finger to the bone.
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