Evening Republican, Volume 17, Number 186, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 6 August 1913 — The Girl in Blue [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Girl in Blue

Maisle sighed as she went up the Stairs to the elevated railway station, »nil glancing at the better dressed girls waiting for the train, she wondered if her own dress looked ‘ireally very shabby.” A vision of the “horrid old office” rose up, blotting out the posters that announced excursions and picnics. She stooped to pick up her gloves, which she had dropped, and hurriedly boarded a northbound train. She took a seat near the door, and then, with an exclamation of annoyance, discovered that one of her precious gloves was missing. At that moment a tall figure darted down the platform and reached the gate of the car just as it closed and the train began to move. Malsie looked at the Impatient face of the man and started as she saw in his hand the missing glove.

Two days passed, and still. Malsie carried a solitary glove in her hand, while she plunged her right extremity Into her coat pocket. And then, one night, her heart gave a Joyous thump, -for standing on the station platform was “the glove man.” Would he recognize her; would he have her lost property with him? But when he took his seat in the car he was too busy reading his evening paper to notice the anxious looks cast at him by the little girl in blue linen, which contrasted with the, deep sapphireof her eyes, where something very like a tear dimmed their brilliance. She had forgotten to keep her band in her pocket, and the soft white fingers were bared to the gaze of the “glove man,” who was studying her, and not the latest scores. He noticed her single glove, the faded and carefully ironed dress, and the air of refinement about “the girl in blue,” as he had christened her. Re folded his paper methodically, and felt in his coat pocket for the tiny “suede,” which he had- wrapped up with the clumsy fingers of a man in a piece of pale blue tissue paper. He elbowed his way to Malsie’s side and, raising his hat, touched her on the arm. “I want to restore your property,” he said hesitatingly; and was amused, yet saddened, by the joyful smile that played round Maisie’s red lips. She took the* packet eagerly.

“Thank you so much; I was so cross at having dropped it the other day; ” and then, with a graceful- inclination of her ""head, she hurried through the gates. There came an evening when Maisie rode home with a very heavy heart. She had lost her position, and now was adrift without a billet or money, all through two black eyes and a lithesome figure occupying her head, instead of rowß of figures and business in general. ▲ tear wandered down Maisie’s nose on a tour of inspection; then another followed by a small regiment of its fellows. Maisie was crying in a most thorough manner. Presently die train stopped with a jerk. In the tumult that followed Maisie cried with renewed energy. "All- passengers must, get out and walk,” then came the announcement, “to the next station! ” And then a low, quiet voice addressed her. “Please allow me to help you along the track." Maisie looked up into the face of the “glove man,” who was gazing with tender eyes at Maisie’s tear-stained features. She rose and put -out her hand gropingly, and the “glove man” caught it gently and firmly and drew her arm through his. “My poor little girl,” he murmured. He carefully guided her at a safe distance from the deadly third rail.

That night, as Maisie lay in bed, the worry of her future existence no longer seemed to trouble her. The landlady had lent her parlor to Maisie in which to receive the “glove man,” tor on the evening following the accident he had promised to call and arrange about her promised position. Clad in blue, Maisie waited, and punctually as the clock struck eight the landlady entered with a slip of pasteboard. “Mr. Geoffrey Dalston,” Maisie read, and a second later the was standing before her. “It was too good of you to. come,” she began, lamely. “I scarcely think so; you see, I am In need of somebody to fill a vacant position, and I want the lady to come almost immediately. He was aTamining the button on his glove. “YesT” Maisie said, interrogatively. "Do you think you would be willing to aooept the position? Would your parents object?” Dalston queried. Maisie shook her head. “I have not any relations living. Daddy died some years ago, and mother and I lived on the pension which came to her as a naval officer’s widow. Then she left me, and I am alone.” She looked out of the window. Then Dalston lost control of his carefully arranged sentences. “Maisie,” he cried, taking hold of her small, slim hands, “will you aooept the position of —my wife?”-. \ Maisie Dalston often caresses lovingly a pair of suede gloves, and her husband has claimed sole right to buy her new ones, as he jj owes his little wife and two charmifig babies to an elusive glove that she lost and that he nffionA to her—Violet Hearn, ,