Evening Republican, Volume 18, Number 226, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 24 September 1914 — A MATTER OF TIME [ARTICLE]

A MATTER OF TIME

By ROSCOE GILMORE STOTT.

• (Copy right.) Perhaps it was ten o’clock in the eroding when Rlohman and I sauntered out of the lobby of the Lankershon. T Had we boldly confessed, we would ihare doubtless said that we were mutually weary of each other’s conversation. We are mighty good friends, but an hour and a half of dinner and two hours and a half of varying conversar tion, though helpful in numerous ways, still has its drawbacks. For myself, I easily tire of Los Angeles in summer. But I always come, and proceed to make it a center from jwhleh to play the nomad in the many •pleasant directions. Rich man does likewise.

“There is a little eating-joint Just around the corner on Spring," he said •languidly, offering me a cigarette. “Thanks; no smoke fop mine. Food, Rich. Let us proceed toward said joint .And say, I haven’t but a little change !by me. So am not altogether prepared to pay 35 cents for ice tea or a quarter for one slim sandwich." “Robbers they all are. I get your (thought, I think. No" —and he lazily •turned me round the corner—"this is •cheap. Vile coffee, but good pie—and •cheap." We entered the lunch room and slowly made our way to the rear of the •counter. “On the square, Billy, I han't see what 1 want. Maybe pork and — No, jget that every night 1 come here. What Ikind of pies have you, brother?" A tall, elender waiter dropped the (sporting page into which he was (earnestly delving. “The pink sheet says the Cubs put it •all over the Slants today. I’ll bet Muggsy is some sore, eh?" He assumed a position of responsibility. "Exicuse me, gents—maybe you’re New 'Yorkers. Five kinds of pie tonight—peach, apple, mince, berry pie, and —’’ “I say, Bill, I’m going to my room land go to sleep. Late eating certainly does me no good. And 1 want to be I clear-headed, if I talk real estate with iPerky tomorrow." “I guess you’re right, old man. Good might Some doughnuts and milk for mine. And a little Jelly-roll." “Rich guy, ain’t he?" said the waiter, •returning with my simple fare. “He has enough," I replied half-re-•luctantly. “Half a million?” persisted my new friend.

“▲bout that," was my response, as I • 'went diligently after the food set betfore me. I felt that he was looking straight into my face, and it annoyed line. After a moment or two he spoke again. "I think I’ll be there myself one of (these days. I think it’s only a matter »’ time." “Be where?" I questioned hazily. “Where the half-milllone grow." I looked up with an amused smile. “On the dead, brother. I ain’t always going to peg along on eight per. . I’m nobody’s fool." “Certainly not But it sounds odd, you know,” I said, to fix up my injustice to a coming financier. “Tell us about it" ' “Say, I will, but —” He glanced at the large clock face behind him. "Say, 1 can’t offer yflu money—you’re probably as well fixed as him—but could you watch this Junk for about fire minutes? It won’t take me a minute more. I am mighty anxious to see a certain party about a block from here. If anybody comes in, he can wait a bit Bay, I certainly would appreciate it, mister." “Sure, run on,” I said. In a moment he had whipped off his apron and Jacket and was speeding away. Not a soul dropped in; and at the allotted time he came back, panting hard. "Say, I do certainly appreciate that. Have your lunch off me." “Not a bit of it. It was no trouble. Perhaps when you get your half-mil-lion, you'll—” “Say, I sure will, brother. And it's coming, mark my word." “Let's hear about It, while 1' drink another mug of milk." He gave me a generous allowance, and rested his elbows on the counter. "It's like this. I had a little money. Lots for me. About fifteen hundred dollars the old man left me. That was five years ago, February 12. --At the time he died he was a railroader, and we lived and roosted in Needles. "The heat was what put father out of the running. Well, mother wouldn’t move away, and I left her with my brothers and came here. I had read about the coast, and I had a little plan. And I’m staying by, working at this . junk, hoping to see her pull through.” “I hope it does," I ventured, genuinely interested. “What’s the plan, if it’s no secret?" "Well, say, I don’t tell everyone I see. But it can’t hurt to tell." He hesitated and grew quite sober in tone. "You see, I believe I can’t carry It out You can’t understand me,' I know. But what I mean Is— ’’ He rubbed his hands together, slowly, seeking Just the right words. "What I mean is that I could carry it out. but I can’t.** r ■ "I’m dull tonight and it’s hard for m* to follow such close logic. Yon say you could, but you can't?" Chin. I came here with fifteen hundred

dollars and got a Job in this Joint What fid Ido with my money? I put it all in on land —not-land, either — sand. "You know Pebble Beach, I s’poseT That is, you know the stop by that name on the line out to Santa Monica. Well,-1 own 50 acres of the sandiest sand there." I laughed heartily. I could not restrain myaglf. “It does sound funny. There’s not a house within rods an' rods. But there will be, you mark my word. How much did the fools that bought Ocean Park make? * “And the park didn’t have near as good a look, Borne say. I tell you, 1 planned to stick it through and wait till she showed up. But, brother, 1 guess I can’t. I’d teh you why, but it’s late. You know I’m on all night, but you other people need your sleep." "Go onl 'I want to hear it out" “1 Just ran down to the stage door of the People’s theater. About six months ago I went to a matinee, and sat in 'a good seat for 20 cents.’ Ever go there? It’s a swell little house, and plays a stock company. “Well, brother, I didn’t see anybody there but Isadora Lamphere—lsay, I call her now. Say, to me there was nothing there for me but Issy! Does Juveniles better'n anybody I ever heard. And a looker — Oh, Lord, what a looker!"

A bit overcome with emotion, he paused, and 1 squirmed into an easier position. “Well, we started up, and it’s stuck. She lives with her mother, and they treat me like a king, only they’re poor as Job’s turkey_and here, too. The kid’s been at the game since she whA ten, and she’s getting worn out. She’s the cuddlely kind, and wants a cottage. “You know girls—they’re all alike, rich and poor. She cries when I come over, and begs me to sell out for ’most nothing and fit up a little house. She thinks we can keep going oh my eight per and— Well, if we can’t, she says she’ll willingly go back on. And they’d take her any time. You can bet your lunch on that”

I slid off the stool, while he'fumbled in his pocket. Finally he drew out a crumpled letter. “Say, you’ve heard about all. I guess I can afford to tell you the finish. Have something more off me, won’t you? A little pie?" "Nothing more but the end of your story." “See here, brother. It’s a letter from the Central agency. He offers me a thousand, cash, for my stretch of sand. Lord, how I hate to give it up! But the little kid — Say, try to see her tomorrow afternoon. Honestly— ’’ “Sure," I said with a hearty laugh. “She is all that and more. 1 used to be there. And it was almost the same. I didn’t have the cash and — Well, I couldn’t get hold of any." A thought flashed through my mind. “Would you mind letting me see the letter?”

“Certainly not. Say, say. I’d make it to you for the same, if you have enough to stick it out On a pinch, I’d knock off a little. But it couldn’t be much. I’m losing five hundred as it is, you see." I read the letter at least four times. “If you’ll hold him off till noon, and come to the Lankershon and call for me, I believe I can add enough to let you out clear.” “Well, say, I sure will —at noon?” “At noon, sharp—good night.” “Good night,” he responded with the smile of a man who has made half a thousand in the twinkling of an eye. My welcome at close to ten next evening wae more than hearty—it bordered on the distressing. Young Lester Jones was at once a whole reception committee and I was the president-elect Suddenly the waiter of an evening before was the happiest freeholder I have ever seen. "It’s all fixed up, Mr. Kent —deed, transfer, and rent for a year in advance at 2348 Edgewood. Tomorrow I’m going to have it deSned up, ready for the swellest furniture that five hundred can buy. And, oh, you should hear the kid go on about you. “And say, the little affair will be pulled off in a week. Only the kid’s mother and you. She. quits the People’s tonight" After a half-hour of being a hero RlChman came in hurriedly. I had not seen him since the night before, and the transformation was at least startling. All of the languid had given way to keenest activity. I thought he -was a trifle white in the face, but be controlled himself splendidly. “A thousand congratulations, old man. I only wish I could have had the brains to lunch with you last night But I won’t spoil your luck. I do congratulate you." “Rich," I cried, "for heaven’s sake put me right next to your idea. I deserve no congratulations that I now have knowledge of." “Forgive me, Billy, I thought you did it on purpose. It would have been fair, but I felt a bit shabby about it" He paused and caught me by the hand. "You blocked my deal with Perky and bought that stretch of sand. I had a tip that society was going to the beach and live on sand. “The Garrisons and Bakers and De Longs will build at once. What you hold in a year or two will net you a couple of hundred thousand. Easy. Society has decreed bungalows on Pebble beach." . r looked at the waiter across the -counter. He was certainly a trifle pale, •JhR the smile did not leave bis won-' dering face. _ v -r "Two hundred thousand t— But I’ve got the kidl-