Evening Republican, Volume 19, Number 113, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 13 May 1915 — TURNED UPSIDE DOWD [ARTICLE]

TURNED UPSIDE DOWD

By FRANK FILSON.

(Copyright, 1915. by W. O. Chapman.) A sudden Jar; the elevator stopped, and Cyrus Hodgson found himself resting at the top of the cage, among a miscellaneous company, which included his stenographer, Miss Perkins, three business men, two ladies, a tout, a peddler and a much surprised elevator man.

From the adjoining elevators came shouts and cries. Nobody knew what had happened for a while; then it was seen that the elevators were upside down.

“Something gone wrong with the machinery?*’ demanded Hodgson. Fortunately the elevator had stopped almost on the level of a floor. With a little difficulty the passengers scrambled out

The strangest thing met. their eyea Everything was upside down; in fact they were walking on the ceiling. Six feet above his head Hodgson saw the handle of a door, on which was painted, upside down, the name “Jones & Co., Patent Attorneys.” “If you’ll lend me your shoulders, I’ll climb up and get into that room,” volunteered Hodgson to a stout man who stood beside him. The stout man consenting, Hodgson clambered up and opened’ the door. He entered a business office. There was nothing remarkable about it, except that the desk, safe, table and chairs, together with a couple of typewriters and a number of papers, rested on the ceiling.

Hodgson opened the window and looked out down Broadway. Then he realized the situation. "By some unaccountable mischance every building in Broadway was resting upside down. Including the city hall and the trees around it The street cars were upside down upon the tracks. Groups of wayfarers were clustered together, apparently dazed; they stood and pointed aimlessly about them. “O Mr. Hodgson, what has happened?" exclaimed a voice behind him. Cyrus Hodgson, turning, beheld Mlbs Perkins, pretty, ,and twentythree, gazing at him in unutterable woe.

"I don’t know what this means,” she cried, “but I promised mother not to be late, and I was so glad you didn’t keep me this afternoon. And now how am I going to get home to Brooklyn?”

Cyrus Hodgson had been aware for some weeks that he loved his stenographer, but, being nearly forty, he had thought himself too old to think of marriage with her. Now something in the way she leaned on him gave him new courage. Almost he proposed to her. However, Just as the words were trembling on his Ups they reached —the top of the Platt building!

They were alone, for none had followed them in that long journey. They stood side by aide beneath the noble stairway, which towered and wound above them to a dizzy height. Under their feet, some thirty feet, perhaps, lay the magnificent dome. And far overhead they saw the level of Broadway.

The Platt building was resting on its dome, and there was no egress. It had occurred to nobody to cut a door in the dome, because such a contingency had occurred to nobody. "O Cyrus, how ever am I going to get home to Brooklyn?” Miss Perkins interrupted tearfully. Admirable girl! thought Hodgson as he gazed bn her. Even this catastrophe had failed to move her from her sense of the home duties.

"Cheer up, Miss Perkins,” said Hodgson, slipping his arm about her waist. “There’s no doubt a fleet of aeroplanes will be organized to take us from the upper levels. At present we are simply off our bases.”

Miss Perkins’ head went down on Cyrus Hodgson’s shoulder. The sensation of that wealth of hair against his cheek threw the man’s prudence to the winds. "Miss Perkins—Ada, I love you,” he

cried. "I love you, but I thought I was too old for you. Now I can restrain myself no longer. I want to be your husband, to pass through life with you—yes, even if our lives are to be in the Platt bulldog for ever and ever.”

"This is so unexpected—so sudden, Mr. Hodgson.” faltered Miss Perkins. “But my answer —may I answer you when it is more private?" Of a sudden Cyrus Hodgson perceived that they were alone no longer. They were in the elevator, but right side up, and a sympathetic crowd surrounded them. He was lying on his back and Miss Perkins was bending oyer him. "Nasty jar you got, Mr. Hodgson.” said the elevator man. “I couldn’t .help it. I was closing the gate and I warned you not to jump, as you always da Why, you’re 411 right now, sir." Hodgson staggered to his feet and looked about him. He was standing at the bottom of the Platt building, which had resumed its right position, and Miss Perkins was by his side, dabbing his forehead with eau de cologne. "Thank heaven you are better, dear,” she murmured. He slipped his' arm about her. "What was I saying?" he asked T *^Ohf r Cyrus—let us talk it over where we can be more private,” answered Mis* Perkins. 'W&uBBBKamK.