Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 82, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 April 1916 — GOD’S GENTLEMAN [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

GOD’S GENTLEMAN

By FRANCES COBB.

The young man who had Just cleaned the snow from Mrs. Jordan’s walk knocked twice at the kitchen door, but no one answered the summons. He pushed the door open and closed It after him. The warmth and comfort were agreeable to him. The smell of cooking reminded him that he had not eaten anything since the day previous. Hector Greene was anxious to get pay for the first snow-cleaning he had ever done and go to the nearest restaurant. He waited a minute or two to enjoy the warmth. Then he started to shuffle around, and even call, to attract attention, when he heard two feminine voices engaged in conversation in the next room. “Yes, Sarah," spoke one of these, “It is too bad, as you say, and I Wei dreadfully sorry for poor Mr. Bell and Madge. They didn’t catch the thief?” “No, and not any hopes of It. As I told you, Mr. Bell had sold his property to get cash so he could buy out the general store on Central street, which is for sale. He was too late to put the three thousand dollars in the bank and had it in a wallet under his pillow. That night the thief broke into the house. He must have known Mr,’ Bell had the money and had been watching the house. Anyhow, Mr. Bell woke up suddenly to see the thief getting out of the window. He seized his revolver and ran to the window and fired twice at the thief.” “Did it stop him?" "No, hut he hit the man. That is sure, for he left a red trail in the snow. It was a half an hour before the neighbors were aroused to join in the hunt. It was no use, though.” “I suppose Mr. Bell is terribly cast down over his misfortune.” “Yes, if it wasn’t for that dear girl, his daughter, I think he would sink under. They sold their home, as I told you, aiAl their loss leaves them penniless. Poor old man! Poor Madge! They have been good neighbors, living right next door to us.” Hector Greene glanced through, the window to observe the house, evidently indicated by the speaker. Then she came into the kitchen. "Oh, all through?” she spoke, taking out her purse. “It’s twenty-five cents, I think you said?” “Yes, madam,” bowed Hector, and she stared at him as she gave him the

money. At a glance she noted that he was manifestly superior to the ordinary run of itinerant work seekers. “Madam,” he spoke, as he moved towards the door, "pardon me, but is it in the house just east of here where the Bells live?” "Yes,” replied the woman, wonderingiy. “Why do you ask?” “I overheard you speak of their troubles.” replied Hector, “and I feel sorry for them, as you do. I was thinking there is a good deal of snow around the place and if you would not mind loaning me your shovel I would be glad to clean off their snow.” "I don’t think they feel able to pay any money at present,” began the woman, but Hector interrupted her with the declaration: "Oh, I wouldn’t think of charging them!” “Why, you—you good man!” cried the impulsive housewife. “Loan you the shovel? Yes, Indeed! I declare!” Many times thereafter the warmhearted lady went to the window and glanced out admiringly at the active young fellow cleaning off the snow next door. Hector divested Jhe walks of their mantle of white. Then he observed where a clothesline ran crisscross, spanning the yard from the house to the fence. He must have been a thoughtful man, for the suggestion that anybody hanging up clothes would welcome a clear path Btarted him at this finishing touch of his work. Suddenly he paused in his labor. Then he stooped and then he thrilled. Cast up with the snow was a flat, long wallet. In a flash he guessed out the mighty fact: It was the stolen wallet! Was the money still in it? He looked to see. He placed it in his pocket and Btood meditatlng, , -•-—- It took but a flashing moment to surmise the truth. Doubtlessly, he reasoned, the wounded burglar had dropped it amid his pain and eagerness to escape. If was snowing heavily at the time and the wallet bad lain

secreted under its fleecy covering until now. Hector Greene walked towards the house. A door opened. He stood riveted at the Bight of the sweetest face he had ever looked into. “I just noticed you,” spoke Madge Bell. “I—we —" and she flushed and stammered. “I fear We cannot offer you money, but if you would like breakfast with us—•” “I do not like to intrude," replied Hector. "You are very welcome,” came the earnest response, and Hector kicked the- snow from his feet and entered the kitchen, but his hostess led the way into the living room, where her father was Just seated at the table. "Father,” she said, “here is a gentleman who has, kindly made it possible for us to £et about without losing ourselves in the snow.” "I thank you,” bowed the courteous old man, but there was a sadness in his tones that touched Greene. “We have poor fare to offer. We have Just met with a great misfortune, sir.” Greene held his counsel for the time being. In fact, as his charming hostess seated herself opposite to him and the tempting viands were pressed upon him, Hector Greene gave heart and soul to the rare enjoyment of the moment.

Continually the old man kept talking of his troubles all through the meal, and Madge, notwithstanding her cheerful talk, Greene noted, tried to keep back the tears. As the repast was concluded Greene took the wallet from his pocket. “Mr. Bell,” he said, simply, handing it to the old man, "I picked this up as I was shoveling the snow in your yard.” The old man gazed, glared and sank back overcome. With clasped hands Madge stood spellbound as Hector told the details of his discovery. Her father, with trembling hands, selected a dozen banknotes. “Your reward —oh, you noble man,” he said huskily, but Greene waved the money aside. He was fully rewarded as Madge came up to him, took both his hands in her own, tried to say something, burst into tears and threw herself in her father’s arms. They would not let him go. The old man made Greene tell his story—of. illness, poverty, 'of manly effort to keep the wolf from the door. “Providence has sent you to me —I cannot let you go!” declared Mr. Bell. What could Greene do? Here was an offer of employment at the new store. Here were grateful hearts — and love! Love so pure and permanent that the gates of Paradise seemed opened to those two. Both had known suffering and deprivation, the contrast of peace and happiness irradiated their wedding day with a glow supernal! {Copyright, 1916. by W. O. Chapman.)

It Was the Stolen Wallet!