Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 135, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 23 June 1917 — The Measure of a Man [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

The Measure of a Man

By GEORGE HASKELL

(Copyright, by W. G. Chapman.) - “Mother, why is it you feel that Arthur is such a terrible responsibility? I never knew you felt that way about me.” "Wl, Joe, Pm thankful I haven’t" “But why Arthur?” "You are five years older than Arthur, and —well, you know, he’s so much easier led astray than you are. He’s quick-tempered, impulsive, and — and not so strong—l mean, in will —as you.” • Mrs. Ingram, still pretty and daintily dressed at fifty, spoke hesitatingly, as loth to confess so much to her elder son, for everyone knew Arthur was the apple of her eye. “Well, he is only nineteen,” said Joe. “He’ll overcome some of that.” “I hope he will,” she added. “But when that kind of weakness seems bred in the bone, it’s not so easily .overcome. It comes to me so much that I might have been, to blame for it myself.” - * “You, mother?” “Yes, L The son takes so much from the mother. Often before your father died, when he saw those traits, he would say: ‘Where did he get it?’ And we would both wonder. He said we must be extremely watchful of him. He made me feel the responsibility."

“But, little mother, you would not be to blame for his misdoings,” consoled Joe. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it would kill me if he should go wrong.” “But he isn’t going to! He has enough of you in him to keep him straight.” t Joe laughingly patted his mother’s cheek. She looked lovingly at her tall, good-looking son, and said: “Doris is coming to dinner with us tonight.” . He said nothing, but this time kissed her instead. “Ha!” she exclaimed when he let her go. “That kiss was due to Doris! How soon we mothers have to let you

go to another woman! WeH, Doris is a dear girl. I’m glad it’s she—if you must go.” Whereupon Joe kissed her again, declaring it was all for her. The engagement had not been publicly announced, but it was known, and approved by both families. That the mother had seen the real worth of Doris Wheeler was fortunate for both. She had a merry laugh, and was what the boys called “a good sport,” but under this was an inquiring mind, a brain that thought, and a heart that felt for others. Joe and Doris were happy lovers in the sense of mutual sympathy and understanding. This dinner would probably be the last one they w’ould have for several months, for in two days Doris was to sail with her father for South America, where he had some business interests. It was understood the marriage was not to takeplace for nearly a year. A month after the sailing of Doris, Mrs. Ingram-departed for Los Angeles, where she had been-ordered by her physician, on account of her health. The sons thought one of them ought to go with her, but she insisted she was quite able to travel alone, and both of them were needed in their business, and ought not to leave it. Two months after this word came from a friend in Los Angeles that Mrs. Ingram had been very ill, but did not wish her sons to be told. She added that their mother was now much better, and she would keep them informed if there should be any relapse. Three weeks after this the friend telegraphed, and Arthur Ihgram went to his mother. She wondered why he had come, but was so glad to see him, she rallied, and began to recover. She ■asked if Joe was coming, and when told he did not intend to, unless Arthur wrote him they wished it, said that was best, and not to send for him. \ Joe had always written his mother

such long, interesting letters, she bo* gan to wonder when she received only brief typewritten notes, hot even signed by hand. But Arthur excused it, by saying that Joe was overworked, and very busy. Arthur remained with his mother seven or eight months. After his return some letters came from Joe in his own handwriting, but sometimes she noticed an interval of several days between the date of the letter , and the postmark, and wondered if he was getting so careless-or forgetful of her he forgot to mail his letters. She felt something was wrong, for a mother has often the sixth sense. She began to inquire of Arthur concerning Joe, but he wrote her his brother was well and she was not to worry. One day all unannounced Mrs. Ingram appeared in the office of the trust company where Arthur was employed. The young man turned as white as though he had seen a ghost. "I have just got in on the train," she explained, “and I want you to find me-rooms at a hotel near you till our tenant’s time is up.” “Where is Joe?*’ she asked. “Joe sailed so this morning. There was no time to let you know beforehand. It was important business.” He hurried away to call a taxi. It was well for him she did not see his face.

For a month the mother did not wonder so much at not hearing from her son, but as time went on, and still no word, her heart sank within her. Doris returned, also marveling at the long silence, and the two women grieved together. It was Indeed a mystery, but Arthur tried to keep up their hopes, and always stoutly maintained his brother would return safe and sound. Arthur worked so steadily and well the company advanced him in position and salary. The mother wondered how she could have been so mistaken in the boy. It was the younger son who was now her mainstay. Afi for Doris, when nearly a year had passed, and no news of Joe, she concluded he had either forgotten her or was dead. She became engaged to Arthur.

Back in the old home, one evening in the dusk, the three sat together. The door opened, and Joe stood in their midst. He was very pale, but otherwise looked well. The two women thought him a spectre, but when he caught his mother in his arms, she fell to weeping on his’breast. “And you, Doris?” he asked. “Have you still faith in me?” “Yes —but when —” “She is to marry Arthur,” said the mother. Then Joe sank down as though stricken. The two women plied him with questions as to where he had been. When he began to evade them Arthur broke in: “Listen, mother, you are stronger now; you'can bear It. He wouldn’t let me speak. I forged a note. He took the guilt on himself. He thought if you knew it was I it would kill you. He has been doing time for me. I have robbed him of enough! God knows I won’t rob him of the girl he loves!” Then Doris said: “There is a splendid opening in South America. Father needs you—and me.”

The Young Man Turned as White as a Ghost.