Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 190, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 28 August 1917 — Winning a Prize [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Winning a Prize

By George Elmer Cobb

(Copyright, by W. G. Chapman.) “To lie resilient,” pronounced Sidney Morse saplently, “receptive and expan-sive—-that is my rule of life. I’m an India rubber man, so to speak. There are two classes In the world: the man ■of iron and the gutta percha man. Tm the latter. Come up cross-grained against the Iron kind and brrr-rr! he anchors himself and crack, rattle, bang! the hard blows hammer and dent him. When fate bunts me I give in elastically. There is a graceful yielding, which buffets the blow and breaks its force, soothes the irascibility of the assailant, In fact. Then out I come restored and no harm done. “Bah 1” commented the law partner of Morse scornfully—“lack of force, shows weakness. Drive ahead, domineer, take the lead. Smash your way through difficulties!” “See here, Black,” purred Morse in his soft persuasive way, “I’ll call your attention to the last case we had. You threatened and tried to scare and played the third degree on the fellow we wanted to compromise on a risky suit. He just laughed and yawned at you. I tried. I was soft as butter, persuasive and fatherly, and the re-

suit: I won him over. Big fee, everybody satisfied.” “H’m ! that was a last resource,” began Black. “Which it is generally policy to play first,” retorted Morse. “Now I’m in “Aha!” snorted Black, pricking up his ears. t “Fact. Its that handsome widow, Mrs. Nellie Briscoe. She has a fortune, but I’m not after that. Why, what’s the matter?” The matter was that Black, muttering and scowling, summarily banged his way out of the office, crushed his hat down over his head and made a bee line for the street. “Hello!” breathed Morse, big-eyed and enlightened, “I begin'to see the light.” Suddenly it occurred to him that ■on two occasions when he had called on the pretty widow, his law partner had happened in. Of course, that was natural, for the firm had charge of Mrs. Briscoe’s business affairs. For the first time, probably, Morse was aware that every Monday evening Black made a call upon the fascinating widow. Black had learned that Morse spent each Sunday afternoon-at the comfortable residence of their mutual client. Hard as nails, as his more flexible, good-natured partner had indicated, Black sought to make an impression upon Mrs. Briscoe along his usual lines of decisiveness and superior intelligence. He talked law and business until the widow was fairly bored. He sought ,to convince the fair lady that- to have a man like himself about the house would conserve every penny of her handsome fortune, would be to have a husband, a sentinel, a systematlzer of no ordinary caliber, all In one. Offhanded, ingenious Morse, on the contrary, could not belle his suture. He was jolly, just rotund enough to look boyish and appealing. He petted the canary bird, he made a rare friend of the house dog, he captivated completely all the servants about the place, he made his charming hostess smile at his artless simplicity as to the rougher ways of the world. Someibow he Impressed her with the suggesitlen that he would be a heedless, hap-py-go-lucky, sunshiny sort of a fellow -alii his days, chasing away the shadows and, indeed, in need of a guardian who could hold his heart’s affection by coddling him. Mrs. Briscoe was a practical sort of a woman, but her first husband had been a wise, solemn college professor, and always abstracted in subjects far ■beyond her mental grasp. Black had common sense, that was sure, and land would be a credit to any wife as to dignity and the manner in ..which he always comported himself. Somehow, though, he reminded the fair

widow of her sedate first husband. She respected Black, but he chilled her. “Hello!” bolted out Morse with his usual expansiveness, just at dusk. “Hello!” retorted Black In a species of irascible snarl. “Why don’t you run into a fellow?” “Me?" challenged Morse, with a great, jolly grin. “Oh, no. Black, you thin, rushing beings, all energy, may run; I never do. I sort of balloon along, free add easy. Anybody can see me coming. They have to guess at you in the dark. Where are you going?” “I was just taking a stroll.” “So was I,” echoed Morse. “It’s a long spell since Monclay, eh?” and he poked Black in the ribs, who glowered sourly. “And it’s a long spell till Sunday,” he supplemented, candid and grimacing. “Ha! ha ! Caught one another sneaking around the block where the sweet, fair and rich and rare widow lives. Ho! ho!” *T don’t like your familiarity one bit!” muttered Black“Nonsense! You and I cannot deceive one another. See here, I’ve a proposition to make. Let us each send a declaration of love to Mrs. Briscoe, and wait and see whom she picks. Zounds!” They were not a hundred yards away from the Briscoe home when a vivid scream alarmed them. Down the front steps there came rushing the housemaid, wild-eyed, frenzied, fAntically crying out: “A lamp exploded—the house is on fire and Mrs. Briscoe is hemmed in upstairs! Call the fire department. Oh, dear!. Oh, dear!” and the speaker dashed on madly. Both men made a rush for the widow’s home. Both realized that the situation was truly serious, as they noted that the entire lower floor was in a vivid blaze. The front door was open, but one glance at the broad staircase, a mass of flames, daunted them. A faint scream directed them to the side of the house. They traced its cause. “Save me!” uttered the plaintive and affrightened tone of Mrs. Briscoe. There she was, standing, wringing her hands at the window, wreaths of smoke framing her pale and perturbed face. “Walt!” shouted Black. “A ladder —l’ll get you down,” and dashed away. “Ladder nothing!” called Morse soothingly. “Don’t get rattled, Mrs. Briscoe. Just gee over the balustrade and hang. I’ll catch you,” and planting his feet firmly, he stretched out his arms Invitingly. “Jump!” Alas! The widow had obediently followed his directions. For a moment she clung to the rail of the little balcony. Just as she let go Morse changed his footing to steadily anchor himself. His foot slipped. Thump! The graceful form of the fair widow landed directly upon him! “Ha!” He exuded a desperate breath, for the contact was not light. “Soft as velvet, eh?” he chirped, “bounding as the yielding willow. Oh, you dear —safe! You landed like a feather. Oh, come, now—” but the widow had languished, had fainted in his arms as he got to his feet to support her. “Bah!” uttered Morse, ns Black came puffing and panting around the corner of the house, dragging a ladder. “She’d have been burned up, waiting for your clumsy fire-escape. Look here —and I’ll do it to her face when she recovers,” and the daring fellow kissed the charming widow squarely on the lips.

"Now I’m in Love."