Evening Republican, Volume 21, Number 308, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 3 January 1918 — Worth Winning [ARTICLE]

Worth Winning

By George Elmer Cobb

. (Copyright, 1817, Western Newepapar Union.) Joljn Beardsley charmed people. He was forty, rubicund, jolly, an encyclopedia of jokes and quaint sayings. He was liberal, too, and he made haste to tender the’fullest service. 'There was no hotel at Bassford, but there- were half a dozen grain elevators which drew the farming community for miles arond. This meant established trade for the one general Store, which was a customer worth having for the jovial traveling man. Beardsley had to stay overnight at Bassforcl always, for the trains were Infrequent. At his first visit he asked the storekeeper if there was any prospect of making an arrangement for • meals and a room anywhere in the village. , “Why, yes.” readily answered the merchant. “Mrs. Lisle has done something In that line for transients. She’s a widow, and thrifty, and industrious, and needs all she earns. Fine woman, sir! but had a scallawag of a husband who drank himself to death, leaving her a house and lot and a little child of five. That’s her place,” and the speaker pointed out an old-fashioned, house a block distant. “Tell her I sent " yon, for she is shy Xylth Neither the blooming," kindly faced widow nor* the pretty, lively little Ruth were long shy with' Beardsley, however. Tie bustled in upbfi them, frank and hearty. He paid-what was changed when he left, avowing that the lavender scented bed awarded pim had induced the soundest sleep her hßd enjoyed- for years, and the scrapple and pancake,dainties would leave a lasting longing for more. Something seemed to pass out of the lives’ of the mother and child when he came to bld them adieu. He waved kisses to the responsive little one until he was out of sight, with his great echoing voice promising her the prettiest city doll he could find, on his next visit. Beardsley and the doll arrived on schedule time, and at the end of his second day at the neat, homelike domicile of the widow, Beardsley was more effusive than ever in his enthusiastic appreciation of the comfort and attention awayded. Aftep that, not only Mrs. Lisle and Ruth, but he himself looked forward to these monthly meetings as an event in their lives—he always the gCnlal, pleased visitor, friendly, but respectful, the widow cheery, eager to prepare for him her best cooking, and little Ruth delighted while he was in the house and in tears when he went away. One wintry night a belated train carried an unusual and unfamiliar John Beardsley through the drafts and snowdrifts, for the smile was absent and the kindly eyes dulled with gloom. Beardsley, had just left a town where a former fellow traveling man had settled down. A memory of the cheery home, the loving wife, the comfort anchored husband made him reflect that he was missing the best gifts of life. He was a lone sheep, indeed, he mourned, a wanderer, a species of domestic outcast. However, once beside the cheerful fireplace of the Lisle home his ordinary good nature revived. He awoke the next morning at the sound of a vigorous knocking on his bedroom door.

“Oh, Mr. Beardsley!” called out Ruth’s voice, “mamma says you’ve hardly got time to get up to eat breakfast and catch your train.” “No wonder!” retorted Beardsley. “After those hotel beds this one is a luxury. I’ll be right down, little <?ne.” He hurried his breakfast, for he had limited leeway of time his watch told him. He ran up to his room, lit a cigar and began piling his traps Into the satchel. He placed the lighted cigar on the window sill and forgot all about It, leaving It there and rushing down the stairs and Mrs. —up: “Mr. Beardsley, you have barely four minutes, and I hear the train already whistling at the crossing. Ruth Insists on seeing you off.” “Good for little Ruthle!” erled Beardsley. “Here I am, ’’ and they left the house In company, and he had Just time to pile Into the rear car of the train as it pulled out of the depot. He stood on its platform, swiping his hat, while Ruth threw him kissed and Mrs. Lisle waved- him a friendly good-by. The dull reason cams on. and It was three months before ( Beardsley again visited Bassford. During the Interim he had sent little Ruth gifts from time to time, and when he was ready to start on the road again he wrote the Bassford merchant, telling him when he would call on him. It was dark when Beardsley reached Bassford. A little figure was there to greet him, Ruth, and her mother was with her. “Well, I declare! It’s heart warming to*have true friends waiting towelcome you," cried /Beardsley, and he not only grasped, but held the proffered hand of Mrs. Lisle. . . “Mr. Morton, the storekeeper, told us when you would arrive," exclaimed the widow diffidently, “and as we have moved since you were here last, we came to take you to oijr new home.”

“Moved? Hows that?” inquired Beardsley. - - > “We have got a smaller house,” explained Mrs. Lisle evasively, and he found It so when he reached ft, but immaculately clean and cozy as the old one. 1 ’ , • Tm going to stock up Morton,” said Beardsley, “so I shall be here two or three days.” He arose early the next morning and took a stroll before breakfast. As he passed the site of Lisle home he 1/alted, quite staggered, for it showed the burned-out skeleton of the house in which he had passed so many pleasant hours. “I say !” he hailed a neighbor, going about his yard on crutches, “what’s, happened here?” . / “Oh, the house burned down.” “When was that?” “About three months ago. It was the first of February, as I well remember, about eight o’clock in the morning. It caught in the west room. I saw the curtains on fire from my place here, but I was alone. I’m a cripple, and I couldn’t do anything. I telephoned the fire house, but it was all in flames by the time the hose cart got here.” “How did it catch?” questioned Beardsley, dawning intelligence in his face.

“Don’t know—mystery. Mrs. Lisle and little Ruth had gone to the depot with a visitor, and when they got back they found themselves homeless. Beardsley started briskly away from the spot. There was a queer, inspired, resolute glow in his eye. The first of February 1 Eight o’clock in the morning! Curtains on fire in the room in which he slept! “Where I carelessly left my cigar!” he muttered. “That splendid woman must have guessed it, tried to hide it from me, and never let out a word. Bless her dear, honest soul! but I’ll surprise her.” TwO hours later, a roll of blue paper under his arm, Beardsley reappeared at the new home of the Lisles. “Oh, dear! where have you been, Mr. Beardsley?” cried Ruth. “We’ve kept breakfast waiting for two hours, and mamma was .afraid something had happened to you, and was almost crying.” ---- - ; “Nonsense,” flushed up the widow. “Blessed woman,” apostrophized Beardsley audibly. “Never mind eating,” he alitaost shouted. “I’m too excited for that. Now then, Mrs. Lisle, here are the plaiis for a new house I’ve ordered built for you on the old lot, to replace the one I burned down.” “The one you—” fluttered the widow. “And you knew I did, and you never told me, or blamed me! Dear soul! If I wasn’t an old roustabout bachelor, and not worth two thoughts from any woman —I’d—I’d —” his extended arms quivered—“l’d grab you, and hold you, and ask you to marry me.” “You are nothing of the sort!” resented the widow indignantly. “You’re the best man I ever met.” “You think that, do you?” cried Beardsley hopefully. “I know it,” declared Mrs. Lisle stanchly. “Then—” . . “Oh, Mr. Beardsley! if we have .a new house, why don’t you be my papa, and stay with uS all of the time?” put in Ruth. “Xou’ve said it, little one!” chuckled Beardsley. “And what do you say?” he challenged, turning to the blushing mother. Her eyes drooped and her head sank low. There was no need of words, however, for she had placed on his arm a warm, trembling hand, the symbol of perfect confidence and love.