Evening Republican, Volume 22, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 January 1919 — The Grist [ARTICLE]

The Grist

By ARCHIE CAMERON NEW

(Copyright. 1918. by McClure Newspaper —: -------- Syndicate.) John Cates came, out of a trancelike stupor and sfnrqd in disgust. Jig had not Keen the victim of a had dream. N»>, hr shivered would that life were Mke that dream! Two- .minutes before there had danced before his vision a picture of •an old grist mill. He could see the trees lazily and.happily brushing their leaves w*ith every puff of wind, and ; the little dam that laughingly dashed | I|Hikprny aguim.t its rooky forn*&tioni-l Ami ids father, with His kindly old ! eyes and stopped shoulders, pouring Into tlw tnlll’s grist fine whole wheat. ; And theft he saw the pure-white flour, so niudi in keeping with the sacredly pure precincts about he hiul before, barefoot* poor. but happy. Ami then the sweet smile of his mother—that dear, kindly squL whose happiest ‘mission was. mtn-. tstration to his boyish' whims and an appreciative father's wants. And then he xvoke up! For a moment he surveyed himself sadly. Those bare toes- of his boyhood were now encased in rich, comfortable shoes, showing off in marked contrast the worn carpet on which they rested. lie fingered nervously the well-tailored clothes that long since hud replaced torn, ragged uvcrallseand smiled bitterly. And then he looked tip ! An ofd nm n ben t over a desk several ’ -feet=ffw-ay seerffcfFTTr remind him of - the old miller, his father, with his sparse gray hairs and stooped shoulders until he looked up. A pair of cunning eyes met Oates' furtively, and then darted to a roughI looking individual waiting, as was Gates, on one of the chairs in a row about the wall of the large outer office. A buzzer sounded and the door of the inner sanctum opened. "It’s your turn next,” huskily whispered the old man to the other. “Leave it to Jerry Bletzman. He’ll fix you up.” The .man grunted unintelligibly and rose hesitatingly try his feet.He, like most of his waiting brethren, had come to be “fixed up.” And Bletzman, the far-famed P. Gerald Bletzman. selfstyled “counselor at law,” was to do the fixing,” or. rather, the “unfixing.” For Bletzman’s many hired henchmen proclaimed that no matrimonial knot was too hard for their patron to untie. “jes’ leave it t’ me,” boomed a raucous'voice, which Gates recognized-as Bletzman’s as he hurriedly pushed a spidery-looking young man out of his office. “L’lLgetsometiiiiE-onher.They ain’t, none o’ them too foxy fer Bletziiran. are they, Pete?” Pete, his assistant. acquiesced .speedily with a chuckle, and Bletzman bent a beady eye on the man who stood close to Pete’s desk. “Come right in.” he welcomed - the other suavely, laying a sweaty palm on i the client’s sleeve. “Pete, bring th' • gentleman’s card in—now.” ; The door slammed and again the I outer office subsided into a low tnur- . mur. of voices.- ,■ So, mused Gates, this was what he . had come to. A place -where the sacred ties of marriage and motherhood were bandied' ahouUlKe. packin£„b<>xes. and card-indexed like a case of measies. Br-r-FL, ■. / —— And across the room, instead Of the sweet smile of his mother, a grayhaired woman in gay clothes smirked fraternally at blip while waiting her i turn. - This drove Gates’ eyes to his lap. on which rested a neat package, which >he now untied. Dragging forth a yelInwish paper, he fell to reading it,, and again It conjured forth visions from outiof a happy past.

There was a great high-ceilinged parlor. smelling deliciously ..of fresh- I picked blossoms, and echoing the sound trf many laughing voh'VsS and the crinkle of.many stiff party dresses. And a rose-bower in the center, under which an ecstatic couple were receivIng congratulations. And Gates, as he read his marriage license, heard ahexy, as if it were yesterday, the little-old ; pastor IsJjsiilenin. Avar tiing, ..“Whom.. God., hath joined together, let nO mqp put asunder.” ■■ “I‘urty well prepared, ain’t yuh, mister?” The voice at Gates’ .elbow' caused him to thrust the paper back in the packet, as he looked up to meet the leer of tjje pian on hisrlght, “Mv 01(1 -woman Wibed mtno “ cnnttTiued the other, enviously, “Leastways, sho--muster given it t’ th’ guy she ''’loped with. -Cost me ‘ fifty. extra t’ get a new one. Ain’t women, th’ darnest yegtrs-y - . ' Gates stured at him unseelngly. but the last remark caused him to shiver anew. Lucille/his wife, a yejrg? Never! She xvas a fine girl, through and" through. They just couldn’t get —that Was alk And some one had suggested Bletgman to him. and — -' ..._ r poorer?’ vouchsafed another waiting one. “Bletzman’ll see t* that,” “Out of the'mill,” echoed Gates to himself, in horror. To be sure, it xvas -a mill;, but xvhat kind? Bletzman’s mill swallowed up human souls and gave up what? • Fine white flourT Could that boydenlsh girl be likened to Ms father’s flour? .Or the red-Dosed wreck at his, side who called hls—wife—a— yegg’ Or that old woman who flirtad with him, and In whobo

brassy locket at her wrlnkjejl neck there probably reposed pictures Of her .grandchildren? And was he to be made ii parri? to “flxtng” hfs wife—little winsome Lucille, whom he had’ wronged? Yes. he reflected, he had wronged her. No wonder she had cotn- • plained of ids friends coming to the I house, drinking hekyilv, talking looseI lr-and gambling nimll.t. It h»d'~uf=~ senders thmm*-finer —sensibilities that* now. In him, In the ‘midst of Bletzman's revolting atmosphere, came back With a rush. Why hadn't he kept that promise to do so, the giving of which ■he had called hen-peeky? If he only' ha d kept 11 —shemight st 111 be wl th— Two doors opened simultaneously. Through one a burly Individual shoved a mini, and stood surveying the crowd of waiters. “Who’s next?” he vociferated, in his best barber manner, as if getting divorced was no more than a shave. “Ah, the little lady?” He advanced toward the outer door and Gate?.fob... lowed him with his eyes. And then Gates staggered,, in horror, to his feet. “Luci 11 e I” cried Gates, as a pre tty, slender young girl of obvious refinement hesitated at the threshold. “I wan tio see—Mr. —Bletzman,” she. announced In a low tone, and that individual was about to take her outstretched hand when he was roughly pushed out of the- way and .a -tall, muscular figure stood between him and Mrs. Gates. “Lucille,” repeated John Gates, forcing her to meet his gaze,, “you have no business —here —this —place.” “What in the —,” Bletzman started to splutter, edging himself toward the couple, but again Gates pushed him aside. ~ “Come. Lucille." he urged, taking her hand, and leading her toward the door “Out of this —den. This is not for us. I came —as I know you did—to get—a—divorce.”—He brushed his free hand across a feverish brow as if to wipe away an awful vision. “Come, this is not the mill-for us. Let’s —go —back to Lochinvar---to peace. Let’s be happy as we were before I came tp the city. We —” “Do you know you are interferin’ with my busine?®?” demanded Bletzman. In a seething rage. “This lady wants tysee-—” “Me,” John finished Bletzman’s sentence, restraining his clenched fists with an effort. “She wants to see me,” he repeated. “Do you get that? And she will —exclusively —for the rest of her life —if she wants to.” And then, as if the mighty Bletzman were no more than a troublesome beggar, Gates swung around and faced the trembling little girl he had promised to love, honor and protect. “Don’t you, Lucille?” .. As she nodded her head and buried her face in his sleeve, John led her into the corridor. He slammed the door and then* breathed deeply. “Even here the Jir is foul,” he growled, putting his arm around her. “Come, let’s hurry. We’ll get the.3:2o train down. Dinner will be ready for -us when we get there.” e —the office Bletzman stared dumfounded at the closed door, then, shrugging his shoulders indifferently, ambled tovyard Pete’s desk. “Why didn’ y’ show ’im in quick?” he roared at Pete.* “Couldn’t y’ tell he’s th’ kin’ that think twice? If I’d seen him. I’d fixed it.” Then he turned savagely toward the waiting “Next!”