Jasper County Democrat, Volume 11, Number 56, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 16 December 1908 — ON TIME. [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

ON TIME.

By JANE LEE.

Copyrighted. 1908, by Associated Literary Press.

A. slight;'girlish form enveloped in a king, loose evening coat restlessly paced the broad veranda of Greymere inn. Grace O’Rourke was lovely at all times, but tonight her Irish blue eyes flashed an unusual brilliancy, which made her positively irresistible. "Better Join us,” called Elizabeth Dwyer as the latter left the porch escorted by a lithe youth. It wus the night of the annual mid* summer ball given to the summer guests of Pine Grove. Grace hesitated tor a moment. “Oh, Julian will be along soon, Elizabeth,” she cried. “He’s late, as usual, but we’ll meet you at the dance later.” Other couples followed the first, but still Grace O’Rourke, the belle of Grey-

■ere Inti, paced the veranda. Finally • man’s voice greeted her. “1 say. Miss O'Rourke,” he suggested, “let me cut out that tardy Hawthorne, won’t yon? Come along to the daac* with mer - Agfin .Grace hesitated. Down In the

farthest corner of her heart she really and truly cared for Julian Hawthorne, but he was never on time for any appointment, and here was a choice opportunity to teach him a bitter lesson. Then, too, Charlie Rice was a splendid dancer. Impulsively she accepted his offer, and half an hour later found them in the midst of the summer crowd dancing and apparently oblivious of all else on earth. The ball* was at its height when Julian Hawthorne entered the room. In the doorway be leaned against the sill as if physically tired, and the lids hung heavily over his black eyes. As Rice and Grace passed him lost In the ecstasy of a dreamy waltz his gaze followed the two closely, and a satirical smile spread over his face. When the dance was over Hawthorne slowly crossed the room. “May I have the next dance, Grace?” he asked, without seeming to notice Rice, who stood by her side. “Do you think you could be on time to claim It?” parried Grace, with stinging sarcasm. “I am here now, waiting,” Hawthorne answered as he extended his left arm. If men but knew the power they have over women who truly love them! There was something within Grace O'Rourke that night which told her to reject the arm be extended, but that greater something—love—made her accept it. In another moment they were whirling round and round the room. The night was warm, and when the dance was half over they walked out Into the Bpacious grounds surrounding the big hotel. “I want to tell you why I was late tonight. Grace,” Hawthorne began. "But I don’t want to hear,” Interrupted Grace. “It’s always some excuse, Julian,’ and I’m tired of It all. ,If lfs not the office it’s the train, and If It’s not the train it’s something else.” “Well, then, will you let me tell you something else—something that you’ve never heard before, at least not from me?” he added. “Oh, all right,” agreed Grace, “only make it a short story, for I’ve promised the next twostep to Charlie Rice.” “It won’t take long to tell you, dear.” Hawthorne’s voice seemed very near, and he spoke slowly and with great earnestness. “I just want to try to tell you how much I love you, Qrace, how long I have loved you and that at last I am In a position to ask you to be my wife.” “As usual, my dear Julian, you are too late,” announced Grace, with asturned nonchalance. “I’ve Just promised to marry some one else.” Hawthorne lighted a cigarette and said nothing. If Grace expected a tirade about the fickleness of women she was disappointed. Hawthorne was the type of man to take defeat gracefully, but be did not fall to pote the unsteadiness of Grace’s step as they JUturned to the house her the trem-

bling notes in her voice when she spoke. He loved her well enough to nkow her through and through. He was a man who took few chances In life, but he would have wagered that Grace O'Rourke loved him at that moment despite her cool rejection of his suit. Hawthorne led her to Rice, who was waiting to claim his dance, and then went up to the smoking room. Long he sat and smoked in silence, when suddenly he realized that the dressing rooms were filling up with guests preparing to go home. The dance was over. A man suggested that he smelled smoke, but the idea was laughed down. “I guess ii s Hawthorne’s bitter root cigar that smells like fire,” sang out Charlie Rice. And the listeners all laughed in reply. Hawthorne slipped on his light overcoat and sauntered toward the closed door that led into the halL He opened It upon a curling cloud of smoke. At the same instant screams came from all directions. Men and women were in pandemonium. Rice was the first man downstairs, his one idea being self preservation, but above the roar of screams Julian Hawthorne’s voice rang out clear and loud. “Please keep back. Calm yourselves* and no one will be hurt.” They gave him no heed. Madly they tore ahead, fighting like maniacs. All made for the main stairway. Gowns were torn, arms were broken and ankles sprained in the effort to get out of the burning building. Once more Hawthorne raised his voice above the bum. “I beg of you—l’’ His voice stopped short, for clinging to his arm was Grace. “Save me. Julian, dear,” she pleaded. ■Silently he dragged her into one of the dressing rooms and opened a large door leading to a back staircase. "I’ve tried to head them all off this way, but they would net listen. But if I can save you, darling, I will hare been on time Just once.” Grace gave his arm a loving little hug, which meant more to the man than all the words she could have uttered. Close to each other they descended the dark stairs which led through the servants’ quarters. Thp rooms were deserted, and they easily reached the back door. Hawthorne turned and held Grace close for a moment. There was no time for words Just then. And. standing alone in the darkness, she watched him rejoin the ranks of fire lighters.

“SAVE ME, JULIAN, DEAR!" SHE PLEADED