Jasper County Democrat, Volume 14, Number 61, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 4 November 1911 — Out of the Bread Line [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

Out of the Bread Line

A Woman’s LoVe Makes a. ~ Man a Wreck

By CLARISSA MACKIE

It had been a strange year for Jim Collins. He did not care to look back over the past twelve months. It was enough for him Jhat during the period he had dropped from his pinnacle of honest labor to be the pitiful slave of a babit. A red lamp glowed down at the corner by Uhlman’s bakery—at the entrance to the alley that ran around to the back door. As Jim went toward it the saloons along the avenue were closing up. doors swung open and discharged quarrelsome groups of men. who scattered up and down the pavement, some of them making the midnight hideous with tlieir raucous voices. Jim Collins passed them and went on to the entrance to the alley. Here he joined a line of men which was silently forming in the dim alley—derelicts from the city’s troubled seas—who were waiting for the nightly dole of bread which Hans Uhlman gave to his poorer neighbors after the example of a greater philanthropist farther uptown. Down at the entrance, near the red light, Jim Collins slowly followed tht shortening line. He was impatient oi the delay, for he was anxious to receive his bread and seek a certain bench in the square near by. where a maple tree formed an excellent shelter in a moderate rain. If he was delayed much longer the much tb be desired bench would be pre-empted by some other outcast of the night. In front of him a woman's form was vaguely outlined. A shawl was thrown

over her head and wrapped about her shoulders. As they drew within the window’s radius of dim yellow light Jim could see her figure plainly. Her slenderness reminded him of Kitty Lee—and the remembrance of Kitty brought a muttered oath to his lips. It was not pleasant to recollect that dHnk had not only cast him a good job, but had drifted him away from Kitty Lee into a maelstrom of dissipation. They had been engaged, and he had given her a ring with a cheap blue stbne. but she had blushed so beautifully as she bent and lightly kissed the token of their betrothal. Then he —had he ever been light hearted enough to do that?—had also leaned down and kissed the ring and then kissed his sweetheart’s lips. He growled Inarticulately as a pain smote his heart. The woman moved ahead and he followed. It was her turn at the window, and she stretched out a thin, pallid hand for the coveted loaf of bread. On her hand gleamed a ring with a blue stone. When Jim Collins had received his loaf he turned and hastened after the woman. Almost at the entrance to the street he caught up with her and laid his hand on her arm. “Kitty!” he said peremptorily. She turned a frightened face to his, a face once pretty, now worn by privation into thin, sharp lines. “Jim—Jim Collins, what do you want?" She drew away from him and huddled the bread under her shawl. , “What’s the matter? What are you doing here?” he demanded huskily. “I might ask you that question—if I didn’t know!” she flared in weak defiance. “You tell me what you’re doing here,” he insisted authoritatively. “I’m hungry,” she half sobbed. “I ain’t had any work for five weeks —and I can’t get none. I couldn’t have kept my room if Mrs. O’Brien hadn’t waited for the rent.” There was a long silence as they passed down the empty street. At last Jim spoke gruffly: “If there’s any names you wanter call me—or any mean things you wanter say about the way I’ve acted—you can say ’em now—you won’t have ho reason to after this!” He shook his broad shoulder defiantly. She uttered a little cry of alarm. “Yau ain’t going to do yourself any

hurt. Jim—l’ve got enough trouble now ana if you should''— Her voice broke. “And if I should hurt myself—if 1 should be wijied right off this here earth, where I’ve acted like a fool—would anybody have a care?” Jim’s voice was bitter with self contempt. “Oh, Jim—Jim”— quavered Kitty’s voice weakly. "You know I’d care—don’t be a coward.” “I wasn’t going to do anything desperate—except get a job and go to work, like I.should have done a year ago. I can get a job tomorrow morning driving a truck for Sullivan, and It’s $9 a week. Of course that isn’t as much as 1 was earnlng when—when— I put that ring on your finger.” His voice ended in a strange shivering note, as if he was going to break down and cry. Her thin hand sought his and found it. “You’ve got good stuff in you, Jim, if you could only let drink alone,” she said wistfully. “I’m going to have a big bard try at it, Kitty,” he said solemnly. “I’m not going to get up and swear all sorts of promises and break half of ’em—but I’m going to try—try—try hard to break off and maybe”— he hesitated and turned his head aside. “Maybe what?” she whispered. “Maybe you might sort of pray a little now and then—you know that helps along some and I’ll try a lot.” Kitty uttered the ghost of her old merry laugh. “All right. Jimsy boy—you do the trying and slip a prayer in now and then yourself—’twon’t do any hurt! I’ll pray night and day for your successful trying.” “If I don’t come out all right—lt will be because 1 am dead.” averred Jim firmly. “1 wonder If 1 got the right to ask you a question, Kitty ?” he asked humbly. “Most anybody can ask a question.” she evaded. “But this one you might think was none of my business, and yet it is too.” “I guess you won’t ask anything I don’t want to answer.” said Kitty, with a return of her old assurance.

“I was wondering.” said Jim slowly, “why you was wearing that ring on your right hand. 1 saw it and recognized you when you took the loaf of bread. If you wanted to shake me altogether and thought 1 was no good you could have shook the ring altogether instead of changing it to the other hand.” There was a little silence before Kitty answered: “It wasn’t for any reason you thought, Jim: it was only because my finger got so thin it wouldn’t stay on. You know 1 never sent you away, but you did frighten me some whert you was—was”— Poor Kitty sought for a milder word to frame the unpleasant truth. “When I was just plain drunk.” finished Jim bitterly. “Don’t try to soften it, Kitty, dear. It’ll do me good to hear it. Now. I’m going to leave you here, and I’ll get some money from Sullivan tomorrow night, and I'll bring you the pay at the end of the week. Maybe some day—oh. there isn’t any use in my looking ahead—l got to prove myself first,” he ended. “You mean some day. when you’ve got back on your feet again and have got a little money laid by and have proved that you can stay straight—you mean that maybe our banns will be published in St Joseph’s?” Kitty’s voice was wonderfully tender as she asked the question, and Jim's face was radiant with happiness as he replied: “God bless you. Kitty! Yes”—he choked—“after I’ve restored your faith 'in me you can tell me and I’ll go to Father Cahill and have him put up the banns. It’ll be the happiest day of my life.” At 7 o’clock the next morning Jim Collins climbed up to his seat on a high red truck and slapped the reins over the backs of a pair of heavy grays. He had spent the remainder of the night in a doorway. He was cold and hungry, but there was something new stirred within him—something greater than the love with which he had won pretty Kitty Lee; it was a greater love for her and he forgot everything save her pale and tired face. “Ain’t I the mean dog to let her go to the bread line?” be asked himself accusingly as be started forth after his first load. it was a long and a hard day. Big hearted Sullivan had respected Jim's desire to do better and bad insisted on the young man’s eating a hearty meal at noon, and at night he paid him for the day’s work. “I’ll pay you every night till you get started,” he promised, and Jim was grateful. His greatest joy came when* he carried the dollar and fifty cents to Kitty that evening. “Jim." she said, placing her hand on his arm. but not looking into his face; “Jim. you can’t guess what I’ve done today—l hope you won’t be mad at me.” ' “You haven’t got a job—you ain’t fit to work. Kitty, and I forbid it.” he said rapidly. “No—only, I went to Father Cahill today and told him to put up our banns next Sunday.” said Kitty quietly, though he could see that she was crying. “Why—Kitty—why—you ain't going to marry me before I make good, are you?" he cried incredulously. “I got that much faith in you. Jim Collins.” she said solemnly. “I’m going to marry you and stick by you and we’ll work up together. I ain't got to wait till you make gdod—because I know you’re going to!" Jim took her into bis strong arms, “Kitty Lee. there Isn’t another woman in the world would have done it,” be said gravely. “Jim Collins.” returned Kitty earnestly, “there isn’t another woman in the world that wouldn’t do the same thing—for the man she loved."

SHE TURNED A FRIGHTENED FACE TO HIS.