E-text prepared by Al Haines
by
Author of
"Why Not," "The Wishing Ring Man," "You're Only
Young Once," "The Boardwalk," etc.
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers
New York
Published by arrangement with Harcourt, Brace and Howe
Copyright, 1920, by
The Crowell Publishing Company
Copyright, 1920, by
Harcourt, Brace and Howe, Inc.
The sun shone, that morning, and even from a city office window theSpring wind could be felt, sweet and keen and heady, making you feelthat you wanted to be out in it, laughing, facing toward the exciting,happy things Spring was sure to be bringing you, if you only went alittle way to meet them—just a little way!
Marjorie Ellison, bending over a filing cabinet in a small and solitaryroom, felt the wind, and gave her fluffy dark head an answering,wistful lift. It was a very exciting, Springy wind, and winds andweathers affected her too much for her own good. Therefore she gavethe drawer she was working on an impatient little push which nearlyshook the Casses down into the Cats—she had been hunting for a veryimportant letter named Cattell, which had concealed itselfviciously—and went to the window as if she was being pulled there.
She set both supple little hands on the broad stone sill, and lookeddownward into the city street as you would look into a well. The windwas blowing sticks and dust around in fairy rings, and a motor car orso ran up and down, and there were the usual number of the usual kindof people on the sidewalks; middle-aged people principally, for most ofthe younger inhabitants of New York are caged in offices at ten in themorning, unless they are whisking by in the motors. Mostly elderlyladies in handsome blue dresses, Marjorie noticed. She liked it, anddrew a deep, happy breath of Spring air. Then suddenly over all thepleasure came a depressing black shadow. And yet what she had seen wassomething which made most people smile and feel a little happier; acouple of plump, gay young returned soldiers going down the street armin arm, and laughing uproariously at nothing at all for the sheerpleasure of being at home. She turned away from the window feeling asif some one had taken a piece of happiness away from her, and snatchedthe nearest paper to read it, and take the taste of what she had seenout of her mouth. It was a last night's paper with the back page fullof "symposium." She read a couple of the letters, and dropped thepaper and went back desperately to her filing cabinet.
"Cattell—Cattell——" she whispered to herself very fast, rifflingover the leaves desperately. Then she reverted to the symposium andthe soldiers. "Oh, dear, everybody on that page was writing letters toknow why they didn't get married," she said. "I wish somebody wouldwrite letters telling why they did, or explain to those poor girlsthat say nobody wants to marry a refined girl that they'd better leaveit alone!"
After that she hunted for the Cattell letter till she found it. Thenshe took it to her superior, in the next room. Then she returned toher work and rolled the paper up into a very small ball and dropped itinto the big wastebasket, and pushed it down with a small, neatoxford-tied foot. Then she went to the window again restlessly, lookedout with caution, as if there might be more soldiers crossing thestreet, and they might spring at her.