rc MR. CUTTING THE I EDITOR. at home with the mic ang startled us acce for six years. In that time, after locking gara he said shortly when she Lone's zong to stay with us it he had left anything on s lesk. Sans RSEY T 20 way to school. Put se on this point, he walked hurriedly out the please. And he went to his room. er, and the last heard of him was his juică. cisive step in the corridor. On this night. Lever, this monotonous program was varied. - locked his desk and then unlocked it. Again locked it, the key clicking sharply as he ned it. from "are you But Lome was not so easily manage hweserer vis sleepy, and it made de to and that she had been awakenei x a clock in the morning to look after a ge street art, and the chid did not like he Well," he said, turning to Louie, "His tone was a little brusque, and the hind her, and Jacking against a bookcase te dropped to the floor from the desk ike fed, wild stapping eves, the housekeepe Come a lei,' said Mrs. Fisher, bir The young barbarian placed her arms beYes, sir," she said breathlessly. Oh. Mr. Cutting," said Seatt, locking up the housekeeper I vas the night editor of The some late matter which he was running Organ." When this dilemma was before ber. touch her. I there was one person in the w may I speak to you?" who struck inexpressible awe into the soci of with pleasure." answered Catting, pleas- frightened whisper." S-sh, child: don't fisters therefore, she became terrified, and said in a over. antly. ily. no Mr. Curting. At this the young panther became a kitten. I wanted to say," Scott jerked out uneas- nation." what's the trouble?” he asked abruptly, Scott flushed and was silent. what's the trouble?" Cutting repeated. motionless, scarcely breathing. demeanor became more and more inexplicable See here, Scott." he said, patung his stick to the staff of The Organ." No one knew that rou on a table, don't be rash.” he had adopted a child, but he was seen to go Scott moved uneasily and looked as if he up to a new man and to spend fifteen minutes wished he were out of it. Cutting waited for in explaining to him his faults. This sent a thrill porter was at once hoisted to the chair of Very well," said Cutting, coldly; but there he asked. hostile fire in his eye. I will speak to had come to the office shaking with a violent Mr. Jackson about it to-morrow. Meanwhile trepidation on the night of his promotion. send him your resignation. Mr. Freeling, will He went home with a perplexed feeling of Mr. Freeling, the new assistant night editor, you kindly report early to-morrow?" And in doubt as to his own judgment. Mr. Cutting this way Mr. Freeling became the assistant had been most considerate and kind. night editor, Louie was trembling when Cutting turned to her. His voice frightened her. But she slipped her hand into his and silently walked down the stairs with him. of "The Organ" would have been plunged into still deeper amazement. The truth of the matter was that a barbarian, civilized, polished, If the truth had only been known the staff It was often said afterward that that night tamed savage. There was something that marked the death of the Cutting spirit. Scott linked in closest sympathy the two unbending received little sympathy. Yet it was admitted spirits. His was a nature wild, passionate, and and refined, had been conquered by an unthat he had some right on his side. But Cut- deep, filled with intensity, but governed by cold tang had helped him a great deal. He had ferocity. Discipline had placed an iron check picked him out and thrown his influence in on him. The child had all his depth of fire and Scott's favor to advance him again and again. passion, strength and wild impetuousness, but Cutting had been harsh with every one. In- she could brook no open restraint. When he eed, if he ignored a man so much as not to spoke as his training had taught him to speak him that was considered a mark of dis- she was struck with a deadly fear. She closed inspiration urged her. She became stubborn within herself and was powerless to act as her might on which Scott offered his res from paralysis of volition. But when he stifled his disciplined vigor and leaned only on the spark of savage magnetism the child was like a slender willow. She fought like a tiger against being taken to school, and when her shrieks of anger and defiance brought Cutting from his room, pale and with dark-circled eyes, she shut her eyes in a spasm of grief. "Have n't you gone to school yet, Louie?" he said simply. She stood up, catching at her breath. "I am just going," she answered in a low voice. She went away, and came back that night with a white face and wild eyes. She would not go to bed until Cutting came home. She sat up and would not speak. Her face was set and lifeless. Mrs. Fisher sat opposite her, stern and dignified for a while, and then sleepy. Finally she dozed. She even snored, and Louie's nostrils quivered with contempt. When Cutting's latch-key sounded, Louie was stricken with a terrible fear. She crouched in her chair, her eyes fever-bright. Cutting came in with a heavy step. He was fagged to the last point of endurance. The housekeeper awakened with a guilty start. Cutting looked at the two, running his hand through his hair-only wearily. Louie was shivering terribly. She got up and took his hand. "I went to school, and I staid," she said. He pressed his lips weakly on her dark hair. "You shall not go again," he said. After that a young woman came to struggle with the child every morning. There was a new one nearly every month. Louie was wild, rebellious, and terrible under the check of a strange hand. With Cutting she was so gentle and pliable that he wondered at the complaints made against her. In the afternoons he went to walk with her. It stifled her to stay in the house, but she would not go out without him. She looked at the animals in the park with parted lips through which her breath came warmly. The color rushed over her brown cheeks in quick waves. She clenched the bars of the cages and glared fiercely into the eyes of the animals. She was the wildest creature in the park. Once when she was walking ahead of Cutting he turned into a side path, his mind forgetting her in other thoughts. She came running after him, her eyes wide open like a hunted animal. Seizing him by the hand she stopped him as if her heart had failed her. The blood had left her face and lips, and she panted heavily. "I thought I had lost you!" she panted. Cutting watched the life come back to her face, smiling at her. The lonely man liked to have something cling to him. In her red walking-jacket in the fall, with her wonderful eyes, the wild roses on her cheeks, the scarlet curve of her mouth, and her dark hair blowing in the wind, she attracted the eyes of every one. Women turned to catch another glimpse of her beauty. But she was unconscious of the closest stare. If a woman in a car, struck with the child's face, spoke to her coaxingly, Louie gazed into the stranger's eyes indifferently or insolently turned her back. Every evening for an hour after Cutting started for the editorial rooms of "The Organ she was tortured with restlessness. Mrs. Fisher feared the child's outbursts of passionate temper. As for Louie, she treated the housekeeper with a cool contempt until she was crossed. Then she was a young tigress. Cutting had forbidden her to come to the office. One evening she slipped down-stairs, and was off with flying feet. When she stepped into the elevator of "The Organ" building her lips were trembling so that she could not tell the elevatorboy at what floor he was to stop. She walked slowly down the corridor with a quivering bosom. Cutting's clear voice, speaking to Mr. Freeling, sent a shiver over her little body. A smiling reporter came out, whistling a merry air. Catching sight of her, he said, "Hello, little one; whom do you want to see?" She was silent. "Don't be afraid," he said kindly, laying his hand on her shoulder. She flung it off fiercely, and turned her head. Then she pressed her face tightly against the wall and dug her nails into the white plaster. "Don't touch me; don't look at me!" she cried, under her breath. "What a Tartar this little Russian is!" said the reporter, good-naturedly, and went out laughing. Louie stole out after him. She sprang energetically into the elevator. "Take me down!" she cried. Mrs. Fisher was distracted with fear of Mr. Cutting's rebuke when Louie came home with flushed cheeks and dry lips. "Where have you been?" cried the housekeeper, angrily. She had been sorely tried. Louie's eyes were deep and fierce, and she was silent. She would not go to bed. When she had been at war with any one, no coaxing, pleading, or threats could drive her to bed. She sat silent and defiant, her strange eyes looking afar off. When Cutting came home she would stand up straight, her face pale at his look of reproach; then she would wait for him to kiss her on the forehead, and would go silently to her room. He had some rare books. Among them was a cherished edition of Shakspere. Louie had often seen him reading it. The house gan" for six years. In that time, after locking his desk, dropping his keys into his pocket, and nervously thrusting himself into his coat, he had never failed to turn and to say, "Goodnight, gentlemen." After that he would turn to see if he had left anything on his desk. Satisfied on this point, he walked hurriedly out the door, and the last heard of him was his quick, incisive step in the corridor. On this night, however, this monotonous program was varied. Helocked his desk and then unlocked it. Again he locked it, the key clicking sharply as he turned it. "Well," he said, turning to Louie, “are you ready?" His tone was a little brusque, and the child dropped to the floor from the desk like a shot. "Yes, sir," she said breathlessly. "Oh, Mr. Cutting," said Scott, looking up from some late matter which he was running over, " may I speak to you?” "With pleasure," answered Cutting, pleasantly. "I wanted to say," Scott jerked out uneasily, looking shamefaced, "that if you have no objection I should like to offer my resignation." Cutting's brows came together sharply. "What's the trouble?" Cutting repeated. "See here, Scott," he said, putting his stick roughly on a table, "don't be rash." Scott moved uneasily and looked as if he wished he were out of it. Cutting waited for an answer. "When would you like to go?" he asked. "As soon as convenient." "Very well," said Cutting, coldly; but there was a hostile fire in his eye. "I will speak to Mr. Jackson about it to-morrow. Meanwhile send him your resignation. Mr. Freeling, will you kindly report early to-morrow?" And in this way Mr. Freeling became the assistant night editor. Louie was trembling when Cutting turned to her. His voice frightened her. But she slipped her hand into his and silently walked down the stairs with him. It was often said afterward that that night marked the death of the Cutting spirit. Scott received little sympathy. Yet it was admitted that he had some right on his side. But Cutting had helped him a great deal. He had picked him out and thrown his influence in Scott's favor to advance him again and again. Cutting had been harsh with every one. Indeed, if he ignored a man so much as not to spur him that was considered a mark of disfavor. ignation Cutting startled his housekeeper by appearing at home with the child. "Mary," he said shortly when she came forth frightened at the possibility of a dozen evils, "Louie is going to stay with us until she gets ready to go away to school. Put her to bed, please." And he went to his room. But Louie was not so easily managed. The housekeeper was sleepy, and it made her cross to find that she had been awakened at three o'clock in the morning to look after a ragged street girl; and the child did not like her. "Come to bed," said Mrs. Fisher, bluntly. The young barbarian placed her arms behind her, and, backing against a bookcase, defied, with snapping eyes, the housekeeper to touch her. If there was one person in the world who struck inexpressible awe into the soul of the housekeeper it was the night editor of "The Organ." When this dilemma was before her, therefore, she became terrified, and said in a frightened whisper," S-sh, child! don't disturb Mr. Cutting." At this the young panther became a kitten, and held her breath lest Mr. Cutting might be awakened. She allowed herself to be undressed and put to bed, and although she did not close her strange eyes for hours, she lay silent and motionless, scarcely breathing. Henceforth the change in Mr. Cutting's demeanor became more and more inexplicable to the staff of "The Organ." No one knew that he had adopted a child, but he was seen to go up to a new man and to spend fifteen minutes in explaining to him his faults. This sent a thrill through the various rooms, and the new reporter was at once hoisted to the chair of popularity. Mr. Freeling, the new assistant night editor, had come to the office shaking with a violent trepidation on the night of his promotion. He went home with a perplexed feeling of doubt as to his own judgment. Mr. Cutting had been most considerate and kind. If the truth had only been known the staff of "The Organ" would have been plunged into still deeper amazement. The truth of the matter was that a barbarian, civilized, polished, and refined, had been conquered by an untamed savage. There was something that linked in closest sympathy the two unbending spirits. His was a nature wild, passionate, and deep, filled with intensity, but governed by cold ferocity. Discipline had placed an iron check on him. The child had all his depth of fire and passion, strength and wild impetuousness, but she could brook no open restraint. When he spoke as his training had taught him to speak she was struck with a deadly fear. She closed within herself and was powerless to act as her On the night on which Scott offered his res- inspiration urged her. She became stubborn |