Mulford. He avoided all parties and gatherings which he knew she was
to attend and once he had gone away just as he reached the door of a
friend’s house, because he caught a glimpse of her as she talked to
Walter Andrews.
Harris stopped at the door. Should he go in or should he meet her and
denounce her and her works? He decided on the latter and knocked at the
office. A low voice bade him enter. Closing the door he turned and saw
the beautiful woman reading a book. Looking her full in the face he
said, “Diana.”
“John!” she exclaimed.
“Yes, it is John. Diana, have you changed your mind?” Somehow the
dreadful words which he had planned to utter failed to come and instead
he realized that he loved her, and loved with his whole heart.
Diana was silent. “Then you still do not love me?” he asked.
“I really do not know,” she replied softly.
Harris started for the door.
“John,” she called.
He left the door and flung himself beside her chair.
“I love you,” she said; “I love, love you.”
It was the same old story, the telling of which has never made it grow
out of fashion. He caught her up and kissed her again and again.
“Won’t Andrews be glad that I am at last to settle down and marry the
most beautiful woman on earth?” he asked playfully.
“I think not,” she answered.
“You think not? Why?”
“Because yesterday he asked me to marry him.”
“What did you tell him?”
“To call this afternoon.”
“Send for him now; don’t keep the poor fellow in suspense.”
A messager was dispatched and Andrews came looking haggard and wan.
“Your answer?” he asked.
“Mr. Andrews, I sent for you to tell you that I can not marry you. I
love another man. Can’t we just be friends?”
Andrews sank into a chair. “He was right,” Andrews muttered, “Harris
was right. No beautiful woman is good.” Then springing up he shouted,
“‘Let’s be friends,’ did you say? Never! Henceforth my greatest enemy
shall be a beautiful woman.”
A FATAL EXCURSION
A FATAL EXCURSION
There is a large school in Honolulu, called the Royal School. It is so
named because at one time only children of royal blood were allowed to
attend it. But that is another story.
Business with the principal took me up there one day, and, while
waiting for him, I sat and talked with the janitor.
The school is on a small hill and the road near it is quite steep.
Trolley cars run up that road and come down with the speed of lightning.
“Whew!” I could not help exclaiming as one car in particular shot past
us, “if some day an axle should break, more than one person would get
hurt, and badly too.”
“You bet,” replied the janitor. There was a pause, and then he said,
“Anyhow, I never ride in them cars unless I can’t help it. I hate
anything with wheels.”
I smiled, sympathetically, I thought, but I suppose in his estimation
it was a smile of incredulity for he hastened to say, “I used to be a
locomotive fireman, but since the day that Jim got killed, I’ve had but
little use for anything but my legs.”
Scenting a story, I asked, “How was that?”
He bit off a fresh bite of tobacco and then began:
“As I said before, I used to be a locomotive fireman over on Hawaii.
Good job alright, but I couldn’t stand it after Jim died. Jim was my
friend, and a right good fellow he was. His job was night watchman on
the docks, but his health gave way and the doctor told him the best
thing he could do was to go to ’Frisco.
“My run included Kohala--ever been there?”
I shook my head.
“Well, you don’t know what you have missed then. The scenery is
magnificent. I had often talked with Jim concerning the place, and
he was just crazy to go and see for himself. He never had a chance,
though, because he used to sleep all day and work all night. But when
the doctor ordered him to throw up his job, he came to me and asked
me to try and get him a permit to ride on my train. We were on a
freighter, and didn’t carry passengers, so I went up to the manager,
and told him the circumstances. But the manager was cross that day
and of course he said ‘no’; said he’d quit giving passes to people. I
told that to Jim and he was dreadfully disappointed; told me he wanted
to see the place before he went back to the States. So I went to my
engineer and asked him to take Jim as a brakeman. At first he refused,
but I insisted, and while we were talking, a kanaka woman came up and
said that her Joe wouldn’t be able to work that trip, as he was sick.
“I jumped up and made the engineer promise to take Jim in his stead.
He said ‘yes,’ and I went to tell Jim that he might go, and to explain
his duties to him. We were to leave at six o’clock Sunday morning, and
I left Jim’s house early so as to let him sleep enough to get up early
the next morning.
“Sunday morning came, and, by Jove! I never saw a more beautiful
morning again. The birds were singing most glorious, and the sun
shining through the heavy dew drops, made them look like so many
diamonds.
“Before you get to Kohala, you have to come to a steep, curved incline.
We always whistled for ‘brakes’ when we got there and I had explained
to Jim that when we’d blow three whistles, he was to apply the brakes.
He said he understood and took his seat on a brake, one of them
circular kind that you turn with your hand, you know. He sat on the
last box car, but there were a whole lot of flat cars back of him.
“We started off; Jim enjoying the air, and I, happy in thinking that I
had been able to give the poor fellow such pleasure. By and by we came
near that curve and the engineer blew the whistle for brakes. Before we
started, Jim seemed to understand the signals, but now the cars were
coming down that hill faster than I had ever seen them before.
“‘What’s the matter with that brakeman?’ the engineer asked me.
“‘I dunno,’ I said, ‘unless he’s fallen off.’
“‘Maybe that’s it,’ the engineer told me, ‘when we get to the bottom
of this, we’d better see.’ So when we got to the foot of the hill, he
stopped the engine and we walked back.
“It was at the beginning of the curve that we found Jim. Yes, he had
fallen off. Poor fellow; ten flat cars had gone over him, and there was
mighty little left of him. He had been cutting up some tobacco for his
pipe, and we found his pipe and a plug of tobacco and his knife lying
near him. I’ve got the knife at home now.
“When we got back from Kohala, I packed up and came to Honolulu. I
couldn’t stand any more railroading.
“That’s why, I can’t bear cars of any sort. Do you blame me?”
I couldn’t say that I did.
Transcriber’s Note:
Words and phrases in italics are surrounded by underscores, _like
this_. Jargon, dialect, obsolete and alternative spellings were
left unchanged. Misspelled words were corrected. Obvious printing
errors, such as backwards, upside down, or partially printed letters
and punctuation, were corrected. Final stops missing at the end of
sentences and abbreviations were added.
“Mary” changed to “Maria” ... don’t go,” said [Mary] Maria;... line 627