Page:Czecho-Slovak Student Life, Volume 18.djvu/227

all his former good sense, let him think what he might . . . . . *** In our country, where ancestry is no longer a very distinguishing property of an average individual, we seldom give attention to that one attribute of our neighbors. This negative characteristic helped Elsie to keep Francis’ true connection with the family unknown to Albert and Lillian. Moreover, Mach lodged near the place of his employment, a goodly distance from the Slovak community where the other three lived. Consequently, with Elsie’s expert maneuvering, his familiarity with that community was slow to develop, while his occasional calls at the Simon home only helped Elsie’s plot. It may also be added that Michael Simon, Elsie’s widowed father, was by choice and circumstance a quiet man, who spent his nights mending kilns and his days in repose. So there was a veritable wall of armor around Elsie’s little plan . . .

Actually, Francis was as much a stranger to Elsie as any other man from Des Moines would have been—so little they had in common. Hence, looking at the two, or even listening to them while they chatted together on general topics during Mach’s rather frequent moments of leisure, one would have hardly suspected him to be her uncle. Surely Lillian could not be the exception. Nor even Albert; who had begun to feel himself inferior in the presence of Francis’ striking personality, and who, in consequence of that self-imposed offense, repeatedly resolved to keep Mach out of his thoughts and conversation.

But how could he actually keep him out of his thoughts when the picture of Elsie, conversing intimately with Francis, fairly haunted him day and night. He did not even dare to see Lillian very often for fear that somewhere in the vicinity Mach would appear and dissolve his mettle with one of his penetrating glances. Lillian did not seem to mind that in the least as long as there were other young men to entertain and be entertained. Noticing his fettered spirit, she even ignored him altogether at times. Thus Albert found himself between a formidable tide on the one side and an uninviting path of retreat on the other.

Then one evening he overtook Elsie on the way home. It had been a warm January day, so they had both decided to walk. As he tip-toed to her side, he felt so elated over his decision to resume their friendship that there was more than premeditated diplomacy in the tone of his salutation.

“Good evening, Elsie!” he greeted. “How would you like to be riding in a snug little coupe on a wet day like this?”

“Leo Pulasky offered me a lift in his, but I preferred to walk”, she rejoined. “We haven’t had a nice day like this for ages”.

“What I wanted to say—what I mean is that I am getting one myself. I’ll have it delivered home to-morrow”. But the trouble was that that was not exactly what he wanted to say.

“Is that so! Well, I am sure