Motion Picture Story Magazine (Feb-Jul 1911)

98 THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE boat that day, Jimmie unusually witty, and Tom so generous that he could not find opportunities enough to spend money for Cecelia's entertainment. "Let's have a soda/' he suddenly suggested as they waited for the Homestead car. "Come on, Cecelia, what'll you have — strawberry?" "Are you coming, Jimmie ?" he added, as he and Cecelia turned their steps toward Sullivan's Ice Cream Parlor. As he spoke, Tom felt that in his heart he actually hoped Jimmie wouldn't come. Instantly ashamed of his own selfishness and disloyalty, his face flushed; and, for a brief second, he felt that the others must surely have read his thoughts. Then Jimmie spoke. "Sure thing!" he exclaimed. "Why didn't you mention it sooner. I knew there was something I wanted," and Tom was reassured. It was not surprising that Tom could not keep his eyes from gazing ad-* miringly at Cecelia. She was unusually attractive that day. The blue-black, Irish eyes were dancing with happiness. Her brown hair had such fascinating little curls and ripples, and the clear beauty of her complexion was enhanced by the flush of youth and health. Jimmie, too, appreciated her charms, and every time Tom turned suddenly toward Cecelia, he felt just a trifle annoyed to see Jimmie glance quickly away. He did not know that Jimmie was equally annoyed and that Jimmie was wondering to himself why Tom's presence should make him unhappy. Cecelia was too happy to notice anything. Jimmie was witty and she loved to laugh. Tom was generous and the soda and bonbons at Sullivan's were delicious. "Isn't it lovely," she sighed, as she stirred the cream up from the bottom of her glass. "Out of sight," assented Tom, beaming upon the girl with frank admiration. Something seemed to rise up in Jimmie's throat and choke back the laughing words that had been on his lips. He glanced out the window. "Car's coming !" he exclaimed, rising hastily and rushing forth to signal it, as the others followed more slowly. Next day, when the great building, which Logan had contracted to have finished by the end of the month, was teeming with industry and resounding with the clash of steel and the steady pulsations of the engines, which supplied the power for lifting the massive girders into place, there was no time to think of the events of the picnic. All the men liked to work for Francis Logan, and each felt a personal responsibility in getting the work thru on time. All day long they climbed and hauled and crept about on the ribs of that huge, black monster, whose skeleton frame crossbarred the sky like a prison window. To those working far below the silhouettes of the men at the top appeared like mere pygmies outlined against the blue sky. Only those of daring nerve and brawny arm dared take the risk of venturing far up and out on those perilous heights. But the day's labor was over at last, without mishap; and Tom and Jim, who had been separated for the greater part of the day, sorted out their dinner pails and coats from those stored in the foreman's shanty, filled their pipes, and started toward home. "It's a pretty good piece of work," observed Tom, reflectively, as he glanced back with pride at the grim outlines of the building which owed its height and strength largely to his keen oversight and direction. "You're right there," echoed Jimmie, never known to think differently from Tom. "And I've never worked with a finer bunch of boys than we've got this time." Tom puffed steadily at his pipe for a moment. "Yes, they're all right," he remarked, "but some of those drivers are hauling too big loads. There's a couple of them I've been keeping my eye on for a day or so. They haven't sense enough to have the care of a team of horses." Tom loved horses. "Of course it's none of my business," he continued, between long pulls at his pipe. "I'm not a member of the humane society, and truck drivin's not in my line; but when I see men or