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The Burglarized Burglar
(Essanay)
By LULU MONTANYE
"1\ /fAYBE poverty's no disgrace," 1 VI sighed Howard Graham, ' ' but it's deuced inconvenient!"
His eyes roamed over the shabby furnishings of his room, lingering on the typewriter, which stood upon a rickety table heaped high with letters, notebooks and bulky piles of neatly typed manuscript.
"Here am I, a budding young genius, without the price of a meal, to say nothing of room rent. Haven't sold a thing this week, and stuff coming back on every mail. Hello, there's the postman 's whistle ! ' '
With the hope that springs eternal in the writer's breast, he rushed to the door, to be confronted by a severelooking landlady with her hands full of letters. Alas ! they all looked long and fat. As he took them, the stories within sang out to him as plainly as if endued with phonographic voices, "We're back again, we're back again ! ' '
" I 'd like to say, Mr. Graham, ' ' said the landlady, fixing an uncompromising gaze upon him, "that it's Friday and your rent was due Tuesday. I 'm a lone widow, and my four children to feed, with their clothes a-bustin' out in new places every minute, and it's no more than right that them as is care-free should do their part and not keep me a-waitin' for my rightful dues."
Care-free, indeed ! Graham drew a long breath and coughed nervously.
"I'm expecting remittances on every mail now," he said, "and I'll try to pay you tonight. ' '
1 ' It ought to be easy for them as has such big envelopes comin ' every day, ' ' said the woman, emphatically. "I'll come in tonight, Mr. Graham. There 's a young grocer's clerk in the next block who will take your room any minute, if you're wantin' to give it up, ' ' she added significantly.
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"Grocer's clerk!" groaned Graham as the door closed behind her. "If I was a grocer's clerk I could pay my bills. Fat envelopes ! Suppose she thinks they're full of hundred-dollar bills. If she only knew how I watch for a thin one. The only thin ones here are bills. Should think they would get tired of wasting stamps sending me bills."
He tore open the first one and read, disgustedly.
"There it goes again — they wont start work on my new clothes till I pay for my last ones. Well, I can wait a while. If I get shabby I'll let my hair grow long and look the part of an unrecognized genius."
But the second document brought forth no cheerful jests. He gazed at it in blank dismay.
' ' Great Scott ! They wont send the diamond without a deposit, and I hung such an elegant bluff there, too. It 's Dorothy 's birthday and I was figuring on that ring answering for both engagement and wedding gift. Who says I've no head for economy? But what will I do now ? ' '
They say troubles never come singly, but poor Graham's were not even content to arrive in doubles and trebles, for a knock interrupted his worried cogitations, and a grinning messenger boy delivered a yellow message— fortunately prepaid.
"It's from Dorothy!" Graham exclaimed, as he tore it open eagerly, but his face, as he read the few lines, grew despairing.
"Dear Howard: I should dearly love to hear Caruso tonight. Get box seats and dont disappoint me, it's my birthday.
"Dorothy."
"Now what would you think of that?" he ejaculated. '"I've got to make good, somehow. I cant risk losing Dorothy, and her rich father sus