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Eleven Possible Cases   By:

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ELEVEN POSSIBLE CASES.

FRANK R. STOCKTON, FRANKLIN FYLES, JOAQUIN MILLER, MAURICE THOMPSON, INGERSOLL LOCKWOOD, EDGAR FAWCETT, BRAINARD GARDNER SMITH, KIRKE MUNROE, NYM CRINKLE, ANNA KATHERINE GREEN, AND Q.

CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED: LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE. 1891.

[ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.]

CONTENTS.

1. THE ONLY GIRL AT OVERLOOK, Franklin Fyles

2. A THING THAT GLISTENED, Frank R. Stockton

3. A LION AND A LIONESS, Joaquin Miller

4. THE CHEATED JULIET, Q.

5. THE MYSTIC KREWE, Maurice Thompson

6. STRANGE ADVENTURES OF A MILLION DOLLARS, Ingersoll Lockwood

7. A LOST DAY, Edgar Fawcett

8. A TRAGEDY OF HIGH EXPLOSIVES, Brainard Gardner Smith

9. THE BUSHWHACKER'S GRATITUDE, Kirke Munroe

10. THE END OF ALL, Nym Crinkle

11. SHALL HE MARRY HER? Anna Katherine Green

THE ONLY GIRL AT OVERLOOK.

BY FRANKLIN FYLES.

CHAPTER I.

Two names were used for the only girl at Overlook. In addressing her, the men of the place always said "Miss Warriner." In mentioning her, they often said "Mary Mite." The reason for this distinctive difference was revealed by the sight of Miss Mary Warriner herself, as she sat on a high stool behind a rude desk, under a roughly boarded shelter, and with rapid fingers clicked the key of a telegraphic instrument. There was a perfect poise of quiet self possession which would have been very impressive dignity in an older and bigger person, and which, although here limited by eighteen years and one hundred pounds, still made a demand for respectful treatment. Therefore the men, when in her presence, never felt like calling her anything else than "Miss Warriner." If she had been less like a stately damsel in miniature, and more like such a child as she was in size only; if her employment had been something not so near to science as that of telegraphy, and not so far off from juvenile simplicity; if her brown hair had been loosely curled, instead of closely coiled, and if her skirts had stopped at her ankles instead of reaching to her feet, then she might have been nicknamed "Mary Mite" within her own hearing, as she was beyond it, by those who described her smallness in a sobriquet. There may have been a variance of opinion among those dwellers at Overlook who had made any estimate of her composure, but if there was one who believed that she merely assumed a reserve of manner because she was among two hundred men, he had not yet tried his chances of exceptional acquaintance.

Overlook was crude and temporary. The inhabitants were making a roadbed for a new railway at a spot where the job was extraordinary, requiring an uncommonly large proportion of brain to brawn in the work. Those who were mental laborers in the remarkable feat of engineering, or were at least bosses of the physical toil, were the ones who had errands at the telegraphic shed, and for whom Mary sent and received messages over the wires. The isolated colony of workers was one hundred miles deep in a wilderness of mountain and forest, but not as many seconds distant, measured by the time necessary for electrical communication from the construction company's headquarters in a great city.

"Must you wait for an answer?" Mary said, as she clicked the last word of a message. "It's an hour since your first telegram went, and they seem in no hurry to reply."

Polite indifference, and nothing else, was in her clear, gentle voice. There was neither boldness nor shyness in the eyes that opened wide and blue, as she lifted them from the paper to the man whom she questioned. There was no more of a smile than of a pout on the mouth that worded the inquiry. She did not indicate the faintest interest as to whether he went or stayed, although she did suggest that he might as well go.

"I'd rather lounge here, if you don't mind," was Gerald Heath's answer.

Here the alertness of the placid girl was faintly shown by a quick glance, but it was so furtive that the subject of her wariness did not know his face was being scrutinized; and she was quickly convinced that she was not the cause of his remaining, for he said: "I'll tell you why I'm anxious about the telegram, and in a hurry to get it... Continue reading book >>




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