Kathlyn had; for most of that old Organization was still in town; and many a gift found its way to this girl who, though poor in worldly goods, was as rich as old King Midas in a bright, happy disposition; for anybody who didn’t know that magic captivation of Sarah Young’s laugh, that rich crown of light, fluffy hair, or that grand, proud, upright walk, wasn’t amongst Branton Hills’ population. Paul, scratching around shady paths, a potato patch or two, front yards, back yards, and city parks, was known to many an old family man; who upon knowing of his coming variation in living conditions, thought way, way back to his own romantic youth; so Paul, going to Sarah at night, brought small but practical gifts for that “coop.”
As Sarah and Paul stood in front of City Hall on a hot July night, Sarah scanning Branton Hills’ “Post” for “vacant rooms,” who should walk up but His Honor! And that kindly hand shot out with:—
“Aha! If it isn’t Paul and Sarah! What’s Sarah hunting for, Paul?”
“Sarah is looking for a room for us, sir.”
“Us? Did you say ‘us’? Oho! H-mmm! I’m on! How soon will you want it?”
“Oh,” said Sarah, blushing, “not for about a month.”
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