But as Mrs. Klingmayer thought, everything has to happen the first
time sometime. "It's not likely to be the last time," the worthy
woman thought.

At all events she was rather glad of it to-day, for she suffered
from rheumatism and it was difficult for her to get about. The
young man's absence saved her the work of fixing up his room that
morning and allowed her to get to her reading earlier than usual.
When she had put the pot of soup on the fire, she sat down by the
window, adjusted her big spectacles and began to read. To her
great delight she discovered that the paper she held in her hand
bore the date of the previous afternoon. In spite of the good
intentions of her friend the grocer, it was not always that she
could get a paper of so recent date, and she began to read with
doubled anticipation of pleasure.

She did not waste time on the leading articles, for she understood
little about politics. The serial stories were a great delight to
her, or would have been, if she had ever been able to follow them
consecutively. But her principal joy were the everyday happenings
of varied interest which she found in the news columns. To-day she
was so absorbed in the reading of them that the soup pot began to
boil over and send out rivulets down onto the stove. Ordinarily
this would have shocked Mrs. Klingmayer, for the neatness of her
pots and pans was the one great care of her life. But now, strange
to relate, she paid no attention to the soup, nor to the smell and
the smoke that arose from the stove. She had just come upon a
notice in the paper which took her entire attention. She read it
through three times, and each time with growing excitement. This
is what she read: