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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 28, 1916)
I I ■ THE BEST MAN By Grace Livingston Hill Lutz Author of "Marcia Schuyler,” "Dawn of the Morning," "Lo, Michael 1" etc. Philadelphia ft London. J. B. Lippincott Company. 1914. CHAPTER XIII.—(Continued). The girl could not solve the problem, but the,thought was most startling and brought with it many suggestive possi bilities that were most disturbing. V'et gradually out of the darkness she drew a sort of comfort in her dawning en lightenment. Two things she had to go on tnhdr strange premises, he had said he did not write the letters, and his hair was not the same. Who then was he? Her hosband now undoubtedly, but who? And If deeds and hair could thaiigo so materially, why not spirits? At least he was not the same as she had feared and dreaded. There was so much comfort. And at last she lay down and slept. CHAPTER XIV'. They were late coming into Wash ington. for the special had been side tracked in the night for several express trains, and tbs noisy crowd who had kept one another awake till after mtd night made up by sleeping far into the nornlng. Three times did Gordon make the journey three cars front to see if his tompanlon of yesterday were awake tr.d needed anything, but each time 'ound the curtains drawn and still, ind each time he went slowly hack again to his seat In the crowded day loach. It was not until the white dome of the apttal, and the tall needle of the monu ment, were painted soft and vision-like lgainst the sky, reminding one of the pictures of the heavenly city in the itory of Pilgrim's Progress, and faintly njggosting a new and visionary world, that he sought her again, and found her fully ready, standing In the aisle while the porter put up the berth out of the way. Beneath the great brim of her purple hat, where the soft fronds of her plumes trembled with the motion of the train, she lifted sweet eyes to hikn, as If she were both glad and frightened So see him. And then that ecstasy shot through him again, as he realized, sud denly what It would be to have her for his life-companion, to feci her looks of gladness were all for him, and have the right to take all fright uway from tier. They could only smile at each other for good morning, for everybody was Handing up and being brushed, and pushing here and there for suit cases and lost umbrellas; and everybody talked loudly, and laughed a great deal, and told how late the train was. Then at last they were there, and could get out and walk silently side by side 'n the noisy procession through the itatlon to the sidewalk. What little things sometimes change a lifetime, and make for our safety ot our destruction! That very morninp three keen watchers were set to guard that station at Washington to hunt out the government spy who had stolen the stolen message, and take him, message knd all, dead or alive, back to New York; for the man who could testify against the Holman Combination was not to be let live If there was such a thing as getting him oue of the way. But they never thought to watch the Special which was suposed to carry only delegates to the great convention He could not possibly be on that! They knew he was coming from Pittsburgh for they had been so advised by tele gram the evening before by one of their company who had seen him buying a sleeper ticket for Washington, but they felt safe about the Special, for they had made inquiries and been told nc one but delegates could possibly cornt on it. They hnd done their work thor oughly, and were on hand with every l possible plan perfected for bagging their game, hut they took the tltm when the Pittsburgh Special was ex pected to arrive for eating a hearty breakfast In the restaurant across tilt street from the station. Two of then: emerged from the restaurant in plenty of time to meet the next Pittsburg) train, just as Gordon, having placed th< lady in a closed carriage, was getting ir himself. If the carriage had stood in any othei spot along the pavement In front of tin station, they never would have seei him, but, as it was, they had a full vie** of him; and because they were Wash ington men, and experts In their line they recognized him at once, and knew their plans had failed, and that only b.* extreme measures could they hope t( prevent the delivery of the messag* which would mean downfall and dis aster to them and their schemes. As Gordon slammed shut the door o the carriage, he caught a vision of hi: two enemies pointing excitedly towarc him, and he knew that the blood hounds were on the scont. His hear beat wildly. His anxiety was divide* between the message and the lady What should he do? Drive at once t< the home of hla chief and deliver thi message, or leave the girl at his rooms ’phone for a faster conveyance an* trust to getting to his chief ahead o his pursuers? "Don't let anything hinder you! Don' let anything hinder you! Make it i matter of life and death!" rang the Ut tie ditty in his ears, und now it seemei ns If he must go straight ahead witl tile message. And yet—“a matter o life and death!" He could not, mus not, might not, take the indy with hlti into danger. If he must be in dange of death lie did not jvant to die havlnj exposed an Innocent stranger to th same. Then there was another point to b thought of. He had already told the driver t take him to his apartments, and to drlv as rapidly as possible. It would not *1 to stop him now and change the <llre< tions, for a plstol-slmt could easll reach him yet; and, coining from crowd, who would be suspected? Hi enemies were standing on the throsho! of a place where there were many < their kind to protect them, and none n his friends knew of his coining. 1 would be a race for life from now on t the finish. Celia was looking out with intere? at the streets, recognizing landmark with wonder, and did not notice Gor don’s white, set face and burning eye as he strained Ills vision to note ho* fast the horse was going. Oh, if th driver would only turn off at the nr* corner Into the side street they eoul not watch the carriage so fur. but i was not likely, for this was the mo? direct troad. and yet—yes, lie ha turned: toy! The street here was s < - •' t : t he had sought the nav » " Cd way that he migii IS go the faster. It seemed an age to him before they stopped at his apartments. To Celia, it had been but a short ride, in which familiar scenes had brought her pleas ure, for she recognized that she was not In strange Chicago, but in Wnsh j ington, a city often visited. Somehow she felt it was an omen of a better future than she iiad feared. “Oh, why didn't you tell me?" she smiled to Gordon. “It is Washington, dear old Washington." Somehow he controlled the tumult In his heart and smiled back, saying in a voice quite natural: "I am so glad you like It.” She seemed to understand that they could not talk until they reached a quiet place somewhere, and she did not trouble him with questions. Instead— she looked from the window, or watched him furtively, comparing him with her memory of George Hayne, and wonder ing in her own thoughts. She was glad to have them to herself for Just this little bit, for now that the morn ing had come she was almost afraid of revelation, what it might bring forth. And so It came about that they took the swift ride in more or less silence, and neither thought it strange. As the carriage stopped, he spoke with low, hurried voice, tense with ex citement, but her own nerves were on a strain also, and she did not notice. “We get out here.” He had the fare ready for the driver, and, stepping out, hurried Celia Into the shelter of the hallway. It happened that an elevator had just come down, so It was but a second more before they were up safe in the hall before his own apartment. Taking a latch key from Ills picket, he applied It to the door, flung it open, and ushered Celia to a largo leather chair In the middle of the room. Then, stepping quickly to tho side of the room, he touched a bell, and from It went to the telephone, wltji an "Excuse me, please, this Is necessary," to the girl, who sat astonished, wondering at the homelikeness of the room and at the "at-homeness” of tho man. She had expected to be taken to a hotel. This seemed to be a private apartment with which he was perfectly acquainted. Perhaps It belonge to some friend. But how, after an absence of years, could ho remember just where to go, which door and which elevator to take, and how to fit the key with so accustomed a hand? Then her attention was ar rested by his voice: "Give me 254 L please," he said. . . "Is this 254 E? . . . Is Mr. Osborne in? . . . You say he has not gone to the office yet? . . . May I speak with him? ... Is this Mr. Os borne? ... I did not expect you to know my voice . . . Yes, sir; just arrived, and all safe so far. Shall I bring It to the house or the office? . . . The house? . . . All right, sir. Immediately. ... By tlje way, I am sure Hale and Burke are on my track. They saw me at the station. . . . To your house? . . . Y'ou will wit until i come? ... All right, sir. Yes, Immediately. . . . Sure, I’ll take precaution. Good-by." With the closing words came a tap at the door. "Come, Henry," lie answered, as the astonished girl turned toward the door. "Henry, you will go down, please, to the restaurant, and bring up a menu card. This lady will select what she would like to have, and you will serve breakfast for her in this room as soon its possible. I shall be out for perhaps an hour, and, meantime, you will obey any orders she tnay give you.” He did not Introduce her as his wife, but she did not notice the omission, Sho bud suddenly become aware of a strange, distraught haste In his man ner, and when lie said he was going out alarm seized her, she could not tell nrVti* The man bowed deferentially to his master, looked his admiration and de votion to the lady, waited long enough to say: ‘Tse mighty glad to see you safe back, sah—” and disappeared to obey orders. Celia turned toward Gordon for ar explanation, but be was already at the telephone again: "46! * * * Is this the Garage' * * * This the the Harris apart ments. * * * Can you send Thomas with a closed car to the rear door im mediately? * * • Yes. • • * No ■ 1 want Thomns, and a car that car speed. * * * Yes, the rear door rear, and at once. • • • What! * • • What’s that? • • • But ] must. « • * ifB official business * * * Well, I thought so. Hurry them up. Goodby." He turned and saw her troubled goz< following him with growing fear in hei eyes. "What is the matter?" she askec anxiously. "Has something happened'.’’ Just one moment he paused, and coming toward her, laid his hands or hors tenderly. "Nothing the matter at all,” he sale soothingly. "At least nothing that neei worry you. It is Just a matter of pres Sing business. I’m sorry to have to g( , from you for a little while, but it ii i necessary. I cunnot explain to you un til I return. You will trust me? Yoi , will not worry?" ' “I will try!” Her lips were quivering, and her eye: , were filled with tears. Again he fel that intense longing to lay his lips upoi -, hers and comfort her, but he put 1 . from him. , "There is nothing to feel sad about,' lie said, smiling gently. "It Is nothin! ,. tragic only there is need for haste, fo i if 1 wait, I may’ fail yet- It is some s thing that means a great deal to me l When I come back I will explain all." r "Go!" she said, putting out her hand; f in a gesture of resignation, as if sh; i would hurry him from her. Am , though she was burning to know wha it all meant there was that about hin ( that compelled her to trust him and ti < wait. Then his control almost went fron 3 him. He nearly took those hands ii , his and kissed them, but he did not. In p slead. he went with swift steps to hi t bedroom door, threw open a chlffonie I drawer, and took therefrom somethin! t small and sinister. She could see th t gleam of Its polished metal, and sh 1 sensed a strange little menace In th , click as he did something to it, sh - could not see wha: vbecause his back wa t to her. He came out with his baud L his pocket, as if he had just hidden something there. She was not familiar with firearms. ' Her mother had been afraid of them i and her brother had never flourished any arnuml the house, yet she knew by I instinct that some weapon of defense was in (Jordon's possession; and a' nameless horror rose in her heart and j shone from her blue eyes, but she would not speak a word to tet him know it. If he had not been in such haste, he would have seen. Her horror would have been still greater if she had known that he j already carried one loaded revolver and was taking a second in case of an | , emergency. "Don't worry.” lie called as he hur ! tied out the door. "Henry will get ; ! anything you need, and I shall soon be ! | back.” The door closed and he was gone. She ] heard his quick step down the hall, i j heard the elevator door slide and slam again, and then she knew he was gone down. Outside an automobile sounded and she seemed to hear again his words at the phone. ‘ The rear door.” Why had he gone to tile rear door? Was he in hiding? Was he flying from someone? What, oh what, did it mean? Without stopping to reason It out, she flew across the loom and opened the door of the bedroom he had just left. 1 then through it passed swiftly to a bathroom beyond. Yes, there was a! window. Would it be the one? Could, site see him? And what good would it do her if she could? She crowded close to the window. There was a heavy sasit with stained glass, but she selected a clear bit of yellow and put her eye close. Yes, there was a closed automobile just be low her, and it had started away from tile building. He had gone. then. Where? Her mind was a blank for a few minutes. She went slowly, mechanical ly back to the other room without no ticing anything about her, sat down in the chair, putting her hands to her temples, and tried to think. Back to the moment in the church where he had iippeared at her side and the serv ice had begun. Something had told her than that he was different, and yet there had been those letters, and how could it possibly be that he had not written them? Ho was gone on some dangerous business. Of that she felt sure. There had been some caution given him by the man to whom he first ’phoned. He had promised to take pre caution—that meant the little, wicked, gleaming thing in his pocket. Per haps some harm would come to him, and she would never know. And then she stared at tho opposite wall witli wonder filled eyes. Well, and suppose it did? Why did she care? Was he not the man whose power overjher but two short days ago would have made her welcome death as her deliverer? Why was all changed now? Just be cause he had smiled upon her and been kind? Had given her a few wild flow ers and said tier eyes were like them?, Had hair that waved instead of being straight and thin? And where was all her loyalty to her dear dead father’s memory? How could she mind that danger should come to one who had threatened to tell terrible lies that should blacken him in the thoughts of people who had loved him? Had she forgotten the letters? Was she willing to forgive all just because he had de clared that he did not write them? How foolish! He said he could prove that he did not, but of course that was all nonsense. lie must have writ ten them. And yet there was the wave in his hair, and the kindness in his eyes. And he had looked—oh, he had looked terrible things when he had read that letter; as if he would like to wreak vengeance on the man who had written It. Could a man masquer ade that way? And then a new solution to the prob lem came to her. Suppose this—who ever he was—this man who had mar ried her, had gone out to find and punish George Hayne? Suppose— But then she covered her eyes with her hands and shuddered. Yet why should she care? But she did. Sup pose ho should be killed, himself! Who was he if not George Hayne and how did he come to take his place? Was it just another of George's terrible tricks upon her? A quick vision came of their bring ing him back to her. He would lie, perhaps, on that great crimson leather couch over there, just its he had lain in the dawning of the morning in the stateroom of the train, with his hands hanging limp, and one perhaps across his breast, as if he were guarding something, and his bright waves of brown hair lying heavy about his forehead—only, his forehead would be white, so white and cold, with a little blue mark in his temple, perhaps. Tho footsteps of the man Henry brought her back to the present again. She smiled at him pleasantly as ho entered, and answered his questions about what she would have for break fast; but it was he who selected the menu, not si e, and after he had gone she could net have told what she had ordered. She could not get away from the vision on the couch. She closed her eyes and pressed her cold fingers against her eyeballs to drive it away, but still her bridegroom seemed to lie there before her. j ne colored man came back pres ently with a loaded tray, and set it down on a little table which he wheeled before her, as though he had done it many times before. She thanked him, and said there was nothing else she needed, so he went away. She toyed with the cup of delicious coffee which he had poured for her, and the few swallows she took gave her new heart. She broke a bit from a hot roll, and ate a little of the de licious steak, but still her mind was at work at the problem, and her heart was full of nameless anxiety. He had gone away without any breakfast himself, and he had had no supper the night before, she was sure. He probably had given to her every thing he could get on the train. She was haunted with regret because she had not shared them with him. She got up and walked about the room, trying to shake off the horror that was upon her, and the dread of what the morning might bring forth. Ordinarily she would have thought of sending a message to her mother and brother, but her mind was so troubled now that it never occurred to her. The walls of the room were tinted a soft greenish gray, and above the pic ture molding they blended Into a woodsy landscape with a hint of water, greensward, and blue sky through in , terlacing branches. It reminded her of the little village they had seen as ; they started from the train in the early morning light. What a beautiful day ' they had spent together and how it • had changed her whole attitude of heart toward the man she had mnr 1 ried! “ Two or three fine pictures were hung 1 fn good lights. She studied them, and ■ knew that the one who had selected i and lumg them was a Judge of true > art: but they did not hold her atten tion long, for as yet she had not con t nected the room with the man for i whom she watted. A handsome mahogany desk stood i open in a broad space by the window, r She was attracted by a little painted : miniature of a woman. She took it 9 up and studied the face. It was fine 9 and sweet, with brown hair dressed 9 low. and eyes that reminded her of 9 the man who had Just gone from her. 9 I Was this, then, the home of some reta il tlve with whom he had come to stop for a day or two, and. If so, where was the relative'.' The dress in the minia ture was of a quarter of a century past, yet the face was young and sweet, as young, perhaps, as herself. She wondered who it was. She put the miniature back in place with caressing hand. She felt that she would like to know this woman with the tender eyes. She wished her here now, that she might tell her all her anxiety. Her eye wandered to the pile of let ters, some of them official looking ones, one or two in square, perfumed envelopes with high, angular writ ing. They were all addressed to Mr. Cyril Gordon. That was strange! Who was Mr. Cyril Gordon? What had they—what had she—to do with him? Was he a friend whom George—whom they—were visiting for a few days? It was all bewildering. Then the telephone rang. Her heart beat wildly and she looked toward it as if it had been a human voice speaking and she had no power to answer. What should she do now? Should she answer? Or should site wait for the man to come? Could the man hear the telephone bell or was she per haps expected to answer? And yet if Mr. Cyril Gordon—well, somebody ought to answer. The 'phone rang in sistently once more, and still a third lime. What if he should bo calling her! Perhaps he was in distress. This thought sent her flying to the 'phone. She took down the receiver and called: "Hello!" and her voice sounded far away to herself. “Is this Mr. Gordon’s apartment?” ‘ Yes,” she answered, for her eyes were resting on the pile of letters close at hand. “Is Mr. Gordon there?” - “No, he is not,” she answered, grow ing more confident now and almost wishing she had not presumed to an swer a stranger's 'phone. "Why, I just 'phoned to the office and they told me he had returned," said a voice that had an imperious note in it. “Are you sure he isn't there?” “Quite sure,” she replie.d. “Who is this, please?” “I beg your pardon," said Celia try ing to make time and knowing not how to reply. She was not any longer Miss Hathaway. Who was she? Mrs. Hayne? She shrank from the name. It was filled with horror for her. “Who is this, I said,” snapped the other voice now. “Is this the chambermaid? Because if it is I’d like you to look around and inquire and be quite sure that Mr. Gor don isn't there. I wish to speak with him about something very important.” Celia smiled. “No, this is not the chambermaid,” she said, sweetly, “and I am quite sure Mr. Gordon is not here.” "How long before he will be there?” “I don’t know really, for I have but just come myself." "Who Is this to whom I am talking?” “Why—just a friend,” she answered, wondering if that were the best thing to say. “Oh!” there was a long contemplative pause at the other end. “Well, could you give Mr. Gordon a message when he comes in?” "Why certainly, I think so. Who is tliis ?” “Miss Bentley. Julia Bentley. He'll know,” replied the imperious one eager ly now. “And tell him please that he is expected here to dinner tonight. We need him to complete the number, and he simply mustn’t fail me. I’ll excuse him for going off in such a rush if he comes early and tells me all about it. Now you won’t forget, will you? You got the name, Bentley, .did you? B, E, N, T, L, E, Y, you Know. And you'll tell him the minute he comes in'?" "Yes." "Thank you! What did you say your name was?” But Celia had hung up. Somehow the message annoyed her, she could not tell why. She wished she had not answered the 'phone. Whoever Mr. Cyril Gordon was what should she do if he should suddenly appear? And as for the imperious lady and her mes sage she hoped she would never have to deliver it. On second thought why not write it and leave it on his desk with the pil.e of letters? She would do it. It would serve to pass away a few of these dreadful minutes that lagged so distressfully. She sat down and wrote: "Miss Bent ley wishes Mr. Gordon to dine with her this evening. She will pardon his run ning away the other day if he will come early." She laid it beside the high angular writing on the square per fumed letters and went back to the leather chair, too restless to rest yet too weary to stand up. She went presently to the back win dows to look out, and then to the side ones. Across the housetops she could catch a glimpse of domes and buildings. There was the Congressional library, which usually delighted her with its exquisite tones of gold and brown and white. But she had no eyes for It now. Beyond were more buildings, all set In the lovely foliage which was much far ther developed than It had been in New York state. From another window she could get a glimpse of the Potomac shining in the morning sun. She wandered to the front windows and looked out. There were people passing and repassipg. It was a busy street, t but she could not make out whether it was one she knew or not. Thera were two men walking back and forth on the opposite side. They did not go further than the corner of the street either way. They looked across at the windows sometimes and pointed up, when they met, and once one of them took some thing out of his pocked and flashed It under his coat at his side, as if to have It ready for use. It reminded her of the thing her husband had held in his hand in the bedroom and she shuddered. She watched them, fasci nated, not able to draw herself away from the window. Now and then she would go to the rear window, to see if there was any sign of the automobile returning, and then hurry back to the front, to see if tlie men were still there. Once she returned to the chair, and, lying back, shut her eyes, and let the memory of yesterday sweep over her In all its sweet details, up to the time when they had got into the way train and she had seemed to feel her disloyalty to her father. But now her heart was all on the other side, and she began to feel that there had been some dread ful mistake, somewhere, and he was surely all right. He could not, could : not have written those terrible letters Then again the details of their wild j carriage ride in Pittsburgh and mlr i aculous escape haunted her. There i was something strange and unexplained about that which she must understand. tContlnued next week.) There W«s a Reason. . From the Richmond Tlmes-Dispateh. Gpubbs—I’m told Jinks’ cook has left him. but he seems perfectly cheerful. I can’t understand It. Stubbs—That’s because you never dined with Jinks while the late cook was on the I Job. — Heard Across the Styx. ! From the Birmingham Age-Herald. “Cleopatra seems cross this morning," I remarked the first shade. I “You can’t blame her for that," an swered the second shade. ; “Whnt’s the matter?” I "As one of the most famous exponents I of the vampire business the world has I ever known, it vexes her to see how the i movies are cheapening her art." i THE GREATEST KINDNESS. Hrs. Pryor Give* Some Practical SnjgM t Ions for Seasonable Charities. I consider tlio highest and most char itable of acts that kindness which re instates and places in a jiosition of usefulness the man of genius and re finement, who may have, through sud den and unforeseen misfortune, been deprived of means and opportunity to Berre his fellow man. My reasons for this are these: The capabilities of such persons to be eminently useful is great. The ignorant and vulger demand, and should receive our help When they suffer, but their possibili ties of usefulness are small by com parison with those of educated and re Qne.d men and women. To educate them and raise the lower to the the higher place is a grand charity; but its results must be more or less doubt ful. The torch put by charity into their hands may become a beacon of tight and may become an engine of destruction. But the great soul that has been smitten by undeserved mis fortune will, if reinstated, never fail of its highest duty. The charity that Inspires anew such a spirit has an ad ditional claim to be considered the highest, because the help must he at tained, with infinite delicacy and se crecy. There can be no counsel be tween the left and right hand; no re ward can come from the applause of the world. It requires greatness of soul to perform a grand got of charity In secret, and greatness of soul for a noble man or woman to receive it. Robert Hall says: "I reckon the high est benevolence to be that extended to the unfortunate gentleman, for, in ad dition to the pangs of poverty, he feels the stings of an outraged sensibility. S.\ it a A. Pry on, DESIGN FOR CALENDAR. h An Unexpected Salute. A curious incident of the closing tcenes of the American Civil War is related by a correspondent of a St. Louis newspaper. After General 3 rant had received General Leo's terms of surrender at Appomattox ami tccepted them, some one—not General Grant—ordered the firing of a salute »f one hundred guns in token of vic tory. The salute General Grant qt*ick !y stopped, as he wished that every means should be taken to spare the lensibilitios of the brave men who hail ivirrendered. The proceedings went t>n quietly, and the surrender was rompleted. All was over, and peace had succeeded war. when a strange and irregular fusillade of musketry was heard from the field of battle. More than that, the air about the field was filled with whistling bullets. What had caused a re-opening of hostilities? Simply this the muskets of the Con federate soldiers had been allowed to remain stacked on the field. So sud denly had the fighting ceased on the morning of the 9tli of April that thous ands of pieces were left loaded. In some way the dry spring grass on tile Held caught fire, and the blaze ran amougst the slacked guns. They were heated to the point of explosion, and soon the fusillade began. Most of the pieces were pointed upwards, and the bulleta rose until their force was spent, and then fell upon the ground. Others were pointed at an angle, and sent their bullets far. On that spot the ground is to this day strewn with bullets, and any one may pick them up who will. This was the only salute which celebrated the surrender of Lee =_=_= } A Pret ty Bonk ('or«>r. The covering of books with chamois^ silk, or fine linen has come to be a positive art. By means of It, a paper bound volume may be transformed Into something rich and dainty by a pair of clever bands at home. A vol ume copy of “Old Bove Betters” was seen not long ago which had been ^ charmingly decorated by the outer slip v which was made of what is called “sad-colored” silk. On It the title had been embroidered in subdued tints, k true lover’s knot encircled the words, and from it a few scattered forget-m* nots were drooping. The effect was exquisite, and yet It was done by no experienced embroiderer. BEGINNING THE YEAR BADLY. “Say, Moso, nice coat yo’s got on. What’s de price ob one like dat?” \ Moso—1 dunno. Do shop keepah war out at de time I got it. A Remarkable Cat. Thl3 city can boast of many wonder- i fill things, but one of the most wonder- ^ ful and inconceivable stories reached the car of a reporter recently. The au thor of the story is a direct descendant of (leorge Washington aud ids verac ity is beyond question. A few daya ago liis daughter lost a valuable ear- ^ ring. When the loss was announced the entire family and even the neigh bors scoured the grounds about the house and even the streets for blocks beyond, but the search proved fruit less, and the earring had seemingly disappeared forever. The family wherein the loss occurred are possessors of a large and handsome tabby cat. The animal is a great pet of the family aud it has the run of the entire house. One of its habits is to crawl into bed with tlie children at early morning. Yesterday morning, pussy, as was her usual wont, came to the children’s chamber on her morn ing rounds, but she seemed to be in great distress. At times she would try to dislodge from her throat some tiling that troubled her greatly. Sud denly she gave a convulsive gasp and •rom her mouth dropped the diamond tarring. When the discovery was heralded .hroughout the house, pussy was the lernine of tile hour. Derby Trans cript. McFlngle—“Mrs. (lopliast Is a grass widow, isn’t she?” MeFsngle—‘‘I never knew it. Why?” McFingle—“Her husband died of i.ay fever."—Lawrence A merman. JUST THE SEASON. •Where are yon toing, my ^nrkry n*;jr “I am Ruing a-walking, sir!" she raid. “You had better be careful, iny Turkey mak^ R Or somtosa will axe you. miss." he said, |R