THE ENCHANTED BARN
copyright 1918, by J. B. Lipplncott Co.
Shirley settled back in h^r seat
and leaned her head against the
window sash wearily. She. felt
so tired, body and soul,'that she
would have been glad to sleep
and forget for a little while, only
that there was need for her to be
up and doing. Her room had been
oppressively warm the night be
fore; and Doris, who slept with
her, had rolled from one side of
the bed to the other, making
sleep well nigh Impossible for Ihe
elder sister. She felt bruised and
bleeding in her very soul, and
longed for rest.
The ear was passing through
the thickest of the city’s business
thoroughfare, and the noise and
confusion whirled about her ears
like some fiendish monotonous
music that set the time for the
mad dance of the world. One
danced to it whether one would
or not, and danced ou to one’s
death.
Around the city hall the ear
passed, and on up Market street.
They passed a great fruit store,
and the waft of air that entered
the open windows came laden
with the scent of overripe bana
nas, late oranges and-lemons; a
moment later with sickening
fumes it blended into a deadly
smell of gas from a yawning hole
in the pavement, and mingled
with the sweat of the swarthy
foreigners grouped about it,
picks in hand- It seemed as
though all the smells in creation
were met and congregated in that
street within four or five blocks;
and one by one they tortured her,
leather and paint and metal and
soap, rank cheese in a fellow
traveler's market basket, thick
stifling smoke from a street en
gine flint was champing up the
gravel they fed it to make u new
patch of paving, the stench from
the cattle, sheds as they passed
the railroad and stock yards, the
dank odor of the river as they
crossed the bridge, and then an
oilcloth factory just beyond ! The
faint sweet breath of early daffo
dils and violets from an occa
sional street vendor stood no
chan/e at all with these, and all
the air seemed sickening and
dreadful to the girl as she rested
wearily against the window with
closed eyes and vried to think.
They slipped at last into the
subway with a whir and a swish,
where the eool, clean smell of
the cement seemed gradually to
rise and drown the memory of
the upper world, and came re- I
freshingly in at the windows.
Shirley had a passing thought,
wondering whether it would be
like that iu the grave, all lustful
and sweet and quiet and clean,
with the nbisy, heartless world
roaring overhead. Then they
camp up suddenly out of the sub
.. .. tiL t_ • 1 i » i
*T»T, niiu n, nuiu Vi i ■ ill in | mi n n
leap ami shout of brakes and
wheels, into the light and sun
shine above, and a new world.
For here were broad streets,
clean pavements, ample bouses,
well trimmed lawns, quiet people
walking'in comfort, bits of flow
er bojces on the window sills filled
with pansies and hyacinths; and
the air was sweet and clean. The
difference made Shirley sit up
and look about her, and the con
trast reminded her of the heaven
that would be beyond the grave.
It was just because she was'so
tired and disheartened that her
thoughts took this solemn form.
But now her heart sank again,
for she was in the world of plen
ty, far beyond her means, and
there was no place for such as
she. Not in either direction could
she see any little side streets with
tiny houses that would rent for
$15 a month. There were such
in the city, she knew-; but they
were scarce and were gobbled up
as soon as vacant.
But here all was spaciousness,
and even the side streets had
three stories and smug porches
with tidy rockers and bay win
dows.
She looked at the great plate
glass windows with their cob
webby lace draperies, and
thought what it would be if she
were able to take her mother ami
the children to such a home as
one of those. Why, if she could
ufiord that, George could go to
•college and Doris wear a little
^velvet coat with rosebuds in-her
bonnet, like the child on the side
walk with her nurse and her doll
carriage.
But a thing like that could
mever come to her. There were
rich uncles to leave them a
fortune; she was not bright and
gifted to invent some wonderful
toy or write a book or paint a
picture that would bring the for
tune; and no one would ever
come her way with a fortune to
marry her. Those things hap
pened only in story books, and
she was not a story book girl;
she was just a practical, every
day, hard working girl with a
fairly good complexion, good
blue eyes and a firm chin. It
was eating into her soul, and
she could feel a kind of mental
paralysis stealing over her from
it, benumbing fier faculties hour
by hour.
The car glided on, and the
houses grew less stately and far
ther apart. They were not so
pretentious now, but they were
still substantial and comfortable,
with more ground and an air of
having been there always, with
no room for newcomers. Now
and then would come a nucleus
of shops and an old tavern with
a group of new groceries and
crying competition of green
stamps and blue stamps and yel
low stamps posted alluringly in
their windows. Here busy, hur
ried people would swarm, and
.children ran and shouted; but
every house they passed seemed
full to overflowing, and there
was nowhere any place that
seemed to say: “Here you may
come and find room!”
And now the ear left the paved
and built up streets, and wan
dered out between the open
fields, where trees arched lav
ishly overhead, and little new
green things lifted up unfright
ened heads, and dared to grow in
the sunshine. A uew smell, the
smell of rich earth and young
green growing things, of skunk
cabbage in bloom in the swanyis,
of budding willows and sassa
fras, roused her senses; the hum
of a bee on its way to find the
first honey drops came to her
cars. Sweet, droning, restful,
with the call of a wild bird in
the distance and all the air balmy
with the joy of spring. Ah ! This
indeed was heaven! What a con
trast ! Truly, this was heaven! If
she could but stay, and all the
■ dear ones come!
.She bad spent summers in the
country, of course; and she knew
and loved nature, but it had been
five years since she had been free
to get outside the city limits for
more than a day,, and then not
far. It seemed to her now that
she had never sensed the beauty
of the country as today; perhaps
because she had never needed it
as now*
The road went on 'Smoothly
straignt aneaa, witn now a
rounding curve, and then anoth
er long stretch of perfect road.
Men were plowing in the fields
on one side, and on the other lay
the emerald velvet of a field of
spring wheat. More people had
got into the ear as it left the city.
Plain, substantial men, nice,
pleasant, women; but Shirley did
not. notice them; she was watch
ing the changing landscape and
thinking her dismal, pitiful
thoughts. Thinking, too, that
she-had spent her money—or
would have when she returned,
with nothing to show for it, and
her conscience condemned her.
They were coming now to a
wide, old fashioned barn of
stone, with ample grassy stoue
coped entrance rising like a
stately carpeted stairway from
the barn yard. It was resting
on the top of a green knoll, and
a great elm tree arched over it
protectingly. A tiny ydream
purled below at one sido, and the
ground sloped gradually off at
the other. Shirley was not no
ticing the place much except as
it was a part of the landscape
until she heard the conductor
talking to the man across the
aisle about it.
‘‘Good barn!” he was saying
I reflectively. “Pity to have it
standing idle so long; but they'll
I never rent it without a house,
and they won’t build. It be
| longs to the old man's estate, and
! can't be divided until the young
est boy's of age, four 'r five
years yet. The house burned
down two years ago. Some
tr&inps set it afire. No, nobody
was living in it at the time. The
last renter didn’t make the farm
pay—too fur from the railroad,
I guess—and there ain't anybody
rear enough 'round to use the
barn since Halyer built his new
barn,” and he indicated a great
red structure down the road on
the other side. w Halyer useta
use this—rented it fer less’n
nothing, but lie got too lazy to
come this fur, and so he sold off
half his farm fer a dairy ami
built that there barn. So now
I s’pose that barn'll stand idle
and run to waste ’til th$t kid
comes of age and there’s a boom
up this .way and it’s sold. Pity
about it, though; it’s a good
barn. Wisht 1 had it up to my
place; I could fill it.”
“Make a good location for a
house,” said the other man, look
ing intently at the big stone pile.
“Been a fine barn in its time.
Old man must uv had a pile of
chink when he built it. Who’d
ya say owned it?”
“Graham, Walter Graham, big
firm down near the city hall—
gueas you know ’em. Got all
kinds of money. This ain’t one,
two, three with the other places
they own. Got a regular palace
out Arden way fer summer and
a town house in the swellest
neighborhood, and own land all
over. Old man inherited from
his father and three uncles. They
don’t even scarcely know they
got this barn, I reckon. It ain't
very stylish out this way just
yet.”
Be a big boom here some
day; nice location,’’ said the
passenger.
“Not yetta while,” said the
conductor sagely; railroad sta
tion's too far. Wait ’til they, get
a station out Allister avenue;
then you ean talk. ’Til then it'll
stay as it is, I reckon. There’s
a spring down behind the barn,
the best water in the county. I
useta get a drink every day when
the switch was up here. I missed
it a lot when they moved the
switch to the top of the hill. Wa
ter’s cold as ice and clear as
crystal—can’t be beat this side
the soda fountain. I sometimes
stop the car on a hot summer
day now, and run and get a drink
—it’s great.”
The men talked on, but Shirley
heard no more. Her eyes were
intent on the barn as they passed
it—the great, beautiful, wide,
comfortable looking barn. What
a wonderful house it would
make! She almost longed to be
a cow to enter this peaceful shel
ter and feel at home for a little
while.
The car went on and left the
big barn in the distance; but
Shirley kept thinking, going over
almost unaonsciously all the men
had said about it. Walter Gra
ham! Where had she seen that
name! Oh, of course in the Ward
Trust building, the whole fourth
floor. Leather goods of some
sort, perhaps, she couldn’t just
remember yet; yet she was sure
of the name.
The mau had said the barn
rented for almost nothing. What
oould tflat mean translated in
terms of dollars! Would the $15
a month that they were now pay
ing for the little brick house
cover it! But there would be
the car fare for herself and
George. Walking that distance
twice a day, or even once, would
be impossible. Ten cents a day,
60 cents a week—twice 60 cents!
If they lived out«of the city they
couldn t aiiord to pay but $1V5
a month. They never would rent
that barn for that, of course, it
was so big and grand looking;
and yet—it was a barn! What
did barns rent for, anyway ?
And, if it could be had, could
they live iu a barn? What were
barns like, anyway, inside? Did
they have floors, or only stalls
and mud? There had been but
two tiny windows visible in the
front; how did they get light in
side? But then it couldn't be
much darker than the, brick
house no matter what it was.
Perhaps there was a skylight,
and hay, pleasant hay, to lie
down on and rest. Anyhow, if
they could only manage to get
t>ut there for the summer some
how, they could bear, some dis
comforts just to sit under that
great tree and look up at the
sky. To think of Doris playing
under that tree! And mother
sitting under it sewing? Mother
could get well out thpre in that
fresh air, and Doris would get
rosy cheeks again. There would
not likely be a school about for
Carol; but that would not hurt
her for the summer, anyway,
and maybe by fall they could
find a little house. Perhaps she
would get a raise in the fall. If
they could only get somewhere
to go now!
But yet—a barn! Live in a
barn! What would mother say?
Would she feel that it was a
disgrace? Would she call it one
of Shirley's wild schemes? Well,
but what were they going to do?
They must live somewhere, un
less they were destined to die
homeless.
The car droned on through
m
] the open country, coining now
and then to settlements of pros
| perous houses, some of them
j small; but no empty ones
seemed to beckon her. Indeed,
| they looked too high priced to
! make her even look twice at
1 them; besides, her heart was left
j behind with that barn, that
j great, beautiful barn with the
| tinkling brook beside it. and the
arching tree and gentle green
' slope.
At last the car ^topped in a
commonplace little town in
front of a red brick church, and
everybody got up and went out.
The conductor disappeared, too,
and the motorman leaned back
on his brake and looked at her
significantly.
“End of the line, lady,” he
j said with a grin, as if she were
dreaming and had not taken no
tice of her surroundings.
“Oh,” said Shirley, rousing
up, and looking bewdderedly
about her. “Well, you go back,
don’t you?”
“Yes. Go back in 15 minutes,”
said the motorman indulgently.
There was something appealing
in the sadness of this girl’s eyes
that made him think of his little
girl at home.
I/O you go uaeK jusi uie same
jway?” she asked with sudden
I alarm. She did want to see that
| barn again, and to get its exact
location so that she could come
i back to it some day if possible.
“Yes, we go back just the
same way,” nodded the motor
man.
Shirley sat back in her seat
again, and resumed her thoughts.
The motorman took up his din
ner pail, sat down on a high stool
with his back to her, and began
to eat. It was a good time now
for her to eat her little lunch,
but she was not hungry. How
ever, she would be if she did not
eat it, of course; and there would
be no other time when people
would not be around. She put
her hand in her shabby coat
pocket for her handkerchief, and
her fingers came into contact
with something small and hard
and round. For a moment she
thought it was a button that had
been off her cuff for several
days. But no, she remembered
sewing that on that very morn
ing. Then she drew the little
object out, and behold! it was a
5-cent piece. Yes, of course, she
remembered now. It was the
nickel she put in her pocket laht
night when she went for the ex
tra loaf of bread and found the
store closed. She had made john
ny cake instead, and supper had
been laje; but the nickel had
stayed in her coat pocket forgot
ten. And now suddenly a big
temptation descended upon her,
to spend that nickel in car fare
riding to the barn and getting
out for a closer look at it, and
then taking the next car into the
city. Was it wild and foolish,
was it not perhaps actually
wrong, to spend that niekel that
way when they needed so much
at home, and had so little! A
crazy idea—for how could a bafn
ever be their shelter!
She thought so hard about it ,
that she forgot to eat her lunch
until the motorman slammed the
cover down on his tin pail and j
put the high stool away. The
conductor, too, was coming out
of a tiny frame house, wiping
his mouth with the back of his
hand and calling to his wife, who
stood in the doorway and told
him about au errand she wanted
him to do for her in the city.
Shirley’s cheeks grew red with 1
excitement, for the nickel was
burning in her lian'd, and she
knew in her heart that she was
gAing to spend it getting off that
car near that barn. She would '
eat her lunch under the tree by
the brook! How exciting that
would he! At least it would be
something to tell the children
about at night! Or no! they
would think her crazy and self- |
ish, perhaps, to waste a whole i
day and 15 cents on herself. Still,
it was not oil herself; it was real
ly for them. If they could only
see that beautiful spot!
(To Be Continued Next (Veek)
Praises President’s Style.
Krom the New York Times.
Upon the literary quality of the presi
dent's address to congress, coming so
soon after his Inaugural address, it has
pleased some university jurists to
sharpen their wits. They have passed
from one to another their little quips
and catchy questions about Mr. Hard
ing's U3e of words, Mnally, as was
inevitable. M. H. Meneksd has started
in to make rather ponderous fun of the
president's style.
The game Is easy, hut is it worth
while? What do the fastidious critics
think to he the object of a presidential
utterance? It is to reach and win the
greatest number of people.
This being so, it may be boldly main
tained that Mr. Harding’s official style
is excellent. It carries where finer writ
ing would not go. Its merits are ob- I
vious. {
Your
New
Home
should be made
artistic, sanitary
and livable.
These walls should be Alabastined in the latest,
up-to-the-minute nature color tints. Each room should
reflect your own individuality and the treatment
throughout be a complete perfect harmony in colors.
The walls of the old home, whether mansion or cottage, can be
made just as attractive, just as sanitary, through the intelligent use of
Instead of kalsomine or wallpaper
How much better, when you have a new home, to start right than to have
to correct error* afterward from former treatment with other materials, when
you come to the use of Alabattine, as does nearly every one sooner or later.
Once your walls are Alabastined you can use any material over h should you
desire, but having used Alabastine you will have no desire for any other treatment.
Alabastine Is to easy to mix and apply—so lasting in its results — so abso
lutely sanitary—and so generally recognized as the proper decorative material in
a class by itself that it is becoming difficult to manufacture fast enough to supply
the demand.
, Alabastine is adry powder, put up in five-pound packages, white and beau
tiful tints, ready to mix and use by the addition of cold water, and with full direc
tions on each package. Entry package of genuine
Alabattine hat cross and circle printed in red.
Better write us for hand-made color de
signs and special suggestions. Give us your decor
ative problems and let us help you work them oat.
Alabastine Company
1855 GrtndviUe Ave. ‘ Grand Rapids. Midi.
HOUSES COUGHING? USB
Spohn’s Distemper Compound
to break It up and get them back In condition. Twenty-seven
years' use haa made "SPOHN'S" Indispensable In treating
Coughs and Colds. Influenut and Distemper With their resulting
complications, and all diseases at the throat, nose and lungs.
Acts marvelously as preventive; acts equally well as ouro.
00 cento and $1.15 per battle. At all drug stereo.
SPOHN MEDICAL COMPANY, GOSHEN, IND.
Come Again.
Marybeth was looking over her birth
day presents, among which, was t
yretty hand-embroidered dress fron
her aunt.
Her mother said, “Aren’t you goiuj
So give auntie a nice kiss for youi
Iress?”
She replied, "Oh, yes, thank you
tuntle. Many returns of the day.”
Shave With Cuticura Soap
and double your razor efficiency as
well as promote skin purity, skin com
fort and skin health. No mug, no
slimy soap, no germs, no waste, no
irritation even when shaved twice
daily. One soap for all uses—shaving,
bathing and shampooing.—Adv.
CONDENSATIONS
The emerald is the most precious of
ferns.
Industry does not have to make
vislies.
White camels are about as rare as
ilack sheep.
Baboons sometimes throw stones at
heir enemies.
Letters carried by air mall are put
n asbestos bags.
The president of the French repub
lc has an official airplane.
Buddhists in Japan maintain a reg
liar Buddhist Salvation army.
No, Luke, bright 1'hlldren don't al
vays develop Into smart men. Some
levelop into women.
The love of the mosquito for a bare
irm is surpassed only by the love of
i fly for a bald head.
Of course, the roan who thinks as
nuch of himself as we do of ourselves
s conceited.
Women are estimated to outnumber
uen to the extent of 2,000,000 in Eng
aud and Wales.
The culture of tea existed In China
n the Fourth century and In Japan in
he Ninth century.
He Corrects Them.
“Our first impressions,” says q
philosopher, “are fttU of errors.” Bui
old Father Tiro© is a good proof!
reader.
FRECKLES
Now In the Tim Is Gel KM el
Those Ugly Spots. „
There’* ao longer the sHghtoat need ol
fooling nshamod of yoor freckles, so othint
—double strength—Is gunrnntood to remove
these homely spots.
Simply get mn ounce of Otbtne—donblt
strength—from your druggist, snd apply ^
little of It night and morning and you
should soon sea that even the worst freckles
have begun to disappear, while the lights!
ones have vanished entirely. It Is seldom
that more than one ounce fa needed to com
pletoly cle»r the skin and gain n beautiful
clear complexion, a
Bo sure to ask (gr the double strength
Othlne, as this la sold under guarantee o| 1
money back If It fail* to remove freckles.
It Was'Apparent.
A chorus girl, wearing very little
—aye very little—was standing in the
wings at a Broadway theater the other
night, ready to go ob, when Ivan Bank
off came aflong.
“Do you girls get much money la
this show?” he asked.
"Huh!” replied the girl, “the sal
aries paid us don’t keep us in clothes.”
"So I’ve noticed,” said Mr. Bankoff,
discreetly moving away.—New York
World.
Ask Something Hard I
“Why are these called ‘silver'
onions?”
“Because they come in sets and are
for table use."—Farm Life.
Disillusioned.
Mable—“Do you believe in dreams?’*
Bert—"No, I was In love with on«
once and she Jilted me.”
Five Dollars, Please.
“Doctor, I wish you would prescribe
for my complexion.”
“Certainly, madam. Let it alone."
____________________
Too Much Agreement.
Edith—“I think Jack is simply won
derful.” Ella—“Yes, the trouble is ha
thinks so, too.”
In the fifteenth century the terns
vaudeville was applied to a certain
old Norman folk song.
A ninety-mile walk on snowslioea
was accomplished by n Canadian
woman last winter. _
J) ..V
here’s a Reason
Grape-Nuts
makes a helpful breakfast: and a
profitable lunch for the worker who
must be awake and alert during the day
Grape»Nuts is the perfected —
goodness of wheat and malted barley,
and is exceptionally rich in nourishment
It feeds body and brain without
tax upon the digestion.
*Theres a Reason ^
