THE ENCHANTED BARN I copyright ISIS. t>y J B. Llpplncott Co. They talked about the sunset and a poem he had lately read. He told her hits about his jour ney, referring to his experience at the mines, touching on some amusing incidents, sketching some of the queer characters he bail met. Once he asked her quite abruptly if she thought her mother would he disturbed if he Jiad a cement floor put in the basement of the barn some time noon. He wanted to have it done before cold weather set in. and it won id. dry better now in the hot 6 days. Of course, if it would be in the least, (listurhing to any of them it could wait, but lu* Wanted to stop- a few things there that were bring taken out of the of fice buildings, and he thought .they would keep drier if there was a cement floor. When she •said it would not disturb any one m the least, would on the contrary be quite interesting for the children to watch, she was sure, he went easily back to (’ali form;; scenery and lievei; re ferred to it again, f At! through t lie ride, which was aerosa a country she had nev er sern before, and ended at. (jteiiaida approaching from a «riew direction, there was a subtle -something between them, a sym pathy and quick understanding ms if they were comrades, almost partners in a lot of common in terests. Shirley' chided herself for if, every time she looked up and caught his glance, anil felt the thrill id* pleasure in this close companionship. Of course it was wholly in her own imagination, and due entirely to the nervous strain through which she had passed that day, she told herself. Of course, he had nothing in his mind but the must ordinary Isindiy desire to give her a good time out of gratitude fur what she had done for him. Riit ncv <•rt.hete.ss it was sweet, and Shir ley was i.vith to surrender the joy of it. white it lasted, dream though it, might, lie. _ Ii 4. i l a i at. ... t ’ I a.ll'l VI 1*1 t * « . I ’ * V ** « * J ’ to the very stop in front of tin barn when he took her hand to help her out, and Ins lingers lin gered on hers with just an in stant's pressure, sending a thrill to her heart again, and almost bringing tears to her eyes. Fool iahium! She was overwrought. It was a shame that human be ings were so made that they had to become weak like that in a time of pleasant rejoicing. The family came forth noisily to meet them, rejoicing openly , at Graham's return, George and Harley vying with each other to -shout the news about the garden and the chickens and the dove cote; Farol demanding to know where was Elizabeth; and Doris earnestly looking in his face and repeating: “Ickle hudic fy away. Mistali Gwaham. All gone! All ickle Inidierfy away!” Even Mrs. Hollister came smiting to the. door to meet him, tutd the. young man had a warm ward of hearty greeting and a band shake for each one. It was as if he had just got home to a j-taec where he loved to he, and be could not show bis joy enough. Shirley stood hack for the moment watching him, ad miring the way his hair waved away from his temples, thinking flow hands nne Ik- looked when he smiled, wondering that he could so easily fit himself into ‘his group, which must in the tali!re of things he utterly dif ferent from Ids native element, rejo-.jmg over the defereuee he pai < to her p’ltiu, quiet mother, thrilling over the kiss he gave her swf-et little sister. Then Mrs. Hollister diil some thing perfectly unexpected and dreadful she invited him to stay to -dinner! Shirley stood hack and gasped. Of course he would decline, hut think of the temerity of inviting the weatliy anil cul tured Mr. Graham to take dinner in his own barn! ' AjAi-J Hut be. wasn't going to (let tine at all. He was accepting jih if it were a greal pleasure f'lftri Hollister was conferring i. ’.uMMilrMt. Sure, he would stay! • lit- had been wishing all the way out they would ask him. He v’h&d wondered whether he dared l*»,*^l1umSelf. idhirley with her cheeks very red hurried in to see that the itablc cloth was put on straight, and look after one or two little .thiu«s; hut behold, he followed fter out, auil, gently insisting Hint assisting, literally compelled her to oom* and lie down on the -•2' couch while lie (old* the family what, she had been through that clay. Shirley was so happy she almost cried right there before them all. It was so wonderful to have some one take care of her that way. Of course it was only gratitude—but she bad been tak ing care of other people so long that it completely broke liter down to have some one take care of her. Tiie dinner went much more easily than slie had supposed it could with those cracked plates, and the forks from which the silver was all worn off. Doris in sisted that the guest sit next to her and butter her bread for her, and she occasionally caressed his coat-sleeve with a sticky little hand, but he didn’t seem to mind it in t he least, and smiled down on her in quite-a brotherly way, arranging her bib when it got tangled in her curls, and seeing that she had plenty of jelly on her bread. It was a beautiful dinner. Mother Hollister had known what, she was about, when she selected that particular night to invite unexpected ‘company. There was stewed chicken on lit tle round biscuits, with plenty of gravy and currant jflly, mashed potatoes, green peas, little new beets, and the most delicious cus tard pie for dessert, all rich, vel vety yellow with a golden-brown top. The guest ate as if he en joyed it, and asked for^a sec ond piece of pie, just as if he were one of them. It was un believable. He helped clear off the table too, and insisted on Carol’s giv ing him a wiping-towel to help with the dishes. It was just-like a < I ream. The young man tore himself re luctantly away about, !) o’clock and went home, but before he left lie took Shirley's hand and looked into her eyes with another of those deep understanding glances, and Shirley watched him whirling away in the moonlight, and wondered if there ever,would be another day as beautiful and exciting and wonderful as this had been, and whether she could come down to sensible, every-day liviug.ngain by morning. Then there was the story of the day to tell all over again af ter he was gone, and put in the little family ‘ touches that, hud been left .out when the guest was there, and there was: “Oh, did you notice how admiring he looked when he told mother Shir ley had a remarkably keen mindt” and “‘lie said his father thought. Shirley was the most un spoiled-looking girl he had ever seen!” and a lot of other things that Shirley hadn't heard before. Shirley told her mother what the senior Mr. Graham had said about giving her a reward, and her mother agreed that she had done just right in declining any thing for so simple a service, but she looked alter Shirley with a sigh as she went to put Doris to bed, and wondered if for this ser vice the poor child was to get a broken heart. It could hardly be possible that a girl could be giv en much attention such as Shir ley had received that day, from as attractive a young man as Graham, without feeling it keen ly not to have it continue. And of course it was out of the ques tion that it should continue. Mrs. Hollister decided that she had done wrong to invite the young man to stay to supper, and re solved never to offend in that way again. It was a wrong In. i Shirley to put him on so intimate a footing in the household, and it could not but bring her sad ness. He was a most unusual young man to have oven wanted to stay, but one must not take that for more than a passing whim, and Shirley must be pro tected at all hazards. "Xow, ” said the elder Graham the next morning, when the bus i ijiess of the day was well under | way and he had time to send for his son to come into his office, “now, 1 want you to tell me all about that little girl, and what you think we ought to give her. What did she mean by ‘obliga t ions' yesterday 1 Have you been • doiug anything for her, soul l meant to ask you last night, but you came home so late I couldn’t sit up.” And then Sidney Gruham told his father the whole story. -It was different from telling his mother, lie knew no barn would have the power to prejudice his father. “And you say that girl livets ,iu the old barn l” exclaimed the ifather when the story was fin ished. “Why, the nervy little kid! And she looks as if she came out of a bandbox! Weil, she’s a bully little girl and no mistake! Well, now, son, what can we do for her? We ought, to do something pretty nice. You see it wasn’t just the money we might have lost. That would have been a mere trifle beside getting all Ihose other folks hailed up in the mess. Why, I’d have given every cent I own be fore L’d have had Fuller and Browning and Barnard and Wilts get entangled. I tell you, sou, it was a great escape!” “Yes, father, and it was a great lesson for me. 1 'll never be i i — :i., : i>.. ± about Miss Hollister, I don’t know what to say. She’s very proud and sensitive. I had an awful time doing the little things 1 just had to do to that barn with out. her suspecting 1 was doing it especially for her. Father, you ought to go out. there and meet the family; then you’d under stand. They’re not ordinary peo ple. Their father was a college professor and wrote things. They’re cultured people.” “Well, I want to meet them. Why don’t we go out there and call today? I think the must be worth knowing.” So late that afternoon the father and son rode out to Glen side, and when Shirley and George reached home they found the ear standing in front of iheir place, and the Grahams comfort ably seated in the great open doorway, enjoying the late after noon breeze, and seemingly per fectly at home in their own barn. “I’m not going to swarm here every day, Miss -Shirley,” said the son, rising and coming out to meet her. “You see father hadn’t heard about the trans formation of the old barn, and the minute I told him about it. he had to come right out and see it.” “Yes,” said the father, smil ing contentedly, “1 had to come and see what you’d done out here. I’ve played in the hay up in that loft many a day in my time, and I love the old barn. It’s great to see it all fixed up so cozy. Hut we’re going home now and let you have your dinner. We just waited to say ‘Howdy’ to you before we left.” They stayed a few minutes longer, however, and the senior Graham talked with Shirley while he held Doris on his knee and stroked her silky hair, and she nestled in his arms quite con tent Then, although young Graham was quite loath 1o leave so soon, they went, for he could not in conscience, expect an invitation to dinner two days in succession. They rode away into the sun set, going across country to their home without going back to town, and Doris, as she stood with the others watching them away, murmured softly: “Nice favver-man! Nic Gwa ham favver man!” The “nice Graham father man” was at that moment re marking to his son in very de cided tones, as he turned to get a last glimpse of the old barn: “That old barn door ought to come down right away, Sid, and a nice big old-fashioned door with glass around the sides made to fill the space. That door is an eyesore on the place, and they need a piazza. People like those can’t live with a great door like that to open and shut every day.” “Yes, father, I've thought of that, but I don’t just know bow to manage it. You see they're not objects of charity. I 've been thinking about some way to fix iqi a healing arrangement with out hurting their feelings, so they could stay there all winter. I know they hate to go back to the city, and they're only paying $10 a month. It's all they can afford. What could they get in the city for that?” “ Great Scott! A girl like that living in a house she could get for $10, when some of these feather brained baby-dolls we know can’t get on with less than three or four house that cost from $50,000 to $100,000 apiece! Say, son, that’s a peach of a girl, do you know it? A peach of a girl 1 I've been talking with her, and she lias a very superior mind.” “1 know she has, father,” an swered the son humbly. “I say, Sid, why don't you marry her? That would solve the whole problem. Then you could fix up the old barn into a regular house for her folks.,” “Well, father, that’s jmm •what I've made up my jn.in.4 to do— if sheHl hare me,” said the sou with a gieam of triumph m his eyes. “Bully f jr you, Sid! Bully for you!” and tin* father gave his son's broad shoulder a re sounding slap. “Why, Sid, I didn't think you had that much sense. Your mother gave me to understand that you were phil : andering around with that dolly ; faced Harriet Hale, and 1 couldn’t see what you saw in hei. But if you mean it, son, I’m with you every lime. That girl’s a peach, and you couldn't get a liner if you searched the world over,” “Yes, I’m afraid mother’s got her heart set on Harriet Hale,” said the son dubiously, "but I can't see it that way.” “H’m! Your mother likes show,” sighed the father comi calh', “lint she's got a good heart and she’ll howl over all right and make the best of it. You know neither your mother nor I were such high and mighties when we were young, and we married for love. But now, if you really mean business, t don’t see why we can’t do something right away. When does that girl have j her vacation? Of course she gets one sometime. Why couldn’t your mother just invite the, whole family to occupy the shore cot tage for a little while—get up some excuse or other—ask ’em to take care of it? You know it’s lying idle all this summer, and two servants down there | growing fat with nothing to do. We might ship Elizabeth down there and let ’em be company for her. They seem like a fine set of children. It would do Eliza | beth good to know them.” ‘‘Oh, she’s crazy about them. [ She’s been out a number of times with me, and don't you remem ber she had Carol out to stay with her?” ‘‘Was that the black eyed, sen sible girl? Well, I declare! I didn’t recognize her. She was all dolled up out at our house. I suppose Elizabeth loaned ’em to her, eh? Well, I’m glad. She’s got sense, too. That’s the kind of people I like my children to know. Now if that vacation could only be arranged to come when your mother and I take that western trip, wliy, it would be just the thing for Elizabeth, work right all around. Now, the thing for you to do is to find out about that vacation, and begin to ! work things. Then you could be done by the time they came back.” So the two conspirators plot ted, while all unconscious of their interest Shirley was trying to j get herself in hand aud not think ! how Graham’s eyes had looked when he said good night to her. CHAPTER XIX. ! •A ■ -Since the pastor from the vil lage had called upon them, the young people of the stone barn had been identified with the lit tle white church in the valley. Shirley had taken a class of boys in the Sunday school and was playing the organ, as George had once predicted. Carol was help ing the primary teacher, George wus assistant librarian and secre tary, Harley was in Shirley’s class, and Doris was one of the primaries. Shirley had at once identified herself with the struggling little Christian Endeavor society and was putting new life into it, with her enthusiasm, her new ideas about getting hold of the young people of the community, and her wonderful knack of getting the silent ones to take part in the meetings. She had suggest ed new committees, had invited the music committee to meet her at her home some evening to plan out special music, and to co-op erate with the social committee in planning for music at. the so cials. She always carried a few appropriate clippings or neatly ! written verses or other quot.a j tions to meeting to slip into'the hands of some who had not pre pared to speak, and she saw to it that her brothers and sisters were always ready to say something. Withal, she did her part so un obtrusively that none of the old members could think she was trying to usurp power or make herself prominent. She became a quiet power behind the pow ers, to whom the president and all the other officers came for advice, and who seemed always ready to help in any work, or to find a way out of any difficulty. Christian Endeavor in the little white church at once took great strides after the advent of the Hollisters, and even the idlers on the street corners were moved witli curiosity to drop into the : twilight service of the young peo I pie and see what went on, and I why everybody seemed so iu I ieriated. Hut the see ret of it all, ‘ *'?'o U» Cui4tliiu«d Nut WnI) -X ' . . ' "‘-'1 . 1 1 ■ ■ ... I HI —* I After Every Meal 10 WRIGLEY'S has steadily || kept to the pre-war price. |i m And to the same high stand- i -|| ard of quality. |j| No other goody lasts so H H long-costs so little or does § \ so much for you. ! - Handy to carry—beneficial H | i in effect—full of flavor—a ||| solace and comfort tor 19 young and old. || -ll THE FLAVOR i LASTS ____;___]P WATER FROM ARTESIAN WELL Why Method of Bringing It to Sur face la Only Successful in Cer tain Localities. Artesian wells are possible only in certain localities. When there are pervious strata lying between im pervious beds the water percolating through will be imprisoned ; lying bp on the lowest, and rising to some point In the highest, when a previous stratum brings It to the surface and It escapes In the form of spring. If, however, a shaft can he sunk to the lowest point, Fife water of the whole basin will pass upward for escape and will rise lo a level corresponding to the greatest height to which the imprisoned strata reaches. The wells were named from one at Artois, France, which was the first sunk with full knowledge of the principle in volved. Tl»e Chinese from time im memorial have used these wells, and they have also been used for cen turies In the neighborhood of Vienna. The artesian well at Grenoble, near Paris, throws water to a height of 32 feet above the surface at the rate of more than 500 gallons a minute.— Boston Globe. Lines to Be Remembered. The origin of all maHkind was the same; It Is only a clear and good conscience that makes n man noble, for that Is derived frem heaven itself. ~Seneca. • ~ —— HONORS RESTED WITH CHOATE Possibly Because He Had the Lact Word in Witty Duel With Chauncey M. Depew. New Yorkers agree that either .To soph Choate or Chauncey M. Depea was tlie finest after-dinner speakei on earth. Some one says: “At at annual dinner of the St. Nicholas so cieiy Choate was down for the toast ‘The N'av.v,’ while Depew was to r» spend to ‘Tlie Army.’ Depew begat by saying: ‘It’s well to have a spo ciullst; that's why Choate Is here t« speak about tlie navy. We met ai the wharf once and I never saw hint again until we reached Liverpool When I asked how he fe’t lie said h« thought lie would have enjoyed the trip over if he had had any ocean air. Yes, you want to hear Choate on the navy.’ “Choate responded: ‘I've heard De pew hailed as the greatest after-din ner speaker. if after-dinner speak ing. as I have heard it described and as I believe it lo be, is the art of say ing nothing at all. then Doctor De pew is the most marvelous speaker in the universe.’ "—Washington Star. The young man who gets a good start In life doesn't always make a satisfactory finish. No man is so peaceful that lie isn’t proud of his ancestors that fought In the wars. Do you know what constitutes j ) a strong constitution? |j |i To have sound, healthy nerves, completely under jj || Control, digestive organs that are capable of absorbing jii a hearty meal, means you have a strong constitution! || Your general attitude is one of optimism and energy. j| But an irritable disposition, frequent attacks of |j || indigestion, and a languid depression, indicate your !| | system is not in correct working order. || || Probably you are not eating the proper food. ffj