—■nap—- —i ^i—ww——wp—ii hi i iwm——————— j THE ENCHflfED BARN J > copyright 1918. by J B. Llpplncott Co. I "'Ibis is the first time I’ve ev. r seen it, you lcn«w,” spoke [Shirley at last, “and I ’m so glad it, was on Sunday morning. It wilt always make the day seem more holy and the sea more won derful to thing about. 1 like best things to happen on Sunday, don’t you, because that is the best day of all ?” Graham looked at tin* spark ling sea all azure aud pearls, real ized the Sabbath quiet, and mar velled at the beauty of the soul of the girl, even as her feeling about it all seemed to enter into and become a part of himself. “ Yes. I do,’’said lie. “I never did before, but I do now—and always shall," lie added under his breath. That was almost as wonderful a Sabbath as the one they bad spent in flic woods a couple of' weeks ^before. They walked and 1 aiked b>' the sea, and they went to a little Episcopal chapel, where the windows stood open for the chanting of the waves and the salt of the breeze to come in freely, and then they went out and walked by the sea again. Wherever they went, whether resting in some of the many big rockers on the broad verandas or walking on the bard smooth sand, or sitting in some eozy nook by the waves, they felt the same ‘dtep sympathy, the same convic tion that their thoughts were one, the same wonderful thrill of the clay and each other’s nearness. Somehow in the new environ ment Shirley forgot for a little that, this young man was not of her world, that he was probably going back soon to the city to enter into a whirl of the winter’s season in society, that other girls would claim his smiles and at tentions, and she would likely be forgotten. She lost-ihc sense of it entirely and companioned with him as joyously as if there had never been anything to separate them. Her mother, looking on, sighed,.smiled, and sighed again. I hey walked together in the sweet darkness beside the waves that evening, and lie told her how when he was a little boy be want ed to climb up to the stars and find God, but later how he thought the stars and God were myths like Santa Glaus, and that the stars were only electric lights [nit up by men and lighted from . a great switch every night, and when they didn’t shine somebody bad forgotten to light them. He told her many thing about him self that lie had never told to any one before, and she opened her shy hear£ to him, too. Then they .planned what they would do next, week when he came‘back. He told her he must go back to the city in the morn ing to see his father and mother off and attend to a few matters of business at the office. It, might be two or three days before he could return, but after that he was coming down to take a little vacation himself if she didn’t mind, and they would do a lot of delightful things together: row, fish, go crabbing, and he would teach her to swim ami show her all the walks and fav orite places where he used to go as a boy. Reluctantly they went in, his fingers lingering about * hers for just a second at the door, vibrating those mysterious heart strings of hers again, sweeping dearest music from them, and frightening her with joy that took her half the night to put down. CHAPTER XXL Sidney Graham went back to the city the next morning. They all atood ont on the piazza to watch the big ear glide away. Doris stood on the railing of the piazza with Shirley’s arm se curely about her and waved a lit tle fat hand; then with a pucker of her lip she demanded: “Fy does mine Mister Dwa ham do way! I don’t yant him to do way. I yant him to stay wif niff aw ways, don't oo, Sir ley!” / Shirley with glowing cheeks sister dowu on the floor sud denly. L “Itun get your hat, Doris, and •we’ll take a walk on the sand!’’ she said, smiling alluringly at #thc child, till the baby forgot Tier grievance and beamed out with answering smiles. If That was a wonderful day. : They art took a walk on the band first, George pushing his mother in a big wheeled chair belonging to the cottage. Ifiliza lG beth wus guide and pointed out all the beauties of the place, tell ing eager bits of reminiscence from her childhood memories to which even Georgu listened at tentively. From having been only tolerant of her George had now come to look upon Elizabeth as ‘‘a good scout.” When Mrs. Hollister grew tired they took her back to the cottage and established her in a big chair with a book. Then they all rushed off to tho bath houses and presently emerged in bath ing suits, Doris looking like a little sprit in her scarlet flannel turned from watching the re treating car and put her little scrap of a suit, her bright hair streaming, and her beautiful baby arms and legs flashing white like a cherub’s in the sun light. They came back from their dip in the waves, 'hungry and eager, to the wonderful dinner that was served so exquisitely in the great cool dining room, from the win dows of which they could watch the lazy'ships sailing in the off ing. Doris fell asleep over her des sert and was tumbled into the hammock to finish her nap. Carol and Elizabeth and the boys started off crabbing, and Shir ley settled herself in another hammock with a pile of new magazines alfout her and pre pared to enjoy a whole afternoon of laziness. It was so wonder ful to lie still, at leisure and un hurried, with all those lovely magazines to read, and nothing to disturb her. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a minute just to listen to the sea, and realize how good it was to be here. Back in her mind there was a pleasant con sciousness of the beautiful yes terday, and the beautiful tomor rows that might come when Sid ney Graham returned, but she would not let her heart dwell upon them; that would be hum oring herself too much, and per haps give her a false idea of things. She simply would not »i let this wonderful holiday be spoiled by the thought that it woidd have to end some day and that she would be back at the old routine of care and worry once more. Mie was roused irom her rev erie by the step of the postman bringing a single letter, for her! It was addressed in an un known hand and was in a fat long envelope. Wonderingly she opened it and found inside a bank book and blank check book with a little note on which was written: Dear Llttlo Girl: This Is Just a trifle of that present we were talking about the other d*y that belongs to you. It Isn’t all by any means, but we’ll see to the rest later. Spend this on chocolates or chawing gum or frills or whatever you like and have a good time down at the shore. You're a bully little girl and deserve everything nice that’s going. Don't be too serious, Miss Shirley. Play a little more. Your elderly friend, Walter K. Graham. In the bank book was an entry of $5,000, on check account. Shirley held her breath and stared at the figures with wide eyes, then slipped away and locked herself in the big white room that was hers. Kneeling down by the bed she cried and prayed and smiled all in one, and thanked the Lord for making people so kind to her. After that she went to find her mothei. Mrs. Hollister was sitting on the wide upper piazza in a steam er chair looking off to the sea and drawing in new life at every breath. Her book was open on her lap, but she had forgotten to read in the joy of all that, was about her. To tell the truth sne was wondering if the dear fath er who was gone from them knew of their happy estate, and thiuk ing how glad he would be for them if he did. She read the letter twice be fore she looked at the bank book with its astonishing figures, and heard again Shirley’s tale of the happening in the office the morn ing of the arrest. Then she read the letter once more. “I’m not just sure, ‘daugh ter,’’ she Said at last with a smile, “what we ought to do about this. Are you!” “No,” said Shirley, smiling; “I suppose I’ll give it back, but wasn’t it wonderful of him to do itt Isn’t it grand that there are such men in the world t” “It certainly is, dear, and I'm glad my little girl was able to do something that was of assistance to him; and that she has won her way into his good graces so simp ly and sweetly. But I’m not so sure what you ought to do. Hadn't we better pray about it a bit before you decide? IIow soon ought you to write to him? Tit's too late to reach him before he leaves for California, isn’t it?” ‘‘Oh, yes, he's jnst about start ing now,” said the girl. ‘‘Don’t you suppose he planned it so that I couldn’t answer right away? I don’t know his address. I can’t do a thing till I find out where to write. I wouldn’t like to send it to the office because they would probably think it was busi ness and his secretary might open it.” ‘‘Of course. Then we’ll just pray about it, shall we, dear ? I’m not just sure in my mind wheth er it’s a well meant bit of charity that we ought to hand back with sincere thanks, or whether it’s God’s way of rewarding my lit tle girl for her faithfulness and quickness of action. Our Father knows we have been—and still are—in a hard place. He knows that we have need of ‘all these things’ that money has to buy. You really did a good thing and saved Mr. Graham from great loss, you know, and perhaps he is the kind of man who would feel a great deal happier if he shared a little of it w'ith you, was able to make some return for what you did for him. However, $5,000 is a great deal of money for a brief service. What do you think, dear?” ‘‘I don’t know, mother dear. I’m all muddled just as you say, but I guess it will come right if we pray about it. Anyhow, I’m going to be happy over his think ing of me, whether I keep it or not.” bmrley went tnougntluliy back to her hammock and her magazines, a smile on her lips, a dream in her eyes. She found herself wondering whether Sid ney Graham knew about this money and what he would wish her to do about it. Then sudden ly she cast the whole question from her and plunged into her magazine, wondering why it was that almost any question that came into her mind promptly got around and entangled itself with Mr. Graham. What did he have to do with it, anyway? The magazine story was very interesting and Shirley soon for got everything else in the pleas ure of surrendering herself to the printed page. An hour went by, another passed, and Shirley was still oblivious to all about her. Suddenly she became aware of a boy on a bicycle, riding almost up to the very steps, and whist ling vigorously. “Miss Shirley Hollister here?” he demanded as he alighted on • one foot oh the lower step, the other foot poised for flight as soon as his errand should have been performed. “Why, yes,” said Shirley, startled, struggling to her feet and letting a shower of maga zines fall all about her. “Long distance wants yer,” he announced, looking her over apathetically. “Mr. Barnard, of Philadelphia, wants to talk to ver!” and with the final word chanted nasally he alighted upon his obedient steed and spun away down the walk again. “But, wait! Where shall I go? Where is the telephone?” “Pay station!” shouted the impervious child, turning his head over his shoulder, “Di’ug store! Two blocks from the post office 1” Without waiting to go upstairs Shirley, whose training had been to answer the telephone at once, caught up Elizabeth's parasol that lay on a settee by the door, rumpled her fingers through her hair by way of toilet and hurried down the steps in the direction the boy had disappeared, won dering what in the world Mr. Barnard could want of her? Was he going to call her back from her vacation? Was this perhaps the only day she would have, this aud yesterday? There would al ways be yesterday i With a sigh she looked wistfully at the sea. If she had only known a sum mons was to come so soon she would not have wasted a second on magazines. She would have sat and gazed all the afternoon at the sea. If Mr. Barnard want ed her, of course she would have to go. Business was business and she couljin’t afford to lose her job even with that fairy dream of $5,000 to her credit in the bank. She knew, of course, she meant to give that back. It was hers for the day, but it cotild not become tangible. It was beauti ful, but it was right that it must go back, and if her employer felt he must cut short her vacation why of course she must acquiesce and just be glad she had this much. Perhaps it was just as ]well, anyway, for if Sidney CJra jham came down and spent a few days there was no knowing what foolish notions her heart would take, jumping and careening the way it had been doing lately when he just looked at her. Yes, she would go back if Mr. Barn |ard wanted her. It was the best thing she could do. Though per haps he would only be calling her to ask where she had left some thing for which they were search ing. That stupid Ashton girl who took her place might not have remembered all her direc tions. Breathless, with possibilities crowding upon her mind, she hur ried into the drug store and sought the telephone booth. It seemed ages before the connec tion was made and she heard Mr. Barnard’s dry familiar tones over the phone: “That you, Miss Hollister? This is Mr. Barnard. I’m sorry to disturb you right in the midst of your holiday, but a matter has come up that is rather serious and I’m wondering if you could help us out for a day or two. If you would we’d be glad to give you $50 for the extra time, and let you extend your vacation to a month instead of two weeks. Do you think you could spare a day or two to help us right away?” “ Oh! Why, yes, of course 1 ’ ’ faltered Shirley, her eyes danc ing at the thought of the extra vacation and money. 1 hank you! 1 was sure you would,” said Mr. Barnard, with relief in his voice. You see we have got that government con tract. The news just came in the afternoon mail. It’s rather particular business because it has to do with matters that the gov ernment wishes to keep secret. I am to go down tomorrow morn ing to Washington to receive in structions, and I have permission to bring a trusted private secre tary with me. Now you know, of course, that I couldn’t take Miss Ashton. She wouldn’t be able to do what I want done even if she were one I could trust not to say a word about the matter. I would take Jim Thorpe, but his father has just died and I can’t very well ask him to leave. Neith er can I delay longer thah to morrow. Now the question is, would you be willing to go to Washington in the morning? I have looked up the trains and I find you can leave the shore at 8 :10 and meet me in Baltimore at 10 o’clock. I will be waiting for you at the train gate, but in case we miss each other wait in the station, close to the telephone booth, till I find you. We will take the next train for Washing ton and be there a little before noon. If all goes well we ought to be through our business in plenty of time to make a 4 o’clock train home. Of course there may be delays, and it is quite possible you might have to remain in Washington over night, though I hardly think so. But in case you do I will see that you are safe and comfortable in a quiet hotel near the station where my wife’s sister is staying this sum mer. Of course your expenses will all be paid. I will telegraph and have a mileage book put at your disposal that you can call for right there in your station in the morning. Are you willing to un dertake this for us ? I assure you we shall not forget the service.” When Shirley finally hung up the receiver and looked about the little country drug store in won der at herself the very bottles on the shelves seemed to be whirl ing and dancing about before her eyes. What strange exciting tilings were happening to her all in such breathless haste! Only one day at the shore and a piece of another, and here she was with a trip to Washington on her hands! It certainly was bewild ering to have things come in such rapid succession. She wished it had come at another time, and not just now when she had not yet got used to the great sea and the wonder of the beautiful place where they were staying. She/did not want te*be interrupted just yet. It would not be quite the same when she got back to it she was afraid. But of course she could not refuse. It never en tered her head to refuso. She knew enough abut the office to realize that Mr. Barnard must have her. Jimmie Thorpe would have been the one to go if he were available, because he was a man and had been with Barnard & Clegg for 10 years and knew all their most confidential busi ness, but of course Jimmie could not go with his father lying dead and his mother and invalid siater needing him; and there was no one else but herself.