■>»
asr* ■ 1 ... .... ...
pi
was noi crying now; but
Was sitting there in a forlorn
little heap, her hands, grasping
her handkerchief, clasped round
bet knees and her tearstained
face turned away from him to
ward the sunset.
And, against his will, Michael
Rolf felt a pang of remorse at
his heart, and remembered that
tahe was very yovpg an<] ^hat the
ajneer eircufft,stances of her up
ibringing were all against her.
£ .Wpuld &0 have been any bet
ter, in the same circumstances?
lie doubted it, and there was a
fentle note in his voice as he
vent forward and spoke her
tame.
Patricia turned with a start
jnd sprang to her feet.
' The weary misery of her face
changed to a quick flush of
anger. ,
“Who told you I was here?
What do you want? How dare
yon follow me and spy on me
like this?”
“I went to the house and one
•f the maids told me you were
•nt in the grounds, so I came to
look for you.” He moved a step
nearer. “What is the matter?”
he asked.
“Nothing,” said Patricia
aharply. She stooped and pick
ed lip tho letter which had fallen
to the grass at her feet. “No
thing is tho matter,” she said
again defiantly.
“I should not havo imagined
you were the sort of girl who
Would cry for nothing, Michael
•aid with a faint smile.
She did not answer, and he
Went on impulsively.
“If it makes you unhappy to
leave Clayton Wold, Patricia,
why can’t you be honest and tell
me so? I hate to feel that you
are not happy. Why can’t you
be frank with met”
Her eyes flashed sombrely.
“I’m not crying because I’ve
got t® leave here, so you need
wot imagine anything so roman
tic,” she said hardily. “I don’t
eare if I never come back again.
I haven’t had much happiness
bere, goodness knows I But her
voice quivered as she spoke.
Dear Clayton Wold! where she
bad dreamed so many dreams of
m wonderful future.
Michael’s face hardened.
“In that ease, I am wasting
«ny sympathies,” he said laconi
cally.
There was a little pause. “Has
Philips been here?” he asked.
“Yes—and I told him just the
same as I told you—he was very
angry, or, at least, he tried to
be. He said—as you did—that
be would like to shaku me, only
be said it in a nice way, which
you didn’t, and he called mo
*my dear.’ ”
A faint smile flashed through
Michael's grey eyes.
“I could have called you ‘my
dear’ as well if I had known that
you liked it,” he said.
Patricia bit her lip.
“I am going indoors; I have a
great deal to do.” She paused,
with a fresh sense of humilia
tion. A great deal to do, when,
after all, she was not going to
the Shackles. She thought of
ber packed boxes. Was there
ktobody in all the world who
Wanted her.
“I saw your luggage in the
ball as -I came through the
house,” Michael Rolf said.
“Where are you going?”
" Patricia laughed mirthlessly.
Bbe wondered what ke would
aay if she answered him with the
■truth and said?—
<r “I $l<?n’t kqow where I am go
haven’s anywhere to go.
There is nobody in all the world
who wants me.”
Kuo doubt ne would ne glad.
No doubt it would please him to
know that she had been rebuffed
lor the second time.
Well, she would not give him
tike satisfaction of knowing. She
would not let anyone know.
Her boxes were addressed to the
Shackles, she would let every
one think she was going there
when she left the bouse in the
morning.
She tried to answer lightly
and cheerfully:
“I told Mr. Philips and gave
him my address. I am going to
■**y with the Shackles—they
are old friends of mine ...” Her
ooice broke a little, but she went
cm bravely: **I know I shall be
very welcome with them ...”
She looked up at Michael with a
sadden fear. “You don’t know
them, do youf”
“No, I have hardly any
friends in England except the
Cheaaeys.”
i *>
The swift colour rushed to
I Patricia’s face at the mention of
that name. She supposed he had
spoken it deliberately to wound
her. ,
“So this will be good-bye,”
she said. She stopped and, turn
ing, looked back for a moment
at the wide, sloping garden, with
its high trees and velvety lawns,
and with sudden impulse she
said:■—
Did it look just like this—
years ago—when you went
away?”
Michael was faintly surprised
at the question. Somehow he
had believed her when she said
that $he did not mind leaving
the old place.
“Yes—very much the same, I
think,” he answered.
Patricia nodded.
“It wou]d be nice to think
that it will always be the same,”
she said, with a note of wistful
ness in her voice; “but of course
it will not. Some day you will
let it or sell it to horrid rich peo
ple whagwill cu1 those trees do*T3
and selrthem for timber and cut
down that yew hedge and make
a pergola.” She laughed to hide
the unwonted emotion in her
voice. “It’s queer,” she said,
“what vandal? some people
are.”
“I could not sell the place if I
wished,” Michael said resent
fully. “It’s all entailed, and I
am not at all likely to let it
either.”
“You mean that you will.live
here?” she asked, disbelievingly.
“Yes—for the present.”
She turned away.
“I should have thought it
would have been too dull alone,”
she said.
“Oh, but I’m not always go
ing to be alone,” Michael ans
wered deliberately. “I hope to
marry.”
His eyes met hers, and Patricia
flushed crimson at the memory
of her own foolish words to him
that day after Peter Rolf’s
death. ,
She went on into the house
and Michael followed.
“If you can wait,” she said
presently, “I will tell the maids
to bring coffee and liqueurs.”
She paused. “I have had din
ner,” she added, “but I dare say
there is plenty if you are hun
gry-’'
“Thank you, but I dined be
fore I came—and, anyway, I
must be getting back. I came
in the car, as usual.”
He took up a big coat lyjng
on a hall chair and climbed into
it.
“What time do you go to
morrow?” he asked. Patricia
winced.
“Iam not sure—I have not de
cided.” _
“If you would care for me to
drive you over to the Shackles
—wherever they live!—I shall be
delighted.”
Patricia refused hastily.
“Oh no, thank’ you, and be- j
sides . . . they will probably '
send over for me.” Her lips
twisted into a wry smile; truly
her world was upside down, and
she wondered drearily if it
would ever again right itself.
She shook hands with Michael
and went with him to the door.
“I shall see you again soon,”
he said. “And you say that Mr.
Philips knows your address—”
“Yes—he knows the Shackles’
address. * ’
“Then its good-bye for the
present. I hope you will have a
pleasant visit.”
“Thank you—” The low,
grey-bodied car slipped away in
to the dusk. Michael Rolf turn
ed in his seat as he reached the
bend in the winding drive, and
saw Patricia still standing in the
doorway where he had left her
a solitary, black robed figure.
“Poor girl,” he said aloud,
and then laughed at himself; she
did not need pitying. She was
quite able to take care of herself.
He turned the car out into the
silent road and raced onwards
towards Londow.
The country all around was
very still and deserted, as if it
had fallen asleep, and as he had
traversed some ten miles and
hardly met a soul, it was all the
more of a surprise to Michael
when, as he swung around a cor
ner, someone ran across the road
to him, calling to him to stop.
He drove the brakes home and
brought the car to a standstill.
It was beginning to get dark
now; the last sunset tints linger
ed in the sky palely, and big
clouds were sweeping up from
the east. ,r
Michael turned in his sea4 and
looked back at the figure that
had called to him—a girl wear
ing a long loose coat and a col
oured motor veil tied over her
hat.
Sh$ came running up to him
breathless and laughing.
"Oh, I was so afraid you
wouldn’t stop—and I’ve been
here for hours, and not a soul has
passed! I aflr so sorry to trouble
you.” She spoke in rather a
gushing voice. "But my car
won’t go! It simply refuses to
budge an inch; do you think you
could find out what is the mat
ter with it? I live miles and
miles away, and I simply must
get home soon, or they’ll be in
a dreadful way about me—”
Michael drew in closer to the
side of the road, opened the door
of his car and got out.
The girl was looking at him
with interested eyes.
"I’m afraid you must be thinl>
ing me a perfect pest,” she said
with a sigh. "I do hope you are
not in a hurry.”
".Not in the least. I shall be
delighted to help you if it’s pos
sible.”
He walked back down the road
with her till they reached a small
derelict car, enamelled in a deli
cate shade of mauve, and Mic
hael bent down in a business
like way to examine it.
The girl stood by, her eyes on
his face. She was thinking how
good-looking he was, and hoping
that he would not too quickly be
abl§ to speed her on her way
again.
Is it anything very bad?”
she asked anxiously, after a
moment. ,
Michael looked up and laugh
ed.
“It’s something which unfor
tunately I can’t put right,” lie
said. You’ve no petrol, and neith
er have I—except what’s in the
tank, and that's very little. I
meant to have a tin before I
started for home, but forgot.”
“No petrol! She gave a
little scream. “Then what on
earth am I to do? There’s no
place here we can get any, and
I simply must get home—”
Michael looked up and down
the road for inspiration.
“I can run your car into that
gate,” he said at last. “It will
be safe there till the morning.
We’ll ask the people at the cot
tage to look after it—”
‘But what about me?” she
aaked in dismay. “I can’t stay
here all night.”
“I was not suggesting that
you should,” Michael said with
a touch of impatience. “Thert
is my ear~l shall be pleased to
drive you home.”
She looked the delight she felt.
“Oh, that is good of you!
Whatever should I have done if
you had not come along?”
“I dare say somebody else
would have come, sooner or
later,” Michael said laconically.
“I don’t know the roads round
here very well—you’ll have to
direct me.”
“I know every inch of them,”
she said eagerly. “I’ve lived
here all my life, you see—” She
paused, looking at him hesita
tingly.
“We are very well known in
the county,” she added, xdth
overdone carelessness. “My
father owns a great deal of prop
erty.” She paused again, but
Michael did not seem impressed,
and she added with a touch of
exasperation, “I am Miss Shac
kle.”
“Indeed,” said Michael Rolf
politely.
He was not impressed, but
he looked at her with a new in
terest. So this girl was Patricia’s
friend! He was frankly sur
prised ; he should never have im
agined her to be the type for
whom Patricia would care in the
very least. He followed her into
the car and drove away.
“You don’t live at Clayton, of
course,” Miss Shackle said pre
sently. She looked up at him
with open interest in her eyes.
“No—” Michael wondered if
he ought to introduce himself, “I
probably shall though, in the
near future,” he added. “Do
I go the right or left here?”
“To the right. The other way
leads back to Clayton Wold—
do yon know Clayton Woldt”
“I know the house,” said
Michael cautiously.
“I know it very well, too,”
she answered. “The Rolfs are
friends of mine—or, perhaps, I
should say they were! Mr. Rolf
is dead you know.”
“So I heard. He has a daugh
ter, hasn’t het”
“An adopted daughter. Every
one always thought she would
get all his money, but she hasn’t.
Poor Patricia.”
Michael glanced down at her
sharply—there had been «pjne
thing rather contemptuous in
her mention of Patricia’s name.
“Miss Rolf ^is a frien4 of
yours,” he said quietly. Effio
Shackle hesitated, then she gave
an odd little laugh.
“Well, I really hardly know,”
she answered. “Patricia is so
different to most people. She’s
so frightfully spoilt and selfish.
Mother was only saying to-day
that she will have to change now
she has lost all her money, unless
she wants to lose all her friends
as well—”
“You mean that the loss of the
one necessarily means the loss of
the other,” Michael said dryly.
He was beginning to feel irri
tated by this girl.
“Well, you see, people don't
really like Patricia,” she explain
ed with exaggerated frankness.
“She’s so haughty! She thinks
so much of herself, and before
Mr. Rolf adopted her they say
she was just nobody—that her
people were quite common.”
Michael interrupted abruptly.
“To the loH or iright here?”
“To the left—that is our
house through the trees.”
“Oh! it was not so very far,
then.”
She flushed a little.
“I hate walking,” she mur
mured. *
They drove in through newly
painted gates up a very new
looking carriage drive, to a
square, red-bricked house which
Michael thought the ugliest he
had ever seen.
Its front door stood open, and
a light in the hall silhouetted
the figure of § mpn standing on
the steps, a short, stout silhou
ette it was, that waved an eager
hand as the car approached.
Effie Shackle jumped out and
fan up the steps. ”Here I am,
Daddy! did you think I had had
an accident! I only ran out of
petrol, and this gentleman came
along and very kindly drove me
home” —she turned eagerly to
Michael who had left the car and
was standing a little behind her.
‘This is my father,” she said.
Mr. Shackle came down a step,
hand extended.
“Glad to* meet you, kir” he
said heartily. He prided himself
that he knew a gentleman when
he saw one. “.Come right in I I
must thank you for bringing my
little girl home safely. She’s
our only one you know, and pre- '
cious! Come in, sir!, I should
like you to meet my wife.”
Michael submitted reluctantly
but he did not want to stay, but
neither did he want to be un
gracious. In the light of the hall
lamp he knew Mr. Shackle was
looking at him critically.
“You’re a stranger round
here, I think, sir” he said, after
a moment. “I know most faces
about Clayton, but yours—”
“I used to live here years
ago,” Michael explained— “and
I hope to live here again. I dare
say you knew my father,”—he
paused— “I am Michael Rolf,”
he added.
(Continued Next Week
Almost Married
And Only Thirteen
Little Lucille Kane, 13-year-old girl
of Kansas City, Kan., would have
been a bride if George Tranberger, of
Parsons, Kan., had had his way about
It. George traveled all the way to
Kansas City in his home-made wagon
to do his wooing, but the authorities
caught him and his friend. Mike
Yawman, who had gone along to act
as best roan, and arrested them as
runaways.
How Women Mail Letters
From The Kansas City Star.
Femininity has its own way of post
ing a simple, everyday letter accord
ing to one keen observer. For in
stance, out of thirty women who
were watched at a street letter bos
in the residential section of a large
city, twenty-one withrdew the letter
before quite letting go of It, to scan
both sides of the envelope, to be cer
tain the letter was securely sealed,
properly addressed, stamped and to
make sure nobody could look through
the envelope to read the contents.
Ancestry of the President*
(Prom The Kansas City Star)
Of the 29 men who have served the
United States as President, 18 have
been of English descent. Scotch and
§90ttlah pilxtures follow closely in
second place and there have been
two of Dutch ancestry. Jefferson
was of Welsh descent.
The late Warren G. Harding was of
Scotch-Dutch descent and President
Coolidge can boast of English ances
tors. The presidents and their an
cestry from the time of Washington
to Coolidge:
Washington .. English
Adams . English
Jefferson . Welsh
ladison .English
Monroe.Scotch
3. Q. Adams.English
(ackson . Scotch-lrish
ran Buren . Dutch
W. H. Harrison . English
Tyler . English
Polk . Scotch-lrish
Taylor . English
Fllmore . English
Pierce . English
Buohanan . Scotch-lrish
Lincoln . English
Johnson .English
Grant . Scotch
Hayes . Scotch
Garfield . English
Arthur . Scotch-lrish
Cleveland . English
Benjamin Harrison .. English
McKinley .Scotch-lrish
Roosevelt . Dutch
Taft . English
Wilson .. Scotoh-Irlsh
Harding . Scotch-lrish
Coolidge . English
Maine’s Boxing Fish.
From the Portland Press-Herald.
Down at Tunk pond under a log
lives a boxing fish which has been
named by his trainer, Flrpo. He was
trained by Mr. Stanwood of Big Chief
Camps this summer In tne following
manner to box with his bird dog Bo.
A sunflsh, about seven Inches in
length was lured with bread crumbs
to an open place near a log and there
fed for several days. As the fish
showed signs of eagerness for the
oruimbs he would be gently pushed
b§ck wUJi a stick until he would rush
and strike at the stick and the rest
was easy. As the dog was always an
Interested spectator to the training,
be was soon eager to take ft hajid
*n4 as he enters the wafer the flan
■trikes at his legs, the dog parrying
he blow. So far only one bout has
S»ad to be called off and that wa?
Fhen Father Neptune was too lazy
o sweep the floor. Believe It or not
hat’s the tale as H. B. Stanwood
tells It.
Sanity On Race Question.
From The Kansas City Star.
A capable and successful negro
Puhysiclan was asked how he had
attained his position.
’’Well,” he replied, “I did not waste
time complaining about injustices or
how difficult it was for a negro to get
a medical education in America un
der present conditions. I just simply,
got down to work and proved my
case for recognition.”
The principle here illustrated Is im
portant. It holds the key to racial
betterment, so far as action of the
negro is concerned. The question is
not whether injustice ex.lsts. but what
Is the best course for the ngro to
pursue in order to remove the in
justice. any leaders of the race have
decided that the way lies not through i
complaint, through agitation or
through threat of radical action,
but through education, upright living
and a steady effort to wore out ra
cial salvation.
Credentials.
Tou ask credentials?
There’s a pine on the top of the hill
tihat knows me like a brother.
There’s not a bypath but knows my
daily way.
The fields exude welcome as I pass,
the stream chortles as 1 near,
the grasses embrace my feet.
The trees incline with gentle whis
perings and graze with their
soft leaves my cheek.
The plowboy stops to call me friend.
I am coming the upward route, the
hill road.
I am leaning hard on my staff, my
mountain boots are torn—but I
am coming,
I am on the far. high ledge.
I am coming with a spray of kinnl
kinnic in my mountain coat, and
the autumn colors in my moun
tain soul.
—Muriel Strode, in the Christian
Science Monitor.
Valua of Edison’s Ideas.
The ideas and the genius of Thom
as A- Edison are said to be worth
115,699,000,000 based on present in
vestment in America alone of indus
tries based on or stimulated by his
inventions. The separate items mak
ing up this total are thus extracted
by the Wall Street Journal:
Million
dollars
Moving pictures.......... ., ... ■ 1,250
Telephones.. ..•••••• .... ••>*., 1,000
Electric railways.6,500
Elec trio lighting and power.6,000
Electrical supplies.,.857
Fixtures.-.37
Phonographs .105
Electric car shops.109
Dynamos and motors.100
Edison storage batteries.S
Cement.271
Telegraph.350
Wireless telegraph.16
Wisdom
What can’t be cured must be endured,
Plow deep while sluggards sleep,
When the cat’s away, the mice will
play.
So look before you leap.
Birds of a feather flock together,
A stitch In time save nine,
There’s many a slip ’twixt clup and
lip
Cast not your pearls to swlns.
Many a little makes a mickle,
Rob Peter to pay Paul,
A winter’s fog will freeze a dog,
And the weakest go to the wall.
A bird In the hand—but you under
stand
By now how this Is done.
And I haven’t any proverb book at
hand.
And I wish I hadn’t begun.
Synthetic rhymes are really crimes—
They’re done by a lazy bard,
But they’re harder far than the oth
ers are
That look three times as hard!
—Ted Robinson In the Cleveland
Plain Dealer.
What Is said to be Ohio's record
wheat yield was made this year by
Charles Karns, a Miami county far
mer, who produced 627 bushels on 10
seres, an average of nearly 6S bushels
to ths acre. He grows potatoes or
corn, wheat and mover in rotation.
Potatoes preceded this unprecidented
wheat crop.
To test the effect of atmospheric
conditions at high altitudes, three men
were recently locked In a cylinder 16
feet long and 9 feet In diameter and
the air within was gradually rarefied
until It WM «<jua.l to that at a height
rf 27.888 feet and the temperature was
8 degrees below *#T9,_
t
WRIGLEYS
Take ft home to
the kids.
1 Have a packet in
your pocket for an
Wall of the Oppressed.
Della and Dottle were twins, but
Della was the leader In everything,
and also was inclined to tyrannize.
One day, after a disagreement with
Della, Dottle asked: “Mamma, If Del
la Is the same old as me, why does
she boss me just as If I was her little
girl?”
Hairs Catarrh
Medicine SLdof^*!”
rid your system of Catarrh or Deafness
caused by Catarrh.
SoU by druggUft far arm 40 yarn
F. /. CHENEY CO., Toledo, Ohio
BASIS OF SOUND PHILOSOPHY
•L T •*•-%-*» j
Irish Laborer’s Advice Concerning
Commissioner's Worries Worth
Taking to Heart.
—
Charles H. Spear, head of the harbor
commission of San Francisco, says
that on first taking that office years'
ago an Irish laborer hailed him on the
Embarcadero with a ‘‘Good-mamln’,
Mr. Prisldlnt. How are ye the mam
in’?”
“Never better,” said Spear, "and
how about you?"
“Oi’m feelin’ Jist the same way.
We’re all Iv us workin’ for ye, an’
workin’ fer the state, as hard as lver
we ought to, considerin’. 01 hope ye’ll
have a good adminlsthratlon. An’ let
me make yez one lv these here Biggis
tlons. San Francisco bay is a foine
body o’ wather. Whin thin’s don’t go
roight along the froont an’ yer soul
gits all full o’ throuble about It, don’t
let it wrinkle yer face nor kape yez
awake noights. Remlmber that that
bay was here a long time before you
come an’ it’ll be here a long time
afther ye’re gone.”
• The Cutloura Toilet Trio.
Having cleared your skin keep It clear
by making Outlcura your everyday
toilet preparations. The Soap to cleanse
and purify, the Ointment to soothe and
heal, the Talcum to powder and per
fume. No toilet table is complete
without them.—Advertisement
Hat to 8ave His Wig.
A red bandanna was all the hat he
had as he galloped frantically through
the crowd. It was raining hard.
Others were stepping delicately to
avoid the puddles. Girls danced like
cats to save their pretty slippers. But
the man with the bandanna forgot his
feet In a wild dash for the nearest
hat store.
The reporter followed—not too
closely, for the strange old gentleman
Aehaved eccentrically. Several mad
men were known to be at large.
Into the hat Btore raced the ker
chiefed mystery. He hailed the near
est clerk.
“A hat, a hat, quick, quick—my head
must not get wet.”
He tore off the bandanna. There
was no more mystery. For his hair
had come off with the kerchief.
No wig on earth, the man explained,
will stand a hard rain unprotected.—
Milwaukee Journal.
In the Land of Ice and 8now.
Question—If a bride and groom on
a honeymoon in the Alps, In midwin
ter, get lost, how do they keep from
freezing?
Answer—They warm themselves on
the mountain ranges.
The largest species of devil fish or
octopus has eight tentacles.
The octopus Is highly valued In
Japan as an article of food.
ESSXBSBI
^l
