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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Oct. 11, 1923)
The Master Man By Ruby M. Ayres "Her—mother!” he echoed. "But I thought—I always under stood—good Heavens, do you mean that she does not know?” Mrs. Smith shook her head. "I know it all sounds very im ^Bsible and perhaps absurd,” •be said, in a voice broken with emotion. "I know that her life end mine are are far apart as they well can be, but she is my daughter all the same.” t "AntJ my father*—did he know—but, of ctfiirse, he must have done?” “Oh, it has been my thoughts •o often,” she said. “It was my voice. “I have blamed myself •o often for ever consenting, but at the time it seemed such an op portunity for Patricia—” looked at Michael apolo geticalfy. "1 should like to tell you all about if if it will not be worrying you too much.” “I am immensely interested. I never had any idea—I always thought Patrica was an orphan when my father adopted her.” Mrs. Smith sat down in the armchair and clasped her hands in her lap to hide their trembl ing. “If8 all so long ago,” she be gan agitatedly. " Patricia was only seven— and, though she is my daughter, she was tho prettiest child you can imagine, Mr. Rolf." "I am sure she was," Michael agreed readily. He walked away to the window and stood looking out into the dingy street. There was a queer feeling of ap prehension in his mind. How would it effect Patricia when •ho knew the truth he wondered. He turned eagerly again to Mrs Smith. "Yes, please go on." "My husband had just died— and I was very poor. I had hardly any money, and I was living in a little cottage in the country with my two children., trying to manage as best I could, When one f ter noon your father came to the house—he had lost his way. It was then that he M Patricia. ^ "He asked her to go and sit On his knee, hut she-stamped her foot and refused, and he laughed and said he liked her spirit. I noticed that he kept staring at her a great deal, and when he got up he said: ‘How much will ?'0U take for your little Spittire here!' I thought it was only a joke, but he assured me he was quite serious. ‘I’ll give you a good price for her,’ he said. You know his way, Mr. Rolf!” Michael nodded. ‘‘Of course, I said that nothing could ever induce me to part with her, and ho went away. But ho came back many times afterwards and renewed his offer. ‘‘Well, things went on, and * then I fell ill. Very ill I was, and my little bit of money began to dwindle, and then—oh, I need not tell you how it all happened, but in the end your father got !iis way, and I gave Patricia up to him. ‘‘Directly it was all agreed I knew I must have been mad. Mr. Rolf gave me £1,000, and made me sign a paper to the ef fect that I would never try to aee her again. He wanted her to forget me, he said! Oh, he was very frank! ’He promised that che should have everything •he wanted—always, and I sup pose he kept his word, but he never told me that he was going to turn her into a selfish, arro gant girl.” U Michael made a swift move ment Of objection, hut he said nothing, and Mrs. Smith went On bitterly: ‘‘At any rate, she very easily forgot me. I kept my share of the bargain faithfully for twelve years, anti then one day I had the feeling that I must see her and speak to her. I found an excuse and an opportunity. I wrote and asked if I might he allowed to do some work for her —I am clever with my needle. She sent for me to go to Clayton, and after that I often saw her—” “And my father knew!” “He found out after a time, and was furious, but he could not do much, otherwise I should simply told Patricia the whole truth.” “And Patriciaf You say that •he did not know you! And still does nott” “She has no idea. She has always been kind to me in her own way—helping me and giv ing me presents, but—oh, Mr. ~ a Rolf, if you knew how I have suffered all these years—and all through my own fault—” and she broke down Into bitter sobbing. Michael laid his hand on her shoulder. “But everything will be all right now," he said cheerily, because, of course, Patricia must be told the truth." Mrs- Smith sat up agitatedly. “She must not—I refuse to al low it. It would spoil her life; fhe would get to hate and despise me. She is so proud. Oh, Mr. Rolf, you must promise that you will not tell her." Michael looked perplexed. “But if she comes to live Here —" he objected. “She would never come if she new the truth," Mrs. Smith answered. “Very well, then, she shall not know, for the present at all events,” Michael agreed. “I have set my heart on Patri cia coming here, so all you have to do is to write and offer her a home—and leave the rest to me.” Mrs. Smith started up agi his kindly gaze. “I suppose you are despising me very much,” she submitted humbly. iou Know quite well I am doing nothing of the sort,” he answered vehemently. “I am very glad to have met Patricia’s mother—” He held out his hand, and she laid hers in it. “Then it’s all settled,” Mich ael went on in a relieved tone. “You write to Patricia at once— I’ll give you her address.” He moved over to the desk in the window and scribbled it on one of his own cards, then he filled in a cheque for ten pounds, and left them both lying there together. Mrs. Smith followed him to the door. It was only just as he was leaving the house that she said: “There is one thing I would like to ask you, Mr. Rolf—per haps you may not think it is my business—but-—there used to be a Mr. Chesney, who was very fond of Patricia. Perhaps you know him? I have so often wondered why she never married him.” Michael frowned. “Because she didn’t care for him, in all probability,” he answered rather shortly “Yes, I know Chesney well, but I hardly think he was the man for Patricia.” “I thought she always seemed verytfond of him,” Mrs. Smith answered Avistfully. “I only saAv them together once or tAvice, but he Avas such a gentleman. I used to hope Patricia Avould marry him.” Michael did not answer, and presently he was walking quick ly aAvay from the house. Chesney suited to her indeed! Surely the girl’s own mother should have known better than that. He took a taxi at the corner and was driven back to Mrs. Flannagan’s. It Avas nearly five o’clock then—Patricia would probably be back. Patricia Avas back! So Mrs. Flannagan informed him in a stage whisper. “But it’s not shure I am that she’ll see ye!” she added. “If you’ll not mind waiting I’ll just foind out!” Michael stepped past her into the narrow hall. “Thank you,” he said coolly. “I’ll find out for myself.” CHAPTER Vll Patricia Avas crouching over the fire in an attitude of the deepest dejection when Michael entered the room. She had taken off her lvatr but she still wore her chat, and there was something hopelessly dis pirited in the droop of her shou lders and the despondent manner in which her graceful head rested on her hands. • She Avas sore and angry and miserable. She Avas sure that Michael had deliberately missed his appointment with her; even the fact that he had turned up late did not mollify her. She only shrugged her shoulders when Mr^~ Flannagan drew an elaborate picture of his deep dis tress Avhen he found that she had gone. She had not had any lunch, and the tray of unpretentious cold meat and potatoes which Mrs. Flannrgan had hurriedly brought stood unappetisingly on the table behind her. "You can take it away, Mrs. Flannagan,” Patricia said, with out turning as Michael entered “I don’t want anything—I’m not hungary. You can bring me a cup of tea, if you like.” “It’s not Mrs. Flannagan,” said Michael. He came in and shut the door behind him, look ing at her with a little uncertain smile. Patricia rose to her feet, angry waves of colour beating into her pale cheeks. “I told Mrs. Flannagan I would not see you. Who said you could come inf” “Nobody; I just came.” He moved forward. I am more sor ry than I can say about being late this morning. I met Ber nard Chesney, and could not get rid of him.” “And naturally you did not wish to bring him to see me,” she retorted. “I suppose one could hardly expect you to be proud to admit you know any one living in a house like this.” “You are quite right about my not wishing him to see you,” Michael answered calmly “But as far as the house goes, if it’s good enough for you, it’s a thundering sight too good for him. But we won’t argue. I hope you accept my apology.” “There is no need to apologise. I did not expect you to keep your word.” mat, sam Micnaei, "is not the truth. You did expect me— you, were very angry and disa ppointed when I did not come.” “How dare you!” Michael smiled. “Come, Patricia, don’t he childish. I thought we were go ing to be friends. I was angry and dissipointed, too. I had a horrible lunch.” He stood looking down at her reflectively, “Look here,” he said sudden ly, “you’d be much easier to talk to if you wouldn’t look so determinedly uncomfortable. Take off your coat and let me fetch you a cushion.” He drew the coat from her shoulders and fetched the best cushions the room could muster; then he went down on his knees and banked up the smoky fire. “Have you given Mrs. Flanna gan notice?” lie asked. % “Of course, I haven’t;~~I’ve got nowhere to go. “Nowhere? With all the many friends you must have?” The ready tears sprang to her eyes. “You seem to like taunting me'about my friends,” she said bitterly. “I am beginning to wonder if I ever really had any.” “I am not speaking of people like Effie Shackle,” said Mich eal gently. Patricia looked at him. “You don’t know Effie Shackle.” “I do. I met her on the road ilear Clayton one night—the very night before you ran away I think it was. Something had gone wrong with her car and it „ was getting late and so I drove her home, and they asked me to stop to dinner.” “Yes, they would—if they knew who you were.” “They didn’t know, till I told i;.°m—and I don’t think Miss Effii liked it when she know.” “I should have thought she would have been delighted.*’ A little smile crept into Mich ael's eyes as he recalled the dis may his announcement had caused. Patricia was wftching him with faint ealousy. “Have you ever been there again?” she asked. “Not that I care,” she hastened to add. “I never supposed you would care,” Michael answered, still intent on his fire building. “But I have not been, though they gave me a pressing invitation and a formal one came by post this morning for dinner to night.” He rose from his knees and, turning, faced her. “Shall I go?” he asked. Patricia tried to laugh uncon cernedly. “Please yourself—it is no business of mine.” “That’s what you say,” Mich ael answered coolly. “And all the time you know you don’t want me to go—you know you hate the idea of my going—at least ... I hope you do,” he add ed. Patricia sprang to her feet. - “How dare you! As if I care —as if. “Tea and a foine parcel,” said Mrs. Flacnagan at the door. Michael turned away, there was a little pleased smile in his eyes. Mrs. Flannagan’s "foine par cel” turned out to be violets. "Floers they are, by the smel ling of them,” she insisted, tak ing a good sniff at the wrappings before she laid them down in Patricia’s lap. Patricia looked at the little hamper. "There is no one at all likely to send mo flowers,” she said, but she cut the string rather eagerly, and gave a little cry of delight when she saw the mass of violets. She looked up at Michael. "You sent them!” she said, breathlessly. "I plead guilty,” he answered. He was pouring out the tea and wondering why he felt so happy and at home in this not very comfortable room. Patricia bent her face to the flowers. "My favourites,” she said. How kind of you I” "Not at all. Do you take sugar?” He added a second knob to her cup absent minded ly- You know there are lots of little things I could do for you, if yuo’d only be sensible and let me.” He brought the tea over to her. "It seems to me that you’re uncommonly extravagant with valuable time,” he added smilingly. "Look at the good times we might have had togeth er already! Why, we might have got so fond of each other that you even have consented to come and live at Crayton—if I’d ask ed you,” he added, audaciously. Patricia did not smile. ‘.‘If you still think that you’re going to be ciever and manage me—” she began, slowly, “Bless your heart, I don’t!” Michael drained his cup and sat it down, “I’ve given that idea up—given it up so completely that if you’d like me to tell Chesney where he can find you I’ll go straight off when I leave here and give him your address —there?” Patricia bit her lip. “You mean that you want to be rid of all responsibility of me.” “I mean that I hate to see you unhappy, and to know that jn your heart you are blaming me for it.” She sat very still. The scent of the violets filled the room and made her think of Clayton Wold, and the gardens, and the woods, ■ and life as she had known it there, and she-felt as if desolat ing miles lay between her and it—miles to which this man was adding with every word he utter ed. He wanted to be rid of her— he wanted her to marry Chesney and settle down, and yet not so long ago he had urged her against this very thing—had told her that she would not be happy as Chesney’s wife. “Thank you,” she said, coldly. “But I am quite capable of send ing for Mr. Chesney if"! should ever want him, which is not very likely after all that has hap pened.” “That disposes of Chesney,” Michael said cheerily. “ And now I’ve got another brilliant idea— that we forget all that’s hap pened, and you come back to live somewhere near Clayton, and let me make you an allow ance.” "Thank you, but of the two F would sooner marry Bernard Chesney.” Michael went over to the window; the drizzling rain had begun again, and the narrow street, with its rows of houses that were all alike, save for slight variations of curtains, looked depressingly dreary. This was no place for Patric ia, he told himself angrily; and yet—what could he do for her? “And there is nobody—no real friend, I mean,” he said rather abrutptly; “with whom you would rather live than— with Mrs. Flannaganf” “There is nobody that you would approve of; not that I care if you approve or not...” “You mean that there is some body ? ’ ’ “There is somebody I thought of this morning>~when you did not come....” “When I came late, you mean,” he corrected her. “Very well, when you came late.” She raised her dark eyes to his face with a queer lit tle smile in them. “And who is this—someonet” Michael asked. “She used to make some of my frocks—she used to come to ,'Clayton sometimes and work for me.” “A dressmaker!” said Mich ael. He purposely spoke dis pargingly; he knew Patricia well enough to know that the way to drive her to do a thing ► was to appear to wish to prevent It. “And what if she is a dress maker?" Patricia flashed out at him. “She was always kind to me, and I know she really liked me, no matter how strange it may seem to you that anyone could like met And she is a lady, anyway—much more of a lady than your friend Effie Shackle." Michael turned away to hide the smile in his eyes. “Miss Shackle is not a friend of mine," he said calmly. “And, as to this other lady..." “Her nams is Mrs. Smith," Patricia broke in defiantly. “I suppose you will say the name is common. She is quite poor, cer tainly; so poor that I used to send her my old clothes. If you’ve got anything to say against her....’’ “My dear child! how can I possibly have? I am sure, if she is a friend of yours, that she is everything that is good and charming, but as to whether you would really be happy liv ing— with her! Well, that’s another question." “I don’t suppose she would like to have me, anyway," said Patricia dispiritedly. “ Sh e’s only written to me once since Mr. Rolf died. I suppose, like the rest of the world, she thinks I’m of no use now I haven’t any money. ’ ’ (Continued Next Week.) Mrs. Oliver Belmont says: "For 20 centuries men have made a mud dling Job of this world and Its gov ernment." Quite true, not only 20 centuries, but 100 centuries. But if Mrs. Belmont could realize how much men have improved in the Wnturies, she would have a more kindly feeling for the inferior male sex. For instance, in Rochester, at the edge of the canal, a new born naked male baby is found dead. Eight de tectives are put on the case. Two thousand years ago it was le gal to leave new born babies, dead or alive, scattered around anywhere. If dogs didn't eat them, anybody that found them could bring them up as slaves. The Christian teaching that un baptlsed babies can’t go to heaven, which seems harsh to those that don’t know how it began, saved the lives of thousands of infants. The mothers, taught that they were Jeopardizing an immortal soul by not having It baptised, stopped exposing the babies. Unions As Newspaper Owners. From Editor and Publisher. With British labor unions reported ready to unshoulder the burden of their London Daily Herald, their fel low organizations in New York have undertaken the business of conduct ing the New York Call, long a Social ist daily, as a union organ. Over 300.000 union members are reported as having subscribed for stock of the new organization in which the old ownership retains a 15 per cent, in For fifteen years the Cali has been conducted, in the main by able news paper men, as the only Socialist daily in the city printed in English. It has advocated what its editors believed to be the tenets of their party and its sincerity has not been questioned. Its presentation of labor news has been partial, of course, but It has been complete, and the paper was read closely by employers to whom know ledge of their workers’ viewpoint was vital. Yet, its most consistent cry across the decade and a half has been for funds with which to continue publication. Under its new ownership, the Call can hardly longer be considered as a newspaper. It is a quasi "house or gan," a medium for dissemination of information with a limited appeal. Of somewhat similar nature is the weekly paper called Labor, which, under the management of the railroad crafts, has built up a weekly circulation of 800.000 and carries no commercial ad vertising. Labor is openly and avow edly a medium for presentation, of In formation of special interest to a large, but nevertheless limited, group. Oftentimes it gives space to news that the daily press has overlooxed or estimated as of insufficient Interest for publication. Sometimes it has been a source of undiscovered news for enterprising dailies of the "capi talist” class. That the new Call can also he, but its new owners will probably find that expense exceeds Income for an uncomfortably long time in the pro cess. It cannot supplant the dallies print ed in English and other longues, for its readers will not he satisfied with a diet of pure labor news, that lacks mental “vitamines.” It can supple ment these newspapers and it can correct them if they fail in an im_ partial presentation of industrial af fairs as they have at times in the past Those failures are less frequent now than they were twenty or even five or ten years ago, ana the few er they become the better for the country. Newspapers devoted to the creation and maintenance of Indus trial class interest, he it for or against capital or labor, ils those terms are loosely used, are not healthy Influ ences in American life. When Lincoln was a boy, a healthy black man, unable to read but strong enough to handle a hoe, was worth $1,000. The average inhabitant is worth a great deal more than three times that today. One single IDEA might be worth $800,000,000,000—for instance, an idea supplying men with unlimited free power from sun or tides There are many times 300,000,000, 000 worth of wealth below the earth in mines, oil, gas, coal, and in the earth’s thin crop producing carpet of soil. There are many times $300,000,000 worth of nitrogen in the air above us. This is a rich country, but we , need more people and instead of en couraging them to come in, we fo«t- 1 isbiy keep them out. i LLOYD GEORGE SEES HOPE IN HUGHES’PLAN Favors Proposal to Have Commission Fix Amount of Reparations BY JAMES R NOURSE Universal Service Correspondent Montreal, Que., Oct. 8. David Lloyd George was asked Monday night for an opinion regarding the statement attributed to President Coolidge that it is not too late for the nations of the world to give con sideration to the Hughes plan for adjusting the German reparations payments. He made! the following statement: “I regard this as extremely im portant. In my opinion, this plan is not too late for consideration, and it is absolutely the best hope of the settlement of reparations. Of course, since the plan was first broached, the ability of Germany to pay is much less. The greater the delay the closer the situation approaches chaos. "I hope that serious consideration of Mr. Hughes’ plan may be taken up, even at this late date, and I re peat that it is the best hope of a successful settlement.” Calls for Commission The Hughes plan, proposed by the secretary of state In a speech at New Haven, Conn., a year ago, sug gested the formation of an in ternational commission of economic exports to fix the amount of re parations which Germany should be called upon to pay. Lloyd George’s message to Canada, delivered before an audience of 7,000 here Monday afternoon was a plea for unity of action among all races of the world to end war. Describing the horrors of the late conflict, and pointing to his own whitened locks as an example .of what war does to men who have a part In It, the great leader of Bri tain’s war forces declared it is the destiny of civilized nations to pre vent war in the future. "No man can tety now what that war will mean to the human race,” he said. "The future is in the fog rising from the forass of war, and I cannot tell, no man can tell, what is going to happen. But this I do know, that the war altered the destiny of mankind for generations, aye for centuries to come.” War is a crucible that tests the courage, the determination, the loyal ty and the readiness to sacrifice of all those who participate in it, the speaker added. "It is a terrible business at best; it is a rending business, a shatter ing business, a ruinous business,” he said. Little Faith In Treaty The former premier held out little hope that the Versailles treaty would settle any of the problems of the war. “The treaty is now in the testing,” he said, “it may succeed, or it may fall. No one can tell.” The former premier was at his best in delivering the speech. He was humorous, hfe was stern, he was elo quent and forceful. At times he had his audience in uproars of laughter, and again slight formed women in black, wThose sons were given to the war, could be observed silently weep ing. It was a great speech, and it brought to Canada from England the expression of the empire’s gratitude for the 400,000 sons of the dominion who went abroad to fight on the fields of France. It lasted exactly one hour. For the first time, Lloyd George spoke into the receiving end of a set of amplifiers suspended above his head. His voice was so well carried and he liked the apparatus so much that he intends to have them supplied to him when he makes his next cam paign tour in England. This would increase, by many thousand, the au diences who would hear him^. Divine Talks Back Once he got too close to the mouthpiece, and his voice became in distinct. He backed suddenly away, exclaiming: “I got too near it; it is talking back to me insolently.” As his speech was the first deliv ered in Canada, Lloyd George devot ed himself almost entirely to review ing Canada’s part in the war, and praising the work of the Canadian expeditionary forces, whose com mander, Gen. Sir Arthur Currie, acted as chairman of the meeting. He told of the saving of the channel ports when they were threatened by the German armies, and gave credit to the untried Canadian fighters for saving control of the ports to the allies. An incident of the battle, when the Canadian boys leaped over the trenches to attack the enemy, he described as the finest bluff ever put up.” in a touching sentence summari zing Canada’s part in the war, the former premier declared: ’’The Maple Leaf was embroidered forever on the silken folds of the banner of human liberty.” Of the united /jtion by all parts of the British empire, he said they all came without thought of race, or color, or religion, adding: “Every religion is good. It is only no religion that is bad.” The former premier had something CLAIMS OF VETS RAPIDLY BEING PAID. Des Moines. Ia., Oct. 8.—Iowa world tvar veterans have been paid approx imately $16„428,000, in soldier bonus claims, it is declared at the auditor of state’s office. A total of 1,400 warrants were mailed out last week, bringing the aggregate number to date to 83,800. About 19,000 claims remain to be disposed of.