The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965, November 08, 1923, Image 2

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| The Master Man I
j By Ruby M. Ayres
/vuy uamage, sir I lie asaeu
iheerfully. “Narrow squeak
that was.”
Michael was rather pale.
“I’ve sprained my ankle,!
think,” He tried to put his foot
to the ground, but gave a stifled
groan, clutching at the con
stable's arm helplessly.
Another man was coming
along the path. lie looked at
Michael sharply, then came for
ward.
“My dear boy, what has hap
pened! ” he asked anxiously.
It was Mr. Philips himself. Mic
hael explained as best he could—
he was in considerable pain.
“I was ori my way to see you.
I don’t know how it happened
I shall have to have a taxi. Can
you see me home?”
“Why, of course. It's most I
unfortunate— most unfortun
ate.”
Alight have been worse, sir,
the constable said stoically.
“Gent was nearly run over.”
They took Michael back to his
rooms and found that he sprain
ed his foot and ankle badly.
“You’ll have to have a doc
tor,” Mr. Philips insisted. “Non
sense! 1 say you must!”
“For a sprained ankle?” said
Michael contemptuously. “I’ll be
dashed if I do. I shall be all right
in the morning. I dare say I can
manage to walk now I’ve got the
boot off.” Air. Philips looked on
grimly as Michael dragged him
self t° an upright position, but in
a moment he was back in his
chair again, white to the lips with
pain and furious because of his
helpleness.
Mr- Philips telephoned for the
doctor without further parley.
Michael watched him with grim
eyes.
“If you think you’re going to
■ keep me a prisoner here for a
week,” he began threateningly.
“A week! More like a month
I should thiuk,” Mr. Philips
answered. Alichael swore.
“And what about Aliss Rolf,
in heaven’s name?” he demand
ed. “Who’s going to find her if
I’m tier! here hand and foot?”
Air. Philips' eyes were very
kindly as he looked at the young
man’s agitated face.
“Well, I’ll do my best,” he
submit fed.
Michael muttered something
unintelligible, lie had a very
poor opinion of Mr. Philips’
“best.”
“How long have I got to sit
here!” he demanded later of the
doctor.
“How long! Well, its impossi
ble to say. A sprain’s a nasty
thing, you know,” was the guard
ed reply
“It’s a conspiracy, that’s what
it is,” Michael growled when
he had gone. “There’s nothing
the matter with me—it’s all
rot.”
When Air. Philips had taken
his departure he dragged himself
to bis feet again and tried once
more to walk across the room,
but the pain of the effort turned
him deadly sick.
Non- , ) “ etaoietaoinetae
“Far better give it up, sir,”
his man advised sympathicMly.
“Fve bad a sprain like that and
I know the only way to cure it is
to lay up.”
1 d have given a thousand
pounds rather than it should
have happened now,” Michael
said savagely.
The thought of Patricia wor
ried him doubly now he could no
longer search for her—he wrote
an imploring note to Mr. Philips
before the lawyer had been gone
an hour, urging him to do every
thing in his power to find her,
and to spare no expense. Mr.
Philips was at dinner when the
note came—a journalist nephew
was dining with him, and when
he reached the end of Michael’s
desperate note a sudden idea
flashed, aoross his usually imagin
ative brain. “I suppose,” he said
deliberately, and with uncon
scious sarcasm, turning to his
nephew, ’’that mistakes are some
times made, even in your profess
ion —people wrongly reported
to have died, for instance, or to
have met with a serious accid
ent t”
Young Philips laughed.
“Rather!” he said. “Didn’t I
tell you how I once killed and
buried a man in an evening edi
tion, and had a whole column of
his obituary published, when he
was as well as you and I arc at
this moment!”
Mr. Philips’ face flushed ex
citedly, He leaned across the
table and laid his hand on the
win’s arm.
“How would you like to do
something of the same sort
again.” he asked impressively,
to oblige me?”
When Michael Rolf’s »^an
came to call his master 'Jw fol
lowing morning he found him
already half-dressed and sitting
on the side of the fcfd.
“It’s no use arguing,” Mich
ael said crossly, when the man
started talking about doctor’s
orders.
“I’m not going to stay here—
not if the whole medical profes
sion went on their bended knees
and implored me not to get up.
I've got business to do—urgent
business—so lend me a hand,
there’s a good fellow, and shut
up. ’
The man obeyed resignedly.
Secretly he admired Michael’s
spirit. He helped him ,to finish
dressing and got him into the
next room by the fire.
Michael had had about enough
of it then, whether he chose to
admit it or not—his ankle ached
unbearably, and he was glad to
rest.
He made a pretense of eating
breakfast, and tcok up the pap
er. An advertisement had ap
peared in it e* ery day since Pa
tricia had vanished, carefully
worded by Michael himself so
that she should understand for
whom it was intended and by
whom it was inserted, but so far
it had born no fruit, and Mich
ael scow'led as his eyes rested
upon it.
He turned over the sheet
quickly, and his own name in a
small paragraph caught his at
tention.
“Serious accident to Mr.
Michael Rolf.,f
Michael blinked his eyes and
stared. It could not be referring
to himscVf, that wras certain.
There must be another Michael
Rolf—another who .. ho read
the highly-coloured and incor
rect account of his mishap with
a sort of amused consternation.
It did refer to him without a
doubt, but who could inserted
it, or known of it, he could not
imagine. Nobody but Mr. Phil
ips had heard of it. Who in the
wide world, then, could be re
sponsible for such a gross exag
geration of what had happened,
and w'hy should the public at
large be supposed to take*an in
terest in the doings of his obs
cure self? ^
The day produced no solution
to the mystery. Mr. Philips in
terviewed on the telephone, pro
fessed entire ignorance of the
matter, and Michael pushed it
aside in exasperation. After
all, what did it matter? He
only felt savagely sorry that the
motor-lorry had not overtaken
and finished him. He fell
asleep during the afternoon by
the fire, his injured foot resting
on a chair, and only roused to
the ringing of a bell and voices
talking together outside the
door.
Michael had been dreaming
of Patricia—a silly confused
dream in which he knew she
had been crying, and he had
been scolding her, so it did not
seem altogether strange that he
should open his eyes to the fire
lit room and still hear the sound
of her voice.
lie lay still for a moment, lis
tening; then suddenly he sat up
stiffly at attention, jerking his
injured foot and causing himself
an excruciating twinge of pain,
for the voieb was real—so real
that Michael's heart began to
thump suffocatingly against
his .ribs; and the next moment
the door was opened softly, as
if the intruder was afraid of dis
turbing him, and it was Patri
cia who entered.
CHAPTER XI.
Michael did not move. He
sat and looked at her across the
firelit room, and she looked back
at him with frightened implor
ing eyes, then without any warn
ing she burst into tears.
“They said you were very
ill,” she sobbed.
“I thought you were dying.
That hateful paper! Why did
you let them put such things in.
—I’ve been so frightened—1
thought—,” and the tears and
sobbing came again.
Michael dragged, himself up
from the chair leaning heavily
against it, relief at seeing her
and bitter anger with her for so
calmly wall mg back into his
life after the torments he had
suffered on her account, had
kept him silent, but now lie gave
a short hard laugh.
“I am flattered that you
should be so concerned on my ac
count—but I assure you that it’s
entirely unneccessary. I’ve
sprained my ankle—nothing
more! And as to that absurd
paragraph in the paper—I know
nothing whatever about it,” he
said, curtly.
Patricia raised her head—her
face was all white and tear
stained, but Michael had no pity
for her. In this sudden reac
tion he could only remember
what he himself had endured for
her sake. The sleepless nights
and endless days of alternating
hope and fear, and his eyes were
hard as they searched the weary
beauty of her face.
“Where have you been?” be
asked, roughly.
She made a little hopeless
gesture.
“I don’t know. I’ve been try
ing tc work. I sold programmes
in a theatre for two nights, but
I hated it, and... and—”
He cut in almost rudely, it
seemed.
“Why have you come back to
me?”
Her lips moved, but she could
find no words. Somehow she
had never dreamed that he
would receive her like this—she
had been so sure that in spite of
everything Michael would be
glad to see her. The blank
amazement and silence fanned
his smouldering anger to pas
sion.
“Your utterly selfish and in
considerate,” he broke . out
hoarsely. “And I’ve had' en
ough of this infernal dancing
about after you. It’s ceased to
be amusing or interesting. You
may stay away for ever for all
concern it is of mine. I did my
best for you, and this is how
you treat me—rushing off from
Kensington like that, leaving a
ridiculous note.”
Her cheeks flamed.
“You had been deceiving me
all the time. You had arranged
it all—that Mrs. Smith should
write to me, and that you should
pay her to have me there. How
dared you do such a thing?”
“I did it because you are not
fit to be trusted to look after
yourself. I suppose I was a fool,
but I did it for your sake.”
“If I had known I would rath
er have died than have gone
there at all.”
Michael laughed grimly.
“I’m afraid you will have to
die this time then. I suppose
you’ve got some idea in coming
here to me, though why to me
after what has happened God
only knows. But it’s too late,
Patricia. You told me, to be
gin with, that I should never bo
able to master you, and you were
right. I can’t, and I no longer
want to!”
He looked helplessly toward
the door.
i m airaia i must trouble
_yon to ring for my man. I
can’t put my foot on the ground.
He111 get you a taxi.”
“To take me—where?” Pa
tricia asked with white lips. He
would not look at her.
“You can go back to Mrs.
Smith or Mrs. Flannagan—
whichever you prefer,” he said,
hardily.
Patricia gave a stifled cry.
“I will never go back to eith
er.”
Michael went on as if she had
not spoken.
“You owe Mrs. Smith an apol
ogy—running away like that.
She has been very good to you,
I know, and is one of the few
people who is disinterestedly
fond of you, I thought you cared
for her, but apparently you
have not got it in you to care
for anyone.”
Patricia winced as if he had
•struck her. She moved towards
the door uncertainly.
“I will go—I am sorry I
came.” There was a touch of
her old hauteur in her voice.
“I should not have done so
only I thought you were really
ill. 1 thought you might be
worried.” Her voice broke in
the most undignified way. “It
only shows how mistaken I
was,” she added, almost in a
whisper.
Michael’s face flamed.
“Worried! of course I was
worried,” he answered passion
ately. “Do you think it’s been
any pleasure to me to know that
you’ve been racing about Lon
don, when, if you’d chosen to be
have like a rational woman, you
could have been living now at
Clayton, with everything you
want in the world? Worried?
Of course I \tf*u! And a lot you
care. However—you've come
! back—for sonic reason beat
p
i
known to yourself, no doubt, and
iny worrying is over. You can
do as you like in the future, and
I promise not to interfere...
Where are you going now?”
“I don’t know; anywhere—•
away from you.” —
He laughed cruelly.
“You’d better go back to
Mrs. Smith and ask her to for
give you for the way you’ve be
haved,” he said rather brutally.
“After all you owe more to her
than you do to me or anyone
else.”
What do you mean? Pa
tricia faced him with flashing
eyes. “I have never owed Mrs.
Smith anything—I would never
condescend to owe her anything.
If slu* took me in it was for the
money you gave her, and for no
other reason. I shall repay you
that as soon as I can earn any
thing, you may be very sure.”
She broke off with a stifled
scream. Michael had somehow
dragged himself across th< room
to her and caught her by her
shoulders—his face was white as
he looked down into hers.*
“Shall I tell you who Mrs.
Smith is, my proud princess?”
he asked with slow deliberation.
Would you like to know who she
is, and w'hy she has always been
fond of you and put up with
your insufferable pride?—shall
I tell you who she is?”
She tried to free herself from
him; there was a flash of fear in
her eyes, and she trembled be
neath the touch of his hands.
“Let me go, Michael—you’re
hurting me. I don’t know what
you mean—she isn’t anything
to me—how could she be:
why...”
“She is your mother,” said
Michael.
There was a dreadful little
silence; Patricia had fallen back
from him, and was leaning
against the door, her beautiful
eyes fixed on his white face.
My—mother! she said in a
whisper.
“My—mother!—oh, how ab
surd—why...” She broke off,
only to cry out again: It’s not
true! Michael, say it isn’t true.”
“It is true,” said Michael
curtly. “She told me so her
self, and Mr. Philips told me.
I suppose it hurts your pride to
think you came from simple peo
ple like that. I suppose you’d
rather know that you were Miss
Rolf of Olay ton Wold, than the
daughter of a ordinary Mrs.
Smith.” He laughed, the stunned
pain in her eyes gave him
an odd sort of pleasure.
‘ ‘ So now you see why you had
better go back and ask her to
forgive you,” he went on more
quietly. “Your home is with
her, and I dare say, in spite of
all that has happened, you will
find that she is ready to take
you back.” His eyes softened
ever so little as lie broke out
hoarsely: “Haven’t you got a
heart for anyone, Patricia? Not
even for your own mother? You
look as if you could care so
much, and all the time I know
4 1 • •. .
mere isu i a soui in tne world
who matters one hang to you.”
He wanted to take her into his
arms and kiss her disdainful face
till it quivered into life and pas
sion beneath the touch of his
lips, but she looked so cold and
unaproachable as she stood there
that it gave him a bitter realiza
tion of his own impotence.
What did she care that he
loved her and had suffered for
her! Her master he had sworn
he would be, and he had failed.
Patrieia raised her eyes, and
her lips curved inta a tremu
lous smile as she read the strug
gle in his face.
‘‘I suppose now you would
like to shake me again,” she
said,-, with a ghost of her old
mockery. ‘"You so often said—
Oh, Michael 1”
He laid rough hands on her
shoulders, hurting her with the
grip of his fingers. For the mo
ment he had lost himself in the
sudden anger that surged
through him, and he shook her
as if she had been a child, till
she fell away from him, tremb
ling and crying like the child she
felt herself at that moment to
be.
‘‘Oh, you hurt me,” she said,
sobbing.
“You deserved it,” he said
breathlessly.
He leaned his arm on the man
telshelf and stood staring down
into the fire. He was trembling
with the force of his own pas
sion and the reluctant shame of
what he had done.
He knew that his hands must
have bruised her .soft shoulders,
and he was fiercely glad. Why
should he care that he had hurt
her, when she had hurt him so
much? Nothing that to could
<!ver do to her would make„ up
for the past fortnight of anxiety
and suffering.
And he broke out suddenly,
hoarsely:
“It‘s not fair—just because
you’re a woman—you think you
can hurt me, and goad me, and
laugh at ine, and I shan’t turn
round on you because you’re a
woman. If I’ve hurt you, you
drove me to it—Patricia.”
She was standing leaning
against the door, her face hid
den, her whole slender body
shaken Avith sobbing.
Michael’s arms Avent out *\
her with hopeless longing;
fell again to his sides.
(Continued Next Week.)
Not In Shape To Advise.
From the Des Moines Capital.
Shortly after the British ambassa
dor’s criticism of Ellis Island was
published, the London correspondent
of the New York Tribune undertook
an Investigation of England’s im
ro’gration station. He found that the
British government contributes no
thing toward the cost of operating
the British ’’Ellis Island,” which is
located near Southampton
The English station, which is used
both from immigrants and emigrants, -
is owned and operated by steamship
companies. In this building the emi
grants bound for the United States
are housed. No attempt is made at
any kind of an examination. Hence
many make the trip to Ellis Island
and then have to return because they
cannot meet the conditions laid down
in theAmerican immigration laws.
According to the New York Tri
bune? report from its London corres
pondent, England maintains an em
bargo against all immigration. The
minister of labor has authority to ad
mit immigrants upon the statement
of employers to the effect that Brit
ish workers cannot be obtained for
the jobs which aliens seek. But on
account of the unemployment in Eng
land the minister of labor is not is
suing any such permits. In spite of
this fact, immigrants cotne to the
British “Ellis Island.” They are im
mediately deported. The rule is that
they must return ' the same day if
possible. All expenses must be paid
by the steamship companies.
In the light of this xeport, it would
seem that England is not in a pohi
tion to tell the United States how the
very important government enterprise
at Ellis Island ought to be managed.
THE INWARDNESS OF EVIL
Out of the heart come forth evil
thoughts, murders.—Matt. 15:19.
We are often’inclined to make tht
faults of our natures and disposition*
the excuse for our misdeeds.
But truly, if anything could increase
our unworthiness, it would be ju.t
this fact that our worst (emptations
come from within ourselves, and w*
are driven into wrong not by any
outward tempters so much as by the
foi oe of our own Impure and selfish
passions.
Never plead your natural disposi
tion as an excuse for evil deeds.
But for the deeds the disposition
would not have become confirmed.
It is as base to love lying as it
is to lie.
It is as bad to have a murderous
temper as It is to kill.
It is the evil nature which God
condemns.
Let us make it not a cloak for sin,
but a reason for penitence and a
1 strong plea for help to overcome it.
When a man really wishes \x* In
form and do better, he should go to
the root of the matter. His prayer
should be:
“Create in me a clean heart, O God,
and renew a fight spirit within me.”
Spanish Johnny.
The old West, the old time.
The old wind singing through
The red, red grass a thousand miles,
And, Spanish Johnny, you.
He’d sit beside the wator-ditch
When all his herd was in,
And never mind a child, but sing
To his mandolin.
The big stars, the blue night.
The moon-enchanted plain:
The olive man who never spoke.
But sang the songs of Spain.
His speech with men was wicked
talk—
To hear it was a sin;
| But those were golden things he sang
To his mandolin.
The gold songs, the gold stars,
The world so golden then:
And the hand so tender to a child
Hod killed so many men.
He died a hard death long ago
Before the Road came in.
The night before he swung, he sarg
To his mandolin.
—From April Twilights and Other
Poems, by Wllla Cather,
BY ARTHUR BRISBANE.
County clerk Nlendorf, of Mich
igan, issues with each marriage
license, "ten rules to insure happy
married life.” Here is a sample:
"Keep up the courtship period.
Go 60-60 on the money and 60-60 on
the love. Don’t live with relatives,
or keep boarders. Don’t be a tight
wad.”
Such rules mean little. Every man
knows that one drop of salt water,
patently studied will tell you all a
bout the Pacific ocean, which Is sim
. ply a collection of so many drops.
Marriages would last longer If'men
realised that each woman is to all
women what a drop of salt water is
to the ocean. Study and so Interest
yourself in the women that the Lord
lias assigned to you. One Is enough
and has within her, If you look f,li
lt. everything that you would find in
10,000.
Scientists are going to Knwechow.
mysterious remote region of China,
to hunt for a monkey with a forked
tall. This isn’t a Joke, but a ser
ious enterprise.
An old Chinese writer alleges that
the natives know when It Is 'going
to rain because "Rhlneplthecus Bre
lichi” thrusts the forks of its 4all Into
its nostrils before a storm.
This monkey is so nervous and ex
citable that it sometimes knocks Its
brains out, dashing against the trees,
if captured. It ought to find a place
In modern European diplomacy.
Democrats forget that Ford’s chief
plank tells of the wonderful things to
be done for the south at Muscle
Shoals. Ford would draw farmers
from the republican party, but he
might also break up the solid south,
and leave Messrs. Coolldge and He
Adoo wondering what happened.
L
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lightful on the hair; a refreshing,
stimulating tonic—not sticky or greasy i
Any drug store.—Advertisement.
Any fool can spend money; it take*
a genius to invest it wisely.
WOMEN CAN DYE ANY
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or tint successfully, because perfect
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Directions In each package.—Adver
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It Is during her first engagement that
a girl ties up her love letters with buby
blue ribbon.
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