i JfcrneymccTv J*,
fy. Frans
CHAPTER IX—Continued
-10
All the time she nad felt lost and
forlorn and alone, because this was
Bryn’s world and Bryn’s life, a mod
•ern sophisticated pageant in which
she had no part; and because it
made her see how drab and dull
and uninteresting ber own life of
cucumber frames and brook trout
and made-over clothes must be to
him.
And ull his talk about knitting,
and winter evenings by the hearth,
and the kittens he would get for
her ... all his interest in that
simple sort of thing was pretended
for her sake. Bryn was a gentle
man, and he lived up to his bar
gains to the last pencil stroke. Not
by word or suggestion would he let
her discover how bored and dull he
was going to find the rest of his
year here on the mountain, nor with
what difficulty he was going to earn
the money she would pay him.
Deborah slept very little that
night. Life, that only yesterday
had seemed so beautiful and serene,
was becoming complicated and un
happy. There didn’t seem to be any
thing ahead but more difficulties
and a lonely unhappy time. Because
Bryn would go back to Pilar when
the year was up, and when he did,
there wouldn’t be anybody at all.
Nobody could ever be like Bryn,
even if he were only pretending.
But there would have been a way
to make him stop pretending, Debo
rah knew, because If he went on
like this, even though the look in
his eyes was only the tenderness
one feels for a child, or a lost puppy,
| she wasn’t going to be able to bear
T It when at the end of the year he
drove out of the big gates to leave
her forever.
The morning was cold and grey,
although the rain had stopped at
dawn. Deborah had them lay a lire
In the small sitting room down
stairs, so that Grandmother might
not feel a chill. There, when break
fast was over, Pilar and Madeline
and Sally and Grandmother and
. herself were sitting. The three men
were outside.
Pilar, in a beautiful dress of some
very tine woollen material in a dark
crimson color, sat beside the door
way with her feet out on a low
stool and a long cigarette holder
between her fingers. She could see
up into the orchard, too, and Debo
rah noticed that her eyes went to
Bryn frequently, although she gave
no sign. Grandmother was in a low
chair beside the fire, listening to
Pilar with the same fascinated in
terest she had shown last night,
watching her, taking in every per
fect detail of her grooming.
“I hope you don’t mind my com
ing here uninvited like this, Mrs.
Larned,” she was saying in her low
voice. ‘‘I found myself completely
deserted and lonely and I couldn’t
stand it any longer.”
“My dear, you are more than wel
come,” Grandmother said warmly.
“Any friends of Bryn’s are our
friends, too, and our home is al
ways open to them. And I am de
lighted to hear you discussing de
tails of modern society. I am sure
your talk will be a liberal educa
tion for Deborah, and help her to
establish herself more easily when
she goes out into Bryn’s world
with him.”
Pilar’s black eyes rested momen
tarily on Deborah. They were quite
expressionless. "There will be no
difficulties for Deborah,” she said
tenderly. "She is so adorable that
she won’t need to make the slight
est effort. Everyone will fall in
love with her at first sight.”
. “Just as Bryn did,” Sally added,
and looked tleetingly at Pilar.
“Just as Bryn did,” Pilar repeat
ed, but her mouth tightened a little,
Deborah saw, at the corners.
“How long are you planning to
stay, Pilar?” Madeline said evenly.
“Are you going home for the yacht
races?”
“I really hadn’t considered It. I
wasn’t sure I’d be invited to stay,
you see.”
Grandmother gave a little sigh.
“I am so thankful that when Debo
rah does emerge into society she
will have dear Bryn to take care of
her. He understands so well what
► her life has been, and he is so
thoughtful and loving. It takes a
great load off my mind to have
him so.”
"Bryn has always been a dear,"
Pilar agreed at once. "I don’t know
what I should ever have done with
out Bryn,” she went on. “For years,
now, he has been my staunchest
comrade. No matter in what dif
ficulty I found myself, there was
^ always Bryn, and he brought me
all his troubles and joys as well. It
lelights my heart to know that he
s happy.”
Deborah did not move. Grand
mother lifted her eyes and looked
at Pilar frankly. “You modern girls
are so honest and open,” she said.
“In my day a girl would never have
dared to make such a statement
about a man. She would have been
afraid of being misunderstood.”
"Misunderstood?" Pilar murmured,
flicking open the lighter.
"In my day,” Grandmother ex
plained, “there were few young
men such as our dear Bryn, so
handsome, so eligible in every way,
so tine. If a girl had been ills friend
always, as you have been, my child,
then she would have been expected
to marry him, and, Indeed, she
would herself have expected to
marry him. I do not quite under
stand the new camaraderie which
allows of such close friendships
without any thought of marriage or
romantic love. In my day, so
queerly uncontrolled was human na
ture then, the sort of friendship
you mention would have been po
tentially dangerous If either the
girl or the man—particularly the
man—married elsewhere.”
Pilar's eyes narrowed the faint
est trifle against the light as she
looked at Grandmother. Grand
mother was sitting up a little
straighter than Deborah had seen
her sit for some time, and there
was a little pink in her cheeks. But
her eyes as they met Pilar’s were
calm and kind, and Deborah pushed
away the thought that Grandmoth
er suspected something and was
taking her own way to combat the
hint of danger.
Pilar rose and stood for a mo
ment, tall and lissome and full of
grace, beside the door. She was
smiling. “Customs are very differ
ent now,” she murmured, and
begged to be excused, and went out
through the door.
There was a little silence when
Pilar was gone. Deborah looked up
from the puppy to find Grandmoth
er stitching away placidly again,
her eyes on her material, and Sally
and Madeline looking at each other
with steady meaning. Sally and
Madeline didn't understand. They
didn’t know what it must have been
like for Pilar to love Bryn, to have
loved him «for years, and then to
have him suddenly marry another
girl. They didn’t know what it
meant to love Bryn. Simon and
Tubby were all right, of course, and
perfect darlings, but they weren’t
Bryn. Deborah's eyes burned, and
the bad lump came back in her
throat.
There was a knock at the door. It
was one of the maids, wanting Deb
orah. The cook would like her or
ders, the maid said respectfully.
Deborah went out and shut the
door behind her.
Deborah stumbled down the hall
toward the kitchen. In her mind’s
eye she could see herself sitting on
the wall the other night, with Bryn
leaning close beside her. She re
membered what she had wanted to
do. Bryn’s face was so close, and
he was such a dear; she had want
ted to take his face between her
own two palms and bend down and
put her cheek against his forehead.
She had almost done It when he
said . . . “Deborah, do you like
me ... at all?” But now she was
glad she hadn’t done It, because he
wouldn’t have wanted her to. It
was Pilar he loved. He had said
so. He had told her how dearly he
loved this other girl . . . and if
she hadn’t been so blind she would
have seen instantly that his telling
her of the other girl was sure proof
that he didn't love her, Deborah.
And if he did love Pilar so dear
ly, then Pilar was a very lovely
person. Madeline and Sally didn’t
like her, but they didn’t understand.
And Bryn's heart must ache, now,
to think that he was shut away
from Pilar for so long; and Pilar
must be suffering dreadfully.
When she was finished In the kit
chen, Deborah went up the back
stairs swiftly and along the hall to
her room. Someone came lightly
along the hall, and she caught her
breath lest it should be Bryn. But
it was, instead, Pilar; and she was
in search of Deborah, for her own
room was down In the other wing
with Grandmother’s. She glanced
in through the open door.
“Ah, there you are, sweetie," she
said. “I wondered if you’d run
away. Where’ve you been?"
“I was down in the kitchen,”
Deborah explained, praying that her
voice sounded ns usual. “Then I
came up to get some embroidery.
I find myself with no work at all
to do these days.”
Pilar was watching her. “You
are refreshing," she sighed. “But
really, Deborah, you must begin to
make some changes in your life, or
you will be completely bewdldered
by Bryn’s gay world. Bryn travels
pretty fast, dear."
Deborah sat down slowly, with
the Italian embroidery in her hand.
She fingered It absently. “Hasn’t
Bryn explained it all to you..Pilar?’'
she asked at last, lifting her dark
eyes.
"Explained what?” Pilar asked,
after a moment.
“I know he . . . hasn’t told the
others. Sally, or Madeline. I don't
think even Tubby knows. I’m not
quite sure why he hasn’t. For a
while I thought it was on his own
account, but now I think he has
been doing it for me, so that I
wouldn’t feel so queer and left out."
"I don’t know what you mean."
Deborah looked at her.
"You know that Bryn couldu’t be
in love with me," she said.
Pilar did not piove. Not by a
flicker did her expression change.
Her eyes were black and fathom
less.
"Not in love with you?" she re
peated.
"Surely you knew, Pilar?”
“Even if 1 did." Pilar said softly,
“you wouldn’t expect me to . . .
mention It, Deborah?"
"No," Deborah said after a mo
ment. At Pilnr’s words her heart
had fallen like lead. So l’llar did
know. Bryn had told her.
“Bryn, of course, is a gentleman,”
Pilar said. "He does not tell any
more than Is necessary.”
"No," Deborah said again. "But
I can tell you. Pilar. I can explain
to you.”
‘‘I was . . . hoping you would.
"I don’t want to go Into detail,"
Deborah snid. "I think 1 can tell
you In just a few words. It was
like this. 1 had to be married by
my twenty-first birthday or lose my
grandfather’s estate. 1 went down
to San Francisco to meet the man
I was to marry. He was . . . 1
couldn’t possibly marry him. And
Bryn came along by accident, and
saw that 1 was frightened, and 1
told him about It, and he offered to
marry me instead. That’s all."
Pilar straightened. "I see," site
said, and then, “The day I came,
Tubby dragged me away and threat
ened me with murder if I called
Bryn by anything but Graham. The
man you were to marry is named
Graham?”
"Yes.”
“Your grandmother thinks Byrn
is the man?”
"Yes.”
“And what happens next?"
There was a queer note In her
voice, and Deborah looked up quick
ly. But Pilar's face had not
changed, and Deborah’s eyes fell
again. "Nothing," she said. "We
have to go on until the end of the
“But I Think You Are Being In*
suiting.”
year, or I do not get the money.
The marriage must last for a year.
And It must go on for Grandmoth
er’s sake, anyway, for that long.
After that ... I don’t know what
we shall do to explain to Grand
mother, but there will be some
thing. Bryn will be free, then, of
course.”
“You cannot get the money with
in a year?”
“If the marriage Is not success
ful to that extent,” Deborah ex
plained carefully, “I do not get It
at all.” *
“Y’our grandmother seems very
fond of Bryn.”
“She loves him,” Deborah said,
with a little catch In her breath.
"He is wonderful to her. Kven If
the estate were not so tied, I don’t
see how we could be . . . divorced
. . . before that time without break
ing Grandmother’s heart.”
Filar turned the Ivory holder be
tween ber long browned fingers. “It
seems rather a long time out of
Bryn’s life," she said. “A year.”
“I know.”
“I should think there might have
been somebody else, Deborah. Some
body you might huve paid for bis
name and his lost year.”
Deborah looked up again, but did
not speak. Filar was watching her.
After a moment she said, “Of
course it’s all very romantic, and
you are really quite pretty. Any
man would like to be the prince
who awakens the sleeping beauty.”
Deborah's eyes flew to the long
oval of Filar's face. Her own
cheeks crimsoned furiously, and
her eyes flashed.
“I don’t know quite what you are
suggesting," she said Icily, “but I
think you are being Insulting."
“Not at all," Filar replied. “I am
merely trying to discover Bryn’s
reason for this quixotic gesture. It
certainly cannot be that he Is will
ing to spend a year witli von for
your platonic companions' p. Debo
I ,
rah. Obviously, you are not suit-1
ed to be a companion to him. You
have not the sophistication, the
knowledge of his world. You scarce
ly speak his language. You say he
does not love you; l think that
would be impossible, too. There
must be companionship In real love,
an equality. But I think I do be
gin to see his reason. There you
were, beauty In distress • . . and
Bryn was always fond of a new ad
venture. Something new, some
thing noboby has ever done before.
Yes, it becomes quite clear to me.
And he would get considerable en
joyment out of this play-acting to
your grandmother, this pretense of
being simple and bucolic, this pre
tense of loving you. It Is rather an
interesting situation, as I must ad
mit.”
Deborah tvas staring *at her. “I
don’t think 1 care to discuss it any
further,” she said, quietly, "if you
don’t mind, Pilar."
“There isn’t much more to say, Is
there? Except that I suppose 1
ought to thank you for explaining
it to me. Deborah. 1 have been . . .
troubled. You can understand.”
Deborah folded her linen. *’Yes."
she said.
“Bryn Is very difficult," Pilar
sighed. “I think this lias been the
worst fright he has given me. But
once, two years ago, I was nearly
inad, too. lie was in Thibet, and 1
didn’t hear from him for nearly six
months. It was reported that he
was dead. Of course, he wasn't,
nor lost either. He was Just liv
ing In a native tribe, living like a
native, to get the atmosphere, he
said, lie's wildly Interested in peo
ple. different kinds of people, the
farther from his own kind, the bet
ter. But lie always comes back in
the end, I have discovered that.
And when be came bnck from Thi
bet,” she said with a smile, "he
brought me m.v ring. This ruby.
Isn’t It a beauty?"
The ruby flashed and glowed on
her finger as she held it out for
Deborah to see. “It is very lovely,"
Deborah said gently.
Gary tapped on the door-casing.
“Miss Deborah, please,” he said.
"Mr. Bryn would like a dry pair of
shoes. Might I go through and get
them?”
“Certainly, Gary."
With a little half how to Pilar he
sidled [last her and opened the door
on the left. lie pushed it back and
left it open as he went in, and Pi
lar, glancing through, saw the nar
row white bed against the other
wall. She turned deliberately and
looked at Deborah’s closed bedroom
door, and then, with a deep breath,
she looked at Deborah and smiled.
“It’s all very romantic, isn’t it?”
she said, and went swiftly across to
the hall door. “Thank you for tell
ing me, Deborah. It makes rather a
difference.”
Bryn had been over in the stable
talking to Joe, who came to milk
every evening, a cow having been
added to their possessions.
As he approached the bridge his
eyes caught the ilutter of a skirt,
and his heart turned a complete
double somersault. If he had been
In any need of proof as to his emo
tional condition, lie had it then. But
the skirt did not belong to Debo
rah; it was much too sophisticated
a skirt for that, as he saw at sec
ond glance, and his heart settled
down sadly into a recumbent posi
tion again, and he weqt forward
without interest to meet Pilar.
She was standing in the middle
of the bridge, leaning over the rail
ing to look into the water. Bryn
stopped ibeside her, put his elbows
on the railing, and gazed down Into
the brook, too, without a word. Pi
lar turned, after a moment, and
smiled at him; the flashing brilliant
smile that was peculiarly her own,
that no one else could duplicate.
“You know," she said, “I don’t
blame you for burying yourself
away up here, Bryn. It’s so far
back in Nature that I don’t suppose
you’ve ever had quite the same ex
perience before, have you?"
Bryn glanced down at her. Her
black eyes, liquid and melting, met
his. Her lips were very red.
"No," he replied. "Never."
There was a little silence. They
stood together, elbows touching.
After a moment I’ilar said softly,
"Deborah told me her story today.’’
"Deborah?" he repeated.
“She seemed to think I ought to
be told, Bryn."
“Oh."
The black eyes opened wide again.
“Had you . . . talked to her about
me?"
“Never," Bryn said promptly.
"Oh," Pilar murmured. “I had
an idea you had, perhaps. She cer
tainly knew that we had been
friends for a long time. Of course,
that may be obvious. Whatever she
knew, she wanted me to understand
just what the situation was between
you. Dear, quaint little thing! She
is such a child, isn’t she?"
“Is she?"
"So naive. I was quite touched."
“What did she say the . , . situ
ation was between us, then?”
"Why. simply, that this wasn’t,
as all of us thought, a love match
after all. That It was simply a mar
riage de convenance. I don’t quite
know why you, of all people, Bryn,
had to tangle yourself In It. You
may have difficulty In getting free
again."
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Originated Rayon Thread
It was because silkworm dis
euses threatened Europe’s silk
trade, hack In 1876. that a French
scientist originated the populat
‘ rayon thread.
IT’S TIME TO PLAN
SEASON’S CANNING;
VARIOUS METHODS
With Mother Nature bursting Into
bloom, filling the earth with warm
sunshine and growing vegetation, we
know it is time to plan the season’s
canning and give some thought to
canning methods.
“Open kettle" canning Is recom
mended only for fruits, tomatoes,
preserves, relishes, etc., and only one
jnr must he filled at a time with the
boiling product, and then sealed im
mediately. The "hot" or ‘‘cold pack"
method simply means that the prod
uct Is cooked directly In the jars.
For “hot pack’’ food Is precooked n
short period of time and then packed
hot Into the jars. For "cold pack”
food is pre-cooked, then cold-dipped
ami packed Into jars, or packed right
in the jars cold without precooking.
The product for canning should be
carefully selected and thoroughly
cleansed. Small fruits and berries
nre usually packed Into the Jars raw,
a hot sirup added to within one and
one-half Inches of the top, caps ad
justed, and the jars processed. Veg
etables are precooked for a few min
utes and packed Into the jars while
hot, the caps adjusted and the tilled
jars gotten Into the canner Immedi
ately for processing.
It Is also important to knowhow to
handle the type of Jar cap that you
nre using correctly. For the self
sealing cap, which consists of screw
hand and lid, place id on the Jar
with sealing composition next to the
glass, and screw the hand firmly
tight. Because this cap does not seal
until the contents of the jar are cold,
the self sealing cap is always tight
ened down firmly before the jars are
placed In the canner to process. At
the end of the processing period the
]nrs with the selfsealing caps are re
moved from the canner and set right
side up to cool. There is no further
tightening of the cap. Twenty-four
hours after the canning Is done the
screw band may be removed and Jars
stored away.
When using the zinc top Jars, Jars
are only partly sealed before plac
ing in the cooker, and processed im
mediately. At the end of processing
time, remove from the cooker, one
at a time, and seal immediately. When
jars are cold, Invert f,n two or three
hours, then examine for leaks.
For the glass-top jars which cov
ers are held In place with a wire
hull, these too are only partially
sealed before processing, the seal be
ing completed at the end of processing
New Way to
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After you drain and refill your crankcase,
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Regret in Vain
Of nil fruitless errands, sending a
fear to look after a day that Is gone
1$ most fruitless.—C. Dickens.
Forget Your Woee
Talk happiness; the world Is sad
enough without your woes.—E. W.
Wilcox.
— BUiMB— -——
^FIREMAN, SAVE MY HORSE_
/ HELLO, GANG. \
/ WHAT IS THIS - ) f X
1 A FUNERAL / / KICKED US OUT \
V MARCH2 J / OF OUR CLUBHOUSE]
V ^ ( SAID WE HAD /
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z' look! SMOKE /NO TIME TO BEAR
( COMING FROM , >/ GRUDGES WHEN
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