Nebraska Newspapers

    The Hollow ♦ ♦ ♦
& ♦ of Her Hand
^George Barr McCutcheon
COPYMCf/r./9/2 BY GtOKGT&KK ttCUTCMrOSr : COTyWO/Z MB BY PODD,ffFAD COMPAA Y
SYNOPSIS.
f~S.»:r.a YrtaNN . found murjond In
• • » i kmn naur Xnw York Un Yrm
N to ««»««»»< lru» (hr cftr and ldrn
t!*r« ;!« body * yum* woman who 1C
ora pwli a W randall to Uv Inn and * jb
ttvrmh d'awt:~-a'id to auapratad.
w nfifcilt. ft »(ynrt had lad a ray ilfa
a» i -irto iad hto • l«. Mrs \Vrar.-1aH
>;.rta •— » t -r X«r York tot an aolo dor
tod a MMIaf ia»w nena On Uw wav
*' »rf> a ym»-rs « .man In the road
H<na t., to <to woman who kill'd
to raadatt r rbaa that iht firl bad lour
*»' a wnk. in itA'i'it far if ihr man
*to tbanch. too lorad Min darplv. had
«a wo t.r crat ow-.-a Xo Wrandal!
---a t *1.1 dd • nf and taka* bar t'
tor iPi hm M .Yrandall Haifa thr
• ary a) ll-iy Oaatl ton a Ufa. a\<--pt that
l*tnw that rvlai-a to Wrandal! Th.to
• t»d tba as "TV of tb» ’rairrilT aba forbid*
da *»rt ■ to V t Kh» t.ffrra Hatty a
than r-—f l»Mp and arr .r.ty from parti
•r. » at • •'< srmrsdy Xra Sari
tor, „«»• _,IMJ ||a*; artt-id Thr ftsnnra!
a* a lia AraniiU at tba l.omr of ht*
Nmn
CHARTER IV.—Continued.
Beside Sara Wrandall on the small,
ptnk divas, aaf a stranger in this som
ber company a young woman In
black, wbowr pale (ace war uncovered,
and whose Laches were lift* d so rarely
that oae roald not know of the deep,
real pain that lay behind them, in her
Inch blue eyes.
She had arrived at the house an
bonr or two before the time set for
the -fen.- t y. in company with the
widow True to her resolution, the
widow of t "ball is Wrandall had re- ,
maiaed away from the home of his
people until the last hour. She had
W- a consult* d. to be sure. In regard
to *hr final arrangements, but the
sen ugs had taken place in her own
apartment, mat y blocks distant from
the bowse in lower Fifth avenue. The
aft.rwoou before she had received
Redmond Wrandall and Leslie, his
see She had not sent for them. They
came perfunctorily and not through
as; sens* of obligation. These two
at least knew that sympathy was not
what she wanted, hut peace. Twice
during the two trying days. Leslie had
come to see her. Vivian telephoned.
<>■ the occasion of his first visit,
Leslie had met the guest in the house.
The second time be called, he made
it a point to ask Sara all about her.
It was he who gently closed the
door after the two women when, on
the morning of the funeral, they en
tered the dark. Sower-laden room in
wt i b sto -4 the casket containing the
body of his brother. He left them
ak»n< together in that room for half
an hour or more, and it was he who
went forward to meet them when they
came forth. Sara leaned on his arm
as she ascended the stairs to the room
where the others were waiting. The
ashen faced girl followed.
Mr*. Wrandali, the elder, kissed
Sara mad drew her down beside her
ca ifce couch To her own surprise, as
well as that of the others. Sara broke
do we and wept bitterly. After all.
abe was sorry for Challls mother. It
was the human instinct, she could not
bu.d out against it. And the older
woman put away the ancient grudge
she hr id at*, net this mortal enemy
and dissolved into tears of real com
pas* ion.
A little later she whispered broken
ly la Sara s ear "My dear, my dear,
this has brought vm together. I hope
you will learn to love me."
Sara caught her breath but uttered
no ward. She looked into her mother
la law's ey**. and smiled through her
tears The Wrandali*. looking on In
atrase. saw the smile reflected in the
lace of the older woman. Then It was
that Vivian crossed quickly and put
her arms shout tbs shoulders of her
•tsidr is law. The whits flag on both
•ides
Hetty i'astVton stood alone and wa
vering. Just inside the door. No
•iranger situation could be imagined
(has tbu «ne in which this unfortunate
girl found herself at the present mo
geat. She was virtually in the hands
•f t‘ we who would destroy her; she
vra* a the house of those who most
d •; iy were affected by her act on
that fatal night. Among them ^11 she
gt eod. facing them, listening to the
nu aa> sad sobs, and yet her limbs did
not give way beneath her. . . .
Sotne one gently touched her arm.
ft was Leslie. She shrank back, a
fearful look tn her eyes in the semi
darkness he failed to note the cypres- |
•tom
"Wont you *U here”* he asked, in !
dt the itile pink divan against |
the a*U. "Korrtve me for letting you '
■tanj so long."
She longed about b»*r. the wild light
r* I in f.cr <-}** the was like a rat
tn a trap.
Her lip* parted, but the word of
than** *iid not come forth. A strange.
Inarticulate sound, almost a gasp,
came instead. Pallid as a ghost, she
dropped limply to the divan, and dug
her htigers into the satiny seat. As
If fascinated, she stared over the
black hands of the threw women imme
diately tn front of her at the full
length portrait hanging where the
tight from the hall fell upon It: the
portrait of a daahing youth in riding ]
A moment Satsr Sara Wrandali came
Over and sat beside her. The girl
shivered as with s mighty chill when
the warm hand of her friend fell upon
her* and enveloped It is a Arm clasp.
"His mother kissed me." whispered
Sara "Did you see?"
The girt could not reply. She could
•cl.* stare at the open door A small,
hatchet-Cared man had come np from
bek»« and was nodding his head to
Leslie Wrandali—a man with short
■ids whiskers, and a sepulchral look
tn his eyes Then, having received s
■torn from Leslie he tiptoed sway. Al
most instantly the voices of people
staging softly came from some distant
■emote pan at the house.
And then, a little later, the per
fectly modulated voice of a man in
Beck of her. Wrandali#; beside her.
WrandaUa; beneath her. friends of the
WrmndaUs; outside, the rabble, those
Mho would Join with these black.
1 raven like specters In tearing her to
piece* if they but knew!
The droning voice came up from be
low, each well-chosen word distinct
and clear: tribute beautiful to the irre
proachable character of the deceased,
i^etlie watched the face of the girl,
curlouely fascinated by the set, emo
tionless features. and yet without a
conscious interest in her. He was
dully sensible to the fact that she was
beautiful, uncommonly beautiful. It
did not occur to him to feci that she
was out of place among them, that she
belonged down stairs. Somehow she
was a part of the surroundings, like
the specter at the feast.
If he could have witnessed all that
transpired while Sara was In the room
below with her guest—her companion,
as he had come to regard her without
having in fact been told as much—he
would have been lost in a maze of the
most overwhelming emotions.
To go back: The door had barely
closed behind the two women when
Hetty’s trembling knees gave way be
neath her. With a low moan of hor
ror. she slipped to the floor, covering
her face with her hands.
Sara knelt beside her.
"Come." the said gently, but firmly;
"1 must exact this much of you. If
w e are to go on together, as we have
planned, you must stand beside me at
his bier. Together we must look upon
him for the last time. You must see
him as I saw him up there in the
i ountry. 1 had my cruel blow that
night. It is your turn now. I will not
blame you for what you did. But If
you expect me to go on believing that
you did a brave thing that night, you
must convince me that you are not a
coward now. It ie the only test I shall
put yon to. Come; I know it is hard,
I know it is terrible, but it is the true
test of your ability to go through with
it to the end. I shall know then that
you have the courage to face anything
that may come up."
She waited a long time, her hand on
the girl's shoulder. At last Hetty
arose.
"You are right." she said hoarsely.
"I should not be afraid.”
Later on they sat over against the
wall beyond the casket, into which
they had peered with widely varying
emotions. Sara had said:
“You know that I loved him."
The girl put her hands to her eyes
and bowed her bead.
“Oh. how can you be so merciful
to me?"
•‘Because he was not." said Sara,
white-lipped. Hetty glanced at the
half-averted face with queer, indescrib
able expression in her eyes.
If Leslie Wrandall could have looked
in upon them at that moment, or at
any time during the half an hour that
followed, he would have known who
was the slayer of his brother, but it
is doubtful if he could have had the
heart to denounce her to the world.
When they were ready to leave the
room Hetty had regained control of
her nerves to a most surprising extent,
a condition unmistakably due to the
influence of the older woman.
T can trust myself now, Mrs. Wran
dall." said Hetty steadily as they hes
itated for an instant before turning
the knob of the door.
"Then I shall ask you to open the
door.” said Sara, drawing back.
Without a word or a look. Hetty
opened the door and permitted the
other to pass out before her. Then
she followed, closing it gently, even
deliberately, but not without a swift
glance over her shoulder Into the
depths of the room they were leaving.
Of the two, Sara Wrandall was the
paler as they went up the broad stair
case with Leslie.
The funeral oration by the Rev Dr.
Maltby dragged on. Among all his
hearers there was but one who be
lieved the things he said of Challis
\\ randall, and she was one of two per
sons who. 6o they saying goes, are
Hetty's Trembling Knees Gave Way
Beneath Her.
the last to find a man out; his mother
and his sister. But in this Instance
the mother was alone. The silent,
attentive guests on the lower floor
listened in grim approval: Dr. Maltby
was doing himself proud. Not one but
all of them knew that Maltby knew.
And yet how soothing he was.
• ••••• •
By the end of the week the murder
of Challls Wrandall was forgotten by
all save the police. The inquest was
over, the law was baffled, the city was
serenely waiting for its next sensa
tion. No one cared.
Leslie Wrandall went down to the
steamer to see his sister-in-law oS for
Europe.
“Goodby, Miss Castleton,” he said,
as he shook the hand of the slim
young Englishwoman at parting.
"Take good care of Sara. She needs
a friend, a good friend, now. Keep her
over there until she baa—forgotten.”
CHAPTER V.
Discussing a Sister-In-Law.
"You remember my sister-in-law,
don’t you. Brandy?" was the question
that Leslie Wrandall put to a friend
one afternoon, as they 6at.drearily in
a window of one of the fashionable up
town clubs, a little more than a year
after the events described in the fore
going chapters. Drearily, I have said,
for the reason that it was Sunday, and
raining at that
"I met Mrs. Wrandall a few years
ago In Rome.” said his companion, re
newing interest In a conversation that
had died some time before of its own
exhaustion. "She’s most attractive. I
saw her but once. I think It was at
somebody's fete.”
"She's returning to New York the
end of the month,” said Leslie. ’’Been
abroad for over a year. Sbe had a
villa at Nice this winter."
“I remember her quite well. I was
of an'age then to be particularly sen
sitive to female loveliness. If I’d been
staying on in Rome, I should have
screwed up the courage. I’m sure, to
have asked her to sit for me.”
Brandon Booth was of an old Phila
delphia family: an old and wealthy
family. Both views considered, he was
qualified to walk hand in glove with
the fastidious Wrandalls. Leslie’s
mother was charmed with him be
cause she was also the mother of Viv
ian. The fact that he went in for por
trait painting and seemed averse to
subsisting on the generosity of his
father, preferring to live by his tal
ent, in no way operated against him,
so far as Mrs. Wrandall was con
cerned." That was his lookout, not
hers; if be elected to that sort of
thing, all well and good. He could
afford to be eccentric; there remained,
in the perspective he scorned, the bulk
of a huge fortune to offset whatever
idiosyncrasies he might choose to cul- j
tivate. Some day. in spite of himself,
she* contended serenely, he would be
very, very rich. What could be more
desirable than fame, family and for
tune all heaped together and thrust
upon one exceedingly interesting and :
handsome young man?
He had been the pupil of celebrated 1
draftsmen and painters in Europe, and
bad exhibited a sincerity of purpose
that was surprising, all things con- '
sidered. The mere fact that he was
not obliged to paint in order to obtain
a living was sufficient cause for won-1
der among the artists he met and j
studied with or under.
His studio in New York was not a ,
fashionable resting place. It was a
workshop. You could have tea there, !
of course, and you were sure to meet ;
people you knew and liked, but it was
quite as much of a workshop as any j
you could mention. He was not a j
dabbler in art, not a mere dauber of j
pigments: he was an artist.
Booth was thirty—perhaps a year
or two older; tall, dark and good look
ing. The air of the thoroughbred
marked him. He did not affect loose,
flowing cravats and baggy trousers,
nor was he careless about his finger
nails. He was simply the ordinary,
every-day sort of chap you would
meet in Fifth avenue during parade
hours, and you would take a second
look at him because of his face and
manner but not on account of his
dress. Some of his ancestors came
over ahead of the Mayflower, but he
did not gloat.
Leslie Wrandall was his closest
friend and harshest critic. It didn’t
really matter to Booth what Leslie
said of his paintings: he quite under
stood that he didn't know anything
about them.
"When does Mrs. Wrandall return?’’
asked the painter, after a long period
of Silence spent in contemplation of
the gleaming pavement beyond the
club's window.
"That’s queer.” said Leslie, looking
up. ”1 was thinking of Sara myself.
She sails next week. I've had a let
ter asking me to open her house in
the country. Her place is about two
miles from father’s. It hasn’t been
opened in two years. Her father built
It fifteen or twenty years ago. and left
it to her when he died. She and
Challls spent several summers there.”
"Vivian took me through it one aft
ernoon last summer.”
“It must have been quite as much
of a novelty to her as it was to you.
old chap,” said Leslie gloomily.
"What do you mean?”
"Vivian's a bit of a snob. She never
liked the place because old man Gooch
built it out of worsteds. She never
went there.” *
"But the old man's been dead^for
years.”
"That doesn’t matter. The fact is,
Vivian didn't quite take to Sara until
after—well, until after Challis died.
We’re dreadful enobs. Brandy, the
whole lot of us. Sara was quite good
enough for a much better man than
my brother. She really couldn’t help
the worsteds, you know. I’m very
fond of her, and always have been.
We’re pals. *Gad, it was a fearful slap
at the home folks when Challis justi
fied Sara by getting snuffed out the
way he did."
Booth made an attempt to change
the subject, but Wrandall got back
to it.
“Since then we’ve all been exceed
ingly sweet on Sara. Not because we
want to be, mind you, but because
we’re afraid she'll marry some chap
who wouldn't be acceptable to us."
"I should consider that a very neat
way out of it," said Booth coldly.
“Not at all. You see, Challis waa
fond of Sara, In spite of everything.
He left a will and under it she came
in for all he had. As that Includes a
third interest in our extremely refined
and irreproachable business, it would
be a deuce of a trick on ns if she mar
ried one of the common people and set
him up amongst us, willy-nilly. We
don't want strange bedfellows. We’re
too snug—and I might say, too smug.
Down In her heart mother ie saying to
herself It would be just like Sara to
get even with us by doing just that
sort of a trick. Of course Sara is rich
enough without accepting a sou under
the will, but she's a canny person. She
hasn't handed it back to us on a silver
platter, with thanks; still, on the
other hand, she refuses to meddle. She
makes us feel pretty small. She wont
sell out to us. She just sits tight.
That's what gets under the skin with
mother."
“I wouldn't say that, Les, If 1 were
in your place.”
“It Is a rather priggish thing to say.
Isn't itr*
“Rather."
“You see, I'm the only one who
really took sides with Sara. I forget
myself sometimes. She was such a
brick, all those years.''
Bcxfth was silent for a moment, not
ing the reflective look in his compan
ion's eyes.
"1 suppose the police haven’t given
“You Must Play the Game, Hetty.”
up the hope that sooner or later the—
j er—the woman will do something to
I give herself away,” said he.
"'They don't take any stock in my
i theory that she made way w ith herself
the same night. I was talking with
the chief yesterday. He says that
anyone who had wit to cover up her
tracks as she did, is not the kind to
make way with herself. Perhaps he's
right. It sounds reasonable. ’Gad, I
felt sorry for the poor girl they had
up last spring. She went through the
third degree, if ever anyone did, but,
■ by Jove, she came out of it all right.
The Aehtley girl, you remember. I’ve
dreamed about that girl, Brandy, and
i what they put her through. It’s a sort
of nightmare to me, even when I'm
awake. Oh, they’ve questioned others
as well, but she was the only one to
have the screws twisted in just that
way."
“Where is she now?"
“She’s comfortable enough now.
When I wrote to Sara about what
she'd been through, she settled a neat
bit of money on her, and she’ll never
want for anything. She'6 out west
somewhere, with her mother and sis
ters. I tell you, Sara’s a wonder. She’s
got a heart of gold.”
“I look forward to meeting her,
old man."
“I was with her for a few; weeks
thia winter. In Nice, you know. Viv
ian stayed on for a week, but mother
had to get to the baths. 'Gad. I be
lieve she hated to go. Sara's |ot a
most adorable girl staying with her.
A daughter of Colonel Castleton, and
she's connected in some way with the
Murgatroyds—old Lord Murgatroyd,
you know. I think her mother was a
niece of the old boy. Anyhow, mother
and Vivian have taken a great fancy
to her. That’s proof of the pudding.”
“I think Vivian mentioned a com
panion of some sort."
tou wouldn t exactly call her a
companion," said Leslie. “She’s got ;
money to burn, I take it. Quite keeps
up with Sara In making it fly, and that's
saying a good deal for her resources.
I think it’s a pose on her part, this
calling herself a companion. An Eng
lish joke, eh? As a matter of fact,
she’s an old friend of Sara's and my
brother’s too. Knew them In England.
Most delightful girl. Oh, I say, old
man, she’s the one for you to paint.”
Leslie waxed enthusiastic. "A type, a
positive type. Never saw 6uch eyes in
all my life. Dammit, they haunt you.
You dream about ’em.”
“You seem to be hard hit,” said
Booth indifferently. He was watching
the man in the “slicker” through
moody eyes.
“Oh, nothing ii!:e that,” disclaimed
Leslie with unnecessary promptness.
“But if I were given to that 6ort of
thing, I’d be bowled over in a minute.
Positively adorable face. If I thought
you had it in you to paint a thing as
it really is I'd commission you myself
to do a miniature for me, just to hpve
it around where I could pick it up
when I liked and hold It between my
hands, just as I've often wanted to
hold the real thing.”
• ••••• •
Sara Wrandall returned to New
York at the end of the month, and
Leslie met her at the dock, as he did
on an occasion fourteen months ear
lier. Then she came in on a fierce
gale from the wintry Atlantic; this
time the air was soft and balmy and
sweet with the kindness of spring. It
was May and the sea was blue, the
lahd was green.
▲gain she went to the small, exclu
sive hotel near the park. Her apart
ment was closed, the butler and his
wife and all of their hastily recruited
company being in the country, await
ing her arrival from town. Leslie at
tended to everything. He lent his re
sourceful man servant and hip motor
to his lovely sister-in-law, and saw to
it that his mother and Vivian sent
fltfwers to the ship. Redmond Wren
dall called at the hotel immediately
after banking hours, kissed his daugh
ter-in-law, and delivered an ultimatum
second-hand from the power at home:
she was to come to dinner and bring
Miss Castleton. A little quiet family
dinner, you. know, because they were
all in mourning, he said in conclusion,
vaguely realizing all the while that it
really wasn’t necessary to supply the
information, but, for the life of him.
uuable to think of anything else to
say under the circumstances. Some
how it eeemed to him that while Sara
was in black she was not in mourning
in the same sense that the rest of
them were. It seemed only right to
acquaint her with the conditions in his
household. And he knew that he de
served the scowl that Leslie bestowed
upon him.
Sara accepted, much to his surprise
and gratification. He had been rather
dubious about it. It would not have
surprised him in the least if she bad
declined the invitation, feeling, as he
did, that he had in a way come to her
with a white flag or an olive branch
or whatever it is that a combative
force utilizes when it wants to sur
render in the cause of humanity.
As soon as they were alone Hetty
turned to her friend.
“Oh. Sara, can’t you go without me?
Tell them that I am ill—suddenly ill.
I—I don't think it right or honorable
of me to accept—’’
Sara shook her head, and the words
died on the girl’s lips.
"You must play the game, Hetty.”
"It's—very hard,” murmured the
other, her face very white and bleak.
“I know, my dear,” said Sara gently.
"If they should ever find out.”
gasped the girl, suddenly giving way
to the dread that had been lying dor
mant all these months.
"They will never know the truth
unless you choose to enlighten them,”
said Sara, putting her arm about the
girl’s shoulders and drawing her close.
"You never cease to be wonderful.
Sara—so very wonderful,” cried the
girl, with a look of worship in her
eyes.
Sara regarded her in sllenct for a
moment, reflecting. Then, with a swift
rush of tears to her eyes, she cried
fiercely:
"You must never, never tell me all
that happened, Hetty! Ycfu must not
speak it with your own li£s.”
Hetty’s eyes grew dark with pain
and wonder.
"That is the thing I can't under
stand in you. Sara.” she said slowly.
“We must not speak of it!”
Hetty’s bosom heaved. "Speak of
it!” she cried, absolute agony in her
voice. "Have I not kept it locked in
my heart since that awful day—”
"Hush!”
"I shall go mad If I cannot talk
with you about—”
“No, no! It is the forbidden sub
ject! I know all that I should know—
all that I care to know. We nave not
said so much as this In months—in
ages, it 6eems. Let sleeping dogs lie
We are better off. my dear. 1 coulo
not touch your lips again."
"I—I can’t bear the thought ot
that!”
"Kiss me now. Hetty.”
"I could die for you. Sara,” cried
Hetty, as she impulsively obeyed the
command.
"I mean that you shall live for me.
said Sara, hmiling through her tears
“How silly of me to cry. It must be
the room we are in. These are the
same rooms, dear, that you came to
on the night we met. Ah, how old I
feel!”
"Old? You say that to me? i am
ages and ages older than you," cried
Hetty, the color coming back to her
soft cheeks.
“You are twenty-three."
“And you are twenty-eight”
Sara had a far-away look in her
eyes. "About your size and figure,”
said she, and Hetty did not compre
hend.
CHAPTER VI.
Southlook.
Sara Wrandall's house in the coun
try stood on a wooded knoll overlook
ing the sound. It was rather remotely
located, so far as neighbors were con
cerned. Her father, Sebastian Gooch,
shrewdly foresaw the day when land
in this particular section of the sub
urban world would return dollars for
pennies, and wisely bought thousE-nds
of acres: woodland, meadowUnd,
beachland and hills, inserted between
the environs of New York city and
the rich towns up the coast. Y sars :
afterward he built a commodious sum-1
mer home on the choicest point that 1
his property afforded, named it Scuth- i
look, and transformed that particular
part of his wilderness into a million
aire’s paradise, where he could dawdle
and putter to his heart’s content,
where he could spend his time and his
money with a prodigality that carte so
late in life to him that he made waste
of both in his haste to live down a
rather parsimonious past.
Two miles and a half away. In the
heart of a scattered colony of purse
proud New Yorkers, was the country
home of the Wrandalls, an imposing
place and older by far than South
look. It had descended from well
worn and time-stained ancestors to
Redmond Wrandall, and, with others
of its kind, looked with no little scorn
upon the modern, mushroom struc
tures that sprouted from the seeds of
trade. There was no friendship be
tween the old and the new. Each had
recourse to a bitter contempt for the
other, though consolation was small
in comparison.
It was in the wooded by-ways of this !
despised domain that Challis Wran
dall and Sara, the earthly daughter of
Midas, met and loved and defied all
things supernal, for matches are
made in heaven. Their marriage did
not open the gates of Nineveh. Sebas
tian Gooch's paradise was more com
pletely ostracised than it was before
the disaster. The Wrandalls spoke of
it as a disaster.
Clearly the old merchant was not
over-pleased with his daughter’s
choice, a conclusion permanently es
tablished by the alteration he made
in his will a year or two after the mar
riage. True, he left the vast estate to
his beloved daughter Sara, but he fast
ened a stout string to it, and with
this string her hands were tied. It
must have occurred to him that Chal
lis was a profligate in more ways than
one, for he deliberately stipulated in
his will that Sara was not to sell a
foot of the ground until a period of 1
twenty years had elapsed. A very
polite way, it would seem, of making
his investment safe in the face cf con
siderable odds.
He lived long enough after the mak
ing of his will, I am happy to relate,
to find that he had made no mistake.
As he preceded his son-in-law into the
great beyond by a scant three years,
it readily may be seen that he wrought
too well by far. Seventeen unneces
sary years of proscription remained,
and he had not intended them for
Sara alone. He was not afraid of
Sara, but for her.
When the will was read and the con
dition revealed, Challis Wrandall took
it in perfect good humor. He had the
grace to proclaim in the bosom of his
father's family that the old gentleman
was a father-in-law to be proud of. “A
canny old boy,” he had announced
with his most engaging smile, quite
free from rancor or resentment. Chal
lis was well acquainted with h mself.
And so the acres were strapped to
gether snugly and firmly, without so
much as a town lot protruding.
So impressed was Challis by the far
sightedness of his father-in-law that
he forthwith sat him down and made
a will of his own. He would not have
it said that Sara's father did a whit
better by her than he would do. He I
left everything he possessed to his
wife, but put no string to it, blai dly
implying that all danger would be j
past when she came into possession, i
There was a sort of grim humor in
the way he managed to present him
self to view as the real and ready |
source of peril.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Gigantic Operation.
Earth excavated from Panama canal ,
was sufficient to build sixty-three pyr- i
amids the size of that of Cheops.
CURE DOGS OF EATING EGGS
Small Amount of Tartar Emetic Wi'l
Break the Habit, According
to Authority.
When eggs are bringing top rices
in the market nothing is more dis
couraging than to find, on making ihe
round of the nests that the dog has
been there before you. Often this
parasite on hennery profits is a fam
ily pet that the owners do not wish to
kill. But as with other pests, remedy
lies only with killing or curing. Here
is a cure which I have used success
fully:
Buy one dram of tartar emetic—
this is a poison and should be handled
with the greatest of care. Under no
circumstances sholud the powder be
placed where it is accessible to chil
dren. ^
Pip a small piece out of an eggshell,
pour out a little of the contents and
put about as much of the tartar emetic
as will cover the point of a small
pocket knife Into the shell. Paste a
small piece of white paper over the
broken portion, and place the egg in
one of the nests, preferably In a se
cluded spot, where the dog has been
accustomed to pilfer. Pot it where he
can get it quickly before the hens
have a chance to crack the treated
egg
Haying eaten this poison the dog be
comes violently sick and will subse
quently ' shun eggs. This means of
curing the habit, though drastic, is
effectual. It will not result n the
death of the dog unless an overdose
is given.
Some farmers use red pepper in- !
stead of the tartar emetic, a pinch of !
pepper concealed In a baited egg i
often being effectual. Throughout the j
southern states Indian turnips when
available are used in the same man
ner. This is a pungent plant which,
when eaten, causes the tongue to
smart and burn and often to swell._
George H. Dacy in the Country Gen
tleman.
The Only Way.
Mrs. Pankhnrst. as the Majestic
sailed from New York, talked :o a re
porter about the comparative deceit
fulness of men and women.
"Women,” said the reporter, ‘‘are
the more deceitful.”
“No.” said Mrs. Pankhurst, “men are
the worse. Look at the way they de
ceive their wives."
“Do you claim," the reporter asked,
"that men should never deceive their
wives?"
Mrs. Pankhnrst smiled and tossed
her head.
“Oh. no," she said. “How ctcld the
average man ever get a wttn it he
didn’t deceive herT*
CANADA’S PLACE
AS A PRODUCER
Canada Is Getting a Great Many
Americans.
“Three young provinces, Manitoba
Saskatchewan, and Alberta,” sa\s i
New York financial journal, "have
ready made Winnipeg one of the great
est primary wheat markets of
world. In 1904 they raised 53,000,0
bushels of wheat. Five years late
they produced 150,000.000 bushels. In
1913 the crop approximated 200,OOt
000 bushels. At the present rate of
progress Canada must soon pass
France and India, and stand third in
the line of wheat producers. Ulti
mately It will dispute with Russia and
the United States for the first position
Wheat has been the pioneer of our
development. Undoubtedly it will
prove the same with Canada. In the
last calendar year our trade with Can
ada amounted to 497 million dollars.
Only with two countries—the United
Kingdom and Germany—is our trade
greater. No vivid imagination is
needed to see what the future devel
opment of Canada means to the
people of the United States.
The influx of American settlers to
the Canadian prairies is now in full
swing. Within the past few days
over 80 of those arrived at Bassano
carrying with them effects and capital
to the value of 1100,000. Fifty settlers
from Oregon arrived in Alberta a few
days ago; while 15 families of settlers
from, the state of Colorado a"rived at
Calgary on their journey northward'
The goods and personal effects of this
party filled 20 box cars. Of l.ve stock
alone they had 175 horses, 13 row ~
and 2,000 head of poultry. Another
class of settler has arrived at Peer
110 miles west of Edmonton, where no
fewer than 200 German farmers have
taken up land. These are from good
farming families and brought w.-h
them a large amount of capital.
Then in South Western Siskatche
w-an, there are large numbers settling,
these from the United States predom
nating, while in the northern and ■ n
tral portions of all these provinces
the settlement of new- people is going
on steadily. Early in April. Peter
Goertz arrived in Cardiff after a -
day journey from McPherson, Kansas
Mr. Goertz who had purchased land
here was in charge of a party of ;;s
people from the same part of Kansas
and they came through with a special
train which included all their stock
and implements. The equipment was
all Rock Island cars, and was the first
full immigrant train ever sent out by
that railroad. The farms purchased
by the members of the party are
amongst the best in the district.
3Vhen the Panama exposition opens
next year any of the three transcon
tinental lines in Otinada v.ill make
convenient means of transport for
those going to visit, and in doing
so agricultural districts of Wester-:
Canada can be seen, and ocular dem
onstration given those who have heard
but not before seen, of that which has
attracted so many hundreds of thou
sands of American settlers.—Adver
tisement
The Inference.
"Are you a policeman?" asked one
paying guest of another at a chari
picnic dinner.
"No,” said the other. “Why do ycj
ask?"
“Merely, that I noticed,” said th«
first speaker, glancing at the sect: ::
of fried chicken in the other's t:ti
gers, "that you are pulling a tougti
Joint”
Wants to See Things.
Poor old Jagbsby is off the water
wagon again.”
"I can t help admiring hia franknet-.
though.”
‘ He doesn't try to excuse himse’
No. He mereiy says he prefers a
scenic route."—Baltimore Sun
The Button Doctor.
During the short seven years of b r
life, little Florence Louise had be
come duly impressed with the preva
lence of specialists in the medical pro
fession. .
One day, after returning from a vl~.:
to a small playmate, she calmly an
nounced:
"Rena swallowed a button."
“Are you worried about her?” she
was asked.
"Oh. she will get along all right '
Florence Louise complacently repli- d.
"They sent for a regular button doc
tor.”—Judge.
Limited Intentions.
How do you propose :;o support
my daughter, sir?”
‘ I didn t propose to her to support
her at all. I only proposed to her to
marry roe."—Rehoboth Sunday Her
ald
Proving the Punch.
Skids \ou think his story has a
real punch to it?
Skittles—Sure thing! You ought to
have seen the way it put me to sleep.
—Puck.
Disasters.
“My baldness dates from that ter
rible year."
“Oh, yes! 1S70."
“What do you mean by 1870? I
speak of the year I was married.”—Le
Rire iParis).
A Success.
"Was the go to church movement a
success in your neighborhood?"
"Yes, indeed. Our church was as
full as It is when they ure serving
something to eat"—Detroit Free
Press. f
Job Wanted.
Mrs. Sue Brette—Win is your
friend?
Foot Lighte—Oh, he's the manager
of a show.
“Well, I’m from Missouri; I wish
he'd show me.”
Are There That Many?
Church—I eee that Milwaukee !s
preparing to change over one hundred
street names.
Gotham—Going to name the streets
after the different establishments
which made the city famous, probably