The Hollow ♦ ♦
bP <■ of Her Hand
‘^oeorg'e Barr M°Cutcheon
eoPYWCttr /S>/2 BY CCORgZoAXK mCUTTf/fCVY: COPYfi/CffZffDl GY DODD, YT£AD Sr* COYfPA/tY
SYNOPSIS.
«hill* VfntdaM m found murdered In
• food hoc or near Kn Turk Mr* Wran
d«; ■ , ,IU:»ml ft.mu (tie city and tJ.-n
nh* t*u> body A young «ron>an who ac
eempaaird UrandiU te the tnn and *ub
•*4 ' '.Ilf dlMMeurd. U> ■—period.
Mr- Hifid.il .tart* lurk for New Tork
to u **tu during a Winding »tu>«r *t»rra
«tn lie yray she Tnoul* a >i>ung woman In
He road »l.i nm<« t* hr lie woman
• n killed W randall IV,ing that the
girl had done her-a service In ridding her
1 ' ■ tnon »M though she kited him
deeply. had rauie-t hey great Borrow.
Mr* M'randatl Orieradm to ahlotd har
• tel late her t. ' -r own home Mr*.
H r*nd.ll W ar* Ih■ story of Holly <***
(Me et Jtd"*hat portion that re
lates to tv rand.f n,i* and the story of
t - r cei >l« «• rtnd* the gtrl ever to
•HI Phe <dt. a home, friendship
■ lad wee-urli» fft-r* peril on arcminl of the
tragedy Mr. Kata tVrahdalt and Hetty
■ l'» d ti,e funeral of C*halit* Wrsndatt at
the heme of Wt* sarmtf Hira Wrandall
• Hetty ret irn to New Tork after an
• Vf-sre of a yes- In Kurope f-e*H*
H roods 11. »«r •( -.-r of r”*>a111*, make* h!m
nHf useful la Kara and become* great !v
httnynl In Hetty Sara aee* In Iff
lei tefat ,t,on pnfOMhty for revonpaon
Mwt WraadsH* and reparation for the
Wrong* -he »• e.-red at the hand. <*f
I>t1ll. Wr.-,.l.il *.y lwarrvinc hia mur*
dere** Into Ike 'get;- Incite In com
pan* with M« friend Nrnsdon Booth, an
an i-t rlut* Kura at her country place
tdwtlr roofeeoe* to Kara that hr In madly
te lose with I left v Kara arrange* with
(tooth to paint a pi- tore of Hetty Booth
ban * haunting •.*-'!▼ g that lie ha. seen
Tte**» fef.ee tjonktng throitgli a port
f>dfe —f pSrtueeo hy *n unknown Frrllwh
• HIM he dpd* On- tfe .peak.
to ter shot It Hetty declare* It mint
he a fdrtpro of flrti. I'.Him an Knelnh
octree, who nptifiles her very much
If*tie Wraed.it l- fm. imp’ll tent and
Jeah-u* oye* the pic*-.re printing and de
etnro. he h gi-*- y to propose to Hetty a!
the (Irwt oppnrt-irtt*
CHAPTER X.—Continued
Ho looker: aa though bn ok pot ted
•nth tig He ct-jld only att back and
• order why the deuce Sara meant by
Muiibi Mke this
They returned at aeren. Dinner
• a* unusually merry Sara appeared
to hare recovered from her indispo
sition. there was color In her cheeks
ar-d life la her smile He look ft to
hr aa omen of good fortune, and waa
tmmeasurAiv confident The soft,
cord breeze of the starlit night blew
visions of impending happiness across
b:s lively Imagination fanned his im
pauracd with gentle ardor; filled him
pith suppressed sighs of contentment,
and made him willing to forego the
delight of conquest (hat he might lire
the longer la serene anticipation of
Pa thrill*
Ten ockxi came lie arose and
• rruhed himself ia a sort of ecstasy
"Oama It All. Sara! She—She Turned
M« Down'"
lia heart •» thumping loudly, hi*
arts— itaa Walking to the veran
dah rati he looked out arrows the
maos'll wound, then down at the se
lected nook over against the garden
wall spot to be Immortalized'—and
■dually shivered In ten minutes'
« ar. or even less, she would be dost
there la his arm*' Ezqulatte siedita
total
He tsraed to her aith an engaging
»a.tle. la which she Blight hare dis
craed a prophecy, and asked her to
ramw with him for a stroll along the
wall And an he cast the die
Hetty sent n swift, appenling look
nt tiaras purposely averted face Le*
It* observed the act. hut misinterpret
ad Us ssesnirg
* Oh. m is Quite ssrm.' he said
Qairklj You son t need a wrap.* he
added, aad ta spite of himself his
voice trembled Ul course she wouldn't
owed a wrap!
1 have a few dni to write " said
Sara rising She deliberately avoid
ed the look ta Hetty a eye* - Vou will
dad me la the library."
■ha Mood in the doors ay and
watched them descend to the terrm-e.
a aphid* like smile oa her lips Hetty
seam id very tall and erect, as one go
ing to meet a soldier s fate
Than Mara entered the bouse and
aat down to wait
A long time after a door closed
stealthily la a distant part of the
hoaae—the sue. parlor door, she knew
by direction
croaked on its hinges Some one
had earns ta from the mellow night,
»»d some one had been left outside.
Maajr minute* passed. She sat
there at her father* writing table
and waned tor the other to come in.
At last Quirk, heavy footfalls sounded
oa the Uled floor outside and then
earn* swiftly down the hall toward
the small, remote room in which she
sat She looked up as he unceremo
niously burst iato the room
Ha cams across and stood over her,
aa expression of utter bewilderment
la hta eyes. Thera was a ghastly
smila oa his lips
He seemed incapable of comprehen
ataa
She was unmoved Her eyes nar
rowed. bat that was the only sign of
1—I can't believe—” ha began
Querulously. 'Oh. what • the aseT
Che wont have me. Had! I'm trem
bling Uka a leaf. When's Watson?
i ui* hua sat me some thing to drink.
Never mind! I'll get it from the side
board. I'm—I’m d-d!"
He dropped heavily into a chair
at the end of the table and looked at
her with glazed eyes. Ae she stared
back at him she had the curious feel
ing that he had shrunk perceptibly,
that his clothes hung rather limply
on him His face seemed to have lost
all of its smart symmetry; there was
& looseness about tbe mouth and chin
that had never been there before. The
saucy, arrogant mustache eloped de
jectedly.
' I fancy you must have gone about
It verj badly," she said, pursing her
lips
' Badly?" he gasped. "Why—why,
good heavens. Sara. 1 actually plead
ed with her." he went on, quite pa
thetically. "All hut got down on my
knees to her. D-n me, if I can
understand myself doing it either. I
must have lost my head completely.
Begged like a love-sick schoolboy!
And she kept on saying no—no—no!
And I. like a blithering ass, kept on
telling her I couldn't live without her,
that I'd make her happy, that she
didn't know what she was saying,
and— But, good Lord, she kept on
saying no! Nothing but no! Do—-do
you think she meant to say no? Could
it have been hysteria? She said it so
often, over and over again, that It
might have been hysteria. I never
thought of that. I—”
No Leslie, it wasn't •hysteria, you
may be sure of that." she said de
liberately. "She meant it, old fel
low."
He sagged deeper in the chair.
"1- I can't get it through my head.”
he muttered.
As I said before, you did it badly,"
she said "You took too much for
granted. Isn't that true?"
"God knows I didn't expect her to
refuse me." he exclaimed, glaring at
h« r "Would I have been such a fool
as to ask her if I thought there was
the remotest chance of being—" The
very thought of the word caused it to
stick in his ‘hroat. He swallowed
hard.
You really love her?" she demand
ed.
"Love her"' There wae & sob In
his voice. "I adore her. Sara. I
can't live without her. And the worst
of it is. 1 love her now more than
I did before. Oh. it’s appalling! It's
horrible! What am I to do, Sara?
What am I to do?"
"Be a man for a little while, that's
all." she said coolly.
• Don't Joke with me," he groaned.
"Go to bed. and when you see her
n the morning tell her that you un
derstand. Thank her for what she
has done for you. Be—"
"Thank her?” he almost shouted.
' Y'es; for destroying all that is de
tectable in you, Leslie—your self-con
ceit. your arrogance, your false no
tic:.- concerning yourself—in a word,
your egotism."
He blinked Incredulously. "Do you
know what you're saying?” he gasped.
She went on as If she hadn't heard
him
Assure her that she is to feel no
compunction for what she has done,
that you are content to be her loyal,
devoted friend to the end of your
days."
"Hut. hang it, Sara. I love her!"
"Don't let her suspect that you arh
, humiliated. On the contrary, give her
| to understand that you are cleansed
I and glorified.”
"What utter tommy—"
"Wait! Believe me, it is your only
chance. Y'ou will have to learn some
time that you can't ride roughshod
among angels. Think it over, old fel
low. You have had a good lesson.
Profit by It.”
"You mean I'm to sit down and
twirl my thumbs and let some other
chap snap her up under my very nose?
Well. I guess not!”
"Not necessarily. If you take It
manfully she may discover a newt In
terest in you. Don’t breathe a word
i of love to her. Go on as if nothing
had happened. Don't forget that I
! told you in the beginning not to take
1 no for an answer."
He drooped once more, biting his
' lip. "I don't see how I can ever tell
mother that she refused—”
Why tell her?" she inquired, rising.
His eyes brightened. "By Jove, 1
irunu i, ur rav iaiuicu.
I am going up to the poor child
now. she went on ‘‘I dare say you
; hare frightened her almost to death.
, Naturally she is in great distress. I
shall try to convince her that her de
I ciaion does not alter her position in
; this house. I depend on you to do
i your part. Leslie. Make it easy for
i her to stay on with me."
He mellowed to the verge of tears.
“I can't keep on coming out here
■ after this, aa I've been doing. Sara.’’
j "lK>n t be silly! Of course you can.
j This will blow over."
"Blow over?" be almost gasped.
"I mean the first effects. Try being
a martyr for a while. Leslie. It isn’t
I a bad plan. I can assure you. It may
interest you to know that Challls pro
posed to me three times before I
| accepted him, and yet I—I loved him
i from the beginning."
"By Jove!" he exclaimed, coming
j to his feet with a new light in hia
eyes. The hollows in his cheeks
seemed to fill out perceptibly.
“Good night!"
“I say, Sara, dear, you’ll—you’ll help
me a bit, won’t you? I mean you’ll talk
it over with her and—”
"My sympathy is entirely with
Miss Castleton,” she said from the
doorway. His jaw dropped.
He was still ruminating over the
1 callousness of the world in respect to
| 1 avers when she mounted the stairs
and tapped firmly on Hetty’s door.
• ••••••
j Hetty Castleton was standing in
the middle of her room when Sara
, (altered. From her position It was
j evident that she had stopped short in
her nervous, excited pacing of the
floor. She was very pale, but there
was a dogged, set expression about
her mouth.
"Come in, dear.” she said, m a
manner that showed she had been
expecting the visit. "Have you seen
him?"
Sara closed the door, and then stood
with her back against it. regarding
her agitated friend with 6erious, com
passionate eyes.
“Yes. He is terribly upset. It was
a blow to him, Hetty.”
"I am sorry for him, Sara. He was
so dreadfully in earnest. But, thank
God, it is over!” She threw back
her head and breathed deeply. “That
horrible, horrible nightmare is ended.
I suppose it had to be. But the mock
ery of it—think of it. Sara!—the
damnable mockery of it!”
"Poor Leslie!" sighed the other.
"Poor old Leslie.”
Hetty's eyes filled with tears. “Oh.
I am sorry for him. He didn't deserve
it. God in heaven, if he really knew
everything! If he knew wrhy I could
not listen to him, why I almost
screamed when he held my hands in
his and begged—actually begged me
to— Oh, it was ghastly. Sara!"
She covered her face with her
hands, and swayed as if about to fall.
Sara came quickly to her side. Put
ting an arm about the quivering
shoulders, she led the girl to the
broad window seat and threw open
the blinds.
“Don't speak of it. dearest—don't
think of that. Sit here quietly in the
air and pull yourself together. Let
me talk to you. Let me tell you how
deeply distressed I am, not only on
your account, but his.”
They were silent for a long time,
the girl lying still and almost breath
less against the other's shoulders. She
was still wearing the delicate blue
dinner gown, but in her fingers was
the exquisite pearl necklace Sara had
given her for Christmas She had
taken it off and had forgotten to drop
it in her jewel box.
1 suppose ne will go up to the city
early," she said monotonously.
“Leslie i6 a better loser than you
think, my dear,” said Sara, looking out
over the tops of the cedars. “He will
not run away.”
Hetty looked up in alarm. “You
mean he will persist in—in his atten
tions,” she cried.
“Oh, no. I don’t believe you will
find him to be the bugbear you imag
ine. He can take defeat like a man.
He is devoted to you, he is devoted
to me. Your decision no doubt wrecks
his fondest hopes in life, but it doesn’t
make a weakling of him.”
"I don’t quite understand—”
"He is sustained by the belief that
he has paid you the highest honor a
man can pay to a woman. There is
no reason why he should turn his back
on you. as a sulky boy might do. Xo,
my dear, I think you may count on
him as your best, most loyal friend
from this night on. He has just said
to me that his greatest pain lies in j
the fear that you may not be willing
to accept him ae a simple, honest, un
presuming friend since—”
"Oh, Sara, if he will only be that
and nothing more!" cried the girl won
deringly.
Sara smiled confidently. “I fancy
you haven’t much to fear In that direc
tion, my dear. It isn’t In Leslie Wran
dall’s make-up to court a second re
pulse. He is all pride. The blow It
suffered tonight can't be repeated—at
least, not by the same person."
“I am so sorry it had to be Leslie,"
murmured Hetty.
“Be nice to him. Hetty. He deserves
that much of you, to say the least. I ’
should miss him if he found it impos
sible to come here on account of—"
"I wouldn’t have that happen for
the world.” cried the girl in distress. 1
“He is your dearest friend. Send me
away, Sara, if you must. Don't let
anything stand in the way of your
friendship for Leslie. You depend on
him for so much, dear. 1 can't bear
the thought of—”
"Hush, dearest! You are first in my
love. Better for me to lose all the
others and still have you.”
The girl looked at her in wonder
for a long time. "Oh, I know you mean
it, Sara, but—but how can It be true?”
"Put yourself in my place,” was all
(hat Sara said in reply, and her com
panion had no means of translating
the sentence.
She could only remain mute and
wondering, her eyes fixed on that
other mystery, the cameo face in the
moon that hung high above the som
ber forest.
"Poor Leslie,” murmured Sara, a
long time afterward, a dreamy note
in her voice. "I can’t put him out
of my thoughts. He will never get
over it. I have never seen one eo
stricken and yet so brave. He would
have been more than a husband to
you, Hetty. It is in him to be a slave
to the woman he loves. I know him
well, poor boy.”
Hetty was silent, brooding. Sara
resumed her thoughtful observations.
"Why should you let what happened
months ago stand in the way of—”
She got no farther than that With
an exclamation of horror, the girl
sprang away from her and glowered at
her with dilated eyes.
"My God, Sara!” she whispered
hoarsely. "Are you mad?”
The other sighed. “I suppose you
must think it of me,” she said dis
mally. "We are made differently, you
and I. If I cared for a man, nothing
in all this world could stand between
me and him.”
Hetty was still staring. "You don’t
mean to say you would have me marry
Challis Wrandall's brother?” she said,
in a sort of stupefaction.
Sara shook her head. ‘T mean this:
vou would be justified in permitting
Leslie to glorify thatVhich his broth
er desecrated; your womanhood, my
dear.”
My trod. Sara, again reii m a
hoarse whisper from the girl's lips.
"I simply voice my point of view."
explained Sara calmly. "As I said
before, we look at things differently.”
"I can‘t believe you mean what you
said," cried Hetty. “Why—why. if 1
loved him with all my heart, soul and
body I could not even think of— Oh,
I shudder to think of it!"
"I love you," continued Sara, fixing
her mysterious eyes on those of the
girl, "and yet you took from me some
thing more than a brother. I love
you, knowing everything, and I am
paying in full the debt he owes to
you. Leslie, knowing nothing, is no
less your debtor. All this is paradox
ical. I know, my dear, but we must
remember that while other people
may be indebted to us, we also owe
something to ourselves. We ought to
take pay from ourselves. Please do
not conclude that I am urging or
even advising you to look with favor
upon Leslie Wrandall's honorable, sin
cere proposal of marriage. I am mere
ly trying to convince you that you
are entitled to all that any man can
give you in this world of ours—we
women all are, for that matter.”
"I was sure that you couldn’t ask me
to marry him. 1 couldn’t believe—”
"Forget what I have said, dearest,
if it grieves you,” cried Sara warmly.
She arose and drew the girl close to
her. "Kfes me, Hetty.” Their lips
met. The girl’s eyes were closed, but
Sara's were wide open and gleaming.
"It is because I love you," she said
softly, but she did not complete the
sentence that burned In her brain.
To herself she repeated: “It is be
cause I love you that I would scourge
you with Wrandalls!"
AUDREY EQUAL TO OCCASION
Hard to Refrain From Admiring In
genuity of Thie Little Wash
ington Girl.
'Audrey was thirteen, but a big girl
for her age, according to the Washing
ton Herald. Tet she was still a child
in her absorbing taste for sweets. Not
far from her home the food show,
which Is held annually in Washing
ton. was going on, and the idea that
there were pounds of cakes, jellies and
chocolates all ready to be eaten occu
pied her mind every morning as she
wended her way to school past the
building. This preoccupation of
thought resulted in arithmetic in
which (pur quarts equaled one yard,
and Napoleon crossed the Rubicon on
the ice in history lessons. But Aud
rey was a modern girl, and soon found
a way out of her trouble.
Saturday she decided to put her plan
into execution. Mother had gone to
work at the treasury, and Audrey was
monarch of all she surveyed literally.
She could not get into the food show
without being accompanied by an
adult. Now, adults in such cases be
ing regarded as necessary evils, the
girl determined to be one herself for
the occasion.
Down at the ten-cent store she
bought a diamond ring and a smaller
one of plain gold. Then she hied home,
arrayed herself in her mother's best
suit, put on a picture hat with a big
veil and went to the food show. The
doorkeeper passed her in unnoticed in
the crowd of others streaming in, for
the figure seemed that of a short wom
an. Inside. Audrey did her duty. There
was not a bit of food in the house she
did not sample, nor a cake nor candy
of which she did not bring away speci
mens. When she went home she was
one of the fullest and happiest chil
dren in Washington. And yet men
talk about woman's lack of inventive
power.
Blucher Solved Problem.
One hundred years ago the pleni
potentiaries of the allied nations were
conferring on the future of Europe
after the overthrow of Napoleon,
which now seemed inevitable. The in
vasion of France, which was the first
great task undertaken by the allies.
! had been accomplished, and there now
remained only the march upon Paris.
So far the coalition had accomplished
its work well. But at this point the
jealousies of the allied nations began
to come to the surface. The most of
the plenipotentiaries favored pushing
on to Paris without delay. But the
Austrians were not eager to hasten the
advance of the armies and thne in
sure the triumph of Russia and the
passionate vengeance of the Prussians.
At this juncture Marshal Blucher
solved the problem by boldly continu
ing his advance on the French capital
without waiting for the plenipoten
tiaries to agree.
Evil of Gossip.
Every man and woman will be en
titled to think better of themselves
and will have a stronger claim to the
regard of others, if they cease to be
on the lookout for something to find
fault with, to treasure up and repeat
and magnify every scandal, little and
big. and to retail and spread every
small item of tea table gossip, which
carries with it ridicule or censure for
(some one. Suppose all that were drop
ped, and really it is unworthy of in
telligent, well meaning people, and
the habit formed of only speaking well
of others. Would it. after all, be as
stupid as some seem to think?—Cin
cinnati Enquirer.
"You are very good to me, Sara,"
sobbed Hetty.
"You will be nice to Leslie?"
"Yes, yes! If he will only let me
be his friend.”
"He asks no more than that. Now,
you must go to bed.”
Suddenly, without warning, she held
the girl tightly in her arms Her
breathing was quick, as of one
moved by some sharp sensation of ter
ror. When Hetty, in no little won
der, opened her eyes Sara's face was
turned away, and ehe was looking
over her shoulder as if cause for alarm
had come from behind.
“What is it?” cried Hetty anxiously.
She saw the look of dread In her
companion’s eyes, even as it began
to fade.
“I don't know,” muttered Sara.
"Something, 1 can't tel! what, came
over me. I thought some one was
stealing up behind me. How silly of
me.”
"Ah,” said Hetty, with an odd smile,
"I can understand how you felt."
“Hetty, will you take me in with
you tonight?" whispered Sara nerv
ously. “Let me sleep with you. I
can't explain it, but I am afraid to
be alone tonight." The girl's answer
was a glad smile of acquiescence.
“Come with me, then, to my bedroom
while I change. I have the queerest
feeling that some one is in my room.
I don’t want to be alone. Are you
afraid ?"
Hetty held back, her face blanching.
“No, I am not afraid,” she cried at
once, and started toward the door.
"There is some on in this room.”
said Sara a few moments later, when
they were in the big bedroom down
the hall.
“I—I wonder." murmured Hetty.
And yet neither of them looked
about in search for the intruder!
Far into the night Sara sat in the
window of Hetty's dressing room, her
chin sunk low in her hands, staring
moodily into the now opaque night,
her eyes somber and unblinking, her
body as motionless as death itself.
The cooling wind caressed her and
whispered warnings into her unheed
ing ears, but she sat there unprotect
ed against it6 chill, her nightdress
damp with the mist that crept up with
sinister stealth from thq sea.
CHAPTER XI.
' In the Shadow of the Mill.
The next day but one was overcast.
On cloudy, bleak days Hetty c’astle
ton always felt depressed.
Leslie was to return from the wilds
on the following day. Early in the
morning Booth had telephoned to in
quire if she did not want to go for a
long walk with him before luncheon. ,
The portrait was finished, but he
could not atlord to miss the morning
hour with her. He said as much to
her in pressing his invitation.
"Tomorrow Leslie will be here and
I sha n't see as much cf you as I'd
like,” he explained, rather wistfully.
"Three is a crowd, you know. I've
got so used to having you all to my
self, it's hard to break off suddenly.”
"I will be ready at eleven,” she said,
and was instantly surprised to find
that her voice rang with new life, new
Interest. The grayness seemed to lift
from the view that stretched beyond
the window: she even looked for the ’
sun in her eagerness.
It was then that she knew why the
world had been bleaker than usual, ■
even in its cloak of gray.
A little before eleven she set out
briskly to intercept him at the gates.
Unknown to her, Sara sat in her!
window, and viewed her departure '
with gloomy eyes. The world also
was gray for her.
They came upon each other unex
pectedly at a sharp turn in the ave- 1
nue. Hetty colored w ith a sudden I
rush of confusion, aa4 Lad all she,
could do to meet his eager, happy !
eyes as he stood over her and pro- I
claimed his pleasure in Jerky, awk
ward sentences. Then they walked
on together, a strange shyness at
tending them. She experienced the
faintness of breath that comes when
the heart is filled with pleasant I
alarms. As ror Moot d. tns blood sang.
He thrilled with the joy of being near j
her, of the feel of her all about him.
of the delicious feminine appeal that
made her so wonderful to him. He
wanted to crush her in his arms, to ]
keep her there forever, to exert all i
of his brute physical strength so that ;
she might never again be herself but j
a part of him.
They uttered commonplaces. The
spell was on them. It would lift, but
for the moment they were powerless
to struggle against it. At length he
saw the color fade from her cheeks;
her eyes were able to meet his with-:
out the look in them that all men love.'
Then he seemed to get his feet on the !
ground again, and a strange, ineffably j
sweet sense of calm took possession
of him.
*T must paint you ail over again.” !
he said, suddenly breaking in on one j
of her remarks. “Just as you are
today—an outdoor girl, a glorious out- ;
door girl in—’’
“In muddy boots." she laughed,
drawing her skirt away to reveal a
shapely foot in an American walking
shoe.
He smiled and gave voice to a new
thought. “By Jove, how much better
looking our American shoes are than
the kind they wear in London!”
"Sara insists on American shoes,
so long as 1 am with her. 1 don’t
think our boots are so villainous, do
you?”
“Just the same. I’m going to paint
you again, boots and all. You—”
“Oh, how tired you will become of
me!”
“Try me!”
“Besides, you are to do Sara at
once. She has consented to sit to
you. She will be wonderful, Mr.
Booth, oh, how wonderful l”
There was no mistaking the sincer
ity of this rapt opinion.
“Stunning,” was his brief comment.
She was silent for a long time, so
long indeed that he turned to look
at her.
“A thoroughly decent, fair minded
chap is Leslie Wrandall,” he pro
nounced, for want of something bet
ter to say. “Still, I'm bound to say.
I'm sorry he is coming home tomor
row."
The red crept into her cheeks again.
“I thought you were such pals,” she
said nervously.
“I expect to be his best man if he
ever marries,” said he, whacking a
stone at the roadeide with his wralk
ing stick. Then he looked up at her
furtively and added, with a quizzical
smile: “Unless something happens.”
“What could happen?”
“He might marry the girl I’m In
love with, and, in that case. I'd have
to be excused.”
“Where shall we walk to this morn
ing?” she asked abruptly. He had
drawn closer to her in the roadway.
“Is it too far to the old stone mill?
That's where I first saw you, if you
remember.”
“Yes, let us go there.” she said, but
her heart sank. She knew what was
coming. Perhaps it were best to have
it over with; to put it away with the
things that were to always be her
lost treasures. It would mean the
end of their companionship, the end
of a love dream. She would have to
lie to him: to tell him she did not
love him.
Coming to the jog in the broad mac
adam, they were striking oil into the
narrow road that led to the quaint
old mill, long since abandoned in the
forest glade beyond, when their atten
tion was drawn to a motor car. which
was slowing down for the turn into
Sara's domain. A cloud of dust swam
in the air far behind the machine.
A bare-headed man on the seat be
side the driver waved his hand to
them, and two women in the tonneau
bowed gravely. Both Hetty and
Booth flushed uncomfortably, and hes
itated in their progress up the forest
road.
The man was Leslie W can d all. His
mother and sister were in the back
seat of the touring car.
“Why—why. it was Leslie,” cried
r—r i * ■ i. —V ....... i. —« r- it tw
r -.- m
She Made No Response.
Booth, looking over his shoulder at
the rapidly receding car. "Shall we
turn back. Miss Castleton?”
“No," she cried instantly, with some
thing like impatience in her voice
“And spoil our walk?" she added in
the next breath, adding a nervous
little laugh.
"It seems rather—” he began dubi
ously.
“Oh. let tie have our day." she cried
sharply, and led the way into the by
road.
They came, in the course of a quar
ter of as hour, to the bridge, over the
mill ' race. Beyond, in the mossy
shades, stood a dilapidated, centurion
structure known as Rangely's mill, a
landmark with a history that included
incidents of the Revolutionary war.
when eager patriots held secret meet- I
ings inside Its walls and plotted under
the very noses of Tory adherents to
the crown.
rausing tor a tew minute* on the
bridge, they leaned on the nUl and
looked down into the clear, mirror
like water of the race. Their own
eyes looked up at them; they smiled
into their own faces. And a fleecy
white cloud passed over the guttering
stream and swept through their faces,
off to the bank, and was gone forever.
Suddenly he looked up from the wa
ter and fixed his eyes on her face. He
had seen Iter clear blue eyes fill with
tears as he gaxed Into them from the
rail above.
-Oh, my dear!" he cried. ' What Is
It?”
She put her handkerchief to her
eyes as she quickly turned away. In
another instant she was smiling up
« him. a soft, pleading little smile
that went straight to his heart
"Shall we start back?” she asked,
a quaver in her voice.
"No,” he exclaimed. "I’ve got to
go on with it now, Hetty. I didn’t
intend to, but—come, let us go up and
sit on that familiar old log In tjie
shade of the mill. You must, dear!”
She suffered him to lead her up
the steep bank beyond and through
the rocks and rotten timbers to the
great beam that protruded from the
shattered foundations of the mill.
The rickety old wheel, weather-beMen
and sad, rose above them and threat
ened to topple over If they so much
as touched its flimsy supports.
He did not release her hand after
drawing her up beside him.
“You must know that 1 love you,”
he said simply.
She made no response. Her bund
lay limp in his. She was statin*
straight before her.
(TO BE CONTINUED^
of every person to try
■ and maintain the high- ||
est possible standard of H
health. This plan can
I be helped along won- I
derfully by the use of ■■
IHOSTETTER’S H
STOMACH BITTERS ■
I It tones, strengthens, !■
invigorates the digest- H
ive organs, the liver
Ejowels and thus U
i_ .. _- s_
BUSINESS AND THE TARIFF
—
' Secretary McAdoo Tells a Little Story
to Illustrate What He Thinks
Effect Will Be.
Since both the tariff and the cur
rency bills come within the scope of
the treasury department, it is natural
that newspaper men should go there
to query the chiefs, with questions
about their probable effect on busi
ness.
“Boys,” said Secretary McAdoo re
cently, “there's nothing to it The
country has been subjected to revi
sions before, and always has survived
; them successfully. Generally speak
ing, the attitude of business is of re
ceptive indifference toward the
changes that have been made, because
business men have made up their
minds not to let such things interfere
with their business. It is just ’ike
Freddy. Do you know about him?
“One day Freddy’s mother said:
Freddy, if you are not a good boy to
night you'll go to bed without your
dinnnCr.'
“ ‘Ma,’ shouted businesslike Freddy,
'what we goin’ to have for dinner?' ”
—The Sunday Magazine.
No More.
Mrs. Nelson O'Shaughnessy’s daring
presence at the wedding of Huerta's
son is only another proof of a brave
woman's pluck.
Mrs. O'Shaughnessy. at the Colony
club in New York, derided one day
the idea that woman was weak, or
cowardly, or that she need ever play
a limited part in the world's affairs.
I "Well," said a lady of the old
i school. “I know one thing woman can't
! do. She can's reform a man after
marriage."
"No?" Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said.
“No? And yet I know many a married
man who in his bachelor days smoked
25-cent cigars.”
Modern Femininiam.
Two girls were sipping coffee and
smoking cigarettes through long tubes
of gold and amber.
The first girl said pensively, sway
ing her pretty foot in and out of her
slashed skirt:
“Do you believe, dear, that we should
work for our husbands?"
“You bet I do!" the second girl an
swered. “You just bet I do!”
“I mean after we're married.'' said
the first feirl.
"Oh,” said the other, "after we re
married, certainly not!"
The Boston Small Boy.
“Rollo. haven’t I told you time and
again not to associate with those bad
little Judhins boys?"
“You certainly have, mother."
“Then why do you persist In doing
it?"
“I don't know, mother, unless it's be
cause I’m natarally gregarious."
Main Thing.
Madge—Charlie whistled that new
tune last night. Do you remember
how It goes?
Marjorie—No; but I can dance it —
Judge.
Concession.
“Is this a first-class restaurant!"1
asked the haughty individual "Ob.
yes.” answered the waiter; “but we
will serve you."—Los Angeles Times
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