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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 30, 1923)
PATTY Does the Modern Girl Always Know Her Own Mind? By INEZ HAYNES IRWIN Illustrated by HUBERT MATHIEU I , HAT'S my diagnosis," Judge Dade concluded, looking up at the elder of his two daughters, "a great deal of efficiency deflected Into a lot of little abilities. And my first rem edy's work and my second, matri mony." Patty Dade maintained her perch on the high arm of her father's chair. "I refuse to accept your diagnosis," she rejoined promptly, "and 1 won’t take your medicine. I've lost confi dence in you. Judge Dade. You're fired! Besides-” “Don't say you can't do anything," her father interrupted. “You proved you could work hard enough—and ef ficiently enough during the war.” "Oh, I can work hard," Patty Dade admitted, “only, father I’ve no espe cial talent. And somehow to work for mere work's sake—to take a Job from some poor girl who needs it just to prove I don’t have to be idle— well, it doesn’t appeal to me—that’s all.” "Then let's proceed to the second remedy," Judge Dade suggested. "Why don’t you pick out some likely young rhap and marry him?” “1 think Patty’s going to be an old maid.” struck in I^turlan Dade pes simistically. Laurlan was writing a letter at the desk near the window. Ordinarily her pretty 17-year-old face bore a gTin. Now her expression was that of con spicuous superiority. "When a girl shows no ambition but to beat men at games and sports, and to be considered the bravest person in the whole place—well, I think that kind of a girl soon loses all her at traction for men.” “That will do for you, miss," her sister cut in. "Flapper!” she added, scathingly. "You see, Julian, being your daughter has spoiled me for marriage. I solemnly promise you, though, when I find a man as hand some and able nnd entertaining as you are, I'll—but I can't find him. You're entirely responsible for my spinster state, Julian!" Judge Dade returned to the charge. "You're so choosey, Patty. They've been so many good lads calling here-” ‘‘As for example, his daughter de manded. "Well. Jack Johns," Judge Dade an swered Instantly. Patty elevated her nose. "Too highbrow!" "Adam's apple’s too big,” Laurian commented. "Charles Le Favor.” Patty elevated her brows. "Too lowbrow!" , “His hands are almost clajnmy!” Laurian murmured. "Dab Elllman, then.” Patty scowled. "He glides,” Laurian was begin King, "and his shoulders-” “Your opinion is not asked, miss!” her sister silenced her. "Family too run to seed,” she answered her father. "How about Max Cady?" Patty sniffed. "Too youngl Good ness, Julian, don't expect me to rob the cradle. I’m not so old as that!” "Twenty-four's pretty old though," Laurian interpolated neatly. “Very well, then!” Judge Dade pro ceeded. “MacDuffey!” "A very nice husband for one no longer young!" Laurian approved. Patty snorted. "Too old! I’m not lobbing the grave either. Julian, I’m certainly not so young as that!" Judge Dade did not desist from his interrogation. "How about that Gree nough lad who’s staying with Mrs. Laurence?” patty groaned. "Father! Too dlssl pated!” "I think he’s something magnifi cent!" Laurian broke in. "All the girls are so craxy over him they can't see straight!” Patty contemplated her sister sar donically! Inwardly she was amused, but she would not let Laurian guess It. Judge Dad studied his younger daughter too. And he reflected with the eternal astonishment of fathers that, just as Patty had emerged from a thin-faced, unfeatured and uncon toured bundle of angles to an extreme attractivness, Laurian was developing from a dumpy, waistless little girl to exquisite beauty. "Shall we let her rave?” Patty demanded of her father. "When you pick Babe C.reenough you overturn at a bound every eugenic axiom you ever whanged into me. Haven’t I always been given to un derstand that I was to marry a simple, upstanding, rustic gawk, a 101 per cent American, who didn't know a toddle from a standing jump, who never smoked anything stornger than sweet fern, never drank any thing stronger than buttermilk, never drove anything stronger than a fliv ver?” "I suppose all the rest or them go into one of these pigeon holes," Judge Dade continued. "Harry Cather, Noel Darlington, Chuck Chalmers. . . ‘‘Roger Satterlee, Tim Dorrance, Perk Pray, et cetera, ad Infinitum, ad nauseam," Patty rounded out his sen tence for him. "They’re all alike. I can’t seem to see any difference. Now Morton Morrison—” “He’s married,” her father Inter rupted with a severe Inflection. “Very much so,” his daughter agreed, “and to such a boob! He Is Interesting, though—” “How can a married man he Inter esting?” Laurlan demanded lndig liantly. “Father,” Patty answered her sis ter obliquely, “I want to ask you one question. Ami don't sjKire me. Is It possible that at seventeen I was as silly as Laurlan?” “It always makes me wild,” Laur tan went smoothly on, “for a mar ried man to ask me to dance. It's Just a dnnee wasted. It—" "But I’m very Impartial, father," Patty went on, talking through Lau rians’ treble. "I've tried every kind, bachelors, husbands, widowers. If they're married, they're misunder stood and If they're single there’s nothing to understand about them. ’ "I tell you whom I'm perfectly mad over," Laurlan Interrupted. It's Ar thur Raeburnl'’ "Arthur Raeburn!” Patty ex Claimed. "Arthur Raeburn." Had she been a boxer, you would have said that the look she turned on Laurlan was her lighting face—so black was the flood that colored It, so violent her thick scowl. "Where did you meet ArVliur Raeburn.’ she de manded peremptorily. "I haven't met him yet—but I'm dying to. All the girls are— He's got the most wonderful eyes grey with Ions black lashes und they have the haughty and commanding and con temptuous and kind of lnscrutabla, too. He's been taking rare of Joyce Saterlee’s measles. Joyce says he commands her so. It's just too thrill ing for words. Daisy Cady and Milly Darlington drive to the postoffice an hour and a half late every day so's they can meet him, making his morn ing call on Joyce.” "You are not to meet Arthur Rae burn. Laurian,” Patty ordered crisp ly, "or If you find it unavoidable, you are not to invite him to the house." "I don’t see why—” Laurian was beginning indignantly, when “Because I say so," Patty came down crush ingly on her. “I have never liked Arthur Raeburn,’’ Tatty continued, "I—I—I hate him. I despise him.” “I don’t see why you should despise him, Patty," her father interfered gently. “He's a splendid surgeon. His record in the war proves that. And that hospital he’s establishing In North Belatze is going to be a won der. He’ll be a matrimonial prize be fore he gets through—and you're bound to meet him a lot socially." "I despise him because he was a sissy,” Patty went on relentlessly, that strange darknpss still on her brow, that strange sternness still on her lips. wen,' naurian sam, my letters done. How I hate to write a bread and-butter letter!" She arose and moved toward the door. “Then I hope I meet Arthur Raeburn In other peo ple's houses." she flung a vast defi ance over her shoulder, as she fled through the hall, “I’m simply crazy about him." Between Patty and Judge Dade en sued a tiny interval of silence. Then his voice lowered a little. "It wasn't Monty Vlelle, was it, Patty?'* her father asked. “No! Of course that’s what every body thinks. And I'll admit that when we got the news of Monty's death— How long ago that seems! The day after the armistice, wasn’t it?—I was young enough not to mind seeming to be broken-hearted. . . Of course. I did feel rotten . . . Poor old Monty! . . . He was the handsomest thing in his aviator uni form that I ever saw in my life . . . No, father, I really suppose I’ve never been in love—that is to say honestly and truly blackly and bluely knock me down and cut me in twoly in love in all my life.” “Then why do you flirt—” “Oh, Just love of conquest—” his daughter interrupted, “and because I've nothing else to do—sometimes to discipline them—and sometimes to show fresh young flappers—or proud newly-engaged girls—or fatuous, over confident brides where they get off, and to keep my hand in—and to prove to myself that I haven't lost my knack—and to show knockers and crepe-hangers that I am still doing it;—oh. a lot of high spiritual mo tives like that." “Wretched girl! You need a Petru chlo!" "Petruchlo! Don’t you know, old dear, I’d have a Petruchlo tamed in two minutes?” Her father gazed at her. "Don t underestimate Raeburn— There came a second thunderous darkening of Patty's face. But she curbed all expression of that sinister emotion. "What are you so anxious to get rid of me for?" she demanded lightly. "You’H lose out by it, you know. Haven’t I always treated you with the most Improper respect? Daurian won't indulge you the way 1 do. You know perfectly well what she'll give you to eat; all the things she likes—messy, sweet fruit salads and sherbets with nasty nuts on It and cake that's all Icing. Do you expect she'll ever feed you liver on the sly—and tripe—and boiled dinner —and sparerlbs and lowbrow truck like that?” i'lf only she doesn’t cook It her self," Judge Dade observed grimly, "I may manage to survive.” "I don't know why 4’m wasting all this time on you and your weird ideas, Julian,” Patty remarked with a severe inflection, springing to her feet, “when I've got to get over to Belaize and do alV my ordering this mornin gand then get into^town and back by night. Don't bother about me. I've reconciled myself to being the old maid of the family.” She dropped a kiss on the exact spot on her father's head where his stiff, thick hair made a silvery whorl, and departed. She was whistling when she left the big shadowy library. And she was whistling later when she re appeared on the uncovered, bricked-ln back piazza which by means of a terraced, formal garden, broken by pools and fountains, sloped In velvety gradations to the sea. She did not look at the sea, however. She looked at the sky. The whistling died down, for her eyes were full of tears. Suddenly her arm came high In a lovely lithe gesture as she threw a kiss up Into the deserted empyrean. It was true that In his aviator’s uni form, Monty Vlelle had been Jhe hand somest thing she had ever seen. It was true, too, that her heart had been lightly touched by his debonair comllness. It was true also—she had known It even then—that he was weak, that she would always be the controlling spirit and that in conse quence she was not really In love. 'I hat thrown kiss was a remorseful recognition of this condition. Five minutes later, however, In her trim little roadster, she had become dry-eyed and serene. The road wound out of the big Dade place into the Vjlde macadam main road of Ring finger, where correct estates, sumptu ously arehlteched and faultlessly Kroomed, threw curtains of gauzy green away from the widening vistas of dazzling peacock sea or drew them together Into gradually thickening, carefully forested stretches of wood. Reaching the mainland, the road merged with a dirt highway, meticu lously rustic. This ran to the quiet, exclusive town of Belaize. Dying back In her seat, her shapely hands resting lightly on the wheel, Ratty seemed to steer the our by a kind of mental wireless—the while she dreamed back over her girlhood and childhood. Julian Dade's wife died when Pat ricia was seven. And ever since her seventeenth year Patricia had been her father's housekeeper. The daugh ter of a Judge, nationally famous, the head of the biggest, most beautiful house on the l’nlnt, she achieved without effort an enviable social po sltion. Patty was the type of girl of which every community boasts at least on«. Whenever Patty's little roadster chugged up to the postoffice at Bel alze, conversation temporarily stopped in the groups gathered there; heads slowly pivoted; eyes furtively slipped in her direction. Followed comment —eneering, questioning. admiring Equally when Patty served at tennis, drove at golf, dove at swimming— started to dance—something about her attracted the gaze, arrested it; held It close prisoner. As a child, she had been the dare devil of her group. As child and girl, her courage had been the wonder of her det. And as a woman—mothers complained that she was the first to import the astounding new fashions in clothes and dancing that trailed the armistice. These had not proved pop ular; but only because Patty herself tired of them. And all- the time she had been un disputed—belle, the older generation called her; vamp her contemporaries put It. Vamp, she was, steady and consistent, showing no quarter to her admirers and perceiving—her detrac tors said—no difference between them. It seemed true that everything mas culine—single, engaged, married, wid Fatty was the type of Kiel of which every community boasts at least one—belle, the older generation call ed her; vamp her con temporaries put it. owed—was grist to Patty’s vamping mill; prep-hoys, college-youths, young, middle-aged and elderly business men, senile, retired gentlemen, pro fessional merti, artists and—yes—arti sans. Even the tradespeople, Belalze matrons complained Indignantly, saved their choicest cuts and freshest vege tables for Patty. And It seemed true that she vamped only to reject; that she was as heart less as she was reckless and as care free as she was both. But Tatty was really a very discon tented girl. Often she waa a very un happy one. At this moment, for in stance, she was profoundly so. One of the phrases Judge Dade had used kept flitting through her mind, "a great deal of efficiency deflected Into a lot of little abilities.” Her father was right and she knew It. She had proved that to herself. Everybody said, "How hard Patty Dade worked in the war"’ Nobody but herself, however, knew how hard she really did work—and nobody had the faint est suspicion why. In another thing, her father was right and she knew It. For her thd solution was marriage. Oh, if only out of the puerilities and frivolities to which she had reduced —and debased—love, the man, her man, would emerge! She had never found him—never! Monty came the nearest. But Monty—she could curl Monty—and did curl him—as close as a shaving about her little finger. Poor Monty! The tears blurred her eyes and for an interval, she let them hang on her lashes. Then a distant black bird In vaded the tears—she winked them back. A flivver was approaching from (he direction of Belaize. It contained only the driver—a man—young—a stranger—no, familiar—Arthur Rae burn! I^urlan was right He was attractive. The machinery of Patty * vamping mill began to function instantaneous ly. She slowed up gradually, signall ed with a pretty gesture for Arthur ltaeburn to stop. The flivver came to a stand beside her roedBter; but Its driver did not shut off the gas. "How do you do, Dr. Raeburn " Patty opened the conversation with her most charming accent. "When did you get hack?" "How do you do, Miss Dade. I've been back—oh let me see—four or live months, five to be accurate." "I hadn't heard," F’atty lied with a delicate malice. Then sweetly, "Were you In the war?” "Not In the line. F was In the Red Cross.” "Oh, that must have been so much more Interesting—” she paused—"and safe." Apparently, however. Dr. Itaehurn did not get her Intention. His absent grey eyes, set first under black lashes then a deep frown, were studying the distance, and his expression— It was polite—no, civil, was the word—was absent too, anil faintly tout bed—could It be possible—with Impatience. "Yes, It was Interesting," he vouch safed, in a preoccupied tone. His fingers moved furtively In the wheel. "What are you doing now?" was Patty'a next thrust. "Oh, I'm Interested In a hospital over in North Itelalze." "I hadn't heard of It.” Patty thrust again. "Is It a secret?" Raeburn smiled. And his smile was a Jag of light breaking through the tanned cream of his complexion. "Not deliberately so," be replied. Then, "You must pardon me,” be said with a courteous firmness, "but I must go on. I have a pntlent at the Point." And before the outraged Patty i mild peep even a good bye, the fllver was making for the horizon. The rencontre had, however, nrcom pushed one good. Kven If It threat ened to effect many Ills, It had burn ed up Patty's melancholia. In the whole course of her life, there had been but one person whom she hated—Arthur Raeburn. It was curious too that she should pick him to hate’ for Arthur Raeburn's sphere revolved In a different system from hers.'' It was curious about Arthur Rite burn. Jeered at by the boys avoided by I he girls, until be lived In a vir tual ostracism, Arthur had on the whole turned out the most brilliant r one among them. Ilia record in the war—he had said that he was not in the line. But, as Patty perfectly well knew, he might Just ns well have been in the line. He had been sur geon in a hot sector on the American front. The town rippled with stories of his coolness under bombardment. Now, he was not only an established local celebrity, but had the entire charge of a richly-endowed, perfectly equipped new hospital which was to open in a week or two. He had certainly improved as far as his looks were concerned. His grey, thick-lashed eyes were really beautiful.—Patty found herself re calling one of Lsurlan's adjectives— commanding.—And the flashing white ness of that sudden smile—Yes, there was something about him. For an Instant, Patty almost swerv ed from her purpose. Why not a flirtation. But on second thought she determined to lie true to her hate; to see that he suffered. Sometime just before the middle of the afternoon, Patty left the chaircar of a train which had brought her from the city of Carfax and changed into the dinky two-coached, jerk-wa ter train which trundled passengers over 10 miles of marsh to Belaize. The other half dozen passengers made at once for the front car; but the ex perienced Patty took a seat well back in the second car, as far as she could get from the engine. The car was hot; Patty almost dozed, thinking of many tfncorrelated things. Something brought her idle drift ing gaze back to the car—a move ment up near the front—the phe nomenon of a head rising suddenly above a seat back. She was not alone. A man sat thre. Apparently he had followed her into the car— strange she had not noticed him. The head disappeared again—he was very much occupied arranging some thing. She leaned down over her seat end—he was packing together more than one man's burden of bags, suit cases. boxes. The head came up. It was Arthur Raeburn. Patty thought herself tired, but the vamping machine began to stir vigor ously. She took out the little mirror from her bag. Tee, she looked as crisp as when she started. She touch ed a powder pad to her nose. Her lips were just starting the first syllable of a beguiling "Doctor Raeburn" when— A jerk that threw her backward against her own seat—a crash—the huge smash of metal on rocks—a hid eous grinding of wood—a jar—the hissing of steam— Complese stillness of an instant. BE IT EVER SO HUMBLE, ETC. ---By O. O. M'INTYRE.--I The most pleasurable thing about B. Journey away from home Is the last lap back. Of course, there are always annoyances such as people who do not know you have been away. And possible the neglect of some one to change the goldfish water. There are times when I am obsessed with the Idea that another week in New York will result In a hurry-up call of elienlsts to give me knee Jerk tests, hallucination tryouts and all the other little fandangos they apply to the nutty. When New York begins to pall T found that I sing louder In the bath, mumble to myself on the streets and become Interested In politics. I know then there Is only one thing to do— slip the toothbrush Into tbs vest pocket, put out the cat. sprinkle the geraniums and catch a choo-choo. Leaving New York becomes a sort of Roman holiday. I pity all my friends who are chained to desks, tele phones, rapid lunches and all the other trials of our superior civilisa tion. I begin to believe the tommy rot about New York being such a mad scramble that we forget the higher thing in life. It Is a Gay Life. Then I go uway. I am thrilled by contact with fellow travelers. There Is romance about depot attendants, train reporters and everybody else w ho is swinging out of the accustomed sphere. You f'cl all belong to the same club. This goes on for several weeks New scenes. New faces. You enjoy the one the traveling man from Omaha tells in the smoking room about Trotzky and the deaf and dumb waiter. You gaze out the train win dow and listen to the song of the train wheels. This is the life. Here today—gone tomorrow. Why did we ever cling to such a prosaic life when Just around the corner is adventure? There are the reactions as we thunder Into strange countries. Almost all travelers begin to dream of spending the rest of their days globe trotting. We awaken In the morning fairly dripping sympathy for those we left behind. Poor old Web Is sweating over a cartoon. So is Rrlnlt. Arthur has to have the next chapter of his novel done In five days, liny has to edit his magazines. And here you nre whizzing through strange lands— not even looking up ns you flit through some town ydu never suw before. Then Comes the Change. Time means nothing. It seems an ideal existence. The days may run into weeks and then comes the first touch of longing for home. You won der why you haven’t heard from so and-so. You begin to fret bemuse you didn't call up Steve before you h ft. And wherever your are you begin to feel sorry for p|ople who live there. What 11 miserable existence they must lead? They don't know Kube, Verne and all the rest of the good old gang You seem to feel whatever town you are In It is not run right. The tmf He policemen appear stupid Hotel elerks don't call you by name The hotel maids have a way of .showing you they will be glad when you e gone. You can't find your favorite brand of cigars or ligarels without walk lag several blocks. IN pie look fun ny. The world Is askew. You an- be ginning to be homesick—and there Is no misery in the world that ini>wsy compares to tin* longing for home. No matter whether you live In a tumbled shack across the railroad tracks or In the finest palace in a state metropolis- you have a longing for home Homesickness is one null udy drug ' cannot reach* t Blit lt'» My ifoni« Town—and I IJUe It. The only cure Is to go home. And whoever said there was no place like it spoke a mouthful. I doubt if any one can explain the nppeal of hens'. 1 know a man who lives on a lonely African veldt. He has been there In S'ientlflc research work for 20 years. At tirst ho hated It. Hut gradually It became the place where he was alone with his thoughts. It became sacred Just as home does to all of us wherever we are. Heart Strings Tug. He would visit the gay capitals of the world—Home, Vienna. Paris, Lon don and New York, but after a time there would come a longing for that little thatch amid desolation. It was home and, although it took him many weeks to get there, he was never so happy as when he arrived. He was happy to touch the old hooks that had meant so much com panionship during his lonely hours. The sun seemed brighter and rrsire friendly. The lovo of home Is one of the greatest gifts. It is the bulwark of civilisation Recently 1 visited a de vastated country. 1 saw families liv ing as people lived centuries ago and my In ail wont out to them In sympa thy. Yot then’ was not a family who would o\i hango places with those who live in rustles. And after we are away from home awhile we under stand. It |s somewhat heartening to realise that the love of home Is deeply In gi.ilnnl In the human fabric. After all. It doesn't matter much where we are- If It ts home to us wo are con tent. On trains you see the home Influ ence. Traveler# who sit gloomily about for days and days taking no Interest In their fellow passengers suddenly take on an attitude of friendliness They exchange comer satlon. They seem lo he entirely dlf ferent human beings. They are near lug home and there Is a new grip to life. Reliiud Prison \% alls. I know a man who has hern In prison for many years. 1 have save.I the letters he has written to me. In the hours of bitterest anguish he never complains, yet there Is not a letter ho has ever written Hint hasn't some reference to the lime when he goes home. That is uppermost in his mintl. People who are dissatisfied with things as they are should go on a long Journey. Home will take on a new meaning I never met a fellow countryman marooned In a strange land who did not have one leading topic of conver sation—thut was the time wrhen he could start hack home. It is small wonder that in the oaba rets of New York you see men Mnd women wax sentimental when aotne singer In a cracked voice warbles of the little gray home in the west, or the light tha' shines In the cabin upon the hill. It Is not so much mawkish sentimentality as we might believe. They're homesick, A friend on a train coming east told me of a man who attends 10 months of the year away from home He Is forced to go to Alaska and live among the dreary waste places. Time drags. The lonely nights are spent dreaming of those far away. Bo when he starts back home he takes a vow that he will never leave again. He consoles himself yvith this thought. Yet his heavy interests In the Yukon makes the sacrifice too heavy. He Is forced to return, He must do this for his family and chil dren. In Song and Story My friend asked him what gave him the greatest pleasure In his exile He replied that It was putting a record entitled “Home Sweet Home" on Ids phonograph. So I’m glad to l»e hack In New York. I like to J«»hh It now and then An»l there aiv times when it seems absolutely unl»earahle. Still It is home. There Is a thrill in the roar of traffic. I have been on the train for more than three weeks and I rather enjoy being stepped upon by prominent clothing manufacturers. Time* Square looks mighty friend l\ There is something cxhlleratmg In the friendly greeting id my barbti. The subway guards seem to bo niy nw n peopl*—although most of them were horn in ltussla. It is tuv home town and I love It. 1 don't expect to leave ll again for several weeks. (Copyright, 111* > 1 i Then scream* of terror—cries for help turned swiftly to yell* of agony. Arthur Raeburn had leaped alertly halfway down the car, was becoming for the first time aware of her. “You're perfectly safe, Miss Dade, ' he Informed her Instantly. “Walt! ’ He seemed suddenly a long way off. But Laurian's adjective came Into that daze. Yes, his eyes were com manding. The sinister quiet of the world did not last. Out of It emerged groans, quiet, smothered; low wails. Patty huddled In her seat and clamp ed her hands over her eyes. Raeburn passed her; Jumped out of the car. He returned In a moment: seized her aim: "Come!'' he commanded again. “The train's Jumped the track at the bridge. You're all right! Every thing is all right.” Patty felt this to be professional optimism and resented it: yet she clung to It. She clung to him. too. as gently he drew her by the back entrance out of the car and onto the road. The engine had not only jumped the track but It had jumped the b lay sprawled below across canon of the Mioanuc. On Its side— half resting on the hank, battered and smashed—lay the first car. Their own car. partially off the track had been pushed back onto the bridge by the violent uncoupling which freed it from its fellow. On the bank below, face down blue shirted arms and overalled legs in a strange crumple—lay one human thing, withut/t movement. Not far off. another human thing was stirring in a feeble uncorrelated way. As through a dizzying numbness Patty stared, a door of that prostrate car In the end which lay over the bank opened feebly. A uniformed man appeared in the aperture and with a nightmare locked slowness threw it wide—push ed before him a— “Oh don't leave me." Patty breathed as Arthur Raeburn darted from her side back to the car. . '•Come: he called peremptorily. "Come at once! I need you!" He aped her back to their car—to his seat. "Take that bag and that suitcase—and. here, this box. Yes, you can carry it—and this.'' And as she whimpered, "Yes, you can, 1 teil you! This one s the last." He loaded himself up. "By heaven, this is luck. 1 brought all this stuff down by hand—Now, follow me! Slop that crying!" She managed to inhibit her sobs. She followed him blindly. He man aged under his burden to give her three fingers of assistance off the steps. Then he made towards the steep embankment. “I can't!" she sobbed, "I can't!” "Shut up. you little fool!" he called crisply. "Of course you can! Wait until I get down." He started his own bundles over the sandy Incline. They slid with a clatter of stones to the bottom. He took hers, one at a time, dropped them down. Out of the chorus of groans that came from below, a masculine voice disengaged Itself, called with a rau cous hoarseness. "For mercy's sake, kill me somebody. I can’t stand this. Can't anybody get a doctor?" Instantly Raeburn answered the voice. "The doctor s here, my lad. You're all right. Keep a stiff upper lip! I'll be with you In an Instant." He turned to Patty. "Come here, he ordered. But Involuntarily Patty had given a glance In the direction of the voice. Six strange folded things—brought out of the car apparently by the conductor —lay side by side—and the conductor himself, in a bloodied collapse beside them, was trying feebly to move an arm. It made an unnatural angle from the elbow. An enormous gray void came swooping down upon Patty. "Sit down, you fool, and slide!'' Raeburn called. She followed him from one to the other as he made his first examina tions; followed him. for she did not dare to be aJone; followed him with averted eyes for she dared not look at wbat he touched. He said things to her; things that at first she clung It'. “Two hours before we can get help —no roads across the marsh—the six train—lucky I brought supplies for the hospital—ether—srllnts—gauxe— r?he knew now that he was turning over that first strange human huddle. "The engineer's dead, poor fellow" and then, "You jumped?” to the sec ond one, "You're the fireman. "Yea. but I got it! Look, my leg s broke and torn. To think 1 went through the Argonne to have—Doctor, I won't lose my leg. will l "Sure not! That's nothing—clean break! We ll have that all fixed up in no time, my boy. I've got splints and bandages with me." Me approached the groaning, bloody line that the conductor had rescued. Lucky, too. you're with me"' Rae t urn was now saying to Patty. "1 II need you. Take off those gloves and vour hat and veil. Well, conductor, you did a good Job getting six out of the car with that broken arm.” The conductor apparently under stood, but he did not speak, his glazed eyes vaguely followed Raeburn s movement*. One by one. Raeburn looked over the six. who lay silent or moaned In Increasing agony. Patty kept her face turned the other way. "Oo hack to the car. Miss Dade, and get me some water from the tank. Pr. Raeburn ordered next In his crisp tone of command, handing her a metal drinking cup, "and don t spill It. Patty obeyed. Me ran to the foot of the embank meat; brought down some of bis bags and cases, ran sw ftl.v gaek. " hen Patty returned :hey were all opened On* showed a file of ether cans an other, plump pounds of sterilized gauze; a third, a collection of splints In a small leather case she recognized a single object—a morphine needle She felt, rather than saw, that he flllesl this, using the water she had brought him Raeburn worked swift ly with skilled expertnes* and calm ness, laying things where they would rest easiest to his hand. All the time bo was saying, "dust one moment more, my boy’.*' "Only a little while madam, your case Is painful but not serious. "You're all right, my man. nothing broken " Soaking In her grey numbness. Patty was conscious, nevertheless, of a prickling, scarlet terror that parch od her tongue and wrought growing weakness m the hinge* of her knees It seemed to her that site had been there ages and yet her reason, still mechanically functioning, told her that not 15 minutes had passed sluca that firat crash. Two hour*! If »b* could only get at the morphine. "Now. Miss Dade,” Dr. Raeburn said. ‘Til have to ask you to hold^ this tourniquet." ' "I can't,” Patty whispered, ‘‘I can’t.” And then at the look In bj* face she broke Into whimper*. * I can't. I can't stand the sight of blood, and you know it.” And then, ^ I won't. I tell you! I won't. I won't! I m going to faint!” P.ut she did not faint. For before ber weakness had melted in a prelim inary swaying. Dr. Raeburn reached out and skipped her In the face. It was not a gentle slap: It brought the blood in a purple flooding up to h's very fingers. But with it came to Patty so blood red. blood-blind a sense of outrage that her mind cleared. In stinctively she swung at him. Dr. Raeburn sidestepped neatly enough and swung back with a blow .on the shoulder that rattled her teeth. He followed this with another. Choking. Patty abandoned technique, struck wildly. His answer was to seize her by the shoulders, a’ d shake her till hat, veil, ha rplna Tew. "Now. will you hold that tourni quet?” he demand'd, “or have I got to kick you?” W'-en Judge Dade was able finally | to pet ungarbled news of the accident lit was to the effect that his daughter had be*n on the wrecked train, but that she was uninjured, and had gone with Dr. Raeburn to the new hospi tal In North Belaize. Laurian. who had cried without cessation since the accident, reverted to flapper and went to a dance. Judge Dale motored to the hospital. There he was informed that Miss Dade, accompanied by Dr. Raeburn, had just left. Nevertheless. Judge Dade reached home before his ! daughter. He turned on the readlngJL lamp: established himself In his com fortable leather chair to read. Time \ passed. A flivver turned into the [drive. It stopped; emitted a female figure. In a moment the door to the library opened softly. Patty glided in. Her stained gown hung in tatters. Her hair was stacked carelessly. Her manner was as strange as her ap pearance, and her movements even Istranrer—so strange indeed that they I held Judge Dade crystallized, stand ing. She came closer, sat down on a chair arm and contemplated her father. Then it was that he saw that she had achieved a starry comeliness. "I'm engaged to be married, fath er." she said. Judge Dade looked at her speech less. | "To Arthur Raeburn." And she went on In a tone little and dreamy, very like her little girl voice: as though she could not quite command her speech. "When I was a little girt. Dab Elli man's dog attacked Fredricka Gar nett's cat. It was tearing It to pieces. There was nobody around but Arthur Raeburn. He saved It—all alone. I could not help him because—because —X could not move—I have always got faint at the sicht of blood. I start ed to faint and then he slapped me in the face. That made me mad and I flew at him and we had a fight." She dropped a little rill of soft laughter. "I always know after that that h» was no sissy or 'fraid-cat. But I w hated him because he had discovered j my secret—that terror of blood. I »»< terribly ashamed of that—ch.ter Iriblv. I used to say dreadful things about Arthur—I'm responsible for the j way the children treated him. "Why. do you know, father. I got jthe chance—J never told you this—to go to France to nurse. But I would not accept it—because I was afraid of that awful obsession in regard to blood. That's why I worked so hard here—I felt such a slacker not going —and how hard I did work! Tou don't know. Nobody knows but Arthur. She started to loee herself in dreams. Her father cleared his throat preliminary to speaking. But sud denly she went on. "There was nobody to help Arthur in the accident today but me. Every body else was injured. And he had to have assistance. I refused to give It—some of them were bleeding aw fully—they were covered with blood —oh. fmher—I thought I could not even look at them, much less touch them. But he said I must help him. Then I refused a second time and ho slapped my face Just as he did when I was a child. Then he swung at me twice. He shook me—good and hard. • too—He threatened to kick met And I—i helped him. I was mad as the mischief, but I was afraid not to. I was more afraid of him than the blood. I held tourniquets and after he had painted the wounda with io dine. I batherd them with water and green soap—X held splints—I kept one poor creature etherized—oh. T^| did things—I saw things— But all the time 1 watched him work—and nfter a while I forgot about them— watching him. I fell In love with him—oh. violently—terribly—eternal Her father produced a grunt and then dropped back into a secondary stage of paralysis. ' H< was marvelous." Tatty went on in her dreamy thread of voice. "I have never seen anything like his tenderness and his skill—his beauti ful. heavenly tenderness h.s magic undreamabie, unimaginable skill — I couldn't—1 just couldn't leave him. I went with him and then to the hos pital. 1 think he saw I had fallen in love with him—anyway, he pro posed to nie—he said he'd always been in love with me. And as flu me—" She shivered "Why, I—I simply— I-" Judge Hade spoke. "Yes. I see how it is." “I'm going up now and batlje and drees. He's coming for me in an hour and were going to ride—in that cra*u flivver. 1 told him I'd got to see him again tonight, t didn't know, when 1 ordered that Michelet te dr< " why I ordered It—that ducky one. I mean, with the flame tfolcred taffeta and the black lace flounce*, l'ut 1 know now—It was to dassle Arthur." "1 suppose." her father said plain tively, "if he ask* you to leave me to 1 .lUiian * ten ter mercies and the sherbet with nuts on it. you'll go * "Father," h;s daughter declared. "if he ask* me to fly to Marik I'll gol" iCoiuiisftt. lifts*) I