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
