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SYNOPSIS.
Burton II. Barnes, a wealthy American
JourltiR Corsica, rescues the younj? Kn;;
li.sh li-ut-nant. I-Mward Gerard Anstruth
or. ami his Corslcan bride, Marina.
l.iiiKlit'r f tlie Paolis, from the mur
derous cndelta. understanding that his
reward is to lx- the hand of the jirl he
hv-s. Knid Anstruthcr. sister of the Eng
lish lieutenant. The four ily from Ajac
io to Marseilles on board the French
Meamer Constantine. Tlie vendetta pur
Mie and as the quartet are about to
lxt;ml the train for London at Marseilles.
Marina is handed a mysterious note
which a uses her to collapse and necessi
tates a postponement of the Journey.
Harnett Rets part of the mysterious note
and n-ceives letters which inform him
that he is marked by the vendetta. lie
employs an American detective and plans
to heat the vendetta at their own game,
l-'or the purpose of securing the safety
of the women Barnes arranges to have
I.ady Chartris lease a secluded villa at
Nice to which the party is to be taken
in a yacht. Suspicion is created that
Marina is in league with the Corsican.
A man. Ielleved to be Corregio Danella.
is seen passing the house and Marina is
thought to have given hiiu a sign. Ma
rina refuses to explain to Barnen which
fact adds to his latent suspicions. Barnes'
plans for the safety of the party are
learned by the Corsicans. The carriage
carrying their party to the locfcl landing
is fo!Uv.-.I by two men. One of the
horsemen is supposed to be Corregio.
They try to murder the American. The
-ok on the yacht a Frenchman is sus
liected of complicity in the plot. The
party authors at St. Tropez. The yacht
is follow. 1 by a small boat. The cook is
detected giving signals to the boat.
ISarnej. attempts to throw him overboard,
but is prevented by Marina and Enid.
The i. mi'; is found to be innocent of the
.'jplMed plot and Is forgiven.
CHAPTER VI. Continued.
To anid the curiosity of passing
boats, l-M win has anchored near the
Beauljeu side of the bay. Upon this
Harurs now dhects his glass. Looking
it over, tlio Ameiican thinks it will be
much more probably tlie location of
Lady Chartris, as it has a number of
pretty illas, nestled among olive, al
mond and orange trees, a good many
of them having water frontage and
several being possessed of boat land-
lugs, as he suggested. Hut on none or
them lloats the flag of France, which
lie had asked Lady Chartris to use as
a signal to locate her villa. He is al
most putting his glass aside -preparatory
to a journey on shore to deter
mine the location cf Iady Chartris
when he suddenly exclaims: "Hang
that Maud!"
"Maud!" cries Edwin, who has been
busy in making the vessel shipshape.
"Is she above the horizon?"
"Very much," laughs Barnes. "No
tice that overgrown girl romping with
the big dog and waving the French
flag at him. That flag, I imagine, was
to have been our signal." Then he in
spects the villa carefully and is pleased
to see that a good solid brick wall of
sufficient height to exclude any but
very energetic intruders surrounds its
pretty garden. Only on the water side
are its lawns open to view, and this
portion of the quiet bay appears at
present devoid of boats.
A light flight of stone steps that en
ter the water and a tasty little floating
wooden landing stage indicate the for
mer owner of the villa had been
aquatic.
"That's just the place to put the
ladies on shore as soon as it's dark,"
remarks Edwin, for the two young men
had concluded it would be best to
make their entry into Villefranche
very quietly.
"Very well, order the cutter away,"
says Barnes, "and I'll get ashore aud
bee that everything's all right."
In a few minutes the American is at
the little landing stage. As he runs
up the stone steps, Maud's bright eyes
light upon him. The girl stops her
romping with the big dog. and crying:
"Glory, glory. Mr. Barnes of New York.
1 thought you were in London!" flies
down to him with additional exclama
tions of surprise and delight.
"Where is j-our mother. Maud?" re
marks Burton, pleasantly, as the girl
snuggles one of her rather soiled
hands into his.
"She's in the house, there. She's so
blessed easy. 1 think I'm going to have
a step-papa," answers Miss Chartris,
gaily.
"Ah. Von Bulow," remarks Barnes,
sententiously.
"Perhaps. But mamma has other
admirers now." returns Maud.
This news is not at all satisfactory
to Mr. Barnes. The more followers
l.ady Chartris has lounging about, the
less will be the retirement of the villa.
"Very well, run off and play. Maud;
I'll see you a little later," he remarks,
glumly.
They are entering the ample portico
cf the house.
Lady Chartris at her door receives
generous Mr. Barnes effusively. "The
villa is perfectly delightful, thank you,
dear Burton." she observes pleasantly.
"I selected it as yon wished just near
enoi'gh to be in touch with the gaiety
of Nice and far enough away for the
honeymoon retirement of Edwin and
his bride."
Leading him into a delightful drawing-room,
she adds: "You must see
what a charming home I have for all
of us. Marina and Enid are on the
yacht. I suppose? "
"Yes. the ladies will be here this
evening, my dear Lady Chartris." as
sents Barnes. Then he asks, desirous
to know if the privacy of the villa has
been preserved: "You have driven into
Nice once or twice since you arrived?"
"Yes, I've only been here five days,
and have been literally overwhelmed
with attentions." Prunella remarks,
rather grandly. "My horses" Barnes
had paid for them "take me into Nice
in 25 minutes over that beautiful for
est road."
"Ah, and Von Bulow?" he suggests,
roguishly.
"Oh, Baron von Bulow was in ecstasy
at my presence. Franz gave me a
lunch at the Casino.
"Oho, it has got so far as 'Franz,' "
&azy&saf7: r&or
JKED JEAZ?SC&. AT.tT
IT i-"Yi"i"MiiJrr-iJbt"'M"iJJ'JbJ"'"'J
laughs Burton. "And your other ad
mirers?" his tone is insinuating. "You
cannot persuade me you hadn't more
than one. Lady Chartris."
"Oh, several, but I I don't like to
speak about them." The widow's face
becomes rosy.
A good deal of this has been said
as Prunella has been showing Mr.
Barnes about the pretty house, and he
has inspected the rooms set apart for
Edwin and his bride and Miss An
struther. Then, despite his hostess' sugges
tion, for Lady Chartris has a lovely
chamber overlooking the water for
him who is really the master of the
villa. Burton selects for his own use
a much Inferior bedroom, but one that
gives him a commanding view of all
the country lanes that lead to the
grounds.
"Seeing that everything is all pre
pared, I'll bring Marina, Miss An
struther and Edwin on shore this even
ing. Please make no preparations for
HVV . nnnnnnnnnHnnnnnnnnnnm.stBtnHWniH
"Lady Chartris Runs Up Stairs, and Returning, Places an Epistle in Bur
ton's Hand."
us. Treat us all en famille. I think
I'll go down to my boat," says Mr.
Barnes. .
As he leaves the house he asks:
"Are there any letters for me?"
"Why, yes. A Mr. Emory, who acts
as your agent. I presume he paid your
bill at the Grand hotel came to me as
I was leaving Marseilles and asked me
to deliver this personally." Lady
Chartris runs upstairs, and returning,
places an epistle in Burton's hand,
adding: "Here is also another ad
dressed in the same hand that arrived
three days ago. under enclosure to
me." The contents of the first makes
him knit his brows.
It leads:
Marseilles. May 27, 1SSI.
My IVar Mr. Barnes:
I send tliis by !aly Chartris. Any fur
ther communications until 1 again see
you will he mailed under cover to that
lady, as I dare not give our adversary
any chance of finding your location by
the post, for we have to deal with some
body whose devilish ingenuity Iteats that
of Old Nick himself. The way he sub
stituted fits own assassins in place of the
two Frenches I had hired to ride be
hind your carriage and guard you when
uti left Marseilles, will prove this. ..
He mut have got onto me immediate
ly after you omploved me. Someone must
have followed you and seen our chat at
the Hotel des Deux-Mnndes and guessed
that you engaged me. All that day I
must have been shallowed so slick I
neer suspected it. By this means they
must have guessed that I hired Jamleson
yacht for you and the men to guard you
to the embarkation. Any way. the two
Frenchmen., who were to see you safe,
while waiting for you and party to got
into your carriage, left their nags at the
door of a win--shop just around the cor
ner from your hotel, in the Hue du Mu
see. and stepped in to drink and that is
tlie last either of the bums know about
nnvihinsr until Ihev woke un with a
thundering headache and were fold they
had been asleep in the wine-shop for the
last si hours
When they came out. about midnight.
they found their nags waiting for them,
but so bunged up they must have carried
the two men after you till they jumped
me at the Boucas Blanc 1 have ques
Uoiud them and they admit that a by
stander aked them to drink wine with
him.
In addition, if it isn't too late. I want
to wain you about the cook for the Sea
gull, whom Graham hurriedly engaged.
Graphic Battle Picture.
In Lew Wallace's autobiography ap
pears this battle picture: "Then at a
signal a bugle call probably the
army having attained its proper front,
it started forward slowly at flrsL Sud
denly, after the passage of space, arms
were lifted, and. taking to the double
quick, the men raised their battle cry.
which, sounding across the field and
intervening distance, rose to me on
the height, sharper, shriller and more
like the composite yelling of wolves
The dovil who's running th!s venfletta'
on you may have got to him atsa in. some
way, though everybody about the docks
says that Leboeuf is. squareT v "l "
1 shall be in Nice not later thin June
't. as from what you said to me I .reckon
you won't be back before jthat. time..
v Tours' anxiously. "
ELIJAH-REUBEN EMORY-
Then he opens the second" lettet
from the American, detective, 'dated
June -2d. It contains a receipted
bill from the Grand,, that be had paid
for Mr. Barnes, and also-a-statement
that young Bernardo' Saltcetl had..ar
rived from Ajaccio on the Wednesday
boat, but so far as Emory could Idls
cover, had met no one in Marseilles'
though he had received ' some tele
grams. "I am onto this young Corsican cock-a-doodle,"
wrote the detective, "and as
I find he is leaving for a trip along the
coast toward Nice I shall follow him
to see if he will lead me to the head
villain.
"I've also written to Perrier, whom
you can trust, to look out for you. His
address in Nice is 239 Rue Palermo.
You mention to him 'Vendetta,' and
he'll know you and reply, 'Marseilles.' "
It-ended with a curious postscript.
"I have just discovered that young
Sallceti's first stop is St. Tropez."
Mr. Barnes has very little time to
turn these communications over in his
mind, for he is interrupted by a sudden
swish of short skirts and Maud, stand
ing beside his, demands: ' "How much
for mamma's other suitor?"
"I don't believe I want him. Miss
Bribery and Corruption," mutters Bur
ton, being anxious to reflect upon Em
ory's letters.
"Not curious to know of the man
who brought mamma home yester-
day?" she asks eagerly, "the chappie
who kissed her sure; but whether her
hand or her lips, I couldn't see," grins
the girl.
"Indeed, who is the ardent gallant?"
sneers Barnes, indifferently.
The answer that comes strikes the
American's nerve centers.
"Count Corregio Cipriano Danella,"
remarks Miss Chartris, affably. "You
know his poor brother. Musso, is dead."
"What, the fellow who gave Marina
the letter in the Marseilles depot that
made her faint?" The light of battle
springs into Barnes' face. "You put
me within ten paces of that gentleman
with the scar over his eye, Maudie," he
remarks slowly, "and you shall die of
bonbons."
Here Miss Chartris shocks his nerve
centers again.
"Oh. he's not scarry at all!" cries
Maud, indignantly. "That dissipated
looking creature is not Corregio Cipri
ano Danella. Corsican hat and plumes
so romantic in deep black so sad
manners like a dancing master
quite actor-like, too. He buttered me
all over with compliments till my pig
tails stood on end with joy. While ma
was primping after her drive, we
played roily pooly on the green and I
told him how a chap who had a kind
of family likeness to him had mashed
Marina and passed her a billet doux
that knocked her silly in the Mar
seilles railroad station.
"Then somehow he jollied me along
till I got gay and told him how anxious
you were to buy the letter from me,
and I I only had sold you the three
quarters of it that I had picked up on
the floor of the depot the part that
didn't give anything away."
"Then you have the other part?"
Burton's tone is so searching, his
manner so severe that Maud dare not
tell him, and falters out a lie: "Of
course, I haven't. Didn't I tell you I
only picked up what I gave you?"
Barnes has risen and is striding de
terminedly back to the house, a definite
resolution upon his set face.
(TO EE CONTINUED.)
than I had ever heard iL And when
to those were presently superadded a
tempestuous tossing of guidons, wav
ing of banners and a furious tramping
of the young corn that flew before
them like iplashed billows, the demon
stration was more than exciting it
was really fearful; and watching it
I understood; as never before, the old
Vandal philosophy which taught that
the sublimest inspiration of courage
lay in the terrible."
(fx6i?3u 5&2L0t &fi&On
THE NEW-IO&N
YESTERNIGHT the year lay dying:.'
By his lowly couch we met.
Bringing ivy-leaves, and trying.
Some with smiles and some with sighing
To remember or forget
Now the nursling year is waking.
And we gaze into his eyes.
Heedless of his sire's 'forsaking,
In his cradle he is taking
Gifts from earth and sea and skfes.
f
Dawn of gold and sunset gleaming. -
April eve and Junctide morn.
Things, of truth and not of seeming.
These have glorified his dreaming.
He the heir, the newly born.
i
In his tiny grasp he treasures
Riches that may soon be ours
Sunlight gold in brimming measures.
Meadow fragrances and pleasures.
Honeyed wine distilled of flowers.
Soon the child will frolic lightly
O'er his fathers grass-green grave:
Day shall be his playmate brightly.
And his sleep be sweetened nightly
By the songs of wind and wave.
Arthur L Salmon.
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New Year Irresolutions
a
By HELEN ROWLAND
SN'T it hard, said the
I widow, glancing ruefully
at the holly-wreathed
ciock on ine mantei-piece,
to know where to begin
reforming yourself?"
"Great heavens!" ex
claimed the bachelor,
"you are not going to do
anything like that, are
you?"
The widow pointed sol
emnly to the hands of the clock,
which Indicated 11:30, and then to
the calendar, on which hung one flut
tering leaf marked December 31.
"It is time," she sighed, "to begin
mental house-cleaning; to sweep out
our collection of last year's follies and
dust oft our petty sins and fling away
our old vices and "
"That's the trouble!" broke in the
bachelor. "It's so hard to know just
what to throw away and what to keep.
Making New Year's resolutions is like
doing the spring housecleaning or
clearing out a drawer full of old let
ters and sentimental rubbish. You
know that there are lots of things
you ought to get rid of, and that are
just in the way, and that you would
be better off without, but the minute
you make up your mind to part with
anything, even a tiny. Insignificant
vice, it suddenly becomes so dear and
attractive that you repent and begin
to take a new interest in iL The only
time I ever had to be taken home in
a cab was the day after I promised to
sign the pledge," and the bachelor
sighed reminiscently.
"And the only time 1 ever overdrew
my bank account," declared the wid
ow, "was -the day after I had resolved
to economize. I suppose," she added
pensively, "that the best way to begin
would be to pick out the worst vice
and discard that."
."And that will leave heaps of room
for the others and for a lot of new lit
tle sins, beside, won't it?" agreed the
bachelor, cheerfully. "Well," he added
philosophically, "I'll give up murder
ing." "What!" the widow started.
"Don't you want me to?" asked the
bachelor plaintively, rubbing his bald
spot. "Or perhaps I might resolve not
to commit highway robbery any more
or to stop forging or "
"All of which is so easy!" broke in
the widow sarcastically.
"There'd be some glory and some
reason in giving up a big vice," sigh
ed the bachelor, "if a fellow had one.
But the trouble is that most of us men
haven't any big criminal tendencies,
merely a heap of little follies and
weaknesses' that there isn't any par
ticular virtue in sacrificing or any
particular harm In keeping."
"And which you always do keep. In
spite of all your New Year's vows,"
remarked the widow ironically.
"Huh!" The bachelor laughed cyni
cally. "It's our New Year's tows that
help us to keep 'em. The very fact
that a fellow has sworn to forego any
thing, whether it's a habit or a girl,
makes it more attractive. I've thrown
away a whole box of cigars with the
finest intentions in the world and then
gotten up in the middle of the night
to fish the pieces out of the waste bas
ket. And that midnight smoke was
the sweetest I ever had. It was
sweeter than the apples I stole when
I was a kid and the kisses I stole
when"
"If you came here to dilate on the
joys of sin. Mr. Travers," began the
widow coldly.
"And," proceeded the bachelor.
"I've made up my mind to stop flirt
ing with a girl, because I found out
that she was beginning to to"
"I understand," Interrupted the
widow sympathetically.
"And, by Jove!" finished the bache
lor, "I had to restrain myself to keep
Ken
r&22& ftCASfig r.o22$6b
3?
YEAK.
The Widow Discusses Them
With the Bachelor.
from going back and proposing to
her!"
"How lucky you did!" commented
the widow witheringly.
"But I wouldn't have," explained
the bachelor ruefully, "if the gorl had
restrained herself."
"Nevertheless, repeated the widow.
"It was lucky for the girl."
"Which girl?" asked the bachelor.
"The girl I broke off with or the girl
that came afterward?"
"I suppose," mused the widow ig
noring the levity and leaning over to
arrange a bunch of violets at her belt,
"that is why it is so difficult for a
man to keep a promise or a vow
even a marriage vow."
"Oh. I don't know." The bachelor
leaned back and regarded the widow's
coronet braid through the smoke of
his cigar. "It isn't the marriage vows
that are so tffficult to keep. It's the
fool vows a man makes before mar
riage and the fool promises he makes
afterward that he stumbles over and
falls down on. The marriage vow
are so big and vague that you caa get
all around them without actually
breaking them, but if they should in
terpolate concrete questions into the
service such as, 'Do you, William,
promise not to growl at the coffee '
"Or, 'Do you. Mary, promise never
to put a daub of powder on your nose
again?'" broke in the widow.
"Nor to look twice at your pretty
stenographer," continued the bache
lor. "Nor to lie about your age. or your
foot or your waist measure."
"Nor to juggle with the truth wsn
ever you stay out after half-past ten."
"Nor to listen to things that that
anybody except your husband may
say to you in the conservatory oh.
I see how it feels!" finished the wid
ow with a sympathetic little shudder.
"And yet," reflected the bachelor,
"a woman is always exacting vows
and promises from the man she loves,
always putting up bars for him to
jump over; when if she would only
leave him alone he would be perfectly
contented to stay within bounds and
graze in his own pasture. A man
hates betas pinned down; but a wom
an doesn't want anything around that
she can't pin down, from her beSt and
her theories to her hat and her hus
band." "Well." protested the widow study
ing the toe of her slipper, "it is a sat
isfaction to know you've got your hus
band fastened on straight by his
promises and held in place by his
own vows and that he loves you
enough to "
"Usually," interrupted the bachelor,
"a man loves you in inverse ratio to
his protestations. The lover who
promises all things without reserve
is too often like the fellow who
doesn't question the hotel bill nor ask
the price of the wine, because he
doesn't intend to pay it anyway. The
fellow who is prodigal with his vows
and promises and poetry is generally
the one to whom such things mean
nothing and, being of no value, -can
be flung about generously to every
girl he meets. The firm with the big
gest front office is likely to be the
one with the smallest deposit in the
safe. The man who swears off loud
est on New Year's is usually the one
they have to carry home the morning
after. And the chap who promises a
girl a life of roses is the one who will
let her pick all the thorns off for her
self." "Perhaps," sighed the widow, chew
ing the stem of a violet thoughtfully,
"the best way to cure a man of a
taste for anything, after all. is to let
him have too much of it instead of
making him swear off. If you want
him to hate the smell of a pipe insist
oa his smoking all the time. If yom
want him to slam the temperance
c
pledge, seire him wine, with every
course. If you want him to hate a
woman. Invite her to meet him every
time he calls, and tell him how 'suita
ble she would be."" "
"And. if you want him to love you."
finished the bachelor, "don't ask him
to swear it, but tell him that he really
ought not to. The best way to man
age adonkey human or otherwise
is to turn his head in the wrong di
rection and he'll back in the right
one."
"Then," said the widow decisively,
we ought to begin the New Year by
making some irresolutions."
"Some what?"
"Vows that we won't stop doing the
things we ought not to do." explained
the widow.
N "All right." agreed the bachelor
thoughtfully, "I'll make an irresolu
tion to go on making love to you as
much as I like."
"You mean, as much as I like. Mr.
Travers," corrected the widow se
verely. "How much do you like?" asked the
bachelor, leaning over to look into
the widow's eyes.
The widow kicked the corner of the
rug tentatively.
"I like all but the proposing." she
said slowly. "You really ought to
stop that"
"I'm going to stop it to-night."
The widow looked: up In alarm.
"Oh, you don't have to commence
keeping your resolutions until to
morrow morning." she said quickly.
"And are you going to stop refusing
me to-night," continued the bachelor
firmly.
The widow studied the corner of
the rug with great concern.
"And." went on the bachelor, tak
ing something from his pocket and
toying with It thoughtfully, "you are
going to put on this ring" he leaned
over, caught the widow's hand and
slipped the glittering thing on her
third finger. "Now," he began, "you
are going to say that you will "
The widow sprang up suddenly.
"Oh, don't, don't, don't!" she cried.
"In a moment we'll me making prom
ises!" "We don't need to," said the bache
lor, leaning back nonchalantly, "we
can begin by making arrangements.
Would you prefer to live in town or
at Tuxedo? And do you think Europe
or Bermuda the best place for the "
"Bermuda, by all means," broke in
the widow, "and I wish you'd have
that hideous iortico taken off your
town house, Billy, and " But the
rest of her words were smothered in
the bachelor's coat lapel and some
thing else.
"Then you do mean to marry me.
f after all!" cried the bachelor tri
umphantly.
The widow gasped for breath and
patted her hair anxiously.
"I I meant to marry you all the
time!" she cried, "but I never thought
you were really in earnest and "
"Metbinks," quoted the bachelor
happily, '"that neither of us did pro
test too much.' We haven't made any
promises, you know."
"Not one," rejoined the widow
promptly, "as to my flirting."
"Nor as to my clubs."
"Nof as to my relatives."
' "Nor my cigars."
"And we won't make any vows,"
cried the widow, "except marriage
vows."
"And New Year's irresolutions,"
added the bachelor.
"Listen!" cried the widow softly,
with her fingers on her lips.
A peal of a thousand silver bells
rang out on the midnight air.
"The chimes!" exclaimed the wid
ow. "They're full of promises."
"I thought it sounded like a wed
fling belifc" said the bachelor, disap
pointedly. "Maybe." said the widow, "it was
only Love ringing off." Los Angeles
Times.
NEW YEAR'S DAY IN CHINA.
The Breakfast Is a Poetic and Re
ligious Rite.
Except at the Chinese New Year,
which comes in February, it is very
hard to catch- a glimpse of children
in China. Little beggars will run be
side you for miles to earn one "cash."
a copper coin with a square hole in
the middle of it. worth the twentieth
Prt of a cent; but children who have
parents to care for them seem to be
kept indoors all the time, or only al
lowed to play in walled yards and gar
dens, writes Bertha Runkle in -St.
Nicholas. We used to say to each
other: "Why, where are the chil
dren? Haven't they got any?" But
at New Year's we found out that they
had.
This is the great holiday of all the
year in China, when everybody hangs
out flags and colored lanterns and sets
off firecrackers. (We borrowed our
custom of firecrackers for the Fourth
of July from Chinese New Year's.)
All the people put on their very best
clothes, and the children the best of
all, jackets and trousers of bright blue
or green or yellow or purple, the boys
and girls so much alike that you can
only tell them apart by their hair.
The boy's, of course, is braided in a
pigtail, and the girl's is done up on
her head with silver pins, or, if she's
a very grand little girl, with gold or
jade. Thus decked out, the children
go walking with their proud papas and
mammas, and often go to the theater,
which is a rare treat for them.
Perhaps Chinese children have romp
ing plays together, but they al
ways look as if they were born
grown up.
New Year's Calls.
The custom of visiting and sending
presents and cards on New Year's day
is recorded almost as far back as his
tory goes. The practice of using visit
ing cards can be traced back for thou
sands of years by the Chinese. Their
New Year's visiting cards are curiosi
ties. Each one sets forth not only the
name, but all the titles of its owner,
and, as all Chinamen who have any
social position at all have about a
dozen, it makes the list quite appall
ing. These cards are made of silk or
else of fine paper backed with silk and
are so large that they have to be roll
ed up to be carried conveniently. They
are, indeed, so valaable that they are
returned to their owners.
m It
Jeffrey's
New Year
Liick
ITTLE Jefirey was an or-
Lpnan iaa wnose mmer
was killed in a railroad
was a tiny baby in his
mother's arms. And the
mother had been made
so ill by the sodden
death cf little Jetrey's
father that she was no
longer able to care for
her baby and a few
months later she wont to join the fa
ther and baby .Jeffrey was left all
alone in the world.
Then friendly neighbors who had
too many babies of their own to find
room for this little fatherless and
motherless boy had him taken to aa
orphan asylum and he grew up with
50 other boys and girls who had no
mother or father.
Little Jeffrey remembered nothing
of his parents, but some of the older
children who came to the home had
memories of dear mothers and fa
thers and they bad told Jeffrey of
them.
When Alice Lane came to the
home she was eight years old. Her
mother and father had died within
a few weeks of one another and It
was a sad-eyed little girl who crept
about the big rooms of the hone.
Little Jeffrey had a big heart and he
felt very sorry for Alice.
On the third day after her ar
rival he walked up to. her and plant
ing himself in front of her he said:
"Alice Lane, why do you cry so
much? Why don't you play?"
He was such a funny, freckle-faced
little fellow that Alice smiled a faint
little smile. It was the first one since
her mother's death. Then the tears
came again and she sobbed:
"I want mamma. Jeffrey. I want
papa. too. and my own home. This is
big and lonesome and they don't love
you like mamma and papa."
From that time on Alice and Jeffrey
were the best of friends. He was
such a cheerful little fellow and often
so droll that many times Alice
laughed in spite of herself.
But when Alice began to talk much
of her home and her mamma and papa
he began to wish for one, too. The
wish grew and grew until at last he
felt that there was nothing in the
world that he wanted except a moth
er and a father and a home. When
Christmas time came and the chil
dren wrote their wishes on a piece of
paper one of the house mothers read
in Jeffrey's: "Pies. I don't want
nothing but a father and a mother
and a home with flowers in the win
dow." From time to time children were
taken from the orphans' home by peo
ple who had no children of their own.
The hoase mother hoped,. so much
that little Jeffery would be chosen
and his wish granted. Bat the people
who came passed by the eager littlo
fellow who eyed each newcomer
hopefully. One had to know little
Jeffery to love him and his homely
freckled little face did not attract vis
itors. They chose the prettier children and
seemed not to notice that Jeffery's
gray eyes were very honest and his'
month very firm and his walk very
manly. They seemed only to see the
freckles, the pug nose and the sandy
hair.
So Christmas day passed and Jeff
rey received sweetmeats and. warm
clothing and an iron engine, but not
the father and mother and home.
He cried himseir to sleep that night
and Alice had to turn comforter for
the next few days.
"Mamma always said New Year's
was the lucky day and maybe you'll
get them then. And if you don't, then
you will some other time, 'cause Moth
er Burns said she'd try."
On New Year's morning Jeffrey
was awake early, and his first thought
was:
"Maybe the mother'H come to-day."
A few hours later a very pretty
woman dressed in velvet and furs fol
lowed by a tall man came to the home..
Little Jeffrey looked up hopefully. But
the woman seemed not to see the boys
for her eyes were scanning the faces
of the little girls. When she same to
Alice she started:
"That's the one, Jerome," she said
eagerly. "The same gentle face and
blue eye3 and golden hair. We must
have her. It will seem tike having our
little Alice back again!"
When she learned the name of the
little girl she had chosen she was
still more interested.
"You would like to go home with me.
dear, wouldn't you?" she asked
Alice.
"Yes. ma'am," answered Alice, "but
I couldn't go without Jeffrey, 'cause
he's been my friend and he wants a
father and a mother so bad."
"Oh, but I don't want a little , boy.
dear. I just want one little girl to
make it seem as though my own Alice
were living," answered the lady.
"Then I can't come." said Alice, "un
less they make me go."
For a few moments the man and
woman talked together and the man
seemed to see in little Jeffrey all the
things that other people had missed.
He saw the honest blue eyes, the firm
mouth and the manly walk, and he
saw years ahead when the same littlo
boy might be his partner in business..
Then he said to Jeffrey:
"We want a son. as well as a daugh
tetr. So we will take you home wd
give you a happy New Year."
"New Year's is the lucky day. isn't
it?" answered Jeffrey, beaming into
the faces of his new parents. And-
the smile won the lady's heart
she took him as gladly as she
Alice. ,
So Jeffrey found his father
and
did.
mother and home and a sister all em
a happy New Year's day. Farmera
Review.