December 6, 1903.
Lucy Danforth realised that sha was alone
with this desperate character -who had
tried to Inveigle her Into an elopement, or
an unconvenUonal jaunt Into the heart of
New York's mountainous region, or or
some other desperate thing. Lucy's Ideas
of the subject were a bit vague. She had
heard of just such cases, desperate men,
foolish, Inexperienced girls but she well.
If she was inexperienced, no handsome, If
desperate, Lochlnvar should know It.
But looking at him by the dim light of
the one lamp, she began to think that he
was not so desperate after all. And he
was shivering, away off there In the Con
ner. It was selflBh of her to corner what
little heat radiated from the stove.
"I think," t she said timidly, "that you
would be more comfortable If you came
nearer the Btove."
"With your kind permission," he said
formally, and drew his chair forward so
slowly that she did not dream how he wel
comed the opportunity to share the heat
with her.
"This stove Is not large enough to heat
Such a big room," she suggested.
"Hardly," he replied grimly, as a remi
niscent shiver ran down his spine. Then
be turned hi undivided attention to an
other poster showing a cow done in seven
colors. His uncommunlcatlveness irritated
ber. Ehe decided that conversation, even
with a desperado, was better than this
moody silence. t She looked at his clean
cut features. They did bear a slight re.
semblance to those of her friend, Grace
Carleton. And it must be true about his
having made a dead rush for the train in
Chicago, for she caught sight of his danc
ing shoes beneath the rough tweed trousers.
Last, but not least to Lucy Danforth,
whose father was a Mason, the charm on
Carleton's fob bore the emblem of the
Mystic Shrine.
"What gave you the Idea of passing
yourself off as Jack Carleton?" she asked
suddenly.
"Possibly the fact that I am Jack Carla
ton," he answered shortly. "And being an
honest man, I am not ashamed . of my
name. I never supposed you would treat
me like a criminal nor question my mo
tives." "But Mr. Carleton had a beard "
"When you knew me, yea. That waa
one of the follies of my youth." Then he
burst forth in all his pent-up indignation:
"How in time could I have known who
you were, where you were going or any
thing else about you, if I hadn't received
that telegram from Grace? And do you
suppose that desperadoes Jump off Pull
mans, leaving luggage and overcoat be
hind, to capture maidens in distress even
If the maidens are pretty T"
Lucy Danforth blushed. The last phrase
was so obviously conciliatory and in
tended to offset the sharpness of the words
Which had preceded It
"Well perhaps I waa a bit aUly, but
then you know I am not a Mew Yorker
and do not rise quickly to the situation."
Conversation languished again. Carleton
waa still stinging from the sens of having
bee'n misunderstood and Lucy under the
equally uncomfortable sense of having
made a mistake for which she could not
adequately apologise. It waa hardly an
auspicious beginning to the friendship
which she had sincerely desired to estab
lish with Grace's brother. A busy man,
always away when she had made her
flying visits to the Carleton home, she
bad heard Just enough about him to feel
a piquant Interest in this Thanksgiving
meeting.
The station agent returned, bringing
with him a faint odor of fried ham. Ha
threw some coal on the fire and passing
Into the cubby hole, conducted a pro
longed telegraphic conversation. When he
came out again he looked oddly at the
two young people.
"I guess you're up against it," he said
with rough pity In hia voice. "Everything's
nowed up an there ain't goin' to be any
train out of Bradford Junction tonight
It's the worst blizzard we've had In years
an' comin' so sudden like, the road wasn't
prepared to meet t"
"What are we to dor murmured Lucy
Danforth, turning a whita face toward
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11
Carleton. Before the latter oould answer,
the station agent spoke again.
"There ain't no place here to stop except
my house. There's the grocery store at the
Corners, but his clerks sleep in tha back
room, and the blacksmith an' his wife's
got Just two rooms. But if the young lady
don't mind sharin' rooms with my wlf.
you car sleep with me on the front room
floor."
There was nothing else to be done, and
the three were soon plunging their way
through snow drifts to the station agent's
three-room house. Mrs. Johnson met them
at the door.
"You'll have to make the rest of things,"
she whined, looking at Lucy's furs with
envious eyes. "We don't live half decent
here, but If you can stand It, why we can."
That was the keynote of Mrs. Johnson's
conversation, and Lucy dozed off to the
accompaniment of the wife's wail. that it
her husband had any gumption Ihey didn't
have to stick In such a mean place.
Jack Carleton, rolled In Johnson's fur
coat, slept the sleep of the Just which in
cluded visions of red-haired girls standing
against the bleak blue-gray of a nofjth
state sky. And all the while the drifts
mounted higher and higher, and the wind
shut them out from, the world which had
always been theirs.
. At the breakfast table Mrs. Johnson
again entertained them with her views on
the unpleasant and lonely life led by a sta
tion agent's wife. Mr. Johnson ate his ba
con and fried potatoes in gloomy silence.
Miss Danforth and Mr. Carleton looked
distinctly uncomfortable.
It was Lucy who broke into the domestic
monologue.
'. "Did you say the trains would not go
through until after noon, Mr. Johnson?
How Jolly! Then you will take us for guests
at your Thanksgiving dinner?"
She looked coaxingly at Mrs. Johnson.
The brows of that worthy person con
tracted. "We ain't had a Thanksgiving
dinner for three years. It don't pay In this
God-forsaken hole to try an' have any
thing." "Then you and Mr. Johnson must be
our gueBts. You have been so kind to
us.".
; The two men looked at her In wonder,
but she went on merrily:
"Mr. Carleton is pining for action, I
know, and he will plough over to the store
for things which Mrs. JohnBon will help
me to cook. Oh, I can cook, If I am not
a reader of character," she added, laugh
ingly to Carleton.
The latter never knew Just how It hap
pened, but somehoW he was soon plunging
through the snow,- with Johnson's' com
forter and fur coat and high boots on.
Later he sat behind the kitchen stove and
watched Lucy Danforth, with bright eyes
and flushed cheeks, actually inciting the
rapid Mrs. Johnson into enthusiasm. Now
he was gravely inspecting cranberry Jelly
get out in the snow to harden, and then
coaxing Mrs. Johnson to let her take gome
old-faskloned china off the mantel to deck
the feast It wasn't a course dinner In the
end, but Johnson, eating it with tha slow
ness of one who wants to make a good
thing last as long as possible, was filled
with visions of his boyhood's home and a
mother who could have concocted a
Thanksgiving in the heart of a desert
Jack Carleton, toying with a three
pronged iron fork, decided that there were
worse faults than a failure to rise in
stantly to a situation, and that a woman
who could make the best of things wag
worth ten who could recognize a gentleman
beneath the eccentric make-up of tweeds
and dancing pumps.
And that was why, when the engage
ment was announced, that Jack Carleton
maintained he owed his happiness to the
twenty-four hours which the New York
Central railway had allowed them for
Thanksgiving dinner at Bradford Junc
tion. The Turk and Ilis Wife
Although of late years, among Turks
highly placed, it has come to he consid
ered as far more chic to have only one
wife, yet this laudable increase in tha
practice of monogamy does not tend to a
complete emancipation from certain well
established Moslem traditions. The mention
of one's wife to a foreigner is nowadays
made the easier when one may truthfully
speak of her in tho singular number.
A Turk may, after some months of semi
Intimacy, talk somewhat freely, Indeed, of
his domestic life, provided always his
household la modelled after the European
plan of life. The social line la drawn at
the point of asking even a lady to call.
Frequent visiting between European and
Turkish wives, when these are In tha sin
gular number, is possible only after a
somewhat prolonged residence vnd much
friendly Intercourse.
To the casual visitor there is an unex
pected embarrassment in finding almost all
the Turks one meets In society married
to one lady only. The singularity of this
singleness la as trying, apparently, to tha
Turks, on certain occasions, as It is emi
nently disappointing to the European.
"I do so hope tha minister of may
grant me the honor of visiting his harem,"
an American lady remarks with the charm
ing aplomb characteristic of the American
woman.
T Pasha would be too delighted. I
owed
miC T fimi SVBTTM eteemtM
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am sure; only, as It happens, his excel
lency has no harem In the sense In which,
I presume, most foreigners understand our
word," was tha courteous reply of the
minor official to whom this remark was ad
dressed. "He has but one wife, as In
deed, wa mostly all have."
"Hasn't anyone a harem?" The cry was
almost tearful. "F Pasha has a great
many children?" continued this disap
pointed Investigator of Turkish customs.
"Yes, he has eleven children living. His
wife Is very fond of children."
"Is she Turkish T"
"No; she Is a Circassian lady of very
good family."
"Ah-h, a Circassian! Ehe must be very
beautiful, the boys art so handsome," the
pretty American remarked In a mollified
tone. From a romantlo traveller's point of
view, if Turks persist In marrying as vlr
tuouHly and dully as everyone else, at least
to find them marrying a Circassian slave
was a trifle mora solacing than to have
found tha single wife' of correct Turkish
descent.
The young aid-de-camp smiled as he
made answer: "Tes, you are quite right;
we mostly marry Circassians and almost
all our children are beautiful."
There are still enough harems throughout
Turkey sufficiently equipped with a plural
ity of wlvea to satisfy the most exacting
of travellers In search of sensation. Even
In Constantinople there are pashas end
effendla rich enough to keep up the old
standard of Moslem martial pomp. The
majority, however, of tha upper 10,000 prac
tice, at least outwardly, tha European fash
Ion of monogamy. Century Magaslne.
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