THE OLD HOOD
By Belle Peno Leist
"Oh, grandma, I look a-fright!"
"Who to? Don't be silly, Serena.
It's almost dark, it's raining, the veil
will hide your" face and you'll save
spoiling your dress and that pretty
Serena- Hoyt shrugged her shoul
ders dismally. It was a full half mile
to her home and the rain and the
wind were alarming. It had been fine
weather earlier in the afternoon
when she had come to visit her
grandmother. Serena had worn her
best dress and hat She put both
aside, drew a veil over the old-fashioned
woolen hood and tucked up
her dress closely, putting the long
antiquated cloak over it
' "I suppose you know best, grand
ma," she sighed, "but, oh dear, if I
should meet any of my friends!"
"They wouldn't know you."
"Well, good-by. I'll send one of
the boys after my things in the
Serena set out, comfortably bun
dled. Except for her hurrying step
she looked like some old dame re
turning from market Serena was
used to dainty things and she experi
enced a shrinking embarrassment as
she noted that she alone of all the
women on the busy thoroughfare
wore a hood.
There came .a sharp dash of rain
and Serena drew under the shelter of
a store awning to button the top of
the coat more snugly about her. She
drew back as two rough-looking men
passed her, staring hard at hen
"There she is. I'd know that old
hood anywhere," spoke one of the
men. "Pass her the stuff, we may be
"Here, Nance," mumbled the other,
gliding to Serena's side, "hide these
safe. They mean a fortune to us."
"I am not " but the man hurried
away without waiting for an expla
nation.Serena. glanced down at -the
package so strangely forced into her
keeping. Apparently it was a pack
age of letters. Several rubber bands
crossed and criss-crossed it The
wrapper bore the words: "Clement
Mapleton, 92 Birney terrace."
"Why, that is on my way home,"
reflected Serena, "and those men
acted so suspiciously! They looked
like thieves, they talked about hiding
the package. Oh, something is
"Pass Her the Stuff, We May Be
wrong, surely, and Til do it! This
is a real adventure."
So Serena, weaving all sorts of
plotful mystery about the incident
sought No. 92 as she entered Birney
terrace. It proved to be an impos
ing looking mansion. She ascended
the steps and with some temerity
rang the doorbell. A servant an
swered the summons.
"Mr. Clement Mapleton?" spoke
"He is not at home," was the re
ply, "but Miss Mapleton will see you
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