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cOpnytGT.lso*. M-G1..URL.Pn"PLL3 S CO.
'"Mriere maman! One would think we were vulgar adventuresses.
We are not. He respects me, this dear young man, and it is right that
he should. I deserve to be respected. You know the fable about the
dog that dropped his meat in the water trying to snip at its reflection I
Well, I don't ask strangers for loans. I make my impression. M. Hugh
Egerton is my friend-=-at present. Later he
will be what I choose. And most certainly I ' "
shall choose him for a husband. What luck,
meeting him again! It is time I settled
"They said at Ritz's that he was one of the
young millionaires, well known already in ,
America," the fat woman reflected aloud. "It
is a good thing that I have. brought you up ---
well, Julie, and that you are pretty." -3
"Yes, it is a good thin that I am pretty,"
repeated the girl "We have had many hopes
often before, but this seems to be the most -''
promising. I think it is very promising indeed, and I don't me:.u tc
let it slip."
She turned her back to the easy chair and opened the pink bag. A
" the woman talked on she secretly counted out the money. There were
more than 10,000 francs in mile notes and others of smaller denomi
nations. Quietly she put them away in the top of a traveling bo3,
which she locked. Then she noticed the letter which the child had
given her still lying on the dressing table with her glpves.
"Here's something from la belle Americaine upstairs," said she,
"a billet doux."
"A dun I" exclaimed the woman.
"No doubt. It can be nothing else."
"Well, we can't pay."
"No, we can't pay," said the girl, looking at the locked' box.
"Let me see-how much was it she lent ?"
"Two hundred francs, I think. We told her we'd give it bacc
in a week. That's nearly a month ago."
: "Serves her right for trusting strangers. ThE
! saints alone know when she'll see her money again.
9,She shouldn't be so soft hearted. It doesn't pay ir
3c, "Neither do we-when wre can help it."
* They both laughed.
"But when you are Madame-let me see, whai
IJ''I.was the name of the young'monsieur?i They told
you at the Ritzst"
"Ah, yes! When you are Mmne. Egerton"
ifar~ngia nvsf befr dierent ien."
And the gfrl slipped the key of the box into the little pink bag.
ETER delivering her letter the child went slowly on
doWhistairs to the room she 'had been on the way
to visit.. It was on thesecond fl oor just under the
"Come in," said a cockney voice shrill with
yoh in answer to her tap, and the tchild obeyed.
Though this room was of the same size and shape, it was very dif
ferent from that of the comtesse. The plain furniture was stiffly ar
ranged, and there was no litter 'of clothing or small femixiine belong
ings. By the window, which gave a glimpse of the sea and of Monaco
rock, with the- old part of the palace,,%a plump young girl sat 'wth a
baby a year or two old in her arms and a nui-se's cap on her smooth
* You invited me to come down after I'd had my dejeuner, so I
SALE oP PERSONAL PEOPERTY A Fortunate Taxen.
At the late residence of B. H. M.E .Gole f17S
Amick, deceased, is number 7 t0own-t, als Tx as:"nt
ship, I will, as administrator, sell to ps erI aebcm cuit
tha~ higebst bidder, therefor for eas h D.Kn' e Lf il,al
on Monday, December 30, 1907, thenoaateIevrbfetidsof
following described personal proper-fetaydipssomlraatdbi
ty of which the said B. H. Amiek, iiSlS. hydntgidn
iied seied nd pssesed:r. E. aW. ood e haf an S
8 uls,1 ore,3 agncrnLon's drug DasTex. sy:"nt
ho~ attle houeholdand ktche "DXTr," myg' fne stLio ill ani
fu~iure.fservicel d in the ealari at Ji
8mes1hos,3 wagns A con, Son's rownsstabeo a
Administrator. Knight on 's old stand.
iM ,t J. B. e .
"lLgtyo are, M Rosenma1," reiined the plump girl.
"You're such a quaint little body you're a regular ireat. I declare I
ain't 'alf sure I wouldn't rather talk to you than read the Princess
Novelettes. Besides, I do get that tired of
'earin' nothin' but French I'm most sorry I
undertook the job, and the biby don't pick up -_I
Hinglish much yet."
"Don't you think he's a bright baby ?"
asked the child, sitting down on a footstool,
which was a favorite seat of hers.
"For a French biby 'e 's as bright as you
could expect," replied her hostess judicially.
"Are they different ?"
"Well, they ain't Hinglish."
"'m half American," said the little girl.
"You don't talk through your nose. Far
as I can see you've got as good haecent as me."
"I suppose yours is good ?" asked Rosemary, as if she longed to
have a doubt set forever at rest.
"Rather! Ain't I been brought out from London on purpose so
as this biby can learn toppeak Hinglish instead of French ? It's pretty
near the sime thing as bein' nursery governess. Madame wouldn't
trust her own wye of pronouncin' the languidge. She must 'ave a
"And, she sent for you on purpose ?" ,the child inquired, with in
"Well, I was the only one as would come at the price. 'Tain't big
wages, but I'm seein' loife. Lor', I come down here with madame and
mounseer a fortnight ago, and Monte Carlo ain't got many secrets
from me. I was a duffer, though, at first. When I 'eerd all them
shots poppin' off every few minutes up by the Casino I iieed to thbik
'twas the suieides a-shootin' theirselves all over the plae, for before I
left '9me I 'ad a warnin' fran my young man
that was the kind of goin's .6n they 'ad here.
Ca* But now I how it's only the pigeon shooters
tryin' for prizes, and I wouldn't eat a pigeon
pie in this 'otel, not if 'twas ever so i"
"Do they ever have them ?" asked the little
3) girl, awed.
"Not as I knows of, but they may for
Christmas. I sye, are you lookin' forward to
your Christmas, kiddy ?"
"Angel-that's mother, I mean-says I'm
not goin' to have much of a Christmas this
year. I'm trying not to mind. I suppose it's
because 'Santa Claus can't get to the Riviera
with his sleigh #nd reindeer. How could he,
Miss Jane, when there's no snow and not even a scrap of ice ?"
"Pshaw!" said Miss Jane. '"It ain't Santa Claus brings you things,
snow or no snow. Only babies believe that. You're old enough to
know better.'- It's your father and mother does it all."
"Are you sure?i" asked Rosemary.
"Ded sured. Don'thys9yllyanWcry now, just because there ain't
any Santa Claus nor any fairies."
'It isn't that," said the little girl. "It's because I can never have
any more Christmases.if it depends on a father. You know, I haven't
"I sup d you 'adni't, as5'e ain't 'ere with yer ma,"2 replied the
7mgpeoav "$he?s inhty'pntty?.
"I think she's the prettiest miother in the world," said Rosemary
"She don't look much like a mother."
The child opened her eyes very wide at this new point of view. "I
couldn't have a mother who looked any other way," she said. "What
do you think she does look like ?"
"Silly puss ! I only mean sh~e isn't much more'n a kid 'erself."
*"She's twenty-five, twenty whole years more than m e. Isn't that
"Lawks, no! I'm goin' on seventeen myself. I 'aven't got any
father, no more'n you 'aye, so I can feel for you. Your ma 'as to
do typewritin'. Mine does charri'. It's
!~)' I ~ much the sime thing."
~\ f~"Is it ?" asked Rosemary. "Angel doesn't
* like typewriting so very well. It makes her
~ shoulder ache, but it isn't that she minds. It's
not having enough work to -do."
~~ "Bless your hinnercent 'eart, charrmn'
byz~kT \ mikes you ache all over! Betcher ,loife my
ma'd chinge with yours if she could."
~"Would she?i But Angel doesn't get on at
- all well here. Proe heard -her telling a lady
sh etsome money to and wanted to have it
bakafter awhile. You see, when we were
..left poor, people said that she could make lots
~. of money in Paris, because they pay a good
Sdeal there for the things Angel does, but oth
er-s seemed to have got all the work for themselves before we went
over to Paris to live, so some friends she had told her it would be bet
ter to try here, where there was no-n'o com-com"
- "No compertishun,'1. suggested the would be nursery governess.
a."Yes, that's the right word, I think. But there wls some, after
al.Poor Angel's so sad. She doesn't quite know what we'll do next,
for we haven't much money left."
"She's got a job of char-I mean typin' today anyhow," said Jane.
"Yes, she's gone to a hotel, where a gentleman talks a story out
loud and she puts it down on paper. She's been three tiimes, buit it's
so sad. -The story is a beautiful one, only she doesn't think he'll live
to finish it. He came here to get well, because there's sunshine and
flowers, but his wife cried on Angel's shoulder in the next room to -his
and said he would never, never get well'any more. Angel didn't tell
me, ;for I don't think she likes me to know sad things, but I heard her
sying it all to a lady she works for sometimes, a lady who knows the
poor man. I don't remember his name, but he's what they call a
"It's like that out here on the IRiviera," said_Jane, shaking her
so gloomily that the ruffled cap wabbled. "Lots of ill reople
c..ume, as well as those who wants fun and throwin'
their money about. In the midst of loife we are in '"i r
death. Drat the biby, I believe 'e's swallowed 'is -
tin soldier ! No, 'ere it is on the floor. But, as I
was sayin', your ma and mine might be sisters in
some wyes. Both of 'em l(st their 'usbins, young"- %
"How did your father get lost?" Rosemary broke
"'E went to the dogs," replied Jane mysteri
"Oh !" breathed the child, thrilled with a vague horror. She
longed intensely to know what had happened to her friend's parent -
after joining his lot with that of the dogs, but was too delicate minded
to continue,her questioning after such a tragic beginning. She won
dered if there were a kind of dreadful dog which made a specialty of
eating fathers. "And did he never come back again ?" she ventured to
inquire at last. '
"Not 'e. Yon never do, you know, if once you goes to the dogs.
There ain't no wye back. I was wonderin' since we've been ac
quainted, kiddy, if your pa didn't go the sime road. It 'appens in
"Oh, no; my father was lost at sea, not on the road, and there
aren't any dogs there-at least I don't think so," said Rosemary.
"If it's only the sea 'as swallered 'im, 'e may be cast up again any
day alive an' bloomin'," replied Jane cheerfully. "My ma 'ad a grite
friend; sold winkles. 'Er 'usbin was lost at sea for years and years
till, just w'en she was comfortably settled with 'er second, along 'e
comes, as large as loife.. Besides, I've- read of such things in the
Princess Novelettes, only there it's most gen
erally lovers, not 'usbins nor yet. fathers.
Would you know yours again if yon.seen-aim'
Rosemary 'shook her head doubtfully, and
her falling hair of pale, shimmering gold waved
like a wheatfield shaken by a breeze. "Angel
- + lost him w'hen I was only two," the child ex
- plained. "She's never talked- much -to me
about him, but we used to live in a big house im
-- , London-because my father was English, you
know, though Angel's American-and I had a
nurse who held me in her lap and told me j'
things. I heard her say to one of the servants
once that, my father had been lost on a yacht
and that he was, oh, ever such a handsome man. But-but she said"
Rosemary faltered, her gray blue eyes suddenly large and troubled.
"Wiat was it she said ?" prompted Jane, with so much sympathetie
interest that the little girl could not refuse to answer. Nevertheleis
she felt that it would not be right to finish her sentence.
"If you please, I'd rather not tell you what' nurse said," she
pleaded. "But, anyway, I'd give everything I've got if my father
would get found again. You see, it isn't only not haig proper'Christ
mases any more that makes me feel sad; it's because Angel has to work
sohald for me, and if I hsaa fthei. I s'pose he'd do tliat."
"If 'e didn't he'd deserve to get what for," said7Jaie decidedly. -
for 'you everywhere on .Christmas.eve-this 'Christmas sve as ever
S"Yes, anid, *hat's nyore," went on her hostess, warmning,to the sub
ject, "yoeiid kow'im the hinstant' you clapped 'heyess on hisfmeby i
eaven sent hinstinct."
"What's 'eaven sent hinstinct ?" demanded Rosemary.
"The feelin' you 'ave in. your 'eart for a father wot's planted thei'e
by' ovidence," explained Jane. "NTow, do you hunderstand?' Be
use if you do I don't know but you?d better be trottin'. Biby's gorn
to sleep and seems to be sleepin' light.'.
"Yes, I think I understand," Rosemary whispered, jumping up ~
from her footstool. "Goodby. And thank you very much for letting~
me come to see you and the baby." -
She tiptoed across the room, her long hair waving and shimmering ./'
again, softly openect and shut the door behind her and slowly mounted.
the stairs to her own quarters on the fourth floor.
HE had a doll and a picture book there, but she had1
I'L> looked at the picture book hundreds of times, and,
-- though her doll was a faithful friend, somehow theyj
had nothing to say to each other now. Rosemay
flitted about like a' will-o'-the-'wisp and finally went
to the window, where she stood looking wistfully out.
Supposing that yTane were right and her father came back out of}
the ocean like the fathers 'of little girls in story books, this might be al
very likely place for him to land, because there were such lots of sea,,
beautiful, sparkling, blue sea. Of course he couldn't know that AngeIf
ndshe were in this town, because it was only about a monthsie
they-came. It must be difficult to hear things in ships, and he ight~
go away to look for them somewhere else without ever ending thema
Little thrills of excitement running from Rosemary's fingers to hera
toes felt like vibrating wir'es. What could she do? Jane had said if
he came at_all he was_sure to_come on Christmas eve, according to the
(To Be ContinuedI).