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tlhc VV^'S Secret,
OR A BITTER RECKONING
By CHARLOTTE M. BRAEMB
"••Ttf F" ———————-
It was Sir Geoffrey's first dinner par
ty, and Ethel felt just a little nervous
•a (be received the guests. Captain
Idling was watching her In the pauses
of his ekat with Bertha Collins, lie
caught her eye presently and smiled at
her reniuuringly, for she had confided to
him her dread of the awful occasion.
"You are an old friend of theirs, are
you notV" Bertha til Baying to the
captnin. "We all think Miss Mailing
quite charming. I took to her from the
first; but, do you know, she is not easy
to get on with. Of course she is all one
could wish m a hostess; but it is impos
sible to gusli with her. She baa a way
of sifting all one says and showing up
anything that is absurd without certainly
In the least Intending to give offense.
You mold hardly hellere it, I dare say,
but 1 hare adopted the habit of trying
to talk seriously when the is listening."
"I think that is the greatest conipli
meut /•« could pay her. Will you adopt
the same practice with me?"
"I should not dare," she replied, with
mock gravity. "If I were to get a ropu
tm t ion for seriousness I should probably
die an old maid. Men always prefer
frivaltius talkers for their wires. There
Is the diuner bell. Are you to take me
Later ia the evening Miss Collins drop
ped inlit a quiet corner and discussed
the tilings with the utmost freedom with
an intimate friend whom she had not
•cc« Ni.ue the end of the season. Bha
was describing the breaking up of the
party when Pauline's intended marriage
had been discovered.
"Now tell me—could there be anything
Bore ridictttona than her running away
from her own hoUM and marrying, or
trying to marry, a ninn secretly, when
there WM no one to prevent her doing
it •penl/V My dear, you should have
neon our faeea when Mrs. Sefton read
us the note she had left behind, as we
dropped in, one after another, to lunch
eon! At first everybody looked very sur
prised, and then the absurdity of the
whole proceeding Htruck us. Why could
•he not hare been married properly? No
one could have Oujected to her marry
ing that good-looking urlint if she chose
to do so."
"Wns she very much 'gone* on him?"
"Awfully! It must Imve been a terri
ble blew to her when hor husband turn
"Hither! Isn't it odd, his being
"I don't think bo. He was very good
to Sir Oeoffrey when he was ia less
• fllucut circumstances, 1 believe."
"Thing! seem n bit mixed. From what
I could make out, he had believed him
self a widower, just as she had thought
herself a widow, until they met in tlie
church. Don't you think it probable
that, while he was under the impression
that bis wife was dead, he may have
had a liking for Miss Mailing?"
"I believe you are right," Bertha re
plied, energetically, "for I saw him look
ing at her before dinner with his heart
lv his eyes."
"It is certainly very strange that he
•honld hare fallen in lov» with the girl
who was being kept out of her right
position by his own wife! It looks like
the finger of Kate, doesn't It—'though
which way the finger is pointing I can't
An the guests, one after another, took
their departure. Ethel felt her burden
lightening. Her firm party had been an
unqualified roeOtM, bin she was none the
less glad to have it over. Lord Sum
mers stayed behind, talking earnestly
with Btr Ueoffrey.
"I admit I was disappointed when I
heard that she had taken the family
Jewels with her," he said, in allusion
to Pauline. "I'm afraid she has Inher
ited some of her father's want of prin
ciple. The Luftons were never particu
larly distinguished for honesty. What
do you mean to do about it, Geoffrey?"
"Nothing openly. I am In communica
tion with her waiting maid, who had
promised to let me know if there Is any
Idea on Pauline's part of selling them.
and I shall, unknown to her, become the
"An excellent idea and a very goner
ous one. By the bye. as things have
turned out, how fortunate It Is that the
engagement between our charming Ethel
and yoyng Dornton was "
He stopped suddenly as Ethel and
Pelling came back from bidding farewell
to Miss Collina. They both caught the
drift of his words, and Ethel glanced at
Polling's face; but It was calmly un
conscious. Thinking this a good opening
to talk of Jack, he said.
"If you are not foo tired, I want to
•how you a delightful style of title page
that 1 came across this m.vnlng. I
thought you might elaborate the Idea for
for your "Central Africa.' It is on this
"I am afraid my share of 'Centra
Africa' wiil not be anything to be proud
of," he replied with a smile.
"That is nonsense, and you know It,
Captain Pelliug! I have made up my
mind that your sketches are to be the
prini-ipal attraction of the book. It i»
really unkind of you to make light of
jri.ur wurk after all our Interest in it!"
"That is just It," he returced, laugh
Ingly. "I have become so accust *nad
to working in company that I find 1
can't move a utep by myself."
"You would not be offended at any
thing I should say for your good?"
"Go on," be said, and waited with
knitted brows for what she had to say.
Ethel, In her short life, had often had
onpk-axant tanks to perform, but never
one so unpleasant as this.
"Out of your own mouth shall you be
Judged," she began, smiling at him to
hide the trembling of her lips. "You
lay you have become bo used to working
In company that you cannot more a step
by yourself; but I say you must take the
one needful step by yourself that will se
cure yon good company to work in for
the rest <>t your life. Go to Paris at
once, seek out your wife, and give her the
iroteetloa of your presence. 6b* will
yield. You must not judge her by her
words when you lust met. You h.id h.T
fit n cruel disadvantage. Think what an
awful shock your midden appearance
must have been to her! It Is rery, very
hard for me to nay this to you, after ail
jrour kladnen to at in the past; but you
will not Btiajudga my motive. 1 am
■peaking for your (food. Ry and by, when
you ur<> <piitf> happy with each other, yon
will ln> thankful to me for Rending you
away in this abrupt umnner."
"You wish me to go at once?" he
"That is a very cruel way to put it,"
«!ip answered, gently. "You know I do
not wUh yon to go at all. True frienda
are not so plentiful that one can af
ford to play battledore and shuttlecock
with them for one'l own pleasure. For
your owu (food, (JaptaiD Palling, I advise
your goiug at once."
"\<'ii are one of the best women that
ever lived," he exclaimed, "mid I am
proud to have had you for a friend! I
ought to have known my presence would
give you pain, and refused Sir Geoffrey's
invitation. I)on't speak until I've fin
ished,"' he went on, hurriedly, holding
up liis hand to check any Interrptien. "I
shall follow your advice to the letter. I
will thrust aside my own inclinations, and
run over to Paris and see wkat Mrs.
Palling is doing, six-nd Christmas among
the Frenchmen, and perhaps in the New
Year Captain and Mrs. Pelling may have
the honor of receiving Sir Geoffrey and
Miss Mailing at the Wigwam."
For once Ethel looked at him with
her eves brimming with tears; but sh*>
did not dare mnke an attempt to speak.
He took her hand »n his, and held It close
as he finished.
"You must make some plausible ex
cuse to Sir Geoffrey for my abrupt de
parture in the morning; or, better still,
I will wire from town. I shall write to
you from Paris, if I muy. And now,
before I say good-night, I must give you
this letter. I received it two days ago
from Dornton. I know it will please you.
He and I correspond regularly; so I
shall keep you posted up in his move
ments. Good-by, my true, honest little
She sat, an he left her, holding Jack's
letter in her hand, hearing his voice very
faintly in the distance as he excused
himself with the plea of fatigue to her
father, and wondering how it had hap
pened that this Interview, which she had
brought about for the sole purpose of
bearing news of Jack, had ended in so
sudden a determination on the captain's
part to seek his wife. She knew his re
solve was the result of her advice, and
she hoped devoutly that good might come
And Pelling mounted the wide stairs
very slowly, deep in thought ns he went.
"She is quite right, as she Is always.
It is the only thing to do; and I never
saw it myself. My place is undoubtedly
by my wife's side."
"I tell you your presence here is an
unwarrantable Intrusion! If you do not
have my apartment of your own free
will, I shall be compelled to have you
It was the third day since Palling left
Ethel, and this was his wife's greeting!
He had had a long battle with himself;
but duty had been triumphant, and his
mind once made up he was not to be dis
couraged by a few bitter words.
"That Is not necessary. s. Of course I
will leaTe you; but you will not refuse
to answer me one or two questions
"A«k yonr questions then, and, if I
choose to iniwtl them, I will. If I don't
choose, 1 will not. But, for heavens
anke. got over them quickly!"
"Will you tell me something of our
child, Pauline?" he asked.
She sprung up with a look of desper
att» fright on her face.
"How darn you come here to brow
beat me like this?" she exclaimed, ve
hemently; nnil then she sank back on the
couch again. But, after a pause, she
snid quietly enough: "You have touched
my one weak point. Of course you have
to henr what there Is to tell. My baby
was born a weakly little thing. I hud
hard wurk to keep body and imil together
in those fim days after my father's
death. I knew from the first she could
not lire long. She died when she. was
three months old."
"I wish sh« had lived."
"Why do you wish such • mad thing
"Heeause, If It had not been for see
ing her grave, I should have gone en
•earching for you until I found you."
"Ah! And If you had found me then,
if you had come to Mallingford quietly
and said. 'Pauline, you are my wife;
come with me;' do you know what I
would hat"c done? I would have killed
you! I would kill you even now, if your
death would undo any of the harm you
have worked me! But It ig all over, and
the uext thing yon will hear is that I
have killed myself!"
"Why do you hate me no bitterly,
Pauline?" he asked; and he studied her
attentively while she answered:
"Because you have b«oa by evil
genius ever since I became your wife.
If I had not married you, my life might
hove been us happy and pleasant as
ither mma'i lives are. No sooner did I
know thst I was my uncle's heiress than
my lUfpinMl was destroyed by hearing
that I was to inherit only ou the condi
tion that I did not marry without my
guardian* consent. Thanks to you, this
condition was already broken; and my
six years of p 001 s— ion have been em
bittered by the certainty in my own
mind t'.iat fOfl were alive somewhere
and would surely fin,! me some day,
nud deprive me of all that I had risked
mocb to obtain."
Telling sighed heavily and took up his
"Yon will let me come and see you
'Why? You do not care for me In
the least. Why shooM you take so much
trouble to be dvU tv me?"
"You are my wife. No amount of dis
like or shortcomings on your part alters
that fact. We have been very unfortu
nate in the past. I can see you are un
happy; and. in an indirect way, I am
the cause of your unhappines*. I weuld
give a great deal to make things brighter
for you. if you would let me."
She was touched by the earnestness
of his manner and tone.
"You are very good," she said; "and
I am sorry I behaved so badly to you."
She stood silent for a few moments,
I'clling watching her quietly; while they
so stood the clock on the mantelpiece
"You must go now," ihe told him
hurriedly. "I have an appointment to
ride with some friends. Come again «t
thi* time to-morrow."
Hr did not attempt any outward dis
play of a flection, but Dassed dowu the
stairs. He niot Rabette half way down.
"With whom doi'S your mistress ride
to-dny?" he Baked.
"With the Baroness da Belette" —a
woman well knowu for the pertinacity
with which she had clung to the extreme
edge of respectable society for the last
five years. "They hare a wager as to
who will ridp the greatest distance on a
horse belonging to Monsieur Crevln
which has always refused to carry a
I'elling went on with a little Qnac
knowledged anxiety in his heart. He
would go bark and try to dissuade Pau
line from this mad freak, but that he
knew it would be useless; and any show
of authority on his part just now might
perhaps undo the little good he believed
he had accomplished.
He drove straight back to the hoted,
and sat with his chin resting on hi»
hands at the little table In the window
of his room. He was In a strange state
of mingled hope and dread. He did not
know what he wished; he only knew that
he meant to do what he conceived to be
his duty; the rest he must leave In higher
While thus musing otm the past, he
was brought back to the present by the
sight of his wife cantering by in com
pany with several others; and, following
them, he noticed a fidgety chestnut horse,
with a side-saddle on, which was being
led by a groom. Pauline looked up and
bowed gravely; he returned the greeting.
How handsome she looked! How well
she sot her horse! How proud he might
have been of her if fine had never allow
ed the love of riches to crowd the wom
anliness out of her heart! He leaned
forward and watched her as far as he
could see from the window.
An hour Inter Felling was stooping
over his wife's poor crushed body in one
of the little chatlets in the Bois de Bou
logne. She had neen thrown and tram
pled on, and was dying of internal hem
orrhage. Her voice was very low, and
her words came slowly, with many
"It is heaven's justice! After you
hurl soim this morning I made up my
mind to do as you wished. I thought
I would try to love you—you were so
good—and we should be—happy togeth
er. I had no right to be happy—after
my wickedness, and heaven has—settled
"My poor mistaken girl!"
"Yea, that is true. I've been mis
token all —my life. No one ever—tried
to make me good. I was always left to
servants —when I was—a child. Heaven
is just, and the great Judge will re
member my—great temptations. Will
you kiss me —just once, Alec? Say you
forgive me—it will make my mind
In spite of his efforts not to disturb
her last momenta by any show of feel
ing, a large tear dropped upon her face.
She looked at him wonderingly, and put
up her finger to his cheek.
"Fur me," she said very softly—"you
cry for me. I do not deserve—to have
one mourner —at my death bed. I have
done evil to every one—but Jack. Give
him my No, I will not leave mes
sages; they might bring a curse."
Another spasm seized her; and, when
it had passed, the hue of death was
creeping over her face. It was all fin
ished now, and the strong young life that
had been so misused had come to an
Telling took out a card and left it
with the people of the house, and then
went straightway to see that all the
neessary arrangements were made for
the interment of her who had once been
very dear to him. He wrote a short let
ter to Sir Geoffrey that night. It ran:
"Dear Sir Geoffrey—Your niece, my
wifp, was killed by a fall from her horse
to-day. We were reconciled at the last.
Tell your daughter I can never express
my gratitude to her for sending me here;
it will always be a source of thankful
ness in my heart. The family jewels
urn intact, Babette tells me, and they
will be sent by special courier. When
the funeral la over, I think 1 shall join
Dorntou in Italy, and toward the spring
we may work our way homoward In
company. Ask Mist Ethel to keep us
ever green in her memory. I've set my
heart on seeing our young friend Jack
a Royal Academician before many years.
With his talent, he wants only a little
judicious pushing, and I mean to devote
my time to pushing him.
"Always your sincere friend,
Ethel was greatly affected by this let
ter, and she went about with a very
sutler face for some weeks, until the
preparations for Christmas absorbed her,
and left her no time for thinking of
hnndsonip young artists or anything else.
But, even iv the midst of the excitement
of Obrlatmaatid*, there was always a
craving iv her heart, a dreary sense of
emptiness, which grew and grew until
she was compelled, with many blushes,
to admit it* presence, and to acknowl
edge to herself that only one person in
all the world eoulu fill the void.
(To b» coutinu«*t)
Proverb Comeu Out.
Miles —You f metnbf Saplelgh, who
went west a couple of years ago and
married an heiress, don't you?
Giles—Yes. What of him?
Miles —1 understand his wife got a
divorce from him recently.
Giles —I'm not surprised to hear It.
Giles —Because a fool and his money
are soon parted, you knew.
The Twe-ft«p— They are all after
TIM Waltz—Well, you're the fellow
who crowded me out. —Cleveland I'laln
AN OLD-FASHIONED WOMAN.
Sn clever, brilliant thinker she,
With college record and degree;
She has not known the paths of fame,
The world has never heard her name;
Khe walks in old, long-trodden ways,
The valleys of the yesterdays.
riomn is her kingdom, love is her dower —
She anka no other wand of power
To make home sweet, bring heaven near,
To win a smile and wipe a tear,
And do her duty day by dny
In her own quiet place and way.
Around her childish hearts are twined,
As round some reverend Mint enshrined,
And following hers the childish feet
Are led to ideals trim und sweet.
And find all purity and pood
In her divinest motherhood.
She keeps her fnith unshadowed still—
God rules the world in good and ill;
Men in her creed are brave and true,
And women pure as pemls of dew.
And life for her is high nnd grand,
By work and glad endeavor spanned.
This sad old earth's a brighter place
All for the sunshine of her face;
Her very smile a blessing throws,
And hearts are happier where she goes,
A gentle, clear-eyed messenger,
To whisper love—thank God for her
I The Intercessor. I
THEO snt alone on the veranda
In the moonlight. Back In the
little sitting-room, father and
Aunt Km had made a flre In the grate.
and sat before It playing chess. They
felt the oold even on a late May night,
and moonlight had ceased to charm
Upstairs there was a light In Kath
leen's room. Theo knew, becau.se she
could gee the yellow streak of It on the
white wall of the next lioune. Suddenly
It vanished, and Kathleen, tinging,
came downstairs and whisked out at
the door, with her lons. loose coat ovei
her ani). She eaugbi a glimpse of her
sister («it of the corner of her eye and
"Theo. Tin just C'liik over to Maud'a
"any room fob me?"
for a moment. You toll Aunt Em If
•he asks where I am, will you?"
"Yes, I will."
Kathleen went on. Theo watched her
Ught challis twinkle up the street in
the shadow of the old maples, then she
shifted the pillows In the hummock
and cuddled down among them, with a
■Igh. How nice it must seem to be as
young as Kathleen, and as pretty I It
did seem queer that nil of mother's
beauty should have pone direct to her
•later the wonderful blue eyes, the
lovely hair, sheer gold in the sunlight
tnd delightfully mysterious in shadow,
the complexion just like the heart <>f
a peach bloraom. Theo believed that
Kathleen bad never walked down
Street In her life that some one did not
•ay of her: "Isn't she pretty?" Even
the Children admired her. Theo bad
soen the raggedeal bits on Hiver street
stand and stare as Kathleen passed.
Well, no one ever looked at her par
ticularly. She wondered why she had
to be born four years ahead of Kath
leen, and get only a sallow skin, a
mass of untidy dark hair, and eyes
like a Japanese girl's for her Inherit
Theo could not remember a time
when she had not been conscious of
her defects, and the consciousness had
grown with years. There was one hit
ter moment lv her life which she
would not forget If she lived to be a
hundred. It happened long ago, when
•he was thirteen and Kathleen nine or
so. There was to be a children's party
In the neighborhood, and she and Kath
leen wen* going in gowns new express
ly for the occasion. Aunt Em had
helped them dress, and, when they
were done from top to toe, she had
taken Kathleen's small face between
her hands and kissed It
"You're the prettiest thing I ever
law," she said. Theo ran up to her.
"Oh, Aunt Em, ain't I pretty, too?"
■he had cried. Aunt Em turned and
looked at her, with a sigh. Theo could
feel yet the sharp Jab of that sigh
Into her heart. It told her everything.
Yet Kathleen, for nil her beauty, was
no great favorite with her companions.
She was always having her small feel
ings Injured, and needed some one to
apply spiritual arnica and court-plas
ter. As Bob said— Bob was their cousin,
and spoke with the wisdom of several
years' seniority— Kathleen went about
constantly with an urgent want adver
tisement out for general comforter and
peacemaker, a position which Theo ac
cepted finally as being peculiarly fitted
for It If Kathleen knew, she did not
appreciate what Theo was to her,
either then or now that they were both
grown. up. It was to Then that Kath
leen's beaux came, one after another.
telling their stories and begging her
Bi»eak a itoo<) w rd for tnwn. For
Kathleen was a* i.IV-ult In lovs as she
had been in Trie i.Uhlp, and her sharp
tongue WOtUldad indiscriminately.
"Dan Kiornan"' she would say.
"That greftt liulldiifj fellow for me?
Why, his feet are so big he has to go
out-of-doors every time he wants to
turn round. No, thank you, Theo. I'm
going to wait until the right man
comes. And he won't come from this
place, either. He won't be a Dan
Kiernan or a Harry Moulton or a Jack
Sherer. He'll be some one worth hav
ing. You'll see!"
Theo did not care when Kathleen
spoke thus of Kan Kiernan or Harry
Monlton, but she winced over Jack
Sherer's name. Of course he couldn't
help loving Kathleen. Who could? But
lie was not positively abject before
her, as were the others, and so far he
had never tried to secure Theo as his
Intercessor. She was glad of it. She
could console and sympathize with
and receive the confidences of the oth
ers, but with him somehow—and then
It came to hor tliat, however you look
ed at it, it was hard that from all her
lovers Kathleen could not spare one,
and" that one for whom she herself
cared nothing, and Theo cared so
She sighed again and stirred In the
harnoek restlessly. Something warm
and wet rolled out from under her eye
lids upon the thin sleeve that clad the
arm doubled under her head.
"I'm so tired of it," she whispered
to hot pelf,—"so tired of smiling and
smothlng and sympathizing with other
people's love affairs. If only some one
some time would come to me that I
could cry before and complain to ever
A sound of whistling smote her like
n pain. It seemed too glad and care
less for her ears just then. On It came
out of the distance, down the street, In
at the gate, and straight up to the ve
randa. There It Stopped. Theo rose
up In the hammock and looked. A man
bare-headed, stood full in the moon
light peering Into the shadow after her.
When she stirred, he saw the white
little lump in the hammock and spoke.
"Good evening, Theo." He came up
the steps, two at a time. "Any room
in the hammock for me, too, without
disturbing yourself? If there Isn't,
Just say so. I can be comfortable any
"Oh, there's room." Theo moved
along to the extreme end and began
nervously to fumble with the pillows.
She had never been so surprised in her
life. To think that Jack actually—but
of course it could mean but one thing
He had come at last, like the rest, to
ask about Kathleen,
He sat down beside her and ar
ranged the pillows himself. He whs
a little fellow, wltli red cheeks and a
boyish laugh, but Ills eyes were won
deiiully far-WClng aud keen. He had
never been so near before. Theo won
dred if he could hear her heart beat.
"1 met Kathleen up the street,"' Jack
haid. "She was going info Maud Kal
lotl'l, I think. She told me where I'd
Theo understood. Well
"How are you, Theo? Have you said
'good evening' yet? 1 wasn't sure that
I had heard you.' 1
"No, I haven't. I —haven't had
time." And then Thea laughed with
embarrassment. Her little speech had
sounded so unlike herself. Jack
laughed, too, very unsteadily, she
thought, and stared out across the rail
in jr. Suddenly he turned and looked at
"I'm going away, Theo, did you
know it?" he said.
Theo gasped and foil back, fining
away! She had never dreamed of such
"Are you?" she tried to say.
"Yes, I am. I'll tell you why. 1
cnn't afford to stay on here and work
for nothing, even though—even though
by doing so I can be near the dearest
gill in the world." His voice broke.
"If I'm ever going to have her, I've
got to be looking round for a Job that
will keep two instead of one. I guess
I've found one now. Of course It's
going to be hard to leave ( but I can't
help It. I've got to earn more money
If—lf " He braced up. "That's
whut I've come to talk to you about,
Theo. I was glad Kathleen wasn't at
home. 1 wanted to see you Just
"Yes." Theo sighed. They all said
that or something like it. She had
prayed that Jack might not corn* to
her; but now that he had come she
would do the best she could by him
aud Kathleen. He went on stumbling-
"You ice, Theo, you see Well,
I declare I had just what I wanted to
say all thought out, but it's left me
completely. What do fellows say in
times like this, Theo?
lie looked at her appealingly. Theo
took firm hold on her feelings and be
"Well, they usually begin by saying
they've always known me, or known
m« a good while, or like that, you
know, and they're sure"—would the
words ever come easily?—"that I
will sympathize with them, and they
can safely tell me all that's In their
hearts. And then they do. And after
ward they usually end up by asking
me if I think there's any hope for
them, and if I won't—oh, dear!" She
dropped her face into her hands.
There was an instant's silence, aud
then Jack said, slowly:
"That sounds very nice, but I don't
think it's Just what I want, Theo. Be
sides, I—l never thought that you'd
had so much experience, you know.
You've always seemed so shy and
quiet, so different, soiiifhuw. from
other girls. Of eour&e I understand.
that you've had the same an» w
all of these, but. Theo. don't you "an' 1*
you could possibly have a differ» n »
for me?" "*
He bent forward and found h
hand. Something In his voice «T
touch and eyes, seen dimly get *C
bewildered. She looked at hi a *!
"I wish I could," she said, mi,
"You wish you could. Can't yon.
darling? Remember I love you ,'
perhaps no one else ever has or will*
i "Me! O Jack! you don't mean aff
Theo cried out. beginning to realize.
His arm went round her.
"Who else?" he asked, gently.
Theo was distracted.
"Why, I thought you meant Raft.
leen. They've all been to me first
Harry and Dan and the rest. Didn't
i you know?"
He shook his head, watching her
frith happy eyes.
"Are you sure you don't mean Kath
leen?" she pleaded.
He laughed softly.
'Why, I've never thought of Rath
loon. It's you I've had in mind f rom
the very beginning. I see now what
I've always wondered at, why j ot
used to run off and leave her and n»
together every time I came. At first
I thought you didn't like me, then I
made up my mind you were «n)y shy,
and I'd have you, anyway. I think
I've been pretty patient, Theo. l\ t
courted your father and Aunt Em and
Kathleen, all three, for nearly a year
in an effort to reach you. No wonder
I've been misunderstood. But what
can a man do when the girl he wants
won't help him a bit? Well, I don't
care, anyway, If only I've succeeded,
and it looks some as if I had, doesn't
lie drew her dose, and his fact
"Doesn't it?" he repeated.
And Theo whispered:
MISS SANDERSON'S COAT.
It Didn't II•-itll.i Suit, So It Had I«
lie Iti-liir I.
Julia Sanderson gazed doubtfully it
the stylish figure reflected In tbe lonj
"Yes, It fits well," she sjid, "but it
isn't the cut that 1 wanted. I don't
know— l suppose that 1 could exchanp
it If 1 don't like It?"
"We are always willing to exrlianp
garments If they haven't been worn,"
the salesgirl replied, "but I'm sure thit
you would like this. It Is of the best
Something— some suppressed oagfr
nesv in the voice—made Miss Simder
«on glance at the other girl. She *aw
a moaßor little creature with troubled
eye* and a shy, nervous maniuv— tl»
worst kind of a manner for her work,
.lulu's friends called her "too Impul
sive,' mid one of her impulses wored
"I'll take it," she cried, with suddeu
"Oh," the girl cried, a soft coioi
lius'ilng her face, "I'm sure you'll llkt
it! 1' She just caught back In time the
"I'm so glad!" on the tip of her tongue.
The lovely young lady could not guess
what It meant to her to make one good
Julia had seen the look and went
home 111 a comfortable glow of self-ap
proval ; hut when the coat appeared the
glow faded to doubt.
"1 be:love I'll slip It on and see what
Dell Armstrong says about It," she re
solv'd. "That won't be wearing It-
It will only be deciding whether I'll
keep it "
It was a long way to Dell Arm
strong's, but Julia returned decided.
Dell had agreed that the coat dirt not
lie- me her and must go back. Jnlli
was folding it to put into the bos when
a spot in the under side of tTie sleeve
caught her eye, and with a rush of dis
may «h" remembered that Dell's little
daughter had climbed Into her 1»P
wltn a candy In her hand. For a mo
meat she hesitated, then she closed
the box resolutely. She did not know
that the spot was not there all tbe
time; and anyway, they knew how to
clean things at Harnard's. It would
not make any difference to them.
So Julia carried the cloak back. The
little salesgirl grew white when she
saw her, but she only asked, mechani
cally, "it hasn'.t been worn, of course.'^
"I merely tried It on to decide."
Julia answered. The girl's face irri
tated her—as if exchanging things wa»
not part of their business! When tb»
credit slip was given her she hurried
away with a sigh of relief; the dls
agreoable business was over at last
But it was not quite. That night tfl»
girl known as No. 6 was called t» th«
office. A cloak sold by her had been
returned damaged, the forewoman re
ported; the firm could not keep sales
women who were so careless of Its 'D'
terests. No. 6 without a word took
the envelope with her week's wage*
and tv-ned away. She staggered on
the way out, but there was no one to
Over to Dell Armstrong's Julia San
derson was discussing the kind of cc«
she really needed.—Youth's Compan*o"-
The Book Agent—Been runnlaj *•"
hind your schedule rfor the last thre*
or four days, haven't yon?
The Rural Mail-Carrier (as pie**
antly as possible)— Yep! Seml-anntw
sowing of greengoods circular* 1b "°*
"Johnny, you're lazy."
"Aw, ma. 1 ain't neither." » -JJ
"Yes, yon are. Do you know .*»•■
It is that 'finds things for Idle *****
to dor :-|
--"fes'm. You do."—Cleveland \^<^