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tsgsga&Bm&amB^^ |jffffji fffTiiiriM w em ffrfirffiiffffifiifrfffrffffffrfrr-rrrrrfrrfrrrrfff******-'** IEg5SE3B83BS&B3HHHi "WILL YOU BE ENGAGED TO ME?" Synopsis.Major Amberson had made a fortune in 1873 when other people were losing fortunes, and the magnificence of the Ambersons began then. Major Amberson laid out a 200-acre "development," with roads and statuary, and in the center of a four-acre tract, on Amberson avenue, built for himself the most magnificent mansion Midland City had ever seen. When the major's daughter married young Wilbur Mlnafer the neighbors predicted that as Isabel could never really love Wilbur all her love would be bestowed upon the children. There is only one child, however, George Amberson Mlnafer, and his upbringing and his youthful accomplishments as a mschief maker are quite in keeping with the most pessimistic predictions. By the time George goes away to college he does not attempt to conceal his belief that the Ambersons are about the most important family in the world. At a ball given in bis honor when he returns from college, George monopolizes Lucy Morgan, a stranger and the prettiest girl present, and gets on famously with her until he learns that a "queer looking duck" at whom he had been poking much fun, Is the young lady's father. He is Eugene Morgan, a former residenCof Big- burg, and he is returning to erect a factory and to build horseless carriages of his own Invention. Eugene had been an old admirer of Isabel's and they had been engaged when Isabel threw him over because of a youthful indiscre- tion and married Wilbur Mlnafer. George makes rapid progress in his court- ship of Lucy. A cotillion helps their acquaintance along famously. Their "friendship" continues during bis absences at college. CHAPTER VIIIContinued. In the matter of coolness George met Lucy upon her own predeter mined ground In fact, he was there first, and at their next encounter proved loftier and more formal than she did. Their estrangement lasted three weeks, and then disappeared without any preliminary treaty: It had worn Itself out and they forgot it. The Major had taken a great fancy to her, insisting upon her presence and her father's at the Amberson fam ily dinner at the Mansion every Sun day evening. She knew how to flirt with old people, he said, as she sat next him at the table on one of these Sunday occasions and he had always liked her father, even when Eugene was a "terror" long ago. "Oh, yes, he was!" the Major laughed when she remonstrated. "He came up here with my son George and some others for a serenade one night, and Eugene stepped into a bass fiddle, and the poor musicians just gave up! That serenade was just before Isabel was marriedand don't you fret, Miss Lucy: your father remembers it well enough!" The old gentleman burst into laughter, and shook his finger at Eugene across the table. "The fact is," the Major went on hilariously, "I believe if Eugene hadn't broken that bass -fiddle and given himself away Isabel would never have taken Wil bur! I shouldn't be surprised if that was about all the reason that Wilbur got her! What do you think, Wil- bur?" "I shouldn't be surprised," said Wil bur pladdy. "If your notion is right I'm glad 'Gene broke the fiddle. He was giving me a hard run!" The Major always drank three glasses of champagne at his Sunday dinner, and he was finishing the third. -"What do you say about it, Isabel? By Jove!" he cried, pounding the table, "she's blushing!" Eugene was as pink as Isabel, but he laughed without any sign of embar rassment other than his heightened color. "There's another Important thingthat is, for me," he said. "It's the only thing that makes me forgive that bass viol for getting In my way." "What Is It?" the Major asked. "Lucy," said Morgan gently. Isabel gave him a quick glance, all warm approval, and there was a mur mur of frlendllnr -s round the table. SummeA glided by evenly and quick ly enough! for the most part, and at the end seemed to fly. On the last night before George went back to be a junior his mother asked him confi dently if it had not been a happy summer. He hadn't thought about It, he an swered. "Oh, I suppose so. Why?" "I just thought it would be nice to hear you say so," she said, smiling. "It's seemed to me that it must have been a happy summer for youa real 'summer of roses and wine'without the wine, perhaps. 'Gather ye roses while ye may'or was' It primroses? Time does really fly, or perhaps it's like the skyand smoke" George was puzzled. "It strikes me you're getting mixed. I don't see much resemblance between time and the sky, or between things and smoke wreaths but I do see one reason you like Lucy Morgan so much. She talks that same kind of wistful, moony way sometimesI don't mean to say I mind it in either of you, be cause I rather like to listen to it, and you've got a very good voice, mother. It's nice to listen to, no mat ter how much smoke and sky, and so on, you talk. So's Lucy's, for that matter and I see why you're con genial. She talks that way to her father, too and he's right there with the same kind of guff. Well, It's all right with me! I've got plenty to think about when people drool along!" She pressed his hand to her cheek, and a tear made a tiny warm streak across one of his knuckles. Tor heaven's sake!" he said. '"What's the matter? Isn't everything all rlghtr "You're going away! I sever can tear to see you gothat's the most of It I'm a Uttle bothered about your father, too." "Why?* "It seems to me he looks so bad. Everybody thinks so." "What nonsense George laughed. "He's been loafing that way all sum- mer. He isn't much different from the way he's looked all his life, that I can see. What's the matter with him?" "He never talks much about his business to me, but I think he's been worrying about some investments he made last year. I think his worry has affected his health." "What investments?" George de manded. "He hasn't gone into Mr. Morgan's automobile concern, has he?" "No," Isabel smiled. "The 'auto mobile concern' is all Eugene's, and it's so small I understand It's taken hardly anything. No your father has always prided himself on making only the most absolutely safe Investments, but two or three years ago he and your Uncle George both put a great dealpretty much everything they could get together, I thinkinto the stock of rolling mills some friends of theirs owned, and I'm afraid the mills haven't been doing well." "What of that? Father needn't worry. You and I can take care of him the rest of his life on what grand father" "Of course," she agreed. "But your father's always lived so for his busi ness and taken -such pride in his sound investments it's a passion with him. I" "PshawI He needn't worry! You tell him we'll look after him." He kissed her. "Good night I'm going to tell Lucy goodby. Don't sit up for me." "Yes, I will," she laughed. "You won't be very late." "WellIt's my last night" "But I know Lucy, and she knows I want to see you too, your last night You'll see: she'll send you home promptly at eleven!" But she was mistaken: Lucy sent him home promptly at ten. CHAPTER IX. Isabel's uneasiness about her hus band's healthsometimes reflected in her letters to George during the win ter that followedhad not been alle viated when the accredited Senior re turned for his next summer vacation, "For Heaven's Sake!" He Said, "What's the Matter?" and she confided to him In his room, soon after his arrival, that "some thing" the doctor had said to her late ly had made her more uneasy than ever. "Doctor Rainey says we ought to get him away." "Well, let's do it then." "He won't go." "He's a man awfully set In bis ways that's true," said George. "I don't think there's anything much the matter with aba, though. Have you seen Lacy lately? How hi she?" "She lookspretty!" amid Isabel. "I suppose aba wrote yoa they're moved?" "Yes Pre got her said they were building.1 ***r*"* i The Magnificent Ambersons & Copyright by Doubled*?. Pare ft Company. "They did. It's all finished, and they've been in It a month. It's small, but oh, such a pretty little house!" "Well, that's fortunate," George said. "One thing I've always felt they didn't know a great deal about Is ar chitecture." "Don't they?" asked Isabel, sur prised. "Anyhow, their house Is charming. It's way out beyond the end of Amberson boulevard It's quite near that big white house with a gray green roof somebody built out there a year or so ago. I suppose you'll be driving out to see Lucy tomorrow." "I thought" George hesitated. "I thought perhaps I'd go after dinner this evening." At this his mother laughed, not as tonished. "It was only my feeble joke about tomorrow,' Georgie! I was pretty sure you couldn't wait that long. Did Lucy write you about the factory?" "No. What factory?" "The automobile shops. This spring they've finished eight automobiles and sold them all, and they've got twelve more almost finished, and they're sold already! Eugene Is so gay over It! They're very Interesting to took at behind the driver's seat there's a sort of box where four people can sit, with a step and a little door in the rear, and*-" "I know all about it," said George. "I've seen any number like that east You can see all you want of 'em If you stand on Fifth avenue half an hour any afternoon. I've seen half a dozen go by almost at the same timewithin a few minutes, anyhow and of course electric hansoms are a common sight there any day. I hired one myself the last time I was there. How fast do Mr. Morgan's machines go?" "Much too fast! It's very exhila ratinghut rather frightening and they do make a fearful uproar. He says, though, he thinks he sees a way to get around the noisiness in time." "I don't mind the noise," said George. "Give me a horse for mine, though, any day. I must get up a race with one of these things Pendennisll leave it one mile behind In a two-mile run. How's grandfather?" "He looks well, but he complains sometimes of his heart." George bad taken off his coat "I don't like to hint to a lady," he said, "but I do want to dress before din- ner." "Don't be long Pre got to do a lot of looking at you, dear!" She kissed him and ran away, singing. But his Aunt Fanny was not so fond and at the dinner table there came a spark of liveliness Into her, eyes when George patronizingly asked her what was the news in her own "particular line of sport? "Well, what's the gossip? You usually hear pretty much everything that goes on around the nooks and crannies In this town, I hear. Whaf the last from the gossips' corner, auntie?" Fanny dropped her eyes, but a movement of her lower lip betokened a tendency Jo laugh as she replied, "There hasn't been much gossip lately except the report that Lucy Morgan and Fred Kinney are engagedand that's quite old by this time." There was a clatter upon George's plate. "Whatwhat do you think you're talking about?" he gasped. Miss Fanny looked up Innocently. "About the report of Lucy Morgan's engagement to Fred Kinney." George turned dumbly to his mother and Isabel shook her head reassur ingly. "People are always starting rumors," she said. "I haven't paid any attention to this one" "But yoayou've heard it?" he stammered. "Oh, one hears all sorts of nonsense, dear. I haven't the slightest idea that it's true." "Then you have heard it!" George turned pale. "Eat your dinner, Georgie," his aunt said sweetly. "Food will do you good. I didn't say I knew this rumor was true. I only said I'd heard it" "Fanny, you're a hard-hearted crea- ture," Isabel said gently. "You really are. Don't pay any attention to her, George. Fred Kinney's only a clerk In his uncle's hardware place: he couldn't marry for ageseven If any body would accept him!" George breathed tumultously. "I don't care anything about 'ages!' What's that got to do with it?" he said, his thoughts appearing to be somewhat disconnected. "'Ages,' don't mean anything! I only want to know I want to know I want" He stopped. "You must finish your dinner, dear," his mother urged "Don't" 1 have finished I've eaten an I want I don't want any more than I wanted. I don't wantI" He rose, still Incoherent 1 preferI want please excuse me!" He left the room, and a moment later the screens outside the opea front door were heard to etam. "Fanny! Yoa shouldn't'' "babel, don't reproach sue. Ha did have plenty of dinner, end I only told the truth: THE TOMAHAWK. WHITE EAFTH. MINN. 1*0#f#i#HiPi* "We don't actually know there isn't," Miss Fanny Insisted, giggling. "We've never asked Lucy." "I wouldn't ask her anything so ab- surd!" "George would," George's father re marked. "That's what he's gone to do." Mr* Mlnafer was not mistaken: that was what his son had gone to do. Lucy and her father were just rising from their dinner table when the stirred youth arrived at the front door of the new house. It was a cot tage, however, rather than a house and Lucy had taken a free hand with the architect, achieving results in white and green outside and white and blue inside to such effect of youth and daintiness that her father com plained of "too much springtime!" The whole place, Including his own bedroom, was a young damsel's bou doir, he said, so that nowhere could he smoke a cigar without feeling like a ruffian. However, he was smoking when George arrived, and he encour aged George to join him in the pas time, but the caller, whose air was both tense and preoccupied, declined with something like agitation. "I never smokethat is. I'm sel- domI mean, no, thanks," he said. "I mean not at all. I'd rather not." "Aren't you well, George?" Eugene asked, looking at him in perplexity. "Have you been overworking at col lege? You do look rather pa" "I don't work," said George. "I mean I don't work. I think, but I don't work. I only work at the end of the term. There isn't much to do." Eugene's perplexity was little de creased, and a tinkle of the doorbell afforded him obvious relief. "It's my foreman," he said, looking at his watch. 'Til take him out In the yard to talk. This is no place for a fore- man." And he departed, leaving the "living room" to Lucy and George. "What's wrong. George?' she asked softly. "What do you mean: What's wrong?' What makes you think any thing's 'wrong* with me?" "You do look pale, as papa said, and it seemed to me that the way you talked soundedwell, a little con fused." "See here!" George stepped close to her. "Are you glad to see me?" "You needn't be so fierce about It!" Lucy protested, laughing at his dra matic intensity. "Of course I nm! Do tell me what's the matter with you, Georg.!" "I will!" he exclaimed. "I was a boy when I saw you last I see that now, though I didn't then. Well, I'm not a boy any longer. I'm a man, and a man has a right to demand a totally different treatment." "I don't seem to be able to under stand you at all, George. Why shouldn't a boy be treated just as well as a man?" George seemed to find himself at a' loss. "Why shouldn't Well, he shouldn't, because a man has a right to certain explanations." "What In the world do you want me to explain?" "Your conduct with Fred Kinney!" George shouted. Lucy uttered a sudden cry of laughter she was delighted. "It's been awful!" she said. "I don't know that I ever head of worse misbe havior! Papa and I have been twice to dinner with his family, and I've been three times to church with Fred and once to the circus! I don't know when they'll be here to arrest me!" "Stop that!" George commanded fiercely. "I want to know just one thing, and I mean to know It too!" "Whether I enjoyed the circus?" "I want to know If you're engaged to him!" "No!" she cried, and lifting her face close to bis for the shortest in stant possible, she gave him a look half merry, half defiant, but all fond. It was an adorable look. "Lucy!" he said huskily. But she turned quickly from him, and ran to the other end of the room. He followed awkwardly, stammering: "Lucy, I wantI want to ask you. Will youwill youwill you be en gaged to me?" She stood at a window, seeming to look out Into the summer darkness, her back to him. "No," she murmured, just audibly. "Why not?" "You're too young." "Is that" he said, gulping"is that the only reason you won't?" She did not answer. As she stood persistently staring oat of the window with her back to him she did not see how humble bis attitude bad become but his voice was low, aad It shook so that she could have no doubt of bis emotion. "Lucy, please forgive me for making such a row." he said, thus gently. "Tve beenI've been terribly upset terribly I Yon know how I feel about yoa, and always have felt about you. Don't year Still she did not move or speak. "Is the only reason yoa won't he engaged to see yea think Vm toe Laor Booth Tarkington "It'sit's reason enough," she said faintly. At that he caught one of her hands, and she turned to him: there were tears in her eyes, tears which he did not understand at all. "Lucy, you little dear!" he cried. "I knew you" "No, no!" she said, and she pushed him away, withdrawing her hand. "George, let's not talk of solemn things." "Solemn things!' Like what?" "Likebeing engaged." But George had become altogether jubilant, and he laughed triumphant ly. "Good gracious, that isn't sol- emn!" "It Is too!" she said, wiping her eyes. "It's too solemn for us." "No, It Isn't! I" "Let's sit down and be sensible, dear," she said. "You sit over there" "I will If you'll call me 'dear' again." "No," she said. 'Til only call you that once again this summerthe night before you go away." "That will have to do, then," he laughed, "so long as I know we're en gaged." "But we're not!" she protested. "And we never will be if you don't promise not to speak of it again until I tell you to!" "I won't promise that," said the happy George. "I'll only promise not to speak of it till the next time you call me 'dear and you've promised to call me that the night before I leave for my senior year." "Oh, but I didn't!" she said ear nestly, then hesitated. "Did I?" "Didn't you?" "I don't think I meant it," she mur mured, her wet lashes flickering above troubled eyes. "I know one thing about you," he said gayly, his triumph Increasing, "you never went back on anything you said yet, and I'm not afraid of this being the first time!" "But we mustn't let" she fal tered then went on tremulously, "George, we've got on so well together we won't let this make a difference between us, will we?" And she joined in his laughter. "It will all depend on what you tell me the night before I go away. You agree we're going to settle things then, don't you Lucy?" "I don't promise." "Yes, you do! Don't you?" "Well" CHAPTER X. That night George began a jubilant warfare upon his Aunt Fanny, open ing the campaign upon his return home at about eleven o'clock. Fanny had retired, and was presumably asleep, but George, on the way to his own room, paused before her door, and serenaded her in a full baritone: "As I walk along the Boy de Belong With my Independent air. The people all declare, 'He must be a millionaire!' Oh, you hear them sigh, and wish to die, And see them wink the other eye At the man that broke the bank at Ifonte Carlo!" After breakfasting In bed, George spent the next morning at his grand father's and did not encounter his Aunt Fanny until lunch, when she seemed to be ready for him. "Thank you so much for the sere nade, George!" she said "Your poor father tells me he'd just got to sleep for the first time hi two nights, but after your kind attentions he lay awake the rest of last night" "Perfectly true," Mr. Mlnafer said grimly. "Of course, I didn't know, sir," George hastened to assure him. "I'm awfully sorry. But Aunt Fanny was so gloomy and excited before I went out, last evening, I thought she needed cheering up." He turned to his mother. "What's the matter with grandfather?" "Didn't you see him this morning?" Isabel asked. "Yes. He was glad to see me, and all that, but he seemed pretty fidgety. Has he been having trouble with his heart again?" "Not lately. No." "Well, he's not himself. What's he upset over?" Isabel looked serious however, it was her husband who suggested gloom ily, "I suppose the Major's bothered about this Sydney and Amelia busi ness, most likely. "What Sydney and Amelia busi- ness?" George asked 'Tour mother can tell you, if she wants to," Mlnafer said "It's not my aide of the family, so I keep off." "It's rather disagreeable for all of as, Georgie," Isabel began. "You see, your Uncle Sydney wanted a diplo matic position, and be thought Brother George, being in congress, could ar range It George did get him the offer ef a South American ministry, but Sydney wanted a European ambassa dorship, and he got quite indignant with poor George tor thinking he'd take anything smallerand he be lieves George didn't work hard enough for him. George had done his best of od now he's eat af and woat run againae aey*s Idea of a big diplomatic aoolttaa gone for good. Well. Sydney and your Aunt Amelia are terribly- disappoint* ed, and they say they've been thinking for years that this town isn't really fit to live Infor a gentleman,' Sydney saysand it is getting rather big and dirty. So they've sold their house and decided to go abroad to live perma nently there's a villa near Florence they've often talked of buying. And they want father to let them have their share of the estate, now, instead of waiting for him to leave It to them in his will." "Well, I suppose that's fair enough," George said. "That is, in case he in tended to leave them a certain amount in his will." "Of course that's understood, Georgie. Father explained his will to us long ago a third to them, and a third to Brother George, and a third to us." Her son made a simple calculation In his mind. Uncle George was a bachelor, and probably would never marry Sydney and Amelia were child less. The Major's only grandchild ap peared to remain the eventual heir of the entire property, no matter if the Major did turn over to Sydney a third! of it now. "Well, I suppose it's grand father's own nffar. He can do it or not, just as he likes. I don't see why he'd mind much." "He seemed rather confused and pained about it," Isabel said. "I think they oughtn't to urge It. George says that the estate won't stand taking out "Lucy, I WantI Want to Ask You," the third that Sydney wants, and that Sydney and Amelia are behaving like a couple of pigs. I'm on George's side, whether he's right or wrong I always was from the time we were children and Sydney and Amelia are hurt with me about It, I'm afraid. They've stopped speaking to George entirely. Poor father! Family rows at his time of life." An hour after lunch, George strolled over to his grandfather's, intending to apply for further Information, as a party rightfully Interested. He did not carry out this Intention, however. Going into the big house by a side entrance, he was Informed that the Major was upstairs In bis bedroom, that bis sons Sydney and George were both with him, and that a serious argument was in progress. George went to the foot of the great stairway. He could hear angry voices overheadthose of bis two uncles and a plaintive murmur, as If the Major tried to keep the peace. Such sounds were far from encour aging to callers, and George decided not to go upstairs until this interview was over. He turned from the stair way, and going quietly Into the library, picked up a magazinebut he did not open It, for bis attention waa Instant ly arrested by his Aunt Amelia's voice, speaking in the next room. The door was open and George heard her dis tinctly. "Isabel does? Isabel I" she exclaimed* her tone high and shrewish. "Yoa needn't tell me anything about Isabel Mlnafer, I guess, my dear old Frank Bronson! I know her a tittle better than you do, don't you think?" George heard the voice of Mr. Bron son replyinga voice familiar to him ns that of his grandfather's attorney in-chief and chief intimate as well. He was a contemporary of the Major's, be ing over seventy, and they had been through three years of the war in the same regiment. "I doubt your knowing Isabel," he said stiffly. "You speak of her as you do because she sides with her brothef George, instead of with you and Syd* ney." "You little fool! You awful little fooir (TO BE CONTINUED.) Reasoning From Kittens. Little Edward's twin sisters wer* being christened. All went w*U until Edward saw the water In the font Then he anxiously turned to his moth er and exclaimed: "Ma. which one are yon going to keep?"Blighty (ton don). Chicory. In some parts of Cape Province South Africa, chicory gives a yield ef |200 to 1900 per acre, Jofcaanevbart