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The Pickens sentinel-journal. (Pickens, S.C.) 1909-1911, August 11, 1910, Image 2

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PICKENS, s. c.
You can't tell much about the slzo
of the man In the grave by the size
of the tombstone, moralizes Ram's
When Opportunity knocks, laments
the Commoner, the sound is usually
drowned by the noise of the knocker
on the inside.
As a proof that women are extravagant,
insists the Hill City (Kan.) New
Era, we call your attention to tlio
fart that many a widow does $50
worth of grieving over the loss o? a
thirty-cent man.
The idea of teaching every girl to
thump the piano and every hoy to
be a bookkeeper will make potatoes
worth $S per barrel in another twenty
years, laments the Virginia
(Minn.) Enterprise.
Insists the San Francisco Chronicle:
Our enormous losses from fire
are the price we pay for the privilege
of permitting easy going city government
to allow people to construct lire
traps to live or do business in.
The child actress is born, not
drilled, dogmatizes Francis Wilson, in
Collier's. From the time she sits up
and babbles baby phrases she lives
in a mimic world. From the time
che learns to walk, she dances,
pirouettes and minces her way along.
Her "make-believe" world is full of
thrilling happenings, and so when her j
talent finds an outlet on the stage,
acting Is 110 effort, and she learns j
"lines" as the average baby girl abeorbs
and memorizes Mother Goose
The automobile will lift the burden
from the back of the horse, and
meet the need of man for haste. Wo 1
shall have the horse for pleasant ;
journeys, sings the Newark Call,
when we would see the world calmly;
for the licliter labors- for
panionship; for the infinite satisfaction
which the noble animal gives tjv*
its every relation with mankjhd.
Cruelty will end; the beneflt?"'which
come from tlU. e^rcise oMdndness to
animals wiliyhave their just moral effect
'.^man; the dumb brute will
its intelligence; there will bo
finer breeding, better horses, and better
men. The horse is not going. It
is coming. - 1
President David Starr Jordan, of
Iceland Stanford University, does not
agree with the California State Labor
Commission, which recent ly expressed
the belief that Japanese laborers
must be employed in the development
of California's agricultural interests,
"It may be true," he says, "that some
of tho fruit growers in California
have suffered from want of sufficient
labor, and this may have occasioned
a certain economic loss, but the question
of Asiatic emigration is so complex
tlia.t it- rnnnnt ho riiunnun/i
wholly on an economic basis. There
is more than one side to the matter.
A number of the people of California
are strongly opposed to having the
State inundated with a race which
must remain socially Inferior and
which cannot be amalgamated. These
people are content with the arrange-!
inent which has been made with
Japan. Japan has promised to keep
its laboring people from coming fo
the rnited States. This arrange
merit, I believe, is better for Japan
and better for California "
It is not at all probable that the
farmers of Massachusetts will object
to the proposed new method of tho
Inspection of milk destined for the
Boston market, once they realize that
it. will have many advantages, even
if calling for a little more care and
labor, argues the Boston Post. For
one thing, our producers will be
placed on an even basis with those
outside tho State, who will be com-1
polled to maintain dairies satisfactory j
to our authorities under penalty of
having their milk stopped at the border.
At present the outsider too often
has the better of the competition.
Again, it always is true that/anything ;
Ihnl .....J _ ...i : I.
milk is produced, will in (ho end he
for the bent interests of She f;irrn and
the farmer. Modern farming?and
the most snceesbful ?is distinctly 1
along the lines of education. The inRistence
upon rlean and pure milk
isn't to hurt the Hay State
farmer in the slightest, nor even
cause him much inconvenience after |
the system has settled down to work.
He wfll eventually share in ib?
efit that will accrue to all.
p Jecu
c By IVin ij
4 *+*++<fr??+4?? OUIS PAJIAT, a Fr
- tl the French police tc
" wall for two years.
!| fl H "It ees of a nothii
;; jjollce to explain.
^ % jealousy. 1 cannot
f-- ' - -Y free to go and conie
X-} + { + {.i don't know wni
about It. I know wl
clir.'.n the uxorious Mr. Parat to a st
just to let him set a ohiuin' tr> Ifnm
that eftuses him so much inconvenient
I wonder if Madame Parat ever had
^d to the wall.
I suppose the gallant gentleman In
wife believe that she was a very lucl
so much about her that he had to k
going crazy with jealousy.
You'll remember how Mr. Mantalin
for him by telling her that he loved tc
was so graceful when sl.e was busy,
graceful when she was chained to th<
Of all miserable, selfish, outrageous
A woman who has a jealous husbai
one of two things the day she marries
Either she will be miserable as long
to teach him to break himself of (ho i
Well-founded jealousy is one thing,
either to be as blind as a bat or as du
harm in every little harmless pleasant
ed friendship is nothing more or less
to it should be brought to realize that
Is your husband so jealous that he
without, him, and that he turns green
car conductor? Call in a brain specia
Your husband needs his services. A
sort of persecution go 011 unchecked.?
3 College?an
Bv President I
HK old curriculum, wi
1 petition. Where all
rank meant somethir
elective system we
and koi better teach
with competition be
?nd the stimulus tli
has been a serious
athletics in our colic
is the onljf place where there is real
different types of character. It was
curcJculum to think that, all the stiu
is/I believe, an equal mistake for the a
t?ftat each student requires a different
large number of subjects of interest t
of occupations which the students ar
comparatively small number of types
If we can have four or five honor c
lloh ??! I ...? ?-- ?
on iiiiniriBuics, n iu'I U llltr Kllllllffi UTO
to^meet the needs ot these different t
Advantages of the elective system 01
ourselves to its evils. I am oonfider
lective intellectual interest which is
and can establish competitions whic
lege, but in the world as places who
It may be objected that any such r
a boy to study the particular things ti
regard this as its cardinal advantage
me to be one where a student learn*
after life by methods that lie is going
student breadth, while the latter elern
lie's Weekly.
n/T ! L-T ~ -
| jviuuLtrrri i/ur
* By Jamas
NR of the favorite ar;
m X the normal place I'o
* H H T home, fulfilling the
I 1 Jf * therewith, w>man li
x T in r noblest service t
# ? ??? illcation and limitatii
x home is still experiei
home had a large pa
days of homespun,
/roods for its own consiimntion. and ni
tion was performed by the w union,
of home production to the factory aysl
largely from tin- home and woman's o
tal qualifications of sup< i vising and <i
mai environment when indus:r.v was c
ought. t'> be equally qualili/d to perfori
rvstein is in VOgue.
The question 01 uxinan's pi ce in
state of (lux. The status of the nunc
experience has established its functir
truly determine woman's normal sphe
4- + 'Ir > > i* ?! > ?i
Forty Jicr
t ~_L_
1 By Pro/es.so
?*wnraa < CORDING to official
j/ I in its main islands.
I population of 48,5-12,'
1 is 21,:!21 squaro in 1
8 mile, and besides tli
^ I cat He and horses, m
8L m giving a population <
tS ' 1" to each forty ac
Helently different fr
farm to make tJi?? l?us!?*st man among
The old farmer who permitted tm
that there were twelve in his famih
fifteen mow of land, which is two ar
team?a cow and snjaJi donkey -ihe
rate of 102 people, 10 <jows, 1G donkej
a population density of 3,072 people,
per squaro mile.?Farm and FXvesidi
lousy m
'red Black ^
ench druggist, has been called before
> tell why he kept his wife chained to a
iR," said M. Parat, when he went to the
"I liavft in niv heart hut a enawing
live and do my work when my wife ib
where other men may look at her."
it the French police are going to do
liiU 1 wish they'd do. I wish they would
aple, and keep him tied up two years,
to control that same gnawing Jealousy
any jealous pangs while she was chainthis
case quite succeeded in making his
;y woman to have a husband who cared
eep her chained up, to keep him from
1 persuaded his wife to do all the work
> lie in bed and watch her work, she
1 suppose Madame Parat was very
3 wall.
rornirf or insanity, jealousy is tne most
id might as well make up her mind to
: as she lives with him, or she will have
>erverted egotism he calls jealousy.
No one expects a husband or a wife
11 as an owl. But the Jealousy that sees
ry, and wickedness in every open-heartthan
a form of insanity, and the victim
won't let you move out of the house
when you hand your fare to the street
inrt you'll need them, too, if you let that
-New York American.
d Afterward '
ladley, of Yale
ith all its faults, had the element of comthe
boys were studying the same thing,
ib to them all. With the introduction of
secured competition between teachers
ing; but we have practically done away
tween students, and have lost at that
iat we gained at the other. This loss
one. Much of the undue interest in
ge life today Is due to the fact that tills
competition among a number of men of
a mistake for the advocates of the old
louts required the same treatment. It
ulvocates of the elective system to think
t treatment. For while there is a very
to study, and an almost infinite variety
e going to follow afterward, there is a
of mind with which we have to deal.
;uuiouo, nuiiiumiiitt ntvu I UUHl? Ul lilt:
grouped and the examinations arranged
ypes, we can, I think, realize the chief
r the group system without subjecting
it that we can secure a degree of colnow
absent from most of our colleges,
u miii uu r(;i'UK[ii?eu not uuiy ill coire
the best men can show what is In
irrangement would render it difficult for
lat he was going to use in after life. 1
. The Ideal college education seems to
i things that he is not going to uso in
to use. The former element gives the
eat gives him the training.?From Les716
Is Changing 1
r i _ t
tr. Elevens *
gumonts against woman suffrage is that,
r woman is the homo, and that in the
duties and responsibilities connected
as her supremo [unction and performs
0 the race. This argument needs moduli
if it is to bo consistent, because the
iicing radical processes of change. The
rt of the supervision of industry in the
IOac.h household produced most of tlie
inch of the supervision of home producNow
we have passed from tlio system
em and Industrial supervision has gone
verslght. If woman had the fundamenlir:
( ting labor and determining its norarrled
on largely in the home, then she
n that service while our present factory
1 the economic and social order is in a
. , . .1 ...I
.r> mill' IS"IHS .mil 'VI,I'll
us and limitations, then wo can more
es and the
inese $
r F. H. Kinz \
statistics putdishrd In 1U08, Japan has
exclusive of Formosa and Karafuto, a
iI'.O and the area of Its cultivated fields
' s. This Is 2,277 jK'??[do to the Bquare
i so there are also maintained 2,600,000
arly all of which are la/></rlns; animals,
?f 112 people and seven horses and catros
of cultivated field, a condition surma
our most fully occupied forty-acre
us stop and do Rome thinking.
to hold his plough (old my Interpreter
and that ho owned and was cultivating
id one-half acres, and that bosides his
ii ually feci two plus. This la at the
s ?nd 3? r Iga on a forty-aero farm, and
2T.C cov.- . 25C donkoyB and D121 swine
(U k
. <N c;c^3 c-p rV-, ^L, Asssas;
"Oh, she told yon that, did she?
he asked, looking; up at her in a cur
ious way. "So that was the lie shi
blinded you with! Oh, she's clever
is Dorothy Knebwell, very clever, bu
she'll find her match some day.
Then, with a different accent in hi
voice, ho wont on- "Put vor imrHi
away; It don't hold so much, I guess
that you can give money to others
I slia'n't forget you, neither. A felle
don't run agin many like you ever;
Enid slipped her purse back inti
her pocket. Her ears were painei
by the words he had spoken abou
Dorothy, and with all her usual truth
lumens sue oroacnea tnis subject.
"lias ray cousin done you soim
wrong, that you abuse her as yoi
do?" she said, hurriedly, and a llttl<
He just smiled a faint, unpieasan
"Don't ask no questions, miss, am
you won't hear no nasty stories. 1
ain't for you; you're one of them a
goes straight and honest?you don'
understand lies and wickedness. Wi
shall meet again, miss, and I'll no
forget what you thought of me. I'l
not forget."
Enid bent her head and move*
September came in with a continu
ation of the splendid weather that ha<
done nil in its power to recompense
for the changeable, unsatisfactor:
summer that had visited the earlie
months of the year. Out on th<
moors the sportsman, freed fron
tranimel and care, forgot, his dail;
town existence, and trudged valiantl;
after the birds, breathing in a ston
of sweet, fresh air to strengthen hi
lungs for the late autumn mists am
fogs. livery seaside place wa
crammed, and round about Londoi
the river resorts and small farm
houses still held a goodly company o
health rather than pleasure seekers.
Close to a lock in one of the pret
tiest parts of the upper Thames then
was a tiny, old-fashioned cottage
rustic in its exterior, yet replete will
every comfort and luxury within. I
bachelor had furnished it. and j
danty nest it was, a casket worthy
In its way, of any gem. The owner
tired of the serene beauty of th<
river, sought other scenes, and pu
up his cottage bungalow for hire
It was at once taken, and thither
after sending down servants an<
making everything more charming
if possible, than before, did Gervais
Lord Derriman, bring his young wifi
a week after their marriage.
The wedding had been as quiet a
the most rigid upholder of etiquetti
could have wished, no one being pres
ent save Lady Derriman and a secotx
cousin of Dorothy's, the present hold
| er of the title, Sir George Knebwell
She had gone to the altar in a simph
cotton gown, and no two .peoph
started 011 their new life with deepe
prayers for future happiness thai
was breathed for them by Gervais
A halcyon time followed. Doroth;
declared again and again that, she wa
in a paradise with which there wa
no compare. Her love for her hus
band was still the same blind, ex
traordinary passion, while his for lie
was deepning into that tenderness
that sweet protection that is mor
lasting than the truest affection.
"(ierVais, I think 1 shall go for
etxs.ll " "' ? -l-l-l-i'-- *
L,uu>i, mir mini, miit'KiiUK ner pvo
from the sun with a small, whit
hand. "I will go and inquire for tha
poor child we saw run over the othe
"I will corno with you," was th
answer, and away went the newspape
at once.
Hut Dorothy shook her head.
"No, no!" she cried, with a lang
that somehow was scarcely easy <>
musical; "you must work; rememhe
those letters you said were so im
portant! I shall not lie an hour, an
we ran spend all the afternoon on th
river; so, my lord, be industrious fo
once' I hid you au rovoir!"
And, waving her hand, Doroth
went through the window, calling t
her maid to bring her a shady ha!
parasol and gloves, <*ind, tlni
equipped, she blew a kiss to her hand
some husband, and walked awaj
with all her proud, graceful hearing.
Her way lay through a most pi<
turesmie nud ovfinlcit/. ?iit <>f i...
but Dorothy had no eyes for kcpikmm
the sight of her lovely face in th
mirror was enough for her, and s<
deep in her thoughts, she walked o
and on, never heeding which way sh
had taken till she found herself alon
in a lane bordered on each side b
trees tinged with autumn's decayin
touch, and came to the conclnsio
that she must bo a good two mile
from her cottage home.
She looked around her, and at fir?
could discover no one or no thim
' till suddenly a coil of blue smok
lifted itself above the trees, and ino\
ini; toward It, she saw a tiny work
man's but, with the door wide opoi
The stop was snow-white, and on till
stop a baby child was playing?small
tot, with hair of curly brown.
Dorothy was drawing her daint
pkirts away from the contaminatln
touch of the baby when suddenly I
wr-x:T*t) ' ' ' ' :<Vv' " "'
I n]
<L ^
lifted Its head and gazed at her wim
Its great blue eyeB. She stood still
? und looked down at It, her gaze riveted
on the Bmall, tanned face with
those glorious orbs and the mark of a
" ccar just across the left brow. Tho
color had fled from her own cheeks,
? her lips were pale, and as the sound
of steps approaching from Inside
S rnof'n ti rl l >
-VMV.1VU , ??^uvuc luimiiB, ?uu
e pimply extending her small gloved
' hand toward the baby on the ground,
k phe asked, In a strange, far distant
r voice, forgetting what her real quesy
lion should have been, forgetting all
In the sudden rush of terrible dread
J and alarm that came over her:
"That child IT* pretty. Can you tell
1 me whose it Is?"
There was no answer from the
newcomer; and, as if drawn by some
5 powerful magnetic influence, Doroth>
1 turned round. As ner eyes rested on
E' the man leaning against the doorway,
i sneer on his pale lips and a look of
triumnh written over bis rnHmmit
beautiful face, she drew hack involuntarily
and shivered with ague.
The man stood gazing at her foi
s several seconds; then lifting his left
1 irm?the right was suspended around
t! Ills nock in a sling?he pointed to tho j
I baby, who was once more playing
' with its sticks and stones; heedless
I end ignorant of the drama being en'
| iicted above its pretty little head.
"So you trace a likeness, do you, I
" f.adv Derrtman? Well, it ain't i
! strange; she's the very spit of me,
: ain i snev one would think a mothe? I
^ i needn't have asked that question; but j
r eince you have, I will answer it. That
l' j ;hild is called Barbara Laxon, and she
1 belongs to you and me!"
Y i
0 Her Slianu*.
? Dorothy, Lady Derriman, stood like
1 ! a woman turned to stone. Her fare
? I was ghastly pale, and her eyes fixed
i I before her, while one hand clutched
- ] at a post of the door for support,
f i The man stood opposite, watching hei
with a smile on his lips, a nasty, un
pleasant smile that was like that ol
? *n animal waiting ready to spring on
, I its prey at the first opportunity.
i Two minutes ticked slowly by, and
^ ! the old clock hung just inside the
i door sounded ponderously in theli
, ears; Dorothy noticed in a strange,
, , vacant way that the larger hand was
a ; oroken and pointed in a jagged condit
| :ion to the figures.
"Well," he broke the silence al I
, | last; "have you nothing to say?"
1 She lifted one hand and loosened
. the lace at her throat; then speech
, came.
e "You?you said she was dead," sht
answered, her clear, bell-like tone?
s ; liusky and thick. )
b I "I say many queer things"?he
- I shrugged his shoulders and leaned
1 i negligently against the door?"but 1
- - like to see people pleased. I ain't on*
. | :o disappoint folk, and so as you
a | wished her dead 1 took pains to Id
b you think you'd got yer wish, that"?
r all."
Dorothy's slender fingers closed
spasmodically round the rough wood
Df the post. She shuddered as lie
y :eased, and a few words broke from
s lier pallid lips.
s "Oh, Heaven! what am I to do?**
"Ah! I've got you now, hav n't I?
- j Vou see what it is to defy (leorro
' l.axon in a hurry. Why didn't you
, , Jo as 1 asked you that morning wo
e I met in the woods? You remember
j lhe morning of the day your father?
n . ilied."
s | He paused just an instant before ho
sain mi- last word, aim uorottiy sliivt
ercd again. There was something
r sinister in It is manner, but her whole
brain and mind were fixed on the hor<
ilile problem of the moment, her misr
fry intensified as the instants passed.
"Not dead!" she said once to herself,
in the same husky voice; "not
h dead! What shafl I do7"
r The man only laughed in answer to
r this. He took out a pipe and filled it
i- slowly, while the child put out its
t! dirty little hands and grasped Dor(
othy'a lace sunshade, uttering little
r -ounds of delight as it played with the
flittering handle.
% As the man saw what the bahv was
ii loinir lie Ktrumi'fl nuil millm* ?v>.. o....
t, \ rfhnrie away.
s | "Such tilings ain't for you, alI
though your mother?"
Ho stopped.
Dorothy put her hand on his arm.
"Hush, hush!" she said, in low, terrified
tones. "Don't?"
He shook her hand off roughly,
e j "My tongue is iny own; 1 shall
>, dpeak when I like!"
n She understood him, and stood
e j half paralyzed.
e j "I am ruined!" she said, slowly, to
v , herself. "Ruined! It is horrlhlp' i?
g is horrible!"
n He put her sunshade in a clean
a corner, and lighted his pipe carefully.
It seemed to give him intense satisit
I faction t<i watch her agony of mind.
r( . "You don't hold your head so high
e | now, my lady, do you?" he said, after
- I one or two puffs at his pipe. "Now,
why wouldn't you be reasonable that
i. j day? Things would have been much
s ; better as 1 wanted than as they aro
a now. I was straight and to the point.
I offered to do the best thing 1 could,
y Make an honest woman?"
i; lie did not finish his sentence, for
It Dorothy seemed to wake from he*'
, - - ma tv> < p " ' ' ' J
lethargy, and at his culminating in*
nult reared herself up In all her beauty,
and faced him.
"How dare you? Coward, cruel,
vile coward that you are! After all
the wrong you did me, have you no
fear? Take care! Bigamy is not a
nice word, and so surely as you hunt
me down, I will drag you down, too.
Then which will come out the worst,
the man who deliberately plotted and
worked against a foolish, vain child?
for I was no more than a child when
?when I became, as I thought, your
wife, or the victim of your sin? How
wrmlri nil tilmlfiprnhlo Una vnn
me bear the light of day? Come, answer;
am I not right when I tell you
to beware how you try to ruin me?"
He looked at her In sullen admiration.
"You were always a handsome girl,
Dolly," he Bald, after a pause; "but
on my life, you're perfectly beautiful
now, I begin to think I like you a.8
well as ever I did!"
She drew back with a shudder, and
her face grew a shade paler.
"George! George! don't torture
me! Tell me what you mean to do!
Let me know the worst?yes, the
very worst?or you will drive rno
mad! Do you want money? Well, I
have plenty; I will give you what you
want! Can I say more?"
"Money ain't everything," George
Laxon answered stolidly, but his
deep-blue eyes flashed for a moment.
Dorothv drew n sham hronth
faculties were slowly coming back to
her. She saw that he had taken the
bait, but. she was too clever to let
him see that she understood his drift.
As she sat there, facing this handsome,
common, vulgar man, she
loathed herself for the folly, the madness
that had seized her when sho
was just grown to budding girlhood,
the madness that made her forget all
pride and modesty; and plan?with
a cleverness worthy of a better cause
?and arrange so that she left her
convent school ostensibly to Intn hor
home, but In reality to fly to this mr.n
whose fancy had been pricked by her
young beauty and who, hearing that
sho was a great heiress, never hesitated
to pour forth long stories of ill
luck, which, coupled with i:is extraordinary
beauty had won him the
girl's passionate heart before he could
have begun to hope.
It was a strange story. George
I,axon, for reasons of his own, though
he had a plausible excuse ready for
Dorothy, refused to let their marriage
be known to Sir Robert immediately;
he took the girl into the heart of the
French capital and there kept her quietly
hidden while her father thought
of her as safe in her convent school
and the superior imagined her back
in the world, mistress of Knebwell
Hall. It was not long before Dorothy
I found her mistake. She had loved in
the same wild, unreasonable way as
she now loved Gervais, but it could
not last. The dingy life, the sense
oi something she did not quite understand,
all turned her into the cold,
heartless, selfish girl whose indifference
hud given Enid so much unhappiness,
and who might, had she had
softening influences, have been something
altogether better. Still no
thought of shame came to her as she
sat day after day, wearily waiting
for her child to be born. Vulgar
scoundrel, ne'er-do-well as he was,
she never dreamed but that George
Laxon was in truth her husband, till
her eyes were suddenly opened, and
such a tumult of degradation, horror
and hatred filled her breast as she
herself was hardly conscious of.
The poor creature whom Laxon had
. wjnuv mrt wiie nve years previously,
who through his had treatment had
' fallen into a rapid decline and for
whose death he was waiting before ho
took Dorothy back boldly to Knebwell
Hall, found her way to the room in
which the beautiful, proud girl had
lived during the past wretched
months, and where just three weeks
] before she had become a mother.
Even when she was alone and secure,
Dorothy could not endure to recall
what followed. She had frightened
the poor soul away by her passion,
and when George Laxon cama
in later she turned on him more liko
a mad woman than a young, highly
I uicu Kin wnose uencate beauty was
| alike the admiration and the curiosity
of the quarter in which they lived.
She declared that she should return
at once to her father, and knowing
the hold he had upon her, Laxon
was only too relieved to let her go;
It served his purpose to get rid of
her for a time, and he was keenly,
alive to the fact that if he resorted
to violence and detained her by force
Dorothy would rouse such a commotion
as would bring him into trouble
and spoil bis chance of becoming her
real husband and living in luxury.
With cold, trembling hands the girl
had prepared for her instant departure.
Her passion was still at
fever heat, and when In an unhappy
moment Laxon called her attention
o the child, holding it forward for
ler to caress before she parted from
It, Dorothy with mad, blind rage
>ushed him aside, and as he Btaggered
jack the baby slipped from his hold,
'oii hoouiiu ?? ~ -
......I.; UM mu irunwoni or U1Q
Ded, uttered one feeble cry and then
,ay insensible.
With all his innate badness, Georgo
Laxon was not a cruel man; and as ho
aeheld Dorothy go hurriedly from Jhr
room without a second thought to
her child?whom for aught sh-i knew
she might have killed?he realized
that there was something stronger in
her nature to grapple with beyond
lite excitement, anger and despair at
u girl.
So it was that Dorothy went back
to her father's house and took bet
place, as we first met her, the goner*
ally admired and much-emled hcircB*
of Knebwell Hall. ^
To be Cootluued. * \

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