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raey came before him with especial clearness when he met her from time to time during the winter. He watched her in tall* with others, noting the con tradiction in her that she would at one moment appear knowing and mas terful, with depths of reserve that the other people neither fathomed nor knew of and at another moment frank ly girlish, with an appealing feminine helplessness which is woman's great est strength, coercing every strong masculine instinct. When the reserve showed in her, he became afraid What was she not capable In the other mood, frank ly appealing she drew him mightily, so that he abandoned himself for the moment, responding to her fresh ex ulting youth, longing to take her, to give her things, to make her laugh, to enfold and protect her, to tell her se crets, to feather her cheek with the softest kiss, to be the child-mate of her Toward him, directly, when they met she would sometimes be glacial and forbidding, sometimes unmterestedly frank, as if they were but the best of commonplace friends. Yet sometimes she made him feel that she, too, threw herself heartily to rest in the thought of their loving, and cheated herself, as he did, with dreams of comradeship. She left him at these times with the feeling that they were deaf, dumb and blind to each other that if some means of communication could be devised, something surer than the invisible play of secret longings, all might yet be well. They talked as the people about them talked, words that meant nothing to either, and if there were mute questionings, naked appeals, un uttered declarations, they were only such as language serves to divert at tention from. Speech, doubtless, has its uses as well as its abuses. Politics, for example, would be less entertain ing without it. But in matters of the heart, certain it is that there would be fewer misunderstandings if it were forbidden between the couple under the penalty of immediate separation. In this affair real meanings are rarely conveyed except by silences. Words are not more than tasteless drapery to obscure their lines. The silence of lovers is the plainest of all speech, warning, disconcerting indeed, by its very bluntness, any but the truly mated. An hour's silence with these two people by themselves might have worked wonders CHAPT ER XIII THE DISTRESSING ADVENTURE OP MRS BINES The fame of the Bines tamily tor despising money was not fed wholly by Percival's unremitting activities. Miss Psyche Bines, during the winter, achieved wide and enviable renown as a player of bridge whist Not tor the excellence of her play rather for the inveteracy and size of her losses and the unconcerned cheerfulness with which she defrayed them. She paid the considerable sums with an air ot gratitude for having been per mitted to lose them. Especially did she seem grateful for the zealous tutelage and chaperonage of Mrs. Drelmer. "Everybody in New York plays bridge, my dear, and cf course you must learn," that capable lady had said in the beginning. "But I never was bright at cards," the girl confessed, "and I'm afraid I couldn't learn bridge well enough to interest you good players." "Nonsense!" was Mrs. Drelmer's assurance. "Bridge is easy to learn and easy to play. I'll teach you, and I promise you the people you play with shall never complain." Mrs. Drelmer, it soon appeared, knew what she was talking about. Indeed, that well-informed woman was always likely to. Her husband was an intellectual delinquent whom she spoke of largely as being "m Wall street," and in that feat of jugglery known as "keeping up appearances" his wife had long been the more dex terous performer. She was apt not only to know what she talked about, but she was a wom an of resource, unafraid of action. She drilled Miss Bines in the rudi ments of bridge. If the teacher be came subsequently much the largest winner of the pupil's losings, it was, perhaps, not more than her fit recom pense. For Miss Bines enjoyed not only the sport of the game, but her manner of playing it, combined with the social prestige of her amiable sponsor, procured her a circle of ac quaintances that would otherwise have remained considerably narrower. An enthusiastic player of bridge, of passable exterior, mediocre skill, ana unlimited resources, need never want in New York for very excellent so ciety. Not only was the western girl received by Mrs. Drelmer's immedi ate circle, but more than one mem ber of what the lady called "that snubby set" would now and then make a place for her at the card table. A few of Mrs. Drelmer's inti mates were so wanting in good taste as to intimate that she exploited Miss THE SPENDERS A TALE OF THE THIRD GENERATION HARRY LEON WILSON -A*. Copyright, by Lotbrop Publishing Company. .Dines even to the degree of an un derstanding expressed in bald per centage, with certain of those to whom she secured the girl's society at cards. Whether this ill-natured gossip was true or false, it is certain that the exigencies of life on next to nothing a year, with a husband who could boast of next to nothing but family, had developed an unerring business sense in Mrs. Drelmer and certain it also is that this winter was one wh en he appearances with which she had to strive were un wontedly buoyant. Miss Bines tirelessly memorized rules. She would disclose to her placid mother that the lead of a trump to the third hand's go-over of hearts is of doubtful expediency or that one must "follow suit with the smallest, except wh en you have only two, neither of them better than the Jack. Then play the higher fust, so tLat wh en the lower falls your partner ay know you are out of the suit, and ruff it." Mrs. Bines declared that it did seem to her very much like out-and out gambling. But Percival, looking over the stubs of his sister's check book, warmly protested her inno cence of this charge. "Heaven knows Sis has her short comings," he observed, patronizing ly, in that young woman's presence, "but she's no gambler don't say it, ma, I beg of you! She only knows five rules of he game, and I judge It's cost her about $3000 each to learn hose. And the only one she never forgets is: 'When in doubt, lead your highest check.' But don't ever accuse her of gambling. Poor girl, if she keeps on playing bridge she'll have writer's cramp that's all I'm afraid of. I see there's a new rapid-fire check-book on the market, and an improved fountain pen that doesn't slobber. I'll have to get her one of each."' Yet Psyche Bines' experience, like her brother's, was not without a proper leaven of sentiment. There was Fred Milbrey, handsome, clever, amusing, knowing everyone, and giv ing her a pleasant sense of intimacy with all that was worth while in New York. Him she felt very friendly to. Then there was Mauburn, presently to be Lord Casselthorpe, with his lazy, high-pitched drawl good-na- BARON RONAULT DE PALLIAC. tured, frank, carrying an atmosphere of high-class British worldliness, and delicately awakening within her while she was with him a sense of her own latent superiority to the institutions of her native land. She liked Mau burn, too. More impressive than either of these, however, was the Baron Ronault de Palliac. Tall, swarthy, saturnine, a polished man of all the world, of manners finished, elaborate and ceremonious, she found herself feeling foreign and distinguished in his presence, quite as if she were the heroine of a romantic novel, and might at any instant be called upon to assist in royalist intrigues. The baron, to her intuition, nursed secret sorrows. For these she secretly wor shiped him. It is true that when he dined with her and her mother, which he was frequently gracious enough to do, he ate with a heartiness that be lied this secret sorrow she had im agined. But he was fascinating at all times, with a grace at table not less finished than that with which he bowed at their meetings and partings. It was not unpleasant to think of basking daily in the shine of that grand manner, even if she did feel friendlier with Milbrey, and more at ease with Mauburn. If the truth must be told, Miss Bines was less impressionable than either of the three would have wished. 'Her heart seemed not easy to reach her impulses were not inflammable. Young Milbrey early confided to his family a suspicion that she was sin eularly hard-headed, and the definite THE PRINCETON UNION: THTJBSDAT, JTXLX 19, 1906. information that she had "a hob nailed western wa y" of treating her admirers. Mauburn, too, was shrewd enough to see that, while she frankly liked him, he was for some reason less a favorite than Baron de Palliac. "It'll be no easy matter marrying that girl," he told Mrs. Drelmer. "She's really a dear, and awfully good fun, but she's not a bit silly, and I dare say she'll marry some chap be cause she likes him, and not because he's anybody, you know." "Make her like you," insisted his adviser. "On my word, I wi sh she did. And I'm not so sure, you know, she doesn't fancy that Frenchman, or even young Milbrey." "I'll keep you before her," promised Mrs. Drelmer, "and I wish you'd not think you can't win her. 'Tisn't like you." Miss Bines accordingly heard that it was such a pity young Milbrey drank so, because his only salvation lay in making a rich marriage, and a young man, nowadays, had to keep fairly sober to accomplish that. Really, Mrs. Drelmer felt sorry for the poor weak fellow. "Good-hearted chap, but he as no character, my dear, so I'm afraid there's no hope for him. has he soul of a mer chant tailor, actually, but not the tailor's manhood. Otherwise he'd be above marrying some unsuspecting girl for her money and breaking her heart after marriage. Now, Mauburn is a type so different honest, unaf fected, healthyreally he's a man for any girl to be proud of, even if he were not heir to a titleone of the best in all England, and an ornament of the most exclusively correct set of a line, my dear, that is truly great not like that shoddy French nobili ty, discredited in France, that sends so many of its comic-opera barons here looking for large dowries to pay their gambling debts and put furni ture in their rattle-trap old chateaux, and keep them in absinthe and their other peculiar diversions. And Mau burn, you lucky minx, simply adores youhe's quite mad about you, really!" In spite of Mrs. Drelmer's two-edged sword, Miss Bines continued rather more favorable to the line of De Pal liac. he baron was so splendid, so gloomy, so deferential. had the air of laying at her feet, as a rug, the whole glorious history of France. And he appeared so well in the vic toria when they drove in the park. It is true that the heart of Miss Bines was as yet quite untouched and it was not more than a cool, dim, esthetic light in which she surveyed the three suitors impartially, to be hold the impressive figure of the baron towering above the others. Had the baron proposed for her hand, it is not impossible that, facing the question directly, she would have par ried or evaded. For certain events befell unpropi tiously at a time when the baron was most certain ot his conquest at the very time, indeed, when he had de termined to open his suit definitely by extending a proposal to the young lady through the orthodox medium of her nearest male relative. "I admit," wrote the baron to his expectant father, "that it is what one calls 'very chances' in the English, but one must venture in this country, and your son is not without much hope. And if not, there is still Mile. Higbee." The baron shuddered as he wrote it. He preferred not to recognize even the existence of this alternative, for the reason that the father of Mile. Higbee distressed him by an incom pleteness of suavity. "He conducts himself like a pork," the baron would declare to himself, by way of perfecting his English. The secret cause of his subsequent determination not to propose for the hand of Miss Bines lay the hope lessly middle-class leanings of the lady who might have incurred the su preme honor of becoming his mother in-law. Had Mrs. Bines been above talking to low people, a catastrophe might have been averted. But Mrs Bines was not above it. She was quite unable to repress a vulgar in terest in the menials that served her. She knew the butler's life history two days after she had ceased to be afraid of him. She knew the distress ing family affairs of the maids how many were the ignoble progeny of the elevator man, and what his plebeian vv-ife did for their croup how much rent the hall-boy's low-born father paid for his mean two-story dwelling in Jersey City and how many hours a day or night the debased scrub women devoted to their unrefining toil. Brazenly, too, she held converse with Philippe, the active and voluble Alsatian who served her wh en she chose to dine in the public restau rant instead of at her own private ta ble. Philippe acquainted her with the joys and griefs of his difficult pro fession. There were 14,000 waiters in New York, if, by waiters, you meant anyone. Of course there were not so many like Philippe, men of the world who had served their time as assistants and their three years as sub-waiters men who spoke English, French and German, who knew some thing of cooking, how to dress a salad, and how to carve. Only such, it ap peared, could be members of the ex clusive Geneva club that procured place for you wh en you were idle, and paid you eight dollars a week wh en you were sick. Having the qualifications, one could earn $25 a month in salary, and three or four times as much in gratui ties. Philippe's income was never less than $120 a month for was he not one who had come from Evtfojje as a master, after two seasons at Paris, where a man acquires his pol ishhis perfection of manner, his finish, his grace? Philippe could never enough prize that post-graduate course at the Maison d'Or, where he had personally known madame might not believe itthe incompar able Casmir, a chef who served two generations of epicures, princes, kings, statesmen, traveling Americans all the truly great. With his own lips Casmir had told him, Philippe, of the occasion when Dumas, pere, had invited him to din ner that they might discuss the esoterics of salad dressing and sauces also of the time when Mar quis de St. Georges embraced Casmir for inventing the precious soup that afterwards became famous as Postage Genuine. And now the skilled and puissant Casmir had retired. It was a calamity. The Maison d'OrParis would no longer be what they had been. For that matter, since one must live, Philippe preferred it to be in America, for in no other country could an adept acquire so much money. And Philippe knew the whole dining world. With Celine and the baby, Paul, Philippe dwelt in an apartment that would really amaze madame by its appointments of luxury, in East Thirty-eighth street, and only the four flights to climb. And Paul was three, the largest for his age, quite the largest, that either Philippe or Celine had ever beheld. Even the brother of Celine and his wife, who had a restaurant of their ownserv ing the table d'hote at two and one half irancs the plate, with wineeven these swore they had never seen an mfant so big, for his years, as Paul. And so Mrs. Bines grew actually to feel an interest in the creature and his wretched affairs, and even fell into the deplorable habit of saying: "I must come to see you and your wife and Paul some pleasant day, Philippe," and Philippe, being a man of the world, thought none the less of her for believing that she did not me an it. Yet it befell on an afternoon that Mrs. Bines found herself in a popu lous side-street, driving home from a visit to the rheumatic scrub-woman who had now to be supported by the papers her miserable offspring sold. Mrs. Bines had never seen so many children as flooded this street. She wondered if an orphan asylum were in the neighborhood. And though the day was pleasantly warm, she de cided that there were about her at least a thousand cases of incipient pneumonia, for not one child in five had on a hat. They raged and dashed and rippled from curb to curb so that they might have made her think of a swift mountain torrent at the bot tom of a gloomy canyon, but that tne worthy woman was too literal-minded for such fancies. She only warned the man to drive slowly. And then by a street sign she saw that she was near the home of Philippe. It was three o'clock, and he would be resting from his work. The man found the number. The waves parted and piled themselves on either side in hushed wonder as she entered the hallway and searched for the name on the little cards un der the bells. She had never known the surname, and on two of the cards "Ph." appeared She rang one of the bells, the door mysteriously opened with a repeated double click, and she began the toilsome climb. The waves of children fell together behind her in turbulent play again. At the top she breathed a moment and then knocked at a door before her. A voice within called: "Entrez!" and Mrs. Bines opened the door. It was the tiny kitchen of Philippe. Philippe, himself, in shirt-sleeves, sat in a chair tilted back close to the gas range, the Courier des Etats Unis in his hands and Paul on his lap. Celine ironed the bosom of a gentle man's white shirt on an ironing board supported by the backs of two chairs. Hemmed in the corner by this board and by the gas range, seated at a table covered Dy the oilcloth that simulates the marble of Italy's most famous quarry, sat, undoubtedly, Baron Ronault de Palliac. A steam ing plate of spaghetti a la Italien was before him, to his left a large bowl of salad, to his right a bottle of red wine. For a space of three seconds the entire party behaved as if it were being photographed under time-expo sure. Philippe and the baby stared, motionless. Celine stared, resting no slight weight on the hot flat-iron. Baron Ronault de Palliac stared, his fork poised in mid-air and festooned with gay little streamers of spa ghetti. Then came smoke, the smell of seorching linen, and a cry of horror from Celine. "Ah, la seule chemise blanche de Monsieur le Baron!" The spell was broken. Philippe was on his feet, bowing effusively. "Ah! it is Madame Bines. Je suis tres honoreI am very honored to welcome you, madame. It is madame, ma femme, Celine^andMonsieur le Baron de Palliac" Philippe had turned with evident distress toward the latter. But Philippe was only a waiter, and had not behind him the centuries of school ing that enable a gentleman to remain a gentleman under adverse condi tions. Baron Ronault de Palliac arose with unruffled aplomb and favored the caller with his stateliest bow. was at the moment a graceful and silencing rebuke to those who aver that manner and attire be interde aendent. The baron's manner waa ROr^s WWt'-WfKyjF^ijFFif** jSf JV9$FJF~r ideal, undiminished in volume, fault less as to decorative qualities. One fitted to savor its exquisite finish would scarce have noted that above his waist the noble gentleman was clad in a single woolen undergarment of revolutionary red. Or, if such a one had observed this trifling circumstance, he would, assur edly, have treated it as of no value the moment something to note, per haps, and then gracefully to forget. The baron's own behavior would have served as a model. One swift glance had shown him there was no way of instant retreat. That being impossible, none other was graceful hence none other was to be consid ered. permitted himself not even a glance at the shirt upon whose fair, defenseless bosom the iron of the overcome Celine had burned its cruel brown imprimature. Mrs. Bines had greeted him as he would have wished, unconscious, apparently, that there could be cause for embarrassment. "Ah! madame," he said, handsome ly, "you see me, I unfast with the fork. You see me here, I have envy of the simple life. I am content of to do itcomme caas that see you," waving in the direction of his unfinished repast. "All that mag nificence of your grand hotel, there is not the why of it, the most big of the world, and suchly stupefying, with its 'infernal rackit' as you say. And of morewhat droll of idea, enough curious, by example! to dwell with the good Philippe and his femme amiable. Their hotel is of the most littles, but I rest here very volunteer ly since longtime. Is It that one can to comprehend liking the vast hotel American?" "Monsieur le Baron lodges with us we have so much of the chambers," ventured Celine. "Monsieur le Baron wishes to re tire to his apartment," said Philippe, raising the ironing-board. "Will madame be so good as to enter our petit salon at the front, n'est-ce-pas?" he baron stepped forth from his corner and bowed himself graciously out. "Madame, my complimentsand to the adorable Mile. Bines! Au revoir, madameto the soontimeavant peu before little!" On the farther side of his closed door Baron Ronault de Palliac swore once. But the oath was one of he most awful that a Frenchman ay utter in his native tongue: "Sacred Name of a Name!" "But ihe baron wasn't done eating," protested Mrs. Bines. "Ah, yes, madame!" replied Philippe. "Monsieur le Baron has consumed enough for now. Paul, mon enfant, ne touche pas la robe de madame! He is large, is he not, madame, as I have told you? A monster, yes?" Mrs. Bines, stooping, took the limp and wide-eyed Paul in her arms. Whereupon he began to talk so fast to her in French that she set him quick ly down again, with the slightly help less air of one who had picked up an innocent-looking clock only to have the clanging alarm go suddenly off. "Madame will honor our little sa- lon," urged Philippe, opening the door and bowing low. "Quel dommage sighed Celine, moving after them "la seuel chemise blanche de Monsieur le Baron. Eh bien! ll faut lui en acheter une autre!" At dinner that evening Mrs. Bines related her adventure, to the un feigned delight of her graceless son, and to the somewhat troubled amaze ment of her daughter. "And, do you know," she ventured, "maybe he isn't a regular baron, after all! "Oh, I guess he's a regular one all right," said Percival "only perhaps be hasn't worked at it much lately "But his sitting there eating in that that shirt" said his sister. "My dear young woman, even the nobility are prey to climatic rigors ..hey are obliged, like the wretched low-born such as ourselves, to wear pardon meundergarments. Again, I understand from Mrs. Cadwallader here that the article in question was satis factory and fitred, I believe you say, Mrs. Terwilliger?" "Awful red!" replied his mother 'and they call their parlor a saloon." "And of necessity, even the noble lave their moments of deshabille." "They needn't eat their lunch that way," declared his sister. "Is deshabille French for under clothes asked Mrs. Bines, struck by the word. "Partly," answered her son. "And the way that child of Philippe's |abbered French! It's wonderful how [hey can learn so young." "They begin early, you know." Per pival explained. "And as to our friend the baron, I'm ready to make book that Bis doesn't see him again, except at a Jistance." Some time afterward he computed the round sum he might have won If my such bets had been made for his Bister's list of suitors, to adopt his own lucent phrase, was thereafter "shy a aaron." TO E CONTINUED. Food tor Reflection. Editor (referring to manuscript) Some of your figures are faulty. Here, for instance, you say '-the hung ry mirror, as she stood in front of it, eagerly seemed to seize her lovely features," and so forth. How can you think of a mirror as being "hungry" for anything? ContributorThat's all right, sir. Didn't you ever hear of things that were food for reflection Tribune. 9 Chicago PROFESSIONAL CARDS. R. D. A. McRAE T, Fellows Block. DENTIST 0d i otfic PRINCETON, MINN R. F. L. SMALL, DENTIST. Office hours 9a. m. to 12m. 2p. m. to5p.m. Over E. B. Anderson's store, Princeton, j^^ ROSS CALEY, M. D., PHYSICIAN AND SURGEON. Office and Residence over Jack's Drue Store. Tel.Rural. 36 Princeton, A.ROSS, n. KALIHER, Minn JLVERO L. MCMILLAN, LAWYEB. Office in Odd Fellows' Buildine. Princeton, vnnn ATTORNEY AT LAW. Office in Carew Block, Main Street. Princeton. BUSINESS CARDS. BARBER SHOP & BATH ROOMS. A fine line of Tobacco and Cigars. Main Street, Princeton. I OUIE HORSTMAN, TONSORIAL PARLORS. The latest styles in hair cutting. Everything First class. (Brown's old stand.) First Street, Princeton. CJ A. ROSS, FUNERAL DIRECTOR. Will take full charge of dead bodies wh^n desired Coffins and caskets of the la?es? sTylls always in stock. Also Springfield metaUcs. Dealer In Monuments of all kinds. E A. Ross, Princeton, Minn. Telephone No. 30. JULIUS SUOARMAN, CIGAR MANUFACTURER, of Princeton. Finest 5c and 10c Cigars on the Market. Rural Phone 41-5 Princeton, Minn. E. LYNCH, RELIABLE WELL DRILLER. Twenty years in the well business. Can give perfect satisfaction. If you want a good well call on or address E LYNCH, Zimmerman, Minn. NORTHWESTERN HOSPITAL AND SANITARIUM. PRINCETON, MINN. Long Distance 'Phone 313. Centrally located. All the comforts of home life. Unexcelled service. Equipped with every modern convenience for the treatment and the cure of the sick and the invalid. All forms of Electrical Treatment, Medical Baths, Massaee. X-ray Laboratory, Trained Nurses in attend ance. Only non-contagious diseases admitted Charges reasonable. Trained Nurses furnished for sickness in private families. Staff of Physicians and Surgeons, H. C. COONEY, M. D. Chief of Staff. N K. WHITTEMOBB, M. D., H. P. BACON, M. H. HIXSON, M. D., G. ROSS CALEY, M.D CALDWELL. M. A. G. ALDBICH. M. MISS HONORA BRENNAN. Supt. AdvertisingFays When you advertise in the columns of the PRINCETON UNION. The UNION has the largest bo na fide list of sub scribers of any newspaper published in the Eighth Con. gressional district outside of Dulut h. The UNION has twice the circulation of all the other newspapers of Mille Lacs coun combined. The UNION has hundreds of subscribers in the counties of Isanti, Benton a nd Sherburne and is a weekly visitor in almost every home in Mille Lacs county. Yes, it pays to advertise in the PRINCETON UNION "YOUR MONEY MS N O GOOD" and will be refunded to you if after us ing half a bottle of THE FAMOUS MAIT.J.JOHNSOH 60881S RHEUMATISM i hi*~ *M and"E BLOOD CUR whic you are not satisfied witeh results JStatsE' For Sale and Guaranteed Only by C. A. JACK, Princeton, Minn. The Black Percheron Stallion ROI D' YUETOT (46222) Was imported from France inl902by Robert Burgess & Son of Winona, 111., and is registered in the Percher on Stud book of America as No. 26,709. Color, black with star, snip. Will stand for the season of 1906 at Mark's barn, Princeton. insure, $10.00. ELLIOTT & MARK, Owners.