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Transformation A Easter Story By CLARISSA MACKIE Copyright by American Press Asso ciation, 1911. Anne Wilbur walked to the window and looked out at the spring sunshine. Tall, graceful and very lovely, hei slender form was silhouetted against the light. There was no one to ad mire Anne save the little orowu eyed secretary across the room, and she looked and adored with all her foolish heart She thought it must be glorious to be young and rich and lovely and quite her own mistress, as was the lease with her employer, but then the little secretary thought of her own large family of brothers and sisters and was immediately very thankful "that she was not as lonely as Anne Wilbur, who lived in the stately house with a cold and stiff guardian aunt. Miss Wilbur looked out at the sun shine and the deep grassv yard behind the dwelling, with its careful grouping of shrubs, its freshly raked brown earth beds where prim rows of tulips, daffodils and crocuses flaunted their gay dresses. It was merely a city lot, yet money and skill had combined to make it a pleasant retreat from the glaring streets or the stuffiness of the house in midsummer. Sometimes in the early morning Anne walked along the grav eled paths, but it was used principally by the servants in the big house, who sought relaxation there after the day's work was done. At the rear wall of the yard there abutted another lot inclosing a shabby cottage which was sadly in need of fresh paint the neglected yard sur rounding it showed the accumulation of a winter's debris. The charitable mantle of snow which had covered it .had now melted, exposing old bottles, tin cans, rags, papers and broken boxes to the searching light of the spring sunshine. In all the yard there was not one tuft of green grass, not a flower nor anything that was beauti fuland yet it was spring. Anne Wilbur owned this shabby cot tage, and a succession of destructive tenants had ravaged the place of its original cozy prettiness. At last, de spairing of maintaining it in any sem blance to respectability, she had or dered it demolished, only to find that her agent had unwittingly leased the premises to a new tenant. The little secretary had just read this news to her from the agent's letter, and Anne, with an indifferent shrug of her shape ly shoulders, had walked to the win dow that overlooked the cottage For a moment there was vexation on her face that her intention had gone awry. The next dissatisfaction disap peared at a sudden remembrance. In a week she was to be married Her fiance lived in a distant city. Sht would not be obliged to contemplat' from her rear windows the shabby cottage, the tomato cans, the old brooms, bottomless coal scuttles and broken crockery It would be others to view this inartistic scene while she would look upon more invit ing objects. A moving van was backed up b&* fore the door of the cottage, and in its cavernous depths Anne could see a pitiful gathering of furniture The men began to unload the van, and Anne noted that the few pieces, though somewhat shabby and worn, were of handsome quality and in ex cellent taste She also saw that the windows of the house had been bright ly polished and that crisp, clean mus lin curtains hung within. These things promised a more am bitious occupant for the house. Anne turned to the secretary: "Miss Binns. will you please telephone to Mr. Col lins and ask bim about the new ten- ant?" Presently Miss Binns returned. "Mr. Collins says it is a widow and her lit tie daughter. The mother is employed in a millinery establishment down town She seems a quiet, refined young woman, and her name is Rod man, Mrs Marcia Rodman." Anne Wilbur dismissed the little sec retary and turned once more to the window, pressing her face against the cold glass. The van had gone away and all was silent about the shabby cottage As she watched with hag gard face the back door opened and a woman accompanied by a child came out and looked at the neglected yard. The woman was small and slight, with a dark, piquant face and sweet lips. There was a flush in her cheeks as she talked to the child, who was a fairylike image of the mother. It was evident that they were discussing the possibilities of improving the yard, and Anne wondered what they could do, for it was plainly to be seen that they were poor. When the moth er and child had re-entered the cot tage Anne left the window and sat down before the glowing grate fire. There was a fierce joy in her gray eyes and her fine lips were scarlet with the pressure she exerted to re strain her emotion. It had come her turn at last. Five years before she, Anne Wilbur, a petted daughter of the rich, had lost her lover to the poor woman who now occupied her wretch ed cottage. The girl had been a no body, and thriftless Jack Rodman had thrown over friends, position and pro fession and eloped with the dark eyed teanty. Jack had died afterward pen* ^2. '"'I'M"" "JP"W THE niless. Now his 'widow, straggling foi a livelihood, had drifted back to the city and into the cottage owned by the deserted sweetheart. Again she approached the window and stared at the cottage. The moth er and child were gathering the rub bish into a heap, and presently they set fire to it and watched it burn to ashes. Presently the mother brought a trow el and dug a small bed in the poor soil of the yard, and the child plant ed some flower seeds with eager mud dy little fingers. When that was done they came to the dividing fence and peeped over into Miss Wilbur's pretty garden. There was a brave showing of crocus es and tulips, and the strangers look ed wistfully at the purple and gold of the blooms then they turned and dis appeared within the cottage. The sun declined, sending long sift ing rays of yellow across the yards and finally into Anne Wilbur's thoughtful face, now stern and severe. Tomorrow's sun would rise on a fair Easter morning the churches and dwellings would be sweet with blos soms. Her own church was noted for its magnificent floral display, and she knew that in the drawing room her servants were arranging flowering plants from her conservatory. The barren little yard about the cot tage haunted her and blotted out the brighter pictures. After awhile she strolled into the conservatory and wandered through the green alleys, touching here and there a blooming rose or inhaling the sweetness of a clambering jasmine flower. Her gardener, James, was working among the potted plants in a cooler house. "How many red geraniums have you now, James?" inquired his mistress. "About 300 plants, Miss Wilbur." "And pansy plantsand sweet alys- snm?" "About the same number, ma'am." "Set aside a hundred plants of the finest of each. Take two men over to the cottage and clean out the yard thoroughly. After that is done report to me "It's getting late, Miss Wilbur," hesi tated James respectfully. "You will receive double wages for overtime," she said coolly. "Yes, ma'am," said James with alac rity. Anne thrust a bunch of bright eyed pansies into the laces of her bosom and went back to the library. She seated herself at the desk and wrote a brief note to her agent. "Please have the cottage thoroughly repaired inside as well as out. Con sult the new tenant's wishes regarding paint and paper. Try to start the work by next Monday." Later in the evening James reported the task accomplished and received other orders from his mistress, some of which seemed impossible of accom plishment, but Anne Wilbur possessed a magic tool that could achieve aston ishing results, and for the first time she realized the value of the gold which had always been hers and which she had accepted as her natural birth right. Before Anne retired that Saturday night she peeped once more through the window that overlooked the cot tage yard. It was almost midnight, and the little house was dark, but there were shadowy forms moving about the yard, and occasionally there was the clink of a shovel against stone. Anne drew back with a satisfied smile, and as she mounted the broad stairs to her room she hummed a little tune un der her breath. "Call me at 6, Marie," she said when she dismissed her maid. At 6 o'clock on Easter morning Anne looked eagerly from the library win dow toward the cottage. A strange transformation had taken place over night, for the trusty James had done his work well. Instead of the squalid disorder of the bare, grassless yard there was a cov ering of fine green turf. Quantities of rich brown earth had been formed into flower beds all around the house. Beds of glowing red geraniums were massed here and there, while gorgeous pansies filled every available space that was not occupied by snowy sweet alyssum. It was like the transformation scene in a pantomime The back door of the cottage opened, and Anne almost heard the cry of amazement that burst from the lips of Marcia Rodman and her little girl. The mother stared with unbelieving eyes, while the child danced with de light among the floweis and then dis appeared around the path that led to the front of the cottage. "Oh, mother," Anne heard her cry "it's splendider in front than it is in back. It's the beautifulest place we ever lived in The little mother pressed a hand kerchief to her sweet eyes, and Anne saw her approach the fence where James had presented a placidly inter ested countenance. He had been in structed to say that his mistress wish ed the grounds to be beautified for Easter and that he was to take care of them. Anne saw the widow's eyes fill with grateful tears as she turned them to ward the big house, and then she knelt down on the dewy grass and buried her face in the fragrant alyssum. Anne knew that she was praying. She was probably asking God's blessing on Anne Wilbur's proud head. Then a transformation came over Anne Wilbur's heart until it blos somed like the barren cottage garden. Tears filled her gray eyes, and through the tears she seemed to see herself grown stronger, more tolerant, more pitiful. She saw herself making the way smooth for Jack Rodman's wife and child, and the brightness of the Easter sunshine seemed to fall all about her until she was enveloped in a golden flood of happiness. The Court of Silence A Nerve Trying Experience In a Chinese Temple By CLARISSA MACKIE Copyright by American Press Asso ciation, 1911 The broad mouth of the wonderful Yangtsekiang is a turbid, muddy flood, whose yellow stam colors the waters of the Pacific for many miles Wood ward's speedy motor launch darted out of the little tidal tributary, Huang po, -skimmed over the shallows of the sand bar on which clumsy junks were helplessly teetering and, easily riding the choppy seas, turned southward and bore along the coast. Vance Woodward was of the con sular service, and his friend Dr. Leeds was a prominent physician in the American concession of Shanghai. Dr. Leeds removed his cap and let the breeze ruffle his wavy thatch of graying hair. "Jove, but it's good to get away from pulses and pills once in awhile! This day off with you will make a new man of me, Vance." The younger man looked up from the wheel. "It's only fair to give your victims a chance for life once In awhile," he chuckled. "When old Chen Sao gave me the tiffin basket he said, *AU same bring back doctor manno can do against the evil spirits without he.' He also mentioned he was going to burn some joss sticks before the image of the god who watches over those on the sea. How's that for ap preciation The doctor smiled cynically. "Old rascal, that Chen Sao likes me be cause I'm the only one who pretends to take any stock in his multitude of ailments." "Typical of his race, Chen Sao is deep, and he is crafty. Once when I took him to task for being asleep at his post he blandly explained that he had been born in the shadow of the Court of Silence and Repose and con sequently was subject to brief trances in which he was transported to regions of delight," remarked Woodward dry ly. "I soon cut all that out" "How?" asked the other with amuse ment. "Transported him to the culinary re gions with a hop, skip and jump at the LEEDS GRABBED HIS COMPANION'S HAND. end of my walking stick and told him to cut the opium out Been like a kit ten ever since There's Chusan island Want to run into Hangchow bay?" "I'd rather stay out here, if you don't mind It's heavenly to get away from the filth and smell of the water front," said the doctor, taking deep breaths of the strong air. "Suits me Speaking of the Court of Silence has set me to thinking What do you know about it?" The doctor hesitated a brief instant before replying Then, with a shrug of his shoulders, he said slowly: "My ex periencf is limited to two widely separated cases la each instance the 7ictim had bpen brought to my office in a state of catalepsy by anxious rela tives, and both died. It was explained that each one had dared to enter the Court of Silence and had emerged to fall in a fit As both men were from Chekiang province I came to the con clusion the Court of Silence must be situated there, although no native will divulge its whereabouts In reply to my sharp questioning each and every one replied vacantly "I have forgotten. I have never been there "That's just what old Chen Sao said when I asked him about the place." remarked Woodward disgustedly. Woodward parted his lips to speak when a curling wave struck the bow of the launch and filled his mouth with salt water. "Woof!" he splutter ed, shaking his head. "Guess we bet ter run in under shore. It's blowing up quite a sea. Your eyes are better than mine, doe. Do you make out a group of trees yonder?" The doctor squinted through his arched hands. "Yesquite a grove un less I'm mistaken Not a bad place to sample Chen Sao's basket." The launch was now headed for the low lying shore that rapidly drew near er with each onward leap of the little craft It was a desolate bit of land scape that met the eyeflat, level, un interesting. Undulating pastures of rank grass wavered into a serrated horizon line: in the foreground was a dark grove of thickly leaved chestnuts the shore sloped down to a pebbly Ifi *J\-ftf 4* jW**^3Sa4e.%ttsii liuillimifliiil (fill PRINCETON U3ST10JST: THUKSDAY, APRIL 27, 1911. beach, on which the launch was care^ fully grounded. "Shall we eat?" asked Woodward hungrily as he opened the basket and spread sandwiches, fruit and wine be tween them. The doctor's silent appropriation of a sandwich signified his consent, and the repast was unbroken save for an occasional careless word. When it was over and the basket had been replaced Woodward stretched himself lazily and felt for his pipe. "Feel like taking a stroll?" he asked. The doctor nodded and, lighting a cigar, joined his companion, and to gether they walked toward the grove of chestnuts. "Quiet enough here," muttered the doctor as he reached for another cigar.1 "Too quiet for meseems almost un canny. I haven't heard a bird song since we landed, have you?" "I don't recollect, Vance," said the other, with a quick glance at the young man. "If it's a case of nerves I can fix you up in a jiffy," he said sugges tively. "I'll be glad if you will, doctor. What's that?" He stopped abruptly and pointed ahead. Dr. Leeds looked curiously in the di rection indicated. At first he could see nothing save the green tangle of undergrowth then against its back ground there came into view the hide ous outlines of a colossal idol. Before they reached it they became aware that they were passing between widely placed columns that must once have supported a temple roof, although there was nothing overhead now save the arch of chestnuts and the sky. Chinese idols are notoriously ugly and repulsive, and this one was no ex ception to the rule. Above its painted head there were curved and sinuous bodies of reptiles that slid down upon the massive shoulders like gigantic ringlets. The painted reptiles grinned and showed fangless mouths. One of its many arms held a sword, and the other hand was raised in a mighty invocation. The doctor turned to his companion, who was approaching the image with interest in his concentrated gaze. "I believe I'd have a picture of that fel low if I had my kodak here." He stop ped abruptly, for although he had raised his voice in speaking not a sound broke the stillness. He had open ed his mouth and spoken the words and they had died before utterance. He was really mouthing at nothing. He was dumb At the same moment Woodward looked back and threw a remark over his shoulder. His startled glance and sudden return to the doctor's side in dicated that the doctor was not alone in his strange affliction. He, too, had spoken and his words had gone into silence. A glance at the doctor's blanched face was enough. They shouted at each other, they clutched each other by the shoulders and shouted into ears that might have heard if it had not been for the dull cloud that seemed to settle down over body and intellect. They were stand ing directly under the great idol, and its nearness seemed to exert some ma levolent influence over them. They looked up at the grinning image and then they screamed desperately at each other. The silence was awful. When their words had vanished, so to speak, they leaned breathlessly against either foot of the idol and stared at each other. Dr. Leeds was endeavoring to concentrate his mind upon the events of the past fifteen minutes and hoped to arrive at some rational elucidation of the mystery of this silent placethis spot that com pelled silence from its visitors. Within this sixty foot parallelogram, outlined by the columns, it was impossible to utter a sound that might be heard. There was only one thing to do, and that was to get back to light and life and sanity. Leeds was stung to action. He had been watching his companion's face and saw it sink into dreamy abstrac tion A sudden fear seized him that Woodward might be overcomemight, like the victims of the mysterious Court of Silence, be frightened into fits. With what might be called an un yelled yell, for it died on his lips, Dr. Leeds grabbed his companion's hand and turned and ran down the narrow path up which they had come. Wood ward panted heavily beside him, never seeking to withdraw his hand from the other's violent grasp At last the doctor, who had been muttering formless words to himself as he raced away toward the launch, heard his words uttered on the air. He repeated them and others. Then he stopped and noticed with thankful ness that Woodward's face was rapid ly regaining its usual composure. "What is it, doctor? Is it a great silence or a great sound that dwarfs all other sounds?" The doctor shook his head. "It is the Court of Silence, I believe," he said slowly He flung himself over the gunwale and sank down in the launch. "Let's get back into the world, Vance I can't stand any more of this," and then, hesitating: "What do you make of it all, Woodward? You have been in the country longer than I. You must know many things that I can only guess at What is the Court of Silence? Where is it that we have been?" Woodward had pushed off, and the launch was now clearing away* from the flat shore where the dark group of chestnuts loomed blackly. What blot did they cover? "What is the Court of Silence?" re peated the doctor dreamily. "t do not knowI have never been there," said Woodward, with a vacant smile, and then, as if unconscious of his own words, his face broke into eager inquiry, "What is the Cofcrt of Silence, doctor?" And the doctor's face drooped heavi ly as he responded absently. "I do not knowI have never been there" 'Sc m$mi&*:*>Ltf m*m handl ST for only W W &m "Sunkist" Lemons If you want the finest lem- ons grown ask for' Sunkist" brand and note how much juic- ier they are and how much far- ther they go inpre- paring sauces, cakes, pies, ii wpp I ii ^zmmmmmma 7T5"j giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiniiHiiiiiiiiiiwmiiiiimiiiiiiiimiiiiiiiiiiiiiK I Umbrellas 1 Silk and linen covered, with mission handle. $2.25 Silk and linen covered, with silver mounted Good quality rainproof cover $L25 Splendid values in cotton covered 50c to 65c A fresh supply of Berries, Lettuce, Onions and other green vegetables every day. 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