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| THE AWAKENING OF
HELENA RICHIE. # By MARGARET DELAND, Author o? "Dr. Lavendar's People," "Old Chester Tales/' t (Copyright. 1906, 1906, bjr Harper & Brothers. All Rights Referred.) I AS he got up he remembared Dr. Lavendar and the littl" boy, but he was at a loss how to Intro duce the subject. In his per plexity he frowned, and Mrs. Richie said, quickly:' "Of course sh? sha'n't do any work. I'm not so bad tempered as you think; I only meant that I don't like discomfort. "You bad tempered?" hfe said. "No. in deed! You're just the opposite. That s ?Why I suggested you when I heard about tlifs boy." "What boy?" "Why. a little fellow of s?ven?David bis name is?that Dr. Lavendar is trying to And a home for. And* I thought per haps you " ?? would take him?" cried Mrs. Richie in astonishment, and then she laughed. "I!" "Why. it occurred to me that perhaps you might be lonely, and " Helena Richie stopped laughing: sh.-> pulled off her other glove and looked down at her white hands. "Well. yes. I'm lonely. ^ut?I don't like children, Dr. King." "You don't?" he said, blankly, and in his surprise he sat down again. "Oh. I'm sure that's only becaust; you don't know them. If you had ever known a child " "I have," Mrs. Richie said, "one." Her voice was bleak: the gayety had dropped out of it; for an instant she looked old. William King understood. "It died." She nodded. She began to pu\l her gloves on again, smoothing down each linger carefully and not looking at him. "A littlo girl?" "Boy." She turned her face away, but he saw her chin tremble. There was a moment's silence, then the doctor said, with curious harshness: "Well, anyhow, you know what it means to have owned your own." "Better not have known!" "I can't feel that. But perhaps I don't understand." "You don't understand." Her head, with its two soft braids wound around It like a wreath, was bent so that he could not see her face. "Dr. King, his father?hurt.iiim. Yes. hurt a little baby, eight months and twelve days old. He dted seven weeks later." William drew in his breath; he found no words. "That t?as,twelve years ago, but I can't seem to?to get over it," she said, with a sort of gasp. "But how " Dr. King began. "Oh, he was not himself. He *?as? happy. I believe you call it 'happy'?" "How did you bear it?" "I didift bear it, I suppose. I never have borne It!" "Did he repent before he died?" Wil liam King said, passionately. "Before he ?" Her voice suddenly shook; she made elaborate pretense of calmness, fastening her gloves and look ing at ..iem critically, then she said: "Yes, Dr. King, he repented. He re pented!" "If there ever was excuse for divorce, you had it!" "You don't think there ever is?" she asked, absently. "No," William said. "I suppose you'll think I'm very old-fashioned, but I don't, unless " he stopped short: he could not have put his qualifying thought into words to any woman, especially not to this woman, so like a girl in spite of her thirty-odd years. "You see," he said, awkwardly, "it's such an unusual thing. It never happened in Old Chester; why. I don't believe I ever saw a?a divorced person in my ijfe!" "Well," she / said, "anyhow, I didn't , get a divoree."\ "Mrs. Richie!v he said, blushing to his temples, "you didn't think I thought of such a thing?" \ But it was plain that she regretted her confidence: she rtose with the evident pur pose of changing the subject. "I must go/and put in spine more seeds. Why ^jdtfesn't Dr. Lavendar keep this little boy? AI??#vall, he's lonely himself." J "Well, he's an old man, you know, I and " "Dr. King." she broke in. "I don't I mind having th-- child here for a week while Dr. Lavendar is looking for som ? j body to tak- him. Not long r. It wouldn't 1 do. Really it wouldn't. But for a week, | perhaps, or maybe two '.That would b-> a great*lT?Ip," William ! King said. "Then Dr. Lavjfedar can have ! plenty of time to find a fime for him. j 1 would 'hare been g'.ad to tako l.im ray ' s?if. but just at present It happens that i it is not?I should say, Mrs. King is very | tired, and?" ' "It is perfectly convenient for me." Mrs. ; Richie said, "if you'll only cure Maggie! You must cure Maggie, so that she can mak? cookies for hitri." "I'll cure Maggie," the doctor assured her, smiling, and went away much pleased with hims -lf. But when he got into his shabby old buggy he sighed. "Poor soul!" he said. "Poor soul!" CHAPTER III. William Kins reported th3 result of his call to Dr! Lavendar, and when he told the tragic story of the dead baby ^he old man blinked and shook his head. "Do you wonder she doesn't call her } self Mrs. Frederick Richie?" William de I manded. "I don't!" "No, that's natural, that's natural," Dr. Lavendar admitted. "I suppose it was a dreadful thing to say." said William, "but I just burst out and said that if ever there was an ex cuse for divorce, she had it!" "Whqt did she say?" "Oh, of course, that she hadn't been divorced. I was ashamed of myself the next minute for speaking of such a thing." "Poor child," said Dr. Lavendar, "living up there alone, and with such memories! I guess you're right: I guess she'd like to have little David, if only for company. But I think I'll keep him for a week or two myself, and let her get sort of ac quainted with him und?r my eye. That will give me a chance to get acquainted with her. But to think I haven't known about that baby until now! It must be my fault that she was not drawn to tell me. But I'm afraid I wasn't drawn to her just at first." Yet Dr. I.avendar was not altogether at faolt. This newcomer in Old Ch-ester was still a stranger to everybody, except to Sam Wright's Sam and to William King. To -be sure, as soon as she was settled in her house Old Chester had called and asked her to tea, and was con fused and annoyed because its invitations were not accepted. Furthermore, she did not return the calls. She went to church, but not very regularly, and she never stopped to gossip in ?the vestibule or the churchyard. Even with Dr. Lav endar she was remote. The first time he went to see her he asked, with his usual directness, one or two questions: Did Mr. Pryor live in Mercer? No; he had business that brought him there occa sionally. Where did he live? In Phila delphia. Had she any relatives In this part of the world?except her brother? No, none; none anywhere. Was Mr. Pryor'married? Yes./ Had he any fam ily? One daughter; his wife was dead. "And you have lost your husband?" Dr. Lavendar" said, gently. "This is a lone ly life for you here*, I am afraid." But she said oh. no, not at all; she liked the quiet. Then, with faint im patience as if .she did not care to talk about her own affairs, she add >d that sh? had always lived in the east; "but I find it very pleasant here," she end?d, vaguely. Dr. Lavendar had gone away uneasy and puzzled. Why didn't she live with her brother? Family differences, no doubt. Curious how families fall out! "You'd think they'd be glad to hang to gether." the solitary old man thought, "and they are not necessarily bad folk who quarrel. Look at Sam and his boy. Both of 'em good as gold. But it's in the blood there." he said to himself, sighing. Sam and his son were not bad folk. The boy had nothing bad about him: nothing worse than an unexpectedness that had provided Old Chester with smiles for many yars. "No, he Is not bad: I have s:en to tlipt." his fathe.r us'd to say. "He's hardly been out of my sight twenty-four hours at a time. And I put my foot down on coll?ge with all its temptations. He's good?if he's nothing else!" And certainly Samuel Wrlgijt'was good too. Everybody in Old Chester said so. He said so hims_>lf. "I, my dear Eliza, have nothing with which to re proach myself," he used to tell his wife ponderously in moments of conjugal un bending. "I have done my duty. I al ways do my duty, under all circum stances. X am doing my duty now by Sam." This was when he and his son fell out on one point pr another, as they had be jK'Jn to do as soon as young Sam learned 1 to talk, and all becausa the fathej in ; sistiMi upon furnishing the boy with his i own most excellent principles and I theories, instead of letting the lad manu facture such tilings for himself. Now when Sam was twenty-three the falling i out had become chronic. No doubt it was j In the blood, as Dr. Lavendar said. Soma ! thirty years before, Sam senior, th?n a ; slTm and dreamy youth, light hearted and | givn to writing vrrses, had fallen out ! with his father, old Benjamin Wright; fallen out so finally that in all thes.' years j since the two men, father and son, had not spoken one word to each other. If I anybody might have been supposed to ! know the cause of that thirty-year-old j feud it was Dr. Lavendar. He certainly saw the beginning of it. * * * One stormy March evening Samuel j Wright, then twenty-four years old, I knocked at the rectory door; Dr. Lav endar, shielding his lamp from the wind with one hand, opened it himself. "Why, Sam, my boy," he said, and stopped abruptly. He led the way into his study and put the lamp down on the table. "Something is the matter?" "Yes." "What is it, Samuel?" "1 can't tell you. sir." "Does your father know?" "My father knows. * * * I will tell you \ this. Dr. Lavendar?that, so help me God,, I will never speak to my father again." The ycung man lifted one hand; his face, was dreadful to look upon. Then, trying to speak in a natural voice, he asked if he might -stay at the rectory for that night. Dr. Lavendar took two turns about his study, then he said, "Of course you may, Samuel, hut I shall feel it my duty to ac quaint your father with the fact." "Just as you please, sir." "And Sam?I hope the night will bring wisdOm." Sam was silent. "I shall see your father in the morn ing and try to clear this thing up." "Just as you please, sir. 1 would like to go to my room now if you have no ob jection." > And that was all Dr. Lavendar got out of the son. He lighted a lamp and silently pre ceded his guest upstairs; then he went back to his study and wrote a line to the ; father. He sent it out to the Wright house and sat up until midnight waiting for an answer. None came. "Well," said Dr. Lavendar, at last trudging up to bed, "the boy comes by his obstinacy hon estly." The next morning he went early | to see Mr. Benjamin Wright. But as far as any straightening out of the trouble went or any enlightenment as to its cause, he might as well have stayed at home. "Sam send you?" "No, I came to see what I could do for you both. I take it for granted that Sam is at fault in some way? But he Is a good boy, so I am sure he can be made to see his error." "Did he tell you what was the trouble?" "No; will you?" "Let him come back and behave him self!" the older man said. Dr. Lavendar thrust out his lower lip with a thoughtful frown. "It would ex pedite things, Wright, if you could tell me a little about the affair?" Mr. Wright hesitated. He thrust his hand down into a blue ginger jar for a piece of dried orange skin and bit at it as if to steady his lips. "Sam can tell you if he- wants*to. He has perhaps in formed you that he wishes to see the world? That he thinks life here very narrow? No? Well, I sha'n't quote him All I shall say is that I am doing mj duty to him. I've always done my duty to him. If he sees tit to set' up his own Ebenezer, and say he won't speak to me? | I suppose he conveyed that filial senti I ment to you??he can do so. When he gets hungry he can speak. That's ,what other puppies do when they are hungry." And that was all Dr. Lavendar got out of the father. * * * (To be Continued Tomorrow.) Woman's War. From the London Gentlewoman. The war against socialism is a wojnan's war; by women it must be fought, and by courage and loyalty it will be won. It's the Most Satisfactory as Well as the Most Economical Fine! to. Use iothe Range. very good housewife studies ways and means for making the "Dollar" do its whole duty. Helpful suggestions along this line never go amiss. In going over the home ex pense account you will find that fuel is a big item. The reduction of this expense is a problem* but, like all problems, it can be solved. The correct solution of the fuel problem is this: Use Coke Instead of Coal Ira tine Raim^e for Cooklo conomy is not the only advantage that recommends the use of Coke. It's the best fuel for cooking purposes, as well as the cheapest. Coke ignites quickly, burns evenly, making a fire that's* just right for cooking or baking. jrder Coke now and use it in the range when baking "Good Things" for the holiday season. You'll have every reason to be gratified with the results. WE'LL SUPPLY YOU COKE. I o9 Mill I 4113 II Oth Street N. W, huh Typed Love Letters. From the Cleveland Plain Dealer. "Men are getting so that they want to write their love letters on a typewriter," said the public stenographer in one of the big hotels yesterday. "They come in and want to rent the use of a machine for a little while?won't dictate the letter to me. Whenever they want to paddle the ma chine their ownselves then I know that it's a love letter. Men aren't often so cautious as a,ll that about their business letters. "It used to be that a girl would get hufTy if she got a letter from a fellow written on the typewriter, but I guess they're getting so they don't mind it so much any more. A g<^9 many of these traveling men have been in an office at some time or other and learned to run a machine, an they say they like to write their letters that way because they can do it so much more quickly. Should Woman Be TruthfulP From the Ladies' Field. It is no exaggeration to say that a more or less truthful woman is looked upon with grave suspicion. What ta ftiore. no body believes her. If she quite truthfully pronounces hei age to be twenty-nine, everybody at onc? says then she must be at least thirty, five; while if she should ever be cajoled Into admitting the number of proposal* she had in her youth it will only confirm the popular impression that she had been lucky to catch a husband at all.