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[nl XHUB^EHX-WEBKL^^ tk grists sons,PubU.he?. [ % #mitg JReicspaper,: ^or the promotion of thi; political, Social, Agricultural and Commercial Interests of the Jpeogtc. ) ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKVILLE, S. C., TUESDAY, OCTOBER17, 1911. NOT&ir ~ " r ~ i7 i i, * - " - 1 * I bnnma MAM ..II. ,L *&* $* HI* *?* ?i* ^ "J* ^ 1 . __ J A DARI 4? By ETTA V * CHAPTER XVI. Vandine At Blackport. I' "Grandpa must be English or noth-l' ing," said Ethel Greylock, as she I' leaned carelessly back In a chair ofl twisted vine, and let her violet eyes]' wander over the lawns and gardens of I Greylock Woods. "In his estimation a I ' thing that is not done in the style ofl' the aristocratic Briton can never, by I' any possibility, be well done. What do I1 you think of all this, Dr. Vandine?" I' The person addressed stood by her I' chair?a young fellow, vUh eyes and)1 hair of no particular color, a bristling M red moustache, and a rather flashy I' necktie?in fact, Dick Vandine, now a|( physician of some years standing, but 11 one upon whom fortune, as yet, had]' showered few favors. I' The scene upon which the pair look- 11 ed was like a picture after Watteau. I * It was 5 o'clock of a perfect summer |( afternoon, and the superb grounds of J Greylock Woods were alive with ele-1 gant people?ladies In Paris bonnets I1 and lovely dresses, men like tailor's I lay figures. Lawn tennis, croquet and 11 archery were in full blast. On the 11 level sward a platform had been laid 18 for dancers, and a band, hidden in ar- 11 cades of blossoming vines, filled the]1 air with delightful music. There were18 trained servants gliding hither and I > thither with claret cup, champagne cup I and ices. At a huge marquee pitched 11 In a wilderness of flowers, refresh-1 ments were served In the shape of sal- 1 ads and cold birds, pate de foie gras 1 and jellied tongue, charlottes, patties 1 and every other delicacy known toM such occasions. "It is heavenly?divine!" stammered]' Dr. Dick, without the smallest knowl- ] edge of what he was saying. Ethel Greylock laughed mischiev-l ously. "You are enthusiastic concerning M garden parties. Do you like lawn ten- | * nis and croquet, and the 'twanging of M the bow string,' Dr. Vandine?" I* - w.Ji "No," he answered, coming i?j mo senses a little, and pulling the red moustache down over his dubious 1 mouth. 1 "There you and I agree," she answered, brightly; "even at school, { , where amusements were few, I always ( detested these absurd games. Do you 3 like Watteau costumes, and rugs ( spread on the grass to keep the damp- 1 ness from sensitive feet, and enormi- ( ties of French cookery served under * the trees when one would far sooner 1 sit down to the table indoors?only 1 that would not be English style? No, you have no penchant for these things, 1 I see; so, I beg of you do not call our * garden party heavenly or divine." * He colored to his eyes. "At least my words are applicable to some of the faces here," he mutter- ( ed, gazing straight down at the heir- 1 ess of Greylock Woods. He had come to this garden party * by Invitation of Mi89 Pam. He had I known Ethel Greylock just one hour J by the clock, and that time had been * sufficient to reduce him to as complete ' a state of idocy as it is possible for a 1 tolerably sensible man to fall at short 1 notice. ' She wore a Gainsborough hat with 1 a sweeping feather. Her dress was a 1 shining marvel of peacock blue. In the yellow Mechlin lace of the corsage 1 drooped a great cluster of odorous ! blush roses. Her pearly skin, her yel- * low hair, clinging in thick, close rings to her forehead, the splendor of her < great, pansy-dark eyes took Vandlne's ' breath. His head swam as he looked ' at her. Repeatedly he turned away, ' only to turn back again, and stare anew with ever-increasing surprise ' and rapture at her flawless beauty. ^ Ethel had fulfilled the threat made in ' Jest to her grandfather?already Aunt 1 Pam's new physician was the captive ' of her bow and spear. "How hot and tired Aunt Pam? 1 poor soul?looks, in her role of host ess!" she said, paying no heed to the 1 last remark of her companion. "Do ' you know many of the people here, Dr. 1 Vandine?" "No," he answered, frankly. "How I should I? They are, one and all, rich somebodies, and I?well. I have my way still to make in the world." "Is Blackport a good place in which 1 to make one's way?" she asked carelessly spreading her painted fan. 1 "I hope so," he answered, with great cheerfulness. "At any rate I am now < settled for good at Cat's Tavern." "Cat's Tavern!" echoed Ethel Greylock. with a ripple of amusement in looking Intently at tt?e pictures on ner fan. "I yearn to make the acquaintance of that baker's dozen of felines. In my childhood I once saw Mercy Poole, and I remember her still." There was silence for a moment. The westering sunshine slanted in warm floods through the trees; the south wind set the wilderness of verdure In the avenues and hollows all a-shake. Over the wide lawns, bristling with palms and aloes, and burning with huge pots and jars of rare exotics, richly dressed people catne k and went?little, bright-winged birds. In the summer houses and rose alleys ^ *?* *2* 4* 4^ 4* 4* 4* 4^ 4* 4s ? DEED |t y. PIERCE * * there were flirting and laughter. Balls and mallets rattled, and gay voices echoed from the croquet and tennis grounds. "Hark!" said Ethel .Greylock, sud3enly. "What is that band playing?" A burst of passionate, heart-breaking music poured out upon the air. The leaves overhead, the burning bloom around, vibrated to its sad, its Intense sweetness. Directly Vandine, :o his utter consternation, became iware that the painted fan had fallen 'rom the slender hands of his companion. She was listening breathlessy to the music, and, as she listened, lown her beautiful cheeks, the tears poured like rain. Near the garden :hair stood a group of guests. Vanline had the presence of mind to move promptly betwixt these and Miss 3reylock, whose agitation would otherwise be sure to attract attention. 3he nodded her thanks. "Do not look at me," she said, in ;hoked voice. He turned straight away. Even ,'n lis present dazed, enchanted state, Dr Dick was not without penetration. He jaw that something must be amiss vith the beautiful heiress of Greylock Woods. He ventured to glance back it her as soon as she regained comjosure. "What was It?" he stmmered, awkvardly. "The?the?music?" "Yes," she answered, Immediately issuming her usual composure. "How * *kAOA omAtinno] q ir?a' thPV I urifai iticoc viiivvivoMt ? ?. -- ? nake one feel like some absurd, loveorn Mariana In the Moated Grange." Under his breath he began to quote: 'She only said the day Is dreary? 'He cometh not," she said. She said, 'I am a-weary, a-weary' "? "Spare me!" she Interrupted, lighty; "that style of poetry Is not to my :aste. Surely, Dr. Vandlne, you ought ;o take a rug to Aunt Pam. She dlsikes standing on the grass, and unler these trees the sward Is damp. 5he will have influenza." He was dismissed. At the same monent Godfrey Greylock approached his granddaughter's chair. "What! moping here, Ethel?" he :ried, and his eyes as they fell coldly m Vandlne, seemed to add: "Wasting rour time with this nobody." He irew her hand promptly through ni* irm. "Come my darling, this will not lo?you are wanted elsewhere." And le whisked her off like magic. Vanline picked up a rug and went to find Hiss Pamela. "So you have been talking with my llece?" said the old gentlewoman, as le spread the Oriental stuff under her eet. "Yes," groaned Vandlne. She had a sincere liking for her new ioctor, and meant to give him timely varning. "Everybody here Is raving of her )eauty," she went on, smoothing the her tone. "Pray, where is that?" "It is the old public house that was l formerly called Poole's Inn. The people at the hovels and cottages gave it its new name, because the taste of Miss Mercy Poole, the landlady, runs particularly to cats. She keeps in and about the house a baker's dozen or more." "Delightful! Her choice of pets shows plainly that she is a spinster." "Yes. The Blackport people say that she had some love affair in her youth which turned out unhappily, and since that episode and the death of the j old landlord, her father, she has fallen into eccentric ways." "Tell me more about her." "I dare not attempt it. Mercy Poole must be seen to be appreciated." "And the cats?" "The same can be said of them, also." "I will ask grandpa to take me to the tavern tomorrow," said Ethel, joint lace ruffles over her aencaie, leweled hands. "I hope the child's lead will not be turned; I hope. too. :hat no foolish moth will singe his tvings in a forbidden fire. Of course, t is generally known that?that Ethel s as good as engaged to a baronet icross the water?a Greylock, like her?elf." Yes, it was known. Vandlne had leard of the matter from a half-dozen jources ? nevertheless he experienced in unpleasant shock. "It's a thousand pities," he blurted >ut, with the blood burning in his rugged, unhandsome face, "that the baronet cannot find a mate in his own country. Observe all those fellows ponder, clustering about Miss Greylock, like bees around the honey of Hymettus. It's uncommonly hard upon them?upon all her own countrymen, in fact?this abominable English sngagement." "I do not approve of such betrothals myself, but we Greylocks are half English, you know, and nothing would satisfy by brother but an English marriage for Ethel. He fancies that she will ornament the family title." "She would ornament a throne!" muttered poor Vandine, with fervor. Miss Pam regarded him with a troubled air. "I fear, doctor, that you are not finding your share of amusement here. Will you not Join the tennis players, or those card parties on the piazza? There are scores of delightful girls among my guests?shall I not present you to some of them? Perhaps you will dance?the band is just striking up a waltz?" "No, thank you!" he answered gloomily. With the dazzling face of Ethel Greylock before his eyes, how could he look at other girls? His happiness was over. She was surrounded?monopolized. He could neither approach her again, nor gain another word with her. Everybody was paying court to her, as to a queen. What chance had he in such a company? And plainly Ethel had forgotten his existence. She had inflicted the fatal wound, and gone on her way unconscious of, and indifferent to, the mischief. Miss Pam, in her character of hostess, was soon called from his side, and I)r. Dick found himself disgusted and alone, among people for whom he cared nothing, and who cared nothing for him, deprived of the friendly shelter of a roof, and as forlorn generally as a cat in any strange garret. He was the first of the company to make his adieus and rush away. Anxious to avoid the crowd, he turned from the main avenues and plunged into a side path, which at the end of half a mile brought him to Rose Cottage. The cottage had been closed for a year?Mrs. Iris and her servant. Hannah Johnson, were abroad?but now, as Dr. Dick came in sight of the pretty hermitage, the stir of human life about it, the opening of shutters, the figures of servants appearing and disappearing, told that preparations for the return of the owner had already begun. On the vine-hung piazza an ancient green parrot, Just brought bark to the place by a servant to whom it had been Intrusted during Mrs. Iris's absence, sat on a perch?Miss Pam's old gift to little Fairy. As Dr. Dick stalked by the bird cocked its head knowingly to one side, and called, in a hoarse, derisive way: "Where's Polly, good sir?where's Polly?" Vandine could not repress a start. The Image of a certain Polly, a patient, long-suffering, much-endurl lg Polly, flashed across his mind, looked at him with big, pathetic eyes. He shrugged his shoulders and went on, pursued into the shadow of the Woods, and far beyond sight of the I cottage, by the shrill scream of the bird: "Polly! Polly wants you! Polly wants you!" He came at last, to a spot where the path dropped down Into a dell, blue with violets. He threw himself on the fragrant grass and listened. The music sounded faint and far?a mere echo of delight. A jovial blackbird in scarlet shoulder-straps sang loudly in a tree-top overhead. A little snake flashed like a shaft of green light through the grass. Dr. Dick lay for a long time, staring blankly up at the sky, and thinking?thinking of the dazzling face of a girl, in a ripple of yellow hair?a girl like a born princess, with blush roses a droop on her bosom, and a flood of tears in her violet eyes. His hour had come! She had carried his heart by sudden storm. Dr. Vandine, the insignificant Blackport doctor, was fiercely, furiously in love, for the first time in his life, and with the heiress of a million or more? the granddaughter of that most haughty aristocrat, Godfrey Greylock. "And worse yet," mused Dr. Dick, with his jealous, woe-begone face still turned skyward, "she's reserved for another fellow. Deuce take that Englishman. Why cannot he stay at home and choose a wife from the bloated aristocracy of his own right little, tight little island! I hope the steamer in which he sets sail will sink him fathoms deep in the briny! By Jove! some men are born to good luck, sure enough! But who was she crying for at the garden party this afternoon?? the poor darling! Not a baronet, I'll be bound?a man whom she never saw. She has a mother In Europe?do girls of her age cry for absent mothers? Oh. heaven! How lovely she Is! Circe herself could never hold a candle to her! What an air she has! One would know, without being told, that there was blue blood In her perfect veins. Even If no baronet stood In the way, am I the sort of fellow to win so much as the passing notice of a girl like that? No, no?a thousand times no!" Lost in the half-sweet, half-bitter dreams of a lover whose cause seems hopeless, he lay there among the violets, while the day faded, and the twilight gathered. Presently he awoke to find the dell growing dark. He sprang to his feet and went on down the silent, dusky path, till he came to the borders of the Woods. Over a wall, matted in woodbine, he leaped into the open high road. It was late and patients might be waiting at Cat's Tavern. Blackport was a painfully healthy place, but occasionally there was a call for Dr. Dick's professional services. A crescent moon hung In the west, the afterglow lingered on the low clouds, two or three marsh birds were flying through the purple light. Whether the garden party had dispersed or not, Vandlne did not know?there was no sign, no sound of it anywhere on the road. He descended the hill and drew near the deserted salt pits. This piece of ground remained unchanged. No summer visitors ever approached it, no hand of improvement, but the old sheds were now leveled with the dust, and unknown hands had heaped a great pile of rocks and rubbish like a cairn on the very spot of Robert Greylock's suicide. Dlilt'npm l pvupic nciv IIIV1IIIVU IV give the pits a wide berth. Of late, reports had got abroad that the ground was haunted. Strange figures had been seen there by night?strange sounds of lamentation had been heard there ?facts which rushed with unpleasant force upon Dr. Dick's mind; as by an abrupt turn in the path, he suddenly came in view of the cairn, and espied, sitting upon its rude top, a shape which seemed to be neither ghost nor human. It was big, black, motionless. At a little distance it looked like some huge bird, watching for prey. Though Vandine advanced noisily, it neither stirred nor gave any sign of life. The head drooped, the arms trailed listlessly, the body crouched forward in an attitude, half of fear, half of pain. Vandine, careless, fearless fellow though he was, experienced an unpleasant thrill. He stopped a few paces from the cairn. "Halloa!" he cried. The figure did not move or reply. "Halloa, there, I say!" he called again, louder than before. With a horse, strange cry, the shape leaped down from the rubbish, and with a feeling of intense relief Vandine recognized it at once. "Beg pardon, Miss Poole!" he said. "I hope I've not frightened you. Upon my soul, I didn't know you at a distance?thought it was the spirit, bogie, spook, or whatever the thing is, which haunts the spot, according to the popular belief at Blackport." Mercy Poole was dressed in black from head to foot, and in the failing light she looked almost gigantic. She wore a man's low-crowned hat on her ropes of hair, which time had plentifully sprinkled with gray. Her face was seamed and wrinkled, but more with mental conflicts than with age? it was still a handsome face, like some gypsy queen's, and full of gloomy power. As Vandine scrutinized it a little closer, he discovered that it was now ashy pale. "Being a doctor, you know the signs of fright when you see them." she an ?i T cVian't rldnv thnt HWC1CTJ UI,)IJ. uu 1 9?u.. J you startled me. Yes. the town folks avoid the pits at this hour?more fools they, for ghosts are out of date." He was thinking that she looked not unlike one herself. What was the landlady of Cat's Tavern doing in this desolate, evil place? Was she the bogie which Blackport people had seen from time to time hovering over the scene of the old tragedy? "This is a villainous spot for a twilight meditation, Miss Poole," said | Vandine?like everybody else in the town he had heard the story of Robert Oreylock's death?"such beastly associations, you know. As I came in sight of you you looked like a great hawk, with broken wings, brooding on this rubbish heap?by Jove, you did!" Her sombre black eyes dwelt keenly on him for a moment?then were withdrawn. He had been her guest for weeks, and in this time had won her favor to an amazing degree. "A hawk with broken wings," she echoed, laughing strangely; "that's not a bad Idea. Years ago," striking her breast, with unconscious tragedy, "a friend of mine came to his death on this spot. The stupid Blackport folks talk of meeting ghosts about the place. My God! If they only knew of the things I see here! I say he came to his death, by which I mean that he was cruelly murdered?shot down, without mercy, without a word of warning, at midnight, on the very spot where your feet now stand!" So strange and impressive was her manner that Dr. Dick stepped Involuntarily aside, as if he had touched the dead. "I've always heard that it was a case of suicide," he said. "Of course," answered Miss Poole, derisively; "who but me ever called It anything else? Mind you, Dr. Vandine, I know of what I speak. Well, 'twas a long time ago?seventeen years ?and the world cares little about such old affairs?you couldn't awaken an interest in the subject now if you tried. All the same, justice is only waiting? sooner or later, she will overtake the one who murdered him." Then her manner suddenly changed. She moved off from the uncanny spot, and Vandine, nothing loath, followed her. "Have you been to Greylock Woods?" she asked, over her shoulder. "Yes,"'he answered. "Did you see the young heiress?" "Yes." "I hear she Is comely, like all her race?" "She's the loveliest creature the sun ever shone upon." She gave him a penetrating backward glance. "Ha! I like you, Dr. Vandine, which is more than I can say for most folks ?let me give you a word of advice: Don't lose your heart to the handsome heiress of the Woods. It's bad luck, under any circumstances, to love a Greylock?nothing but woe can ever come out of It. I loved one of the name in my youth, and God only knows what the folly cost me! The father of your handsome Bthel was most miserable in his married life, and the old man up there," waving one arm scornfully toward the villa "the aristocrat who is made of better clay than his kind?I've heard a hundred times that his young wife, who died when her son was born, went gladly, thankfully out of the world. Yes, it's evil luck to love a Greylock?it's madness, misery, ruin! There was never a happy man or woman of the race?be warned In time." Without another word she went striding off along the path like a grenadier. Dr. Dick followed her in silence to the inn. In these later years few guests sought entertainment at the old house; the new hotel absorbed the majority of visitors; but this fact did not dls turb Mercy Pooie. uia me, wno nuu long been gathered to his fathers, had left behind him a fair share of this world's goods. In New England parlance, Mercy was well-to-do; so It was a matter of small anxiety to her whether her house was filled or empty. As boarder and landlady entered the living-room together, they found themselves In darkness?the kitchen-maid had not yet brought In the lights. "Where can that jade be?" cried Mercy Poole. "Stop, doctor. You will be sure to tread on Pontius Pilate or Robespierre. There! I heard a mew. Stand, I say, while I strike a match." She was too late to save the tail of Pontius Pilate. Close on her words followed the spitting and growling of some angry feline, two eyes, like phosphorescent lights, glared in the dark, and then the lamp flashed out, and lo! Mercy Poole's keeping-room seemed alive with cats?yellow, white, black and gray?old and young, big and little?on the chairs, in the windowseats?here, there and everywhere?a whole baker's dozen, even as Vandine had told Ethel Greylock. Mercy Poole flung herself into an old settle, dashed off the man's hat from her gray head, and cried, "Pontius Pilate!" At that call, out from a chest of drawers under which he had taken refuge, emerged an immense cat, black as a coal, sleek as a seal?all these animals bore evidence of good food and care. He sprang upon Mercy Poole's knee. She gave him a stroke or two of her sinewy hand. "Robespierre!" Another feline sprang into her lap. Each of the baker's dozen knew its rt?vn nnmp and answered to it nromot ly. Robespierre had lost the end of his tail and one ear, in some midnight fray, and, though round as a ball, like his fellows, he had a ruffianly look. "Did the great, blundering doctor crush you?" said Mery Poole, smoothing his remaining ear, at which attention he began to purr loudly. "Where's Charlotte Corday and Ravaillac and Queen Jezebel? Ah, I see them yonder In the basket. Look out how you sit down in that chair, Dr. Vandine? Captain Kidd is curled up there, and he has the sharpest claws of the lot." "By Jove!" said Vandine, "your pets have queer names. Miss Poole! "You must have ransacked history for everything reeking and sanguinary." "Exactly!" she answered. "There are more of them under the table. The yellow one is Eugene Aram?he has a keen scent for rodents. You will find neither rat nor mouse In the whole inn. The others are Nero and Marat, Lady Macbeth and Hernd, and the fomilv of Roreria. Lucretin nt their head." He laughed outright. "Good heaven! what a pleasant company! Do you ever have occasion to call your pets 'In the dead waste and middle of the night,' Miss Poole. How the chills must creep up your back as you give utterance to these names." "Yes, that's often the case," she shuddered, with a face as sombre as his was smiling. Vandine leaned against the wall and watched his landlady, as she sat with her lap full of Pontius Pilate and Robespierre, while Ravaillac sharpened his claws on her ankle. "Why do you keep all these creatures about you?" he said, whimsical ly; they axe an ungrateful, treacherous lot at best?" "Ungrateful!" she echoed, dryly. "Why not? The sin Is common to man and beast. Treacherous? Yes; that's why I like them?that's the trait which makes them akin to me. I'm a treacherous being myself." He shrugged his shoulders. "I should never have guessed It." "There are more things In heaven onrl porth than arn HrPornhH nf In vniiP philosophy. I have read Shakespeare ?In my youth, I was a scholar. So now, Dr. Vandlne. Somebody Is sick at the Ocean House on the bluff?a messenger came for you before I left the Inn." Vandlne took up the hat which he had just put down, and departed in quest of his new patient, leaving Mer- i cy Poole in the midst of her cats, with Pontius Pilate, huge, black and opal- i eyed, purring on her knee, and Char- : lotte Corday and the Borglas rubbing around her feet. i CHAPTER XVII. On the Beach. ' Godfrey Greylock and his heiress drove to Cat's Tavern the next day, 1 and made a formal call upon Mercy Poole. The latter received them with the dignity of a duchess. The master 1 of the Woods, who was not particularly pleased to renew his old acquaint- ^ ance with the towering gypsy, saluted 1 her with hauteur. "You owe this visit to the curiosity ' of my granddaughter," he said. "She ' would give me no peace until I con- 1 sented to bring her here." ' Ethel stood In the low-celled livingroom, and looked around on the clean- 1 llness there, the quaint old furniture, ' and?the cats. ' "Quite true," she said, lightly. "I ' wanted to see you, Miss Poole, and ' your pets, and this old Inn, where, long ago I once stopped with mamma and 1 Hannah Johnson, and of which I have always preserved a dim memory." ' Her grandfather frowned. A sombre smile flitted over Mercy Poole's dark face. Even Indoors she wore a man's hat on her iron-gray hair, and a linen apron was pinned over the front of her black gown. To Godfrey Greylock she grave little heed, but his granddaughter she regarded with keen attention. "You are welcome," she said kindly, to the latter. Sit down. And so Robert's daughter is now grown to womanhood? Yes, you are as old as I was when I first knew your father. Let me look at you. You are handsomer than any of his race. Isn't that so?" appealing abruptly to Godfrey Greylock. "I beg you will not turn my granddaughter's head with compliments," he answered coldly. Captain Kidd leaped from a windowseat and began to purr about Ethel with friendly violence. Robespierre, with his one ear and abbreviated tall, c&me out of a corner and clawed her mantle, as a hint that he desired a little attention. The Borgias and the other murderers blinked at her serenely with their round, opal eyes. "Why, this is like a show!" laughed Ethel. "How glad I am that you con v.*.intr ma hf>pp erandoa." ! Btruicu iu u* ???a ??v o . Mercy Poole turned to the old arlstocrat. "Do you remember the last time you and I met?" she said dryly. "It was In your library at the Woods, Godfrey Greylock?the night after your son's burial." "No," he answered In a freezing tone. "I do not remember." "Pardon me, I think you do?one can't forget such things. It was the time I told you Robert had been murdered. You hadn't suspected the fact before. Well, we've both changed a good deal since that night." His face darkened. "Oblige me by leaving the past out of our present conversation. I find no pleasure In recalling It." "It would be strange If you did!" she answered, with a low laugh, and she snapped the one ear of Robespierre, who had bounced rudely on her shoulder. From certain signs which her grandfather was making Ethel knew that her visit must be brief. She glanced around for Dr. Vandine, but that person chanced to be absent, visiting his Blackport patients. After a few moments caressing the cats, she prepared to depart. "You will let me come again, will you not?" she said to Mercy Poole at the door. The landlady looked at her with strange tenderness. "There's a room In this house at all times for your father's daughter," she answered; "the other Greylocks I hate, but not you?not you!" Moved by a sudden impulse, Ethel turned and pressed her fresh young lips to Mercy Poole's dark cheek. Then she departed with Godfrey Greylock. "What a strange woman," she said musingly, as the two rode away from Cat's Tavern. "What did she mean, grandpa, by saying that my father was murdered?" He looked greatly annoyed. "It is some mad fancy which got possession of her years ago; never give it a thought, my dear. She Is mad, as you can plainly see by the abominable names she has given those cats. There was some boy and girl love affair betwixt her and your father?bah! do not ask me to speak of it ?I abhor the woman." "And I like her, grandpa!" They were driving back to the vll'a through the summer sunshine. When they reached the turn In the road which brought them nearest to the salt-pits, Ethel laid her gloved hand on her grandfather's arm. "Point," she entreated, "to the spot where my father's body was found." He shuddered. "No! no! Do not look that way! Wrhat morbid nonsense!" "I must see the place, grandpa. Stop the horses, please, and let us alight and walked down the slope. Mamma told me the whole story, long and long ago." "The whole story? I doubt it." mut- t tered Godfrey Greyiock, but being in- i capable of refusing anything to this < spoiled darling, he ended by doing ex- I actly as she bade him, and the two 1 paused together among the debris of ^ the pits. i "Point to the exact spot, grandpa," urged Ethel, feverishly; "the exact spot, I say! I want to stand upc- the < place where my father died." i He made a gesture of horror and i aversion. "There?that pile of rocks and rub- < nisn?that is the place," ne sniverea. She went up to the heap on which Dr. Dick had found Mercy Poole sitting the previous night. This dead father was a shadow and a name to Ethel?she felt no particular tenderness for his memory, but her eyes grew moist as she looked around his desolate death-place, and thought of the gray-haired, tragic-faced woman at Cat's Tavern. "Grandpa," she said, earnestly, "was there anybody?anybody, mind, on the face of the earth, who, In reason, could have been suspected of my father's murder? Did he have an enemy?" He lowered his eyes. "Yes?one. There was living at the time, a man who had, as I believe, deeply injured your father. Hatred and Jealously surely existed between the two. But?the person whom I Bpeak of was not In Blackport on the night of Robert's death?the fact might have been proved beyond doubt by Bcores of people who saw him sitting the entire evening In a city theatre." "His name?" said Ethel, breathlessly. "Kenyon. I trust you never heard It before." "Never!" He wheeled quickly round, and In an altered voice, said: "Years ago, the fellow died, I have been told, of yellow fever In New Orleans. My dear, rest assured that your father committed suicide, and that Mercy Poole Is as mad as a March hare. Now come. You must not remain on this spot a moment longer." Her quick eye had caught sight of a shred of cloth hanging from the rocks. She plucked It away?looked at it closely. It was a fragment of a woman's dress, and In texture and color It reminded her of the serge gown which Mercy Poole had worn at the Inn that morning. "Qha (inmoo Viaro thonl" thnilffht the nelress of the Woods. "Poor soul! she roust have loved my father very dearly." But she said no more?in silence the pair went to the carriage, and home to the villa. A day or two later Ethel Greylock lourneyed up to town with her grandfather and Miss Pam, fully empowered to indulge every wish of her heart, md spend the Greylock money with)ut stint. A long week followed at the roost luxurious hotel In the city. Magnificent toilets and Jewels were purchased, and orders sent abroad for ithers still more magnificent. Many >ld aristocratic friends of the family Hastened to pay their regards to the 'air young heiress. Sight-seeing she lad In abundance, unlimited freedom? iverythlng that might gratify the neart of 17; and yet, in the midst of ill this, Ethel drooped. Miss Pam was first to discover it, ind It struck consternation to her gentle soul. The girl seemed gay enough ivhen her grandfather was by, but out >f his presence, she became pale, languid, absorbed. "It's the English marriage!" thought Miss Pam, and she flew at once to 3odfrey Greylock. "Do you know," she demanded, "are rou sure that this grand match which pou are planning for Ethel, Is entirely igreeable to her?" He stared at his sister In haughty imaze. "Am I sure? Certainly. I think I understand my granddaughter." "Pardon me: you nave muc nnvm?dge of women, Godfrey. Like the majority of twirls, Ethel is of the romantic turn of mind. Suppose she should decline to live at Greylock Park, and be called 'My Lady'?suppose she should refuse the baronet?" Time had not changed the character sf the man?his Iron will, his high temper remained unbroken. "Do not talk like an idiot. Pamela," lie answered, sternly. "You know how [ love my granddaughter?she has become the Joy of my life, the apple of my eye. Yet, I swear to you, If it were possible (thank heaven It is not) for her to forget her duty to me, and her Dwn interests, so far as to refuse Sir Servase, I would turn her into the street as I turned her father before her?I would never see her face again ?I would give my fortune to the South Sea Islanders, to the lunatic asylums, to a society for the prevention of cruelty to parents and guardians, but never, never one dollar to her!" "Then God forbid that anything should prevent the match, Godfrey!" said Miss Pam, with a heavy sigh. At the end of a week the party returned to the Woods. An unpleasant piece of news awaited Godfrey Greylock there. Hopkins, the housekeeper, was the first to whisper it into his ear. "The people of Rose Cottage are back again, sir," she said; "they came yesterday. I thought you would want to know it at once." "Unwelcome tidings, Hopkins," he frowned. Don't mention the matter to my granddaughter tonight?she is tired and must be allowed to go to bed undisturbed." So Ethel went to rest, ignorant of :he arrival of her mother at the pretty hermitage, only a half-mile away? tier mother whom she had not seen for /-?tVia All the same, the heiress of the Woods did not sleep well that night. The next morning she arose at dawn, ind noiselessly arrayed herself for a ?allop. Stealing down to the stables, Jhe aroused a sleepy groom, and mounting her black mare Sultana, a gift from Godfrey Greylock, she cantered off at break-neck pace to Blackport town. In her heart hope and expectation mingled with a painful sense of secrecy and guilt. Clouds filled the morning sky, and lung darkly over the breathless salt meadows. The heat was intense. Now ind then thunder muttered in the dis :ance. There was a tempest gatherng?before many hours it would break n fury. (To Be Continued.) A Killjoy.?There was a meeting of he new teachers and the old. It was i sort of love feast, reception, or what- , ;ver you call it. Anyhow, all the :eachers got together and pretended that they didn't have a care in the vorld. After the eats were ate, the i Symposiarch proposed a toast: i "Long Live Our Teachers!" I It was drunk enthusiastically. One >f the new teachers was called on to ! espond. He modestly accepted. His i inswer was: i "What on?"?Cleveland Plain Deal- i jr. gwceuanMUiss SURVEYING THE SOIL. One of the Biggest Jobs Uncle Sam Has Undertaken. Copyright, 1911, by Frank Q. Carpenter. Washington.?I write today of the most stupendous undertaking that Uncle Sam has ever attempted. It Is the making of an Inventory and working plans for our biggest national asset. I refer to the government survey of our soils. Our eyes bulge when we think of our enormous resources In mines, of the gold, silver, nnnnor onrl r?r?a 1 anrl thh m I crh v ho/la of Iron which keep our industries moving. Nevertheless they are nothing when compared with our receipts from the soil. Take all the gold, silver and copper that the world produces in one year, and its value would not be half that of the corn crop. All the gold dug out of the earth in 1910 would not buy half the cotton we shall raise this year, and it would take twenty times the gold product of the world to pay for what we are annually receiving from the farms. The amount is close to 19,000,000,000. Since the discovery of America, the total value of the precious metals which have been mined aggregates less than $27,000,000. In other words, three crops like that of last year would equal all the gold and silver taken out of the ground since the Spaniards led by Columbus came across the Atlantic to begin their robbery of the Aztecs and the Incas. That was 419 years ago, and since that the whole world has been digging and delving to get out that silver and gold. Within the last thirteen years our little army of farmers has taken from the earth crops which are worth more than $81,000,000,000, or three times the product of the gold and silver mines for more than 400 years. Big Things From ths Soil. Before I describe the survey let me say a word more as to some of the things we get from the soil. The corn crop Is the greatest. It amounted last year to 3,000.000.000 bushels, and was worth more than $1,500,000,000. Nevertheless, It was dus from the ground in a little less than 100 days, and the government experts tell us that If the crop Is rightfully handled its amount can be doubled. That crop comes from a comparatively small area. Until within the last decade the most of It was raised In the north. Last year almost 1,000,000,000 bushels came from the south, and that had a value close to $500,000,000. It was created because the south had begun to learn more about the soil, and it is but the beginning of an enormous wealth which further knowledge will bring. The cotton crop brought in an aggregate of something like $900,000,000 and that notwithstanding the weevil, which had we not learned more about the soil since its coming, would have wiped more than half our cotton plantations from the face of the earth. And then there is the hay crop, amounting to 60,000,000 tons, and worth more than $700,000,000; the wheat crop which was almost as valuable, and .our oats which exceeded 1,000,000,000 bushels, to say nothing of potatoes, sugar, tobacco and barley, each of which ran high into the millions. All this comes from the soil and the product depends on Just what the soil is. The agricultural experts say that in nine cases out of ten every crop can be largely inrn?Aifl/?A^ tho rltrhf nrnn ifl ti caoru, yiyjr iuv.u titv * >s?v v?w|/ .. chosen for the right place and the cultivation properly done. It Is to show Just what your soil is and how you should treat it to make It do best that Uncle Sam Is working in this great soil survey. , But think what a mighty Job it is. Think of going over the United States with an auger, an Inch and a half in diameter and three feet in length, and boring down Into every ten acre field to find Just what kind of soil It contains. That is what Uncle Sam is doing. He has already tested the most of the lands of the great plains, and has actually made soil maps and working plans for a territory larger than France, Germany or the Spanish peninsula. He has mapped and analyzed the soils of considerably more than 100,000,000 acres in the eastern part of this country, having completed the work over enough land to make four states as big as Illinois, or five the size of Ohio or Kentucky. This testing has been done by counties or small areas picked out at some distances apart, so that a general knowledge of the soils lying between is already known. It shows Just what the soils are, and to what crops they are adapted and how they may be improved. It has been so done that we now have a fair knowledge of the soils east of the great plains, although Dractical working maps and plans have to be made for each county, and this work will go on for decades to come. An army of experts Is now at work In the dry-plains region, mapping the country from North Dakota to Texas. Other experts are testing the places In the Rocky Mountain basin where the reclamation plants are being created, and considerable surveying has been done In California and In other parts of the Pacific slope, as well as In the Gulf states and the Mississippi valley. , The work has been such that we have now a general outline of our soil territories as well as accurate knowledge of about 5 per cent of the whole. The total land of the United States proper aggregates about 1900 million acres, and as I have said, of more than 100,000,000 acres we have already completed surveya The work began just about eleven years ago. It is carried i on by one of the chief bureaus of the agricultural department, whose scientific laboratories and other arrangements are among the finest of the gov- , ernment. In addition to the actual exhaustive surveys, prospecting surveys nave neen carried on in many sections i and there are on file requests for 500 1 and more additional surveys, covering about one-fifth of our country. What Soil Is. It makes one's head buzz when he thinks of these big scientific features of Uncle Sam's work. They are hard to describe in popular language, and the scientists use terms which would frighten the reader. I have been talking with many ><t the s--11 experts, and among others with Dr. Milton Whitney, who has been at the head of the bureau since its beginning, and who Miuno iiiwt o auuui ouiia, pci imps, 111a.11 any other man in the country. In the first place, what is soil? It is the thin skin which incloses the body of old Mother Earth, formed of the dust of the old lady's scourlngs. We all know that it is disintegrated rock, but the experts say that the rock alone is not soil, and that it must have humus or some vegetable or organic matter mixed with it to make the crops grow. It must have water and air and also the myriads of little devils of a vegetable sort known as bacteria. All rock is mineral, and the soil is made up of minerals washed from the rocks by the rains and loosened by other agencies so that it may furnish the root food for the plants. In order that it may do this it must consist of particles which are infinltesimally small. Many grains of the soil are so little that you cannot see them except when some millions are collected together. Take the Norfolk sand, which runs along the eastern ccast of the United States, from Florida to Long Island. That is good vegetable ground, but a great part of it is so fine that a child's thimble will hold more of its particles than there are men, women and children in this whole world. It measures about 2,000,000,000 to the gram, and that many can be inclosed in a cylinder one-fourth of an Inch In diameter and half an inch long. There are other soils which have even more particles than this, and It is said that the best wheat lands and grass lands are so line that from 10,000,000,000 to 14,000,000,000 separate particles may be crowded Into a thimble. These particles are usually roundish in shape. They are separated by air ana/'?i nnH A alnria rubir foot of soil Is said to expose to the roots of the plants an area of surface equal to three acres. That is, each particle can be reached on all sides, and the aggregate surface of these billions of particles equals three acres. It is according to the division of the particles and the character of their contents, as well as according to the way they have been laid down, that we know what our soils are. How ths United States Was Made. Dr. Whitney could tell you Just about how the United States was made. He knows where the soils came from and how they were laid down upon the rocky surface of the globe. I have before me a map made by his bureau which shows our great soil provinces. It is in many colors, each of which describes the land of its location. In the tjrst place, there are the soils which have been washed down from the mountains. This is disintegrated rock, which has rolled over and over, in these countless billions of grains, until it has built up the land on the edge of the sea. We have a great strip of that kind of soil running along the Gulf of Mexico and on the Atlantic coast as far north as the edge of New England. This is excellent land for farming and vegetables. It raises corn and all sorts of crops in the south; in Florida it makes cotton and gives us the fruits of the tropics. Of this about 33,000,000 acres have been already surveyed. Just back of this region, lying east of the Appalachian mountains, is what is known as the Piedmont plateau, another great strip of soil. This is made of a different rock and is so situated that the rock has disintegrated or rotted and lies where it went to pieces. These soils have a special character of their own and they need a special treatment. Still further west is the Appalachian region, which, as far as I can understand, is of less value than most other soils, and to the north and west of it, comprising the upper Mississippi valley and the most of the land about the great lakes, are what are known as the glacial and loessial soils. These comprise a large part of the corn basket and bread basket of the United States and they are exceedingly rich. You may have read of the great loess region of China. It consists of a mighty plateau of clay made up of particles as fine as the finest dust. Over this the winds are constantly blowing and through it some great rivers run. The winds have carried the dust all over central and eastern China, and have built up there the richest lands of the world. The Yanktse Kiang and the Hoang Ho carry down many billions of tons of this dirt every year, and that also goes to build up the land. In the same way thi? tinner MississiDDi valley and the remainder of the great Loesslan province of the United States, comprising lands bordering the great lakes, is overlaid with wind-blown dust from the Rocky Mountains, and it is out of this dust that we get the wheat, corn and meat which form our chief food supply. The greater part of this wind-blown dust lies on a bed of rock which was ground up and brought down by the glaciers duYing the great ice ages of the past. There are places wh$re the dust is not thick and where this glacial soil lies close to the surface. This also forms some of the best wheat and farm lands. The Red River valley is a part of it, and you may find more about Lakes Erie and Ontario, running up into New York, taking in Buffalo, Oswego and going on clear to the Canadian boundary. That land is excellent for fruits, and it is one of our best regions for the production of apples and grapes. In addition to these soils we have those which form the banks of the rivers and the lowlands adjoining. They are scattered along the Missouri and Mississippi and the tributaries which flow into them. They come from the highlands near by and are young soils, being usually more productive than the territory from which they have come. Of these about 13,000,000 have been surveyed. And then there are other special patches, known as the limestone valleys and uplands of which we have tested between 7,000,000 and 8,000,000 acres. Some of these are found under the blue grass of Kentucky, where they produce excellent horses and whisky. They extend down into Tennessee, and also cover a greater part of Missouri, running south of that state into Arkansas. There Is another class of soils In the Rocky Mountain basin, and some of all these soils are found on the Pacific slope. The Bureau of Soils. I wish I could take you through the bureau of soils and show you the people at work testing the earth which bas been sent from the fields. There ire great laboratories which have hotlies containing soils of every description and representing every part of the country. There are upwards of 300 different soils In these bottles and the reports will tell just what the property of each Is and what crops It svlll raise. You may learn the character of the earth. Some of It is coarse, ?ritty sand. Other soils are made up if fine sand and others of sandy oams. There are other divisions such is silt, clay loams and clay, so that me can know the texture of the land ind for what it is fitted. A description (Continued on Fourth Page.)