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CHAPTER V. That evening Mrs. Turner, with her chum, Mrs. Raymond, "hunting in couples" as of old, came to call again at the Stannards', prepared to be civil to Mr. Maynard'a sister. With Maynard confined to his bed and most of the other young men off with Barry on a winter campaign, time was hanging heavily on Mrs. Turner's hands, and one thing she could not do was sit at home alone, even, as she said, "when the captain was there.'' The Stannards' little par lor was bright and cheerful, but the master of the house was over at the colonel's just then, talking of the prob abilities of Barry's needing help, and growling not a little that he was held in leash when be longed to be on the warpath. Whether the Cheyennes hai heard of the preparations to head them off and were heeding them no officer could say. At all events the threatened outbreak had not come to pass, but the troops from Leavenworth and Riley were rapidly closing on the reservation, while, farther to the north, squadrons from McPherson and Russell had been sent to the field. Mrs. Stannard came in to greet her guests, Mithe and smiling, and present ly Miss Maynard was heard descending the stairs. She entered, looking as prim and impassive as ever, yet fancying she was receiving the visitors with all cor diality. These latter began, of course, I at once with inquiries for the invalid, accompanying them with every assur ance of sympathetic interest, and Miss Maynard was pleased to say that he had had a very comfortable day and had vastly enjoyed the warm tea Mrs. Stan nard had made for him half an hour since. To refer to it or to any edible or potable as hot would have been a crass violation of Miss Maynard's tenets as to what was delicate and refined in speech. She experienced something akin to a shock on hearing an officer of the regular army, her burly host, importune his smiling wife to order more hot buckwheats, for village ethics in this behalf, first applied by imported school ma'ams to purely personal conditions— as when they gently rebuked the maid ens running in from the game of tag at recesss and saying "I'm so hot"—had gradually extended to a provincial em bargo against the adjective on any terms. All the same "warm" meant "hot" when applied to toast and tea, and Mrs. Turner took the word, as say the French, and bustled briskly into conversation. "Ah, yes, we all know how good Mrs. Stannard's tea isl My cook never can get it like hers, but just as soon as Mr. Maynard's able to eat anything I'll be too happy to bring him some dainties myself. Does he like jelly?" "Very much," answered Miss May nard, with a somewhat astringent smile. "His appetite is coming back, and he wants to eat everything." But she made no mention of the jelly he had eaten and rejoiced in only an hour before far more than he did Mrs. Stan nard's tea, so it was the latter who spoke. "Miss Baird brought him some deli cious jelly this afternoon," she an nounced, "and it was good to see how he enjoyed it." "Yes, but it was Mrs. Barry, not Miss Baird, who was the donor," quickly interposed Miss Maynard. "Miss Baird was merely the bearer, though I am sure she was very kind, and I am very grateful to her." It was impossible that such veteran society women as their visitors should not note the almost intense eagerness with which Miss Maynard seemed to desire to impress them with her theory that Miss Baird was in nowise connect ed with the preparation of the jelly for her invalid brother. A quick glance was exchanged, but no comment made. In deed, there was no time, for the major's voice and step were heard at the door as he came noisily into the hall, ushering the adjutant and a subaltern or two who had come to inquire for Maynard and to pay their respects to the ladies. They flocked into the little army parlor with the easy confidence of comrades sure of welcome and dropped into seats wherever they could find them, even the piano stool bearing its share, and the chat and laughter rippled on, Miss Maynard speedily relapsing into silence and study of the faces about her with deep interest, yet with the same im passive, almost solemn visage old .Stannard beaming on the party from the doorway, where he stood in his habitual off duty attitude, hands deep in trousers pockets and legs straddled apart as though long years in saddle had rendered it impossible to lounge in any other pose. Presently lie turned and tiptoed up the narrow stairway, saying he'd go and have a peep at Maynard, who was reported half awake, half dozing and pretending to read. I "Queer we don't hear a word from Barry," said one of the younger officers, flushing a bit as he caught the adju tant's baleful eye glowering at him for the omission of Barry's title at the hands of one so many years his junior. "We dropped in there," ho plunged ahead, in nervous effort to cover the solecism, "hoping to get some news, but Mrs. Barry hadn't had a line for two days." "Did you see her, Mr. Graham," queried Mrs. Stannard, "or did Miss sukMtise. *\e._ am. •*'&• *«. *«. -Ate ^e. ^e a _i»i- O & %..i mSJTV 5C /7FST S Kt*v»+ •, CQpyrj^Aty/#?s\, Sy XTfrmyses? Afeefy j? Baird receive you?" "We saw her. She was lying on her couch before the parlor fire. Mrs. Ray was with her. We didn't see Misa Baird." And then young Graham be came suddenly aware that the other three women had not only discontinued chat, but were listening to him and not to the other men. It embarrassed him still the more. "She wasn't feeling very well,'' Mrs. Barry said. "She came home from her walk rather later than usual and had to go to her room." "I hope Miss Baird is not going to be ill," said Mrs. Stannard anxiously. "She has been looking a little pale of late." And Mrs. Stannard did not see how intently Miss Maynard was eying her as she spoke. "Oh, I didirt understand that any thing serious was the matter only sue didn't come down to tea and Mrs. Ray was taking her place temporarily." There was a moment's silence. Every one present except Miss Maynard was aware of her brother's manifest devotion to Nathalie Baird for two weeks previ ous to his serious adventure in town, and each and every one was wondering how much the young girl's indisposition might be due to anxiety on his account. Mrs. Turner was the first to speak. "How very queer that she should be ill, don't ycu think so?" she queried, true to her practice of committing her hearer to some expression indicative of support of—Mrs. Turner's views and opinions. "Very queer," murmured Mrs. Ray mond, glancing furtively at Miss May nard, whose face, pale and patient, still gave no sign. "Oh, I—I don't suppose it's any thing serious!" interposed Lieutenant Walker. "I met her near the gate as she was coming in. She seemed in a hurry, and I thought she looked more as she used to when I first saw her up at Winthrop when I was there on court martial duty. She was looking mighty pretty last week, but seems to have kind of broken up recently. She hardly notioed me at all when she went by.'' "Why, how strange!" said Mrs. Tur ner. "Well, we must be going. We've been here long enough to make you all think we'd come to spend the night. Miss Maynard," she continued, rising and turning a deaf ear to Mrs. Stan nard's polite expostulations and assur ances that they had been in the house barely ten minutes, "do come and see me as soon as you're able to run about. I declare I don't see anybody nowadays, and we all miss Mr. Maynard so!" To which Mrs. Raymond murmured a purring second, and then after various other farewells and at the close of five minutes devoted to these leave takings the two ladies made their exit, declin ing for a wonder the escort of any of the gallants present. Once outside and the door closed, Mrs. Turner turned to her companion. "Do you think we can venture in? It isn't 9 yet. We can say we came to help, as we'd heard Miss Baird was ill, you know.'' Mrs. Raymond hesitated. "I haven't been there, except to call formally, since the day she came. I'm afraid it would be too—thin.'' But Mrs. Turner was a leader of wo men when they wanted to be led, and her motion prevailed. Mrs. Barry on her sofa and Mrs. Ray bending over her were in earnest conversation when the two were ushered in. And this was how it happened that Mrs. Turner herself should be the bearer of an important and exciting piece of news back to the Stannards' parlor not 15 minutes later. She came rushing in without even stopping to ring. "What do you think!" she cried. "Colonel Atherton's got a dispatch from headquarters and another from Major Barry. The Indians have broken loose. The whole command may have to go. He came to see her right after they reached him, and he's going over to the office now. You'll all be wanted,'' she continued, with a comprehensive glance at the boys. The adjutant edged at once to the door. Stannard's foot falls were heared overheard as he left Maynard's bedside and hastened to the stairs. "What's that? What's the newsV" he cried, as he came hurriedly down, and again Mrs. Turner had the comfort of holding the floor and the absorbed attention of her auditors for half a min ute, and then, loud, ringing and imper ative, the cavalry trumpet out upon the parade broke up the gathering with the stirring summons of "officers' call." Only tho women were left to discuss the situation, and Miss Maynard for the moment forgot her vivid interest in all that had been said or implied re garding Nathalie Baird in this her first experience with sudden orders for the field—an old time and all too familiar episode in garrison lifo as it was led a score of years ago. That night the lanterns were dancing about the barracks and quarters long after the usual hour for taps," and the officers and men of Stannard's bat talion wero busily at work packing and preparing for the campaign. The special trains ordered to transport them to North Platte, far to the east, from which point they could most easily reaoh tho old trail of the Cheyennes when traveling between the northern and southern villages of the tribe, were to be in readiness with the i?»wn of the coming aay, and many a man, many a woman knew no wink of sleep the live long hours that intervened. And yet Mrs. Stannard had found time, in the midst of all she bad to do for her major's mess chest, to run over to see that Mrs. Barry lacked no comfort. Mrs. Ray, of course, had had to hasten home, but Miss Baird was on duty with her in valid again—silent, helpful, thoughtful as ever, yet seeming, as Mrs. Stannard could not help but see, very far from well. There was a strange, hopeless, har assed, appealing look about the eyes that were but recently so placidly blue and tender that the loving hearted army Mrs. Stannard had found time to sec that had Mrs. Barry lacked no comfort. woman was touched and troubled to see. She was the one woman in the —th in those days to whom all the youngsters confided their troubles, hopes or fears. She was the repository of the cherished secrets of half the garrison—of men and women both. She was the object of the sublime envy of other officers' wives, because of the implicit trust placed in her silence and discretion and the un bounded respect felt for her opinion. She had been arbitrator in many a fam ily difference in the old days, but of late years had declined to serve—the climate of Arizona, where the —th had spent four years before returning to the plains, having proved far too arid and peppery, and therefore so temper trying that even her mediation had been occa sionally rejected. But envy her as they might and deplore the partiality and bad judgment of the young officers as they might, the other matrons of the regiment could not help loving and ad miring Mrs. Stannard, and all this Miss Baird had heard in one form or another time and again. Was it fancy, then? thought Mrs. Stannard, as she sat by the invalid's bedside. Was she mistaken in thinking that every little while, as Nathalie flit ted about the room, she caught the girl's eyes seeking hers with such a look of distress and appeal in their blue depths that it filled her with longing to take the motherless child to her heart and bid her pour out the torrent of her sorrows and find at least sympathy and comfort if not immediate relief? And yet Nathalie fled when Mrs. Stannard's swimming eyes betrayed the depths of her interest as she rose to go. "We shall both be widowed for the time being," she said, as she bent over Mrs. Barry's pillow, "and I hope you will let me come in every day and read to you. I fear Miss Baird isn't quite as strong as we could wish. She looks very fragile tonight.'' For answer Mrs. Barry first placed her finger on her lips, then by an in quiring glance seemed to say, "Is she gone?" and then aloud, "Would you mind closing the door?" Softly Mrs. Stannard stepped thither, glanced into the adjoining room and saw that it was empty, shut the door and came back to the bedside. Mrs. Barry took her visitor's hand. "Mrs. Stannard," said she, "like everybody else in the regiment, I come to you when troubled, and I'm sorely troubled about Nathalie. You know, do you not, how I came to find her? No? Well, I haven't told it as a rule. Her father had served on the same division staff with Major Barry during the war, and a strong friendship grew up between them. When Captain Baird was killed, his brother-in-law came all the way to Virginia after his body, and Major Bar ry was allowed to go with it as far as Washington, and there he met this gen tleman, Nathalie's uncle by marriage. He impressed Major Barry as being a sturdy, warm hearted fellow who would do all he could for the widow and orphan, especially for this little girl who was named, as Nathalie has only recently told me, for his own wife. I wondered how she came by that name, but it seems that this was Mrs. Baird's younger and favorite sister. Already, however, this gentleman had four chil dren of his own and could not well pro vide for more. A desultory correspond ence was kept up for awhile, and then it dropped off, but in 1876 this Mr. Williams wrote that his niece was prac tically destitute, that his own business was completely ruined, and he begged us to do something for her, saying that she was a good, pure minded, lovely girl and intimating that he would have been only too thankful had heaven blessed him with such children. "So the major went there when east on leave, and she has teeu with us for a year now, and she is lovely and was content and happy until just a few days ago. I watched her narrowly at the time of Mr. Maynard's mishap, half ex pecting her to be greatly shocked and distressed. Shocked she was and meas urably distressed, but not to the extent I had expected. This change in her lias not come through him. She has sudden ly met some serious mental strain, and it is the more trying because she cannot tell or will not tell what it is. She begs me not to ask any more, but sometimes" —and here Mrs. Barry looked appeal ingly up into the gentle face of her friend "sometimes I feel sure would confide in you, and you could help her. Will you?" "Indeed I will if she will let me," was the warm hearted reply. "Now I must get back to Major Stannard or he'll be seeking for me and saying dreadful things in Apache. Tomorrow morning I'll come to you again." An hour later Nathalie Baird, kneel ing by the bedside of her friend and protector, gazed long and earnestly into the placid face, bent her ear to listen to the gentle, measured breathing as though to assure herself that the sleep was sound then slowly, cautiously, noiselessly rose to her feet, extinguished the lamp and set the night light on the floor, slipped into the dimly lighted front room and thence to the hall. There, taking a hooded cloak from a peg, she as noiselessly opened the front door, peered up and down the row, noted the flitting lights at the barracks and the sound of busy preparation, hastily withdrew a moment as an offi cer's orderly, blanket and robe laden, came laboring down the line, then, once more glancing out, stepped softly forth upon the piazza and, huddling within the warm folds of her cloak, tiptoed around the corner of the house and through the dark passage leading to the spacious yard that lay to the north. The servants had long since retired to their little rooms in the annex at the rear, but the girl trembled as she passed their windows, yet pressed resolutely on, and presently, clearing the wooden buildings, was swallowed up in the blackness of the cloud covered night. [TO BE CONTINUED.] LAUGHTER. From the Baby's Merry Crow to the Ma niac's Terrifying Screaiu. Has laughter gone out Are we never again to liave the honest guffaw—the loud laugh, which, as the poet says, bespeaks the vacant mind? Is this really a true account of the rationale of cachinnationi If so, probably it has gone out, at-any rate in polite circles, because we are nothing now if we are not cul tured and »elined, and to be vulgar and to be ignorant are worse offenses than any more explicitly forbidden in the Decalogue. And yet it almost seems a pity too. It is not well, surely, to lose any innocent and, happily, infectious expression of pleasure in a world so bedeviled as ours. Alas! I fear there is no doubt that the power of irrepressible laughter is the gift of youth and youth only, whether in nations or in individuals. Passing the draw ing room door the other afternoon, I could hear inside peal after peal of silvery, girlish laughter. It was Miss Ethel, who waa entertaining her school friends with tea and bread and butter and jokes. That is the time of life for laughter. I dare say the jokes would not have made me smile. But when the springtide is blossoming, and the sap is running upward in the trees, and the vernal woods are bursting into leaf and echoing with song, and, wherever you look, all is ver dure and joy, almost anything can move quick laughter. Or there is an earlier stage, when baby is being tickled by mamma and crows with delight. Or, though this, it is true, is often silent, there is that most beautiful of all sights —the little blue eyed boy or girl who lies in the white cot at dawn and smiles and ripples with laugh ter at some innocent, childish thought. It is good to hear happy laughter it is good to watoh these baby smiles. But laughter can be not only gro tesque, but very dreadful as well. To hear a maniac laugh is one of the most terrible experiences. To hear a hundred laugh, as one does in nearing the Isola dei Pazzi at Venice, is a foretaste of the lower regions. Farther on in the downward path of life, when the end is very near, the failure of the mind is often pro claimed by violent laughter. The old man is back again in the scenes of boyhood and is going over in a dream the days of long ago. I re member well, lying awake in Lon don lodgings, through an otherwise still June night, unable to sleep for the loud, incessant laughter pealing from the room above, where the old man of the house lay dying. When it ended, just before dawn, the old life ended with it, and in the morn ing his daughter came in to an nounce the fact and to express the hope that I had not been much dis turbed. The old man, she assured me, had been in no pain, but had been going over his boyish days again the old brothers, long years dead and forgotten, were with him, and they were cricketing or gather ing apples or swinging or swimming together across the old brook all that sleepless night One was glad it was so, but the laughter had an awful sound.—Sir Lewis Morris in Forum. A Business Geriu. Talker—I was but a little lad when 1 started in business. Walker—That's been the founda tion of many a business man's suc cess. Talker—What has? Walker A little ad.—Boston Courier. One She Knew. Young Spoonamore—You don't mean to tell me seriously, Miss Quickstep, that you don't know one piece of music from another? Miss Quickstep—Oh. well. 1 know a wedding march when 1 hear it.— Chicago Tribune. So can 1 CAPTAIN CAPRON IS DEAD. Hero of Santiago Succumbs to Typhoid Fever at Fort Myer. WASHINGTON, Sept. 19. Captain Capron, First artillery, died at his home near Fort Myer, Va., Sunday. Captain Capron was one of the best known officers in the regular army. He had devoted his abilities to the artillery branch of the army and was regarded as an authority on artillery tactics. When General Shafter's corps went to Santiago Captain Capron accompanied it and his battery did notably fine work in the battle of Santiago. During the first day's fight before the city Captain Capron's son, Captain Allyn K. Capron of the Rough Riders was killed. The death of his son preyed upon the father's mind, though he never swerved from his duty during the terrible days that followed. The seeds of the disease was sown in his system during the Cuban campaign and he returned to his home at Fort Meyer, near this city, only to be stricken down with typhoid fever. His death occurred about 11 o'clock Sunday. Captain Capron was born in Florida and entered the military academy as a cadet in 1863. After graduating he was a second lieutenant of the First artillery on June 17, 1877, and was an officer of that regiment until his death. He was commissioned as captain Dec. 4, 1888. It is probable Captain Capron will be buried in Ar lington national cemetery, but no defi nite arrangements for his funeral have been made yet. Dr. Thompson's Wit. Dr. Thompson, the famous master of Trinity college, Cambridge, is re garded chiefly as the sayer of sharp, witty and often bitter epigrams. He said of Ely, where, as professor of Greek, he held a canonry, "The place is so damp that even my ser mons won't keep dry there," and at a college meeting, where some of the young fellows were treating with very little respect the opinions of their seniors, he said, "None of us is quite infallible, not even the youngest." Of an amiable and ex cellent scholar, he said, "The time that he spends on the neglect of his duties he wastes on the adornment of his person,'' and of an eminent professor, whose first lecture he attended, "I little thought that we should so soon have cause to regret his predecessor, Professor ." Thunder and Lightning. Thunder and lightning, though natural operations, are a cause of great alarm to many. It is seldom any person is injured who keeps away from considerable metallic substances and avoids immediate contact with the walls of the house. The middle of the room is in gen eral perfectly safe, and the lower rooms are safer than the upper. A bed removed at a slight distance from the walls of the room is in perfect security, even if the house were struck. When lead is used on the roofs of buildings particular care should be taken that it communi cates with the spouts and by these means with the ground. To deter mine the distance of the lightning count the seconds between the flash and the thunder and reckon less than a quarter of a mile for every second..—New York Ledger. Cfac/e Sam.— These are my Battle Axes." The late war between the United States and Spain—as to what constituted Free dom—developed one quality in our army and navy that is above all others— reliability. They could be relied on. BatUefrfc PLUGW and if YOU have any freedom of opinion you will not be satisfied with any other chewing tobacco. Pemember the name when you buy again. vww www WWwWW OWNERSHIP. Along the endlessly blockaded street Our car moved with a hundred starts and stops. Two children, kneeling on the cushioned seat, Looked out upon the gay, wide windowed shops— A boy and girl, both delicately fair, He with bright ringlets rippling down w« back. She with a wondrous fleece of flaxen hair, A sleek old nurse beside them, shining black. They watched the shops and played a pretty game Of owning things, with eager rivalry. Whatever each was first to choose and name Was his or hers, as it might chance to be. "That is my rocking horse," declared the boy And she, "The whip is mine, the yellow reins I" So they contended, claiming every toy And boasting their imaginary gains. "That is my lamp!" "I'll have the lamp shade!" "No! The shade goes with the lamp!" "You selfish thing! You took my horse's reins! You cheat!" ATHI so They fell at last to downright quarreling. "Don't calline selfish!" "But you are!" "You dare"— She tweaked his curls, he double his small fists. And in a moment they were pulling hair And pounding like pair of pugilists. The unconcerned old iH'jress all the while Showed her white teeth and laughed with cynic lip, As I suppose dark angi'ls sometimes smile At men's mad Btrife transient ownership. —J. T. Trowbridge in Youth's Companion. Why She iked Rome. A writer in th,» Washington Star reports a diplomat as saying that he has amused himself with nsking members of the great army of trav elers what object ihey have in view in their endless peregrination. Nat urally the replies to this question are various. Of all reasons a Boston lady gave me the strangest. When I met her, she had finished her sixth year of travel. She had made three toura round the world and seen about everything that could be seen. I ventured to ask her which of all the cities she had visited she found most interesting. After considering the question awhile she answered Rome. I asked her why she preferred that to any other city, supposing it might be for a religious reason, but soon found that religion was not her stronghold. "I like Rome best," shesaid, "be cause they cook and serve calf's brains so nicely. In no other place in the world can one get calf's brains in the various ways they cook them in Rome." Except in the Ottoman empire, Persia, Arabia, Siam, China and the interior of African countries, slav ery is now extinct. Chloride of lime will cause rats to flee from the neighborhood in which it is exposed. About 20,000 widow get married every year in France. WANTED—SEVKRAI. TRUSTWORTHY I'KK- SONS in this State to manure our bu siness in their own and nearby counties. It is mainly office work, conducted at home. Salary straight $JHX).00 a year and expenses—delinite, bonafide, no* more no less salary. Monthly, $75.00. References, iinclosed self-addressed stamped envelope Herbert K. Hess, President, Department M. Chicago.