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IThe lystery of a Silent ove
h nChvaicr l lir LLAN LI QI EUXJ AUThoR oJf"T'i1 CLO3ED oOOK," ETCm ILUSTRATIONS 5 C'D'RIN ODE,5 ZtWR;'IG/h BY T"ft 3d,r4R " ,UdLs Co SYNOPSIS. -7 Gordon (iregg Is called upon In Leg born by Iornby, the yacht Lola's owner, n(d dining aboard with him and his fIrind, t lton ('hater, accidentally sees A torn photograph of a young girl. That olight the consul's safe Is robhbd. The olh.e find that liornrly is a fraud and th Lola :'s naime a false one. Gregg vis Ita Capt. Jack Durnford of the m;irlmin.e aboard his Vessel. l)urnford knows, ,ut ill not reveal, the mystery of tihe Lola. eet '-nc( rns a Wo.man." In llondon orree B. trapped nearly to his death by It former servant, ()linto. Visiting in Dumtrles (;r.'gt meets Murlel L.ithlourt. Tornhy appears and Muriel introduc,is him as Mlartin Wnodroffe, hehr father's friend. Gregg finds that she is enga:iged to WoTdr-lf. Gregg sIes a copy of the torn Ptotgraph on the lola and ilnds that ih,- y ,,ing girl Is Muriel's fri'nd. 'oh,lT- disappears. Gregg disovers the trol v of a muirdered w \man in Ia;in noc, olod. The bidy disappears and in rIts 1.T ", is foi'nl d th , iidy of t lint',. f regg talks i, thli, polie but conceall s his own krnowle,}gi. oif the woman. n llurhiel cal s e, -r,.l ' on Gregg and tells hlhn that she Is certain that a Willllman as well as Sria !n his hieon lnnrdered. They sea rcih -nrlnot h wood tigether, and findl the hl' Of lthe w oiman. Gregg r.lgniiz.'s herna Arinida, (linto's wif,. Gr'gg tells the poll,., hut when they go to the wood (he btly has disappeared. CHAPTER VII-Continued. That night, after calling upon the detective, Mackenzie, I took the sleep nlg car express to Euston. The res taurant which Hutcheson had indicated was, I found, situated about halfway up Westbourne Grove, nearly oppo site Whiteley's. It was soon after nine o'clock when I entered the long shop with its rows of marble-topped tables and greasy lounges of red plush. An unhealthy.-looking lad was sweeping out the place with wet sawdust, and a big, dark-bearded, flabby-faced man in shirt sleeves stood behind the small counter polishing some forks. "I wish to see Signor Ferrari," I said, addressing him. "There is no Ferrari, he is dead," re sponded the man in broken English. "My name is Odlnzoff. I bought the place from madame." "I have come to inquire after a waiter you have in your service, an Italian named Santini. He was my servant for some years, and I naturally take an interest in him." "Santini?" he repeated. "Oh, you mean Olinto? He is not here yet. He comes at ten o'oloea." This reply surprised me. I had ex- 1 pected the restaurant keeper to ex press regret at his disappearance, yet he spoke as though he had been at work as usual on the previous day. "You find Olinto a good servant, 1 suppose?" I said, for want of some thing else to say. "Excellent. The Italians are the best waiters in the world. I am Russian, but I dare not employ a Russian wait er. These English would not come to my shop if I did." "llow long has Olinto been with you?" I inquired. "About a year-perhaps a little more. I trust him implicitly, and I leave him in charge when I go away for holidays. He does not get along very well with the cook-who is Mi lanese. These Italians from different provinces always quarrel," he added, laughing. "If you live in Italy you know that, no doubt." I laughed in chorus and then, glanc ing at my watch, said: "I'll wait for him, if he will be here at ten. I'd much like to see him again." The Russian was by no means non plused, but merely remarked: "Hie is late sometimes, but not often. He lives on the other side of London-over at Camberwell." Suddenly a side door opened and the cook put his head in to speak with his master in French. He was a typi cal Italian, about forty, with dark mus taches turned upwards, and an easy going, careless manner. Seeing me, however, and believing me to be a cus tomer, he turned and closed the door quickly. In that instant I noticed the high broadness of his shoulders, and his back struck me as strangely simi lar to that of the man in brown whom we had seen disappearing in Rannoch wood. The suspicion held me breathless. Presently Odinzoff went outside, car rying with him two boards upon which the menu of the "Elghtpenny Lunch con! This Day!" was written in scrawly characters, and proceeded to affix them to the shop front. This was my opportunity, and quick as thought I moved towards where the ,nhealthy youth was at work, and whispered: "I'll give you half-a-sovereign if you'll answer my questions truthfully. Now, tell me, was the cook, the man I've just seen, here yesterday'?" "Emilio? Yes, sir." "Was he here the day before?" "No, sir, He's been away ill for four ,7. " "And your master?" I had no time to put any further question, for the Russian re-entered at that moment, and the youth busted himself rubbing the front of the coun ter in pretense that I had not spoken to him. Indeed. I had some difficulty in slipping the promised coin into his hand at a moment when his master was not looking. While I stood there a rather thin, re spectablr dressed man entered and seated himself upon one of the plush lounges at the farther end, removed his bowler hat and ordered from the Sproprietor a chop and a pot of tea. rl Then, taking a newspaper from his ps ocket, he settled himself to read, ap At parently oblivious to his surroundings. id And yet as I watched I saw that over - the top of his paper he was carefully U taking in the general appearance of n the place, and his eyes were keenly following the Russian's movements. So deep was his interest in the place, f and so keen those dark eyes of his,t a that the truth suddenly dawned upon , n. 1ackenzlie had telegraphed to r 9 Scotland Yard and the customer sitting " there was a detective who had come 1' to investigate. 1 had advanced to the C counter to chat again with the proprie .. tor when a quick step behind me 1 t caused me to turn. s Before me stood the slim figure of a V I man in a straw hat and rather seedy Sblack jacket. "I)io Signor Padrone'" he cried. d I staggered as though I had received t a blow. Olinto Santini in the flesh, smiling and well, stood there before me! e CHAPTER VIII. t Life's Counter-Claim. Y No word of mine can express my ab -' solute and abject amazement when I e e faced the man, whom I had seen ly- I P ing cold and dead upon that gray stone 8 slab in the mortuary of Dumfries. ti n My eye caught the customer who, v g on the entry of Olinto, had dropped " a his paper and sat staring at him in 0 n wonderment. The detective had evi- a 1 dently been furnished with a photo- it graph of the dead man, and now, like I. myself, discovered him alive and liv- I ing. - "Signor Padrone!" cried the man ' i. whose appearance was so absolutely e bewildering. "How did you find me here? I admit that I deceived you a when I told you I worked at the Mi n lano," he went on rapidly in Italian. y "But it was under compulsion-my ac y tions that night were not my own but those of others." "Yes, I understand," I said. "But come out into the street. I don't wish to speak before those nmnln Van, -adrone knows Italian, no doubt." And turning with a smile to the Pole, I t apologized for taking away his serv ant for a few minutes. And when we were outside, Olinto walking by my side in wonderment, I asked suddenly: "Tell me. Have you ever been in t Scotland-at Dumfries?" "Never, signor, in my life. Why?" "Answer me another question," I j said quickly. "You married Armida at the Italian consulate. Where is b she now-where is she this morn ing?" SHe turned pale, and I saw a com plete change in his countenance. y "Ah, signore!" he responded, "I g only wish I could tell." i- "I cast no reflection whatever upon t you, Olinto; I have merely inquired 1, after your wife, and you do not give a me a direct reply." We had walked to the Royal Oak. and stood talking on the curb outside. r "I give you no reply, because I d can't," he said in Italian. "Armida my poor Armida-has left home." 1- "Why did you tell me such a tale of 5 distress regarding her?" s "As I have already explained, sig Snore, I was not then master of my own actions. I was ruled by others. e But I saved your life at risk of my I h own. Some day, when it Is safe, I i- wil) reveal to you everything." S "Let us allow the past to remain," SI said. "Where is your wife now?" n He hesitated a moment, looking t: Sstraight into my face. "The truth is, Signor Commenda- y d tore, that my wife has mysteriously e disappeared. Last Saturday at eleven o'clock she was talking over the gar- a h den wall with a neighbor, and was then dressed to go out. She apparent- v ly went out, but from that moment no h one has seen or heard of her." h It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him the ghastly truth, yet so Sstrange was the circumstance that his own double, even to the mole upon his a face, should be lying dead and buried I k in Scotland that I hesitated to relate h what I knew. e d "She spoke English, I suppose?" I; "She could make herself understood if very well," he said with a sigh, and I . saw a heavy, thoughtful look upon his F a brow. That he was really devoted to her, I knew. With the Italian of E whatever station in life, love Is all- 8 consuming-it is either perfect love t ar or genuine hatred. The Tuscan char acter is one of two extremes. I glanced across the road, and saw !r that the detective who had ordered at his chop and coffee had stopped to d light his pipe and was watching us. t n. "But why haven't you told the po n lice?" y "I prefer to make inquiries for my is self." ·r "And in what have your inquiries re suited?" e. "Nothing-absolutely nothing," het id said gravely. t h "You do not suspect any plot? I recollect that night In Iambeth yOU told me you had enemrie.?' "Ah! so I have, soignre--and so have you!" he exclaimed hoarsely. "Yes, my poor Armnida may have been entrapped by them." "And if entrappeld, what then?" "They would kill her with as lit tle compunction as they would a flY." he said. "AhI you do not know the callousness of those people. I only hope and pray that she may have es caped and is in hiding somen, here, and will arrive unexpectedly and give me I a startling surprise. She delights in startling me," he added with a laugh. "Then you think she must have been called away from houme by some urg ent message?" I suggested. "By the manner in which she left things, it seemed as though she went away hurriedly. There wtre five sov ereigns in a drawer that we had saved for the rent, and she took them with her." I paused, hesitating whether to tell him the terrible truth. I recollected that the hody had disappeared, there fore what proof had I of my allega tion that she had been murdered? "'Trll me, Olinto," I said as we moved forward again in the direction of P'addington station, "have you any knowledge of a man natmed Leith court?" lie started suddenly and looked at me. "I have heard of him," he answered very lamely. "And of his daughter--Muriel?" "And also of her. But I am not ac quainted with them--nor, to tell the truth, do I wish to be." "Why?" "Because they are enemies of mine -bitter enemies." His declaration was strange, for it threw some light upon the tragedy in Rannoch wood. "And of your wife, also?" "I do not know that," he respond ed. "My enemies are my wife's also, I suppose." "You have not told me the secret of that dastardly attempt upon me when we last met," I said in a low voice. "Why not tell me the truth? I surely ought to know who my enemies really are, so as to be warned against any future plot." "You shall know some day, signore. I dare not tell you now." "You said that before," I exclaimed with dissatisfaction. "If you are r/i It faithful to me, you tight at least to d tell me the reason thy wished to kill me in secret." "Because they fea'ou," was his an- g swer. "Why should theyear mne?" I k But he shrugged Is shoulders, and made a gesture witlhis hands indica. fr tive of utter ignor'e. "I ask you one bestion. Answer of yes or no. Is the man I.eithcoulrt my m enemy?" ' h The young Italit paused, and then b answered: th "He is not youliend. I am quite o1 well aware of t4. I have known k, him several ye4 \\'hen we first met he "as poor ra "Suddenly bece rich-eh?" Wl "Bought a fine use in the country; at lives mostly at C(arlton when he th and his wife daughter are in im London-altho I believe they now ha have a house s where in the West end-and he of makes long cruises p in his steam t." "And how di make his money?" he Again Olint vated his shoulders h, without reply Ie walked me as far as the m end of Bisho iad, endeavoring with thi all the Itali exquisite diplomacy to obtain fr e what I knew con-I oal cerning the hcourts. But I told of him nothin r did I reveal that I wa had only t orning returned from thF Scotland. at last we parted, and i dia he retrace steps to the littl' res* bol taurant in bourne Grove, while I i 10 entered a om and drove to the well-know otographer's in New tall Bond str 'hose name had been: wit upon the hotograph of thie xounRg fa. girl in th te pique blouse and her hair fast with a bow of ribbon, co0 the pictu t i had found on board i affi. the Lola bat memorable night in to the Med nean, and a duplicate of MIl you which nail tcurit-wo was herlittle Sfriend, but who has also left." often write to each other after leav ing school, until they get married, and then the correspondence usually ceaelos." foThe principal was silent and' refc lit- lady Clerk -i n~sil tivat ,"Well," she said at last, "there was Sanother pupil who was also on friendly terms with Ema-a girl named ydia the For aeton. She may have written to nly her. If you really desire to knowlast sir l I daSCOVre say I could find her ad and ress. She left us about nine months after Elma." "me I should esteem it a great favor isd you would give me th at young lady's ghaddress," I said, whereupon ta. she unaid. ern Tlo what a1lli~ (! ill .r~1 senl it?'' arg hoec~t,,urMl ozr'ir'd it was aparlocked a drawer itn her writshng-tabid, at ande took therefrom a thickd leathier 'ent so that I 't i;, r'-al, and1 I saww that hadbound book which she consulted for ate. tern Address: l a von Xavet ('O-i tl, g. os few minutesensi , at last I exclaiming: tell tu"Yes, here it is-'Lydia Moreton, 'tedaughter of Sir Hamilton Otoretonh nr-tame w~t I I r:; ani,loiubt'llv1", yet he ter.'" liAnved wi th that I took my leave, From ~g-london to`.I i"erbur~g is a far cry, we yethanking her, and ref itur nesaryd to LonI would iu'a\o 1 tor -'I' l 1 invest ic1te. lion an AtCuld Lydia M(r oreton furnish anyrl ith- laformaton lions? If so,' I odmight find thisnd aptagirl whose photograph had arouseond the rate jealousy of the mysteriir-ous uther known. The ten o'clock Edinburgh expres Iown. butfrom Khaving's Ceross next morn inberg took r me up to Doncaster, and hiring a mustyIi brard fly at the -station, I drove threeat thmiles out of the town on the lisRothers of ham road, finding Whliston Grange toy. e "lire may be Russian-Polish, most be a fine olyd Elizabethan mansion in un'opinion was that it was not a German the center of a gthere wat park. with tle place called Oherg, he said, onl the railway old i betwisted chimneysodz and Lowicbeautifully kNext day I ran dowrdens. to Chichester, When I descended after some difficulty fouor and the mnd- Cheverton (Callege for Ladies, a big ISO, old-fashioned house about half a mile out of the town of the Drayton road. ofrang, the footmseminary was evidentlynot awa first hen class one, for when I entered I no ice. ther Miss Lydia was everythin. He lookept. "eiy To the principal, an elderly lady of at m somewhat severe aspiciously, aid: any I rethought, until I gave him my card and tyou, butimpressed upo am in him mearch of informgly thation ou rhade. canome from London purposelygard to a see his young mistress upon a very ima- t, ceportant Elmatt Heath whom you had at] "Tned pupil her," I said, "that I wish to sebelieve, har regarding her friendago. MissHer parents a lHeath."a "Miss Elma 'Eath," repeated the d liman. "Very well, sir. WillThere has been some this way?" o little friction in the family, and I amold oak-aing inquiries on behalf of another branof the chase of it-an auntrms of the civilres to wars. into a small paneled room on P thasertain the girl'deep-set whereabouindow with its a." diamond panes giving out upon theI cannotol tell you that. The baron, her uncle, came heowling-greene day and the olowk her gardenway sud beyond Presenly-abroad, I the door openk."d, and a o tall, dark-haired girl in white entered ti w^ith an inquiring expression upon her of face as she halted and bowed to whom. a 'ere"Miss Lydiwas a Mogirl named Leihcoueve?" rt c ',.4vlutiel Leithcourt-who was her frcommenced, and as alshe replied in the ." affirm"And no one else?" I have f"Girst often write to each other after leav ingto apologize for coming to you, but married, andMiss otheby, the correspondence usuallyb ceaies." The principal was silent and retlec tive, t"Well," she said At last, "ther W.s , a'hool at C'hihester. referrad me ti you for information as to the present Shi hereabouts of .Miss Elna Heath, who. iI belii e, was one) of tour most intl. ti late friends at school " And I added a lie, say.uing: I amn trying. on behalf i f an aunlt of hers, t, disc'o·,l r h-"." "Well," responded the girl. "I have only" one or two letters. She's in her 1 unle's hands. I belie'"e. and lith won't t let her write, poor girl. She dreaded leaing us 'Why'2" 1 "Ah' shit would never say. She had some deep-rootetd terror of her uncle, laron Oherg, \tho lived in St Peters burg, antid who canllt' over at long inter s vals to see her. But possibly you know tthe whole story?" r "I know nothing." I cried eagerly,. t "You \ill Ibe furthering her interests. - as well as doing ie' a great pltrsonail favor, If you will tell ut' what you * know." "''it is very little." she atnswered, leaning back against the ed,' of the table and regarding re seriously. e "l'oor Elina! lier people, tre'ated her i ve\ry badly indeed. They sent her no nmoney, and allowed her no holidays. I and yet shet was the sweetest tempered and most patient girl in the whole school." " 'Wil-and the story rettarding . her?" r "lt was suppolsed that her people at Iurham did not exist," she explained "Elma had evidently lived a greater part of her life abroad, tor shei couild t speak :renclh and Italian better than i, the professor himself, and thertefore always won the prizes. Th''e class re vt vlted, and then she did not conmpete s any more. Yet she never told us of where she had lived when a child. She e cainme from Durham, she said-that was all." "You had a letter from her after the baron came and took her away?" r "Three or four, I think. They were all from places abroad. One was from Vienna, one was from Milan, and one from some place with an unpronounce able name in Hungary. The last-" "Yes, the last!" I gasped eagerly, in. terrupting her. (TO BE CONTINUED.) RECLUSE IS A PHILOSOPHER U Negro Found Living In Cave Near a Santa Barbara, Cal., Tells Some Plain Truths. e, is "There's rich living in garbage," te says Orrin Swift, negro recluse, who i has just come into publicity through tr the lodgment of a complaint question. to Ing his sanity, reports a dispatch from Santa Barbara, Cal. He has for 20 11 years lived in a little cave on the te mountainside, between Rincon and d" Ventura. When the officers went out to In m vestigate they found him curled up in a corner of the cave sleeping the rt moring away. The place was lit. er tered with tin cans. When aroused Swift greeted his visitors cordiallygnd 1s explained to them his mode of life ,. and the reason therefor. d, "Civilization," he said, "is only an ly other evidence of how slavery can be lifted up and made possibly more re lined outwardly. The man who works for his living is nothing more or less than a slave. 11i is a slave to the whim of his employer, who may dls' a charge him just like that," and the o negro snapped his finger. "If a man has an income today he may not have one tomorrow. The s conisequence is that both the man w. toils for an emiiiployer and the man whic draws his income are slaves to worry, neither of them knowing the peace and happiness that comes with the quiet life. Men would live forever it. it were not for worry. That's the most subtle destroyer the human fanmo fly is prey to, for it leads to all othe_ allments whose windup is death. "Here I am living contented. No one can demand rent or taxes, and I find my living in the garbage on the town dump, many fine morsels being left in calls and otherwise thrown away. There's rich living in garbage." The man's talk was rational, though strange, and his conduct was quiet. Therefore, the olfficers left him to his lonely life. "There is a whole lot of genuine truth in his philosophy," said the I sheriff. ".\Ien die from worry and what comes in its train, and the race will die mnore rapidly as it advances in civilization, for the burden of tag ation grows apace." Built-In Oil Paintings. As a rule oil paintings are not strikingly successful in the average house. They do not harmonize with either water colors, blacks and whites or ~rown Iphotographs and it hung in 'the sanme room need a wall space to thenmselves. Often, too, the color of the wall is not a good background for an oil. A delightful disposition for a low sort of a figure study is to leave it unframed and fit it In to the central space of the wooden chim ney piece. The picture, thus made a part of the structure of the room, and surroundtled by dark wood, has a dignity and value which it would never achieve in a gold frame and hangingl on a wall. Strength of Fly. t An Englishman has made many e:. perimeonts with various insects. such c as caterpillars, fleas, butterflnes and flies, which show how extraordinarily o strong these inscts are h A bluenottle fly weighing 1-28 of an ounce was hitched by a thread to ai tiny wagon and drew a total weight of a little over six ounces or practle ally 170 tirnmes its own weight A caterpiillar harnessed in a similar man ner pulled 25 times its own weight. A strong man with a like equlip ment of large size can at most mova but ten times his own weight, : ATTILA, "SCOURGE OF GOD" SMighty Leader of the Huns as He Has Been Pictured by Eminent French Historian. If 'The .great i"'r it.t i his'o'ri:i. Miche e let, h ts .raplhicatlty ,hts re,,d .Attlla, r the unl.hty llun. who in the, fifth con ' uryv tie'' a dilfteat ;' hlch et :r"', his p rogress and threw hinil an! h l horde bark to 'a;sterrn Europe' Hits true ort ental naiml', a name ip hth is retained Sum hIanged in the l;iort in tongule., was e' E, tl, which signified a %ast and mighty thing, a mouontain. a river, par r ticularly that itmmensoe river, the Vol ga. PIriscus, an author of the fifth century. who saw Attila face to face, describes him. rays .Michelt. as s' "stern and grave, short, thick set and al stronglv built, flat-nosed. his broad face pierced with two tiery holes" t'ontinuing he says: ":\fter all, what would this Tartar have gained by con e luering the liRman uempire? ie, would have felt himself stifled in thlose er walled cities anid palaces of marble. o Far better he' loved liit; woodeh'r vil lage, all painted and tapestried. with its thouiisand kiosks of matny colors and all around it the green rlteadows of the l)nirubre. 'T'houghlr an eat mr to .r mlany, he m!ade useo of it. Ilis ally was at the enemy of the (G'tims. insri , at the \Wetnd. \iho was settled in Africa. 1 ie called Attila into Gaul igaiist the Id Goths of 'oulouse. Attila's passago was marked by lhe ruint eof *M0e7 and of a grealt iilnmbler of towns. The' ul titude of lcgends relatinig to this prr te iotsd may afford soiim idea, of the int of pression which that terrible event left he on the ilemlory of nations." at DROVE HIM INTO THE ARMY er ?" inside History of Circumstance That re Made Higsbee Beehigs a Defender im of His Country. no - The evening that Iligsbee Ieehigs, rattling his 44 cents in his right-hand In' trousers pocket, took Mabel Shear boom around to get a plate of ice cream he had absolutely no thought of enlisting in the army commissary. R "What kind will you have?" he asked her. at "You should say what kinds, not what kind," she corrected him gently. "I think I'll try every kind they've got. Hie-he. Won't that be a lark?" e,' "You mustn't!" hecried. he "Oh, but I shall!" she laughed mer gh rily. And she started by ordering n' chocolate, persimmon and rhubarb. )m "Let it go at that, please," he Im 20 plored her. "It's not being done by ,he the best people." ,nd But she just laughed lightly and be gan on the rhubarb. When she was in' half-way through the second order, of in pineapple, glycerin, olive ice and tapi the oca, Higsbee Beehigs leaped to his feet in dSpetelt-- --.. d "Excuse me a moment," he said ife hastily and ran out of the place with out stopping for his hat and enlisted, leaving .Mabel with the ice cream bill. n. --Detroit Free Press. be re ks Something New to Her. ss A Highland lady lhatting with a lie neighbor told that one of the vtillage is- girls was just niarried, alnd opineld that ohe she had beern 'an auld nmaid owerlang" to take kindly to matrimony. ".An he auld rmaid," she added, "is like to be he awful ignorant where men folks are b concerned." "She is that." assented IIG the neighbor. "l)De ye mniind niy hus y, band's brither? Ife was a schulmas. ce ter-a weel-built, weel-faured man as ,o ye may ken, we' graid shouth,.rs an it gey tall. A' weell, Sandy McLean's e mither had a gatherin' at her hoose t. one e'en, an' when they a' cam' to gao Bt their ways hame the men tuik the niraids an' saw them to their biding Jo places. Mly brither-in-law tuik an ud altii maid wha keepit a weet shop in es the toon. W\'hen they reached their g journey's end. he aye bent to kiss her n cheek, as was the custom in seein' " haiie. Noo Jeannot (the auld maid) b was in a gret fluster. 'Oh! Mr. Cam t eron.' say she-an' she was all in a is tremmle--'what am I to dae? Mlust I lift my veil?'" e Efficiency. d The postmistress of the sub-station e was, presumably, a New England pro duct. lBy temperament, obviously, she 'as sxlesu. She had a nose' like the beak of some great bird. It did not appear that slue would ever sicken and die, rather that she would last like the 'wenderful one-hoss shay." And she a had not the look cf a character that led a loose life. '('ount your change, count yotlr change!" she said when the man at her little window handed Sher a one-dollar bill in buying a stamp. She gave him a handful of dlimnts and pennies. "('ount your change, count your change, count your change, young man!" she cried. "If you find any mistake after you leave the window, we will not rectify it; count your chanpge!"-New York Evening Post. Not Much. "Is it true, mamma," asked Ethel, "that the ostrich hides its head in the sand?" "Yes, dear; they say that is the case." "\Vell, mamma, when you wear an ostrich feather yot never hide your head, do you?" The Truth at Last. "W\'hat's the matter with your eyIq, 'rommie?' "That boy next door struck me." "What for, pray?" "Hie said I struck him first." "And did you?" "No; honest, I didn't, ImoLther. "Well, why didn't you?"