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'v' s' •!. .*» '..-J.! :?:. .^i'v•'^i* Wm •,-• '-V* J-v J: .* :V. *v, sMwftw wiik mm «pW p?^3^cv«*i*3SBB5SS3E!3SS53KH5HS2S5HE w*m^ s»' !Mm3. -.- .., v'CliAPTlR XIX—Continued. ... -r-"^, ci' '-V '-V •^"/. 7'IU'-gpt back Into the motorcar tbemanwhodrovethem quickly to g^iwiiA^tlio/vaMey- talked easily Ind i®#t*diljr ttf Peter, attempting to linteir him lnthe ifhiri of some water ll^eomDanjr in .$api Francisco. Wheh they the Valleyaclty train wasar rlvlng,andPeter aaw. people looking «t him furtively ind sorrowfully. He remembered the many, many time* •Alix had waited for him at the trains he glanced toward the big madrone «nder which she. always parked' her car: She was nsnally deep in a book „•«,:'•? as -he crossed from the train!, but she voold flbig^t into the back seat and make room for him beside her. The dot Would bound Into the tonneau, W$^ would hand her1 hnsband his mall, the car wodld start with a great' •j':' Plnnge toward the, mountain—toward the cool garden high up on the ridges Cherry looked small and pathetic in -I her fresh black, and her face Was marked by secret iDcessant weening, But the nurses and doctors could not say enough for her self-control she wa* always oompaeed, always quietly helpful and culm when they saw her, and ahe was always busy. From early 'morning, when she slipped into the sick-room, to stand looking at the un conscious Martin with a troubled, in tent expression that the nurses came to know Well, until night, she moved untiringly about the quiet, shaded blouse. She supervised the Chinese boy, saw that the nurses had their hours for rest and exercise, telephoned, dusted and arranged the rooms, saw' callers sweetly and patiently, filled vases with flowers. Every day she had several vigils in the sick-room, and every day at least one long talk with the doctors. Every afternoon and evening had its callers she and Peter were rarely alone. Martin was ^utterly unconscious of the life that flowed on about hfm sometimes he seemed to recognize Cherry, and would stare with painful intentness into her face, but after a few seconds his gaze would wander to the strange nurses, and the room that he. had "never known, and with a puzzled sigh he would close his eyes again, and drift back into his own strange world of paiti, fever and un consciousness. Almost every day there was the sudden summons and panic in the old house, Peter going, toward the sick room with a thick beating at his heart, Cherry entering, white-faced and with terrified eyes, doctors and nurses gath ering noiselessly near for the last scene in the drama of Martin's suffer ings But the release did not come. There would be murmuring among the doctors and nurses the pulse was gaining, not losing, the apparently fatal, final symptoms were proving neither fatal nor final. The tension would relax a doctor would go, a nurse slip from the room Cherry, .looking anxiously from one face to ahother, would breathe more easily. Xt waa inevitable, she knew that now— but It was not to be this minute it was not to be this hour! "My dear—my dear!" Peter said to her one day, when spent and shaken ahe came stumbling from Martin's bed aide and stood dazedly looking from the window into the soaking October forest, like a person stunned from a blow. "My poor little Cherry I If I could spare you this!" "Nobody can spare me no*,!" she whispered. And very simply and quietly she added: "If I have been a fool—if I'have beta a selfish, wicked girl all my life, I am punished! "Cherry!" he protested, heartsick to see her so. "Was it wrong tor us to love each dther, Peter?", she asked, tn a low tone. "I suppose it was! I g&ppose it was! •But it never seemed, as If—" she shut her eyes and shivered—"as if—this— would come of It!" she whispered. 'This!" he echoed aghast. "Oh, I think this is punishment," Cherry continued, in the same lifeless, weary tone. There was a silence.: The rain dripped and, dripped from the red woods, the room in which they stood was in twilight, even at noon. Peter could think of nothing to say. About two weeks after the aceldeui there was a change in the tone of the physicians who had been giving" al most all»their time to Martin's case. There was no visible change in Mar tin, but that fact in itself was so sur prising that it was construed into a definite hope that he would live. Not as he had lived, they warned bis wife. It would be but a restricted life tied to his couch, or permitted, at best, to move about within a small boundary on crutches. "Martin!" his wife exclaimed plte ously, when this was first discussed. "He has always been so strongs—so Independent! He would rather—he would infinitely rather be dead!" But her mind was busy grasping the pos sibilities, too. "He won't suffer too ihufht" she asked fearfully. They hastened to assure her that the chnnop Af his even partial recov ery flight, but that In case ft of fijUi convalescence Martin need not necessarilysuffer. Another day or two went by In the silent, rain-wrapped house under the trees daysof quiet footsteps and whispering, and-the lisping of -wood as. TJien Martin suddenly wias con lous, knew his life, languidly nulled, her, thanked the doctors for oc casional ease from pain. "Peter—I'm sorry. It's terrible for you—terrible!" he said In his new, hoarse, gentle voice, when he first saw Peter. They marveled among them selves that he knew that Alix was gone. But to Cherry, in one of the long hours that she spent sitting be side him and holding bis big, weak, strangely White hand, he explained one day. "I knew she'was killed," he said, out of a silence. "I thought we both were!" "How did she ever happen to do it?" Cherry said. "She was always so sure of herself—even when she drove fast!" don't know," he answered. "It was all like a flash, of course! I never watched her drive—I had such confidence in her!" His Interest dropped she raw that the tlder of pain was slowly rising again,, and glanced at the clock. It was two he might not have relief until four. In his own eyes she saw. reflected the apprehension of her own. "You might ask Peter to play some of that—that rambly stuff he was playing yesterday?" he suggested. .Cherry, only too happy to have him want anything, to have him helped by anything,, flew to find Feter. Busy with one of the trays that were really beginning to interest and please the invalid now, she told herself that the house was a different place, now that one nurse was gone, the doctors com ing only for brief calls, and the dear, familiar sound of the old piano echo ing through the rooms. Martin came from the fiery furnace changed in soul and body. It was a thin, gentle, strangely patient man I f, li "O, Marti I Mind Only for You!" She Said. who was propped In bed for his Thanksgiving dinner, and whose pain worn face turned with an appreciative smile to the decorations and the gifts that made his room cheerful. The heavy cloud lightened slowly but steadily Martin had a Ibng talk, dreaded by Cherry from the flKt hours of the accident, -with his physicians. He bore the ultimatum .with unex pected fortitude. "Let me get this straight," he said slowly. "The arm is O. K. and the leg, but the back—" Cherry, kneeling beside him, her hands on his, drew a wincing breath. Martin reassured her with an indul gent nod. "Fve known it right along!" he told her. He looked at the doctors. "It's no go?" "I don't see why I should deceive you, my dear boy," said the younger doctor, who had grown very fond of. him. "You can still beat me at bridge, you know,-you can read and write, and come to the table, after awhile you have your devoted wife to keep finding new things for you to, do Next sum mer now—a chair out in the garden—" Cherry was fearfully watching her husband's face. "We'll all do what we can to make it easy, Mart!" she whispered, In tears. He looked at her with a whimsical smile. "Mind very much taking care of a helpless man all your life?" he asked, with a hlnc of his old confident man ner. "Oh,vMart, I mind only for you!" she said. Peter, standing behind the doc tors, slipped from the room unnoticed. Late that evening, when Martin was asleep, Cherry came noiselessly from the sick-room, to find Peter alone tn the- dimly itghted sitting room. He glanced at her, feeling rather than hearing her presence, and called her. "Cqme over here, will you, Cherry? I want to speak to you." «r(t»l) V' vv" THE V'." ,i'y ,: 1 ••*•&• t' S .'^f .,*-fovK/fc V"v -4-- She came, with an Inqulrlpg and yet not wholly uiiconaclotis look, to the fireside, and he stood up to greet ber. "Tired?" he asked, In an unnatural voice, "I—I was Just going to bed," ahe answered, hesitatingly. But she aat down, nevertheless sank comfortably ihto the chair opposite bis own, and stretched her little feet, crossed at ^e ankle, before her, as If she were In deed tired. He knelt down beside her chair, and gathered her cold hands into one of his own. "What are you and I going to do?" he apked. 'She looked at him in terror.? "But.all that is'changed!" she said, quickly, fearfully. ,f..K "Why is it changed?" he counteretd. "I love you—I have always loved you, since the days long ago, in this very house! I can't stop it now. And you love me, Cherry!" "Yes, I shall always love .you," bhe answered, agitatedly, after a pause In which she looked at him With troubled eyes. "But—but—you must see' that we cannot—cannot think tf all that now," she added with difficulty. couldn't fall Martin now, when his needs me so!" "He needs you now," Peter conced ed, "and I don't ask you to"" do any thing that mus(t distress him now. But In a few months, when his mother comes down for a visit you must tell them honestly that you care for me," he said. Cherry was trembling violently. "But how could,I!" she protested. "Tell him that I am going away, de serting him when he most needs me Peter had grown very pale. "But—" he stammered, his face close to hers—"but you cannot mean: that this is the end?" She moved her lips as If she waa about to speak looked at him blankly. Then suddenly tears came, and she wrenched her hands free from his, and laid her arms «bout his neck. Her wet cheek was pressed to his own, and he put his arms tightly about the lit tle shaken figure. "Peter!' she whispered, desolately. And after a time, when the violence of her sobs was 4essened, and she was breathing more quietly, she said again: "Peter! We can never dream that dream again.", "We shall dream it again," he cor rected her. Cherry did not answer for a long while. Then she gently disengaged herself from Ms arms, and sat erect. Her tears were ended now, and her voice firmer and surer. "No never again!' she told him. "I've Ween thinking about it, all these days, and I've come to see -what is right, as I never did before. Alix never knew about us, Peter—and that's been the one thing for which I could be thankful in all this time! But Alix had only one hope for me, and that was that somehow Martin and I would come to be—well, to be nearer to each other, and that somehow he and I would make a success of our marriage, would spare—well, let's say the family name, from all the disgrace and publicity of ~a divorce—" "But, Cherry, my child—" Peter ex postulated. "You cannot sacrifice all your life to the fancy that no one else can take your place with him—" "That," she said, steadily, "is Just what I must do!" Peter looked at her for a few sec onds without speaking. "You don't love him," he said. "No," she admitted, gravely. "I don't love him—not in the way you mean." "He is nothing to you," Peter argued. "As a matter of fact, it never was what a-marriage should be. It was always—always—a mistake." "Yes," she conceded, sadly, "It was always a mistake 1" "Then there is nothing to bind you to him!" Peter added. "No—and .there isn't Alix to distress now!" she agreed, thoughtfully. "And yet," she went, on, suddenly, "I do this more for Alix than for any one!' Peter looked at her in silence, looked back at the last flicker of the fire. "You will change your mind after awhile!" he said. ./ (. Cherry rose from' the chair, and stood with dropped head and troubled eyes, looking down at the flame. "No, I shall never change my mind!" she said, Ip a low tone that' was still strangely firm and final for her. "For flye or ten or twenty or thirty years I shall always be where Martin Is, caring for him, amusing him, making a life for him." And Cherry raised her glorious blue eyes in which there was a pure and an up lifted look that Peter had never seen there before. "It is what Dad and Alix would have wished," she finished, solemnly, "and I do it for them!" Peter did not answer and after a moment she went quietly and quickly from the room, with the new air of quiet responsibility that she had worn ever since the accident.' CHAPTER $X. Peter saw, with a sort of stupefac tion, that life was satisfying her now as life had never satisfled/restlesa, ex acting little Cherry before. /'-,- k.' ggpaa "'"V'iR W*M v* %*:li Hn #%'•, if Slil#?: $ EXPRESS *W\ •%%&$$!$$ _l.: p??k !¥fiW* She spent much of her free time by her husband's side, amusing him as skillfully as mother. He was get ting so popular that she had to be ready for callers every day. Would he like her to keep George Sewall for dinner, when they could play dominoes again? Would he like the table with the picture puzzle? He would like Just to talk? Very well they would talk. Martin's day waa so filled and divided with small pleasures that It was apt to amaze him By passing too quickly. He had special breakfasts, he,, had his paper, his hair was brushed and his bed remade a dozen times a day. Cherry shared her mall, which was always heavy now, with him she flitted into the sick-room every few minutes with small messages or gifts. With her bare, bright hea'd, her busy white hands, her voice all motherly amusement and sympathy and sweet ness, she had never seemed so much a wife. She had the pleasantest laugh In the world, and she often laughed. The sick-room was kept with exquisite simplicity, with such freshness, bare ness, and order as made it a place of delight. One day Cherry brought home a great Vlkory bowl of silvery glass, and a dozen drifting goldfish, and Mar tin never tired of watching them Idly while he listened to her reading. "Cherry," Peter said, on a wet Janu ary day, when he came upon her in the dining room, contentedly arranging a fragrant mass of wet violets, "I think Martin's out of the woods now. I be lieve I'll be moving along!" "Oh, but we want you always, Pe ter!" she said, innocently regretful. The ghost of a pained smile flitted across his face. "Thank you," he said, gently. "But I think I will go," he added, mildly. She made no further protest. "But where?" she asked,, sympa thetically. "I don't know, I shall take Buck start off toward the big mountains. I'll write you now and then, of course 1 I'm going home, first!" "Just. now," Cherry mused, sadly, "perhaps it is best—for you—to get away! Now that Martin is so much better," she added, in a little burst. "I do feel so sorry for you, Peter! know how you feel. I shall miss her always, of course," said Cherry, "but I have him." "I try not to think of her," Peter said, flinging up his head. "When you do," Cherry said, earn estly, giving him more of her attention than had been usual, of late, "Here Is something to think, Peter. It's this: we have so much to be thankful for, because she never—knew! It was madness," Cherry went on, eagerly, "sheer madnessr—that is clear now. I don't try to explain it, because it's all been washed away by the frightful thing that happened. I'm different now you're different—I don't know how we ever thought we could—" There was a silence during which she 4ooked at him anxiously, but the expression on his face did not alter, and he did not' speak. "And what I think we ought to be thankful for," she resumed, "is that Alix would rather—she would rather have It this way. She 'told me that she would be heart-broken if there had been any actual separation between me and Martin, and how much worse that would have been—what we planned, I mean. She was spared that, and we were spared—I see it now—what Would have ruined both our lives. We were brought to our senses, and the awakening only came a little sooner than It would have come any way Peter had walked to the window, and was looking out at the shabby winter trees- that were dripping rain, and at the beaten garden^ where the drenched chrysanthemums had been bowed, to the soaked earth. "Here, in Dad's home," Cherry said, coming to s(and beside him, "I see how wicked and how mad I was. In another twenty-four hours it would have been too late—you don't know how often I wake up in the night and shiver, thinking that And as It is, I am here In the dear old house and Martin—well, you can see .that even Martin's life Is going to be far happier than it ever was! It's such a Joy to me," she added, with the radiant look she often wore when her husband's comfort was under consideration, "to feel that we need never worry about the money end of things—there's enough for what we need forever!" (TO BE CONTINUED.) The "Sage of 'Montieello." The "Sage of Montieello" was a so briquet bestowed upon Thomas Jeffep. son, in allusion to the wisdom dis played by him in political affairs dur ing his residence at Montieello, Va., after his retirement from the presi dency. Truth and Inquiry. Truth never lost ground by Inquiry because she is, most of ail, reason able.—William Penn. A 8aving Grace. Nothing will cheer up a homely man! more than to tell him he baa "frsrarfft I In his (ica I L*ft$P%* ,y "V »|, i* jv. KJ»py lor Tbta Department SuppUtd by th AmiriCM L|1oh Www SanrlM.) HE WAS WELCOMED BY FOCH •t Paul Janitor, Former Comrade ef ., the Noted Generalissimo, la Granted Long Interview. "DJtl-Allah Laquat 1" These* mystic words meant some thing that caused Marshal Foch of France to receive an unsung Janitor in his rooms at midnight. The incident oc curred during the allssimo's visit to St Paul, Minn., as a guest of the American Legion. It Is still be 1 talked about. It was the longest interview Foch granted dur ing hla tour of 42 atates. The Arabic legend, written on a postal card by the Janitor, one Charles Schweitzer, was an open sesame. The words formed the name of two engagements In which the Janitor, then a sergeant, and Foch, then a lieu tenant, fought with Units of the First Colonial regiment In Algiera in 1877, It was learned. Foch remembered the names, and knowing that only a com rade of his Algerian regiment would know them, sent for him forthwith. "The marshal is the same kindly man and good soldier that he was in Algiers," the Janitor said, after hla visit with the generalissimo. "Who knows? I might have been a general If Fd stayed la the army with him." HIGH HONORS TO CARLSTROM Veterans of Three Wara Appreciate Work ef Head of Spanish-Ameri. can Organisation. Veterans of three wara. honored Oscar E. Carlstrom, Illinois. He is national com mander-ln-chief of the United Span ish War Veterans. He was one of the 50 men who or ganized the fore runner of the American Legion In Paris in 1919. He is a member by adoption of the G. A. R. Mr. Carlstrom was a private 'in the war with Spain, serving in the Philippines. Later he was captain in the National Guard of Illinois. He commanded a battery of field artillery in action In France. At Minneapolis last year he was elected chief of the Spanish War Veterans. He was one of the GO men chosen to represent the two million members of the American expedition ary force In France to organize what later became the Legion. Company C. One Hundred and Second Infantry, G. A. R., of Illinois, adopted him as a member. Mr. Carlstrom Is a lawyer. S LOVE FOR LEGION "They Like Us—But" la Attitude of Public, According to National Commander MacNider. "They like us—but" Is the attitude of the nation towards the American Legion, according to Hanford Mac Nider, commander of the Legion in the first address of his speaking tour at Philadelphia. "We have to build up a spirit in the Legion and do the right thing always, and in time we will have the confi dence of the people," Mr. MacNider continued. "Men who offered all they had to the country have a right to the con fidence of that country. They should have a voice in its affairs, for they never would want to do a thlnfc con trary'to the country's interests."' By building up a "spirit" among the members of the Legion and creating a comradeship with "our companions in arms In England, France, Italy and the other countries,!' more can be done for peace than in any other way, the speaker claimed. To Aid of French Friends. To save from the almahouse a fam ily In a French village in which bis battery had been billeted, William B. Follette, formerly of Oregon but now living in Paris, recently appealed to members of his old command to send him .contributions. The family waa known to all the men of Mr. Follett'a battery and they liberally responded to keep their French friends from want. To Lose Canal Zone Jobe. Mere than 700 service men of the World war may be thrown out of em ployment In the Panama canal zone, following the government's sweeping reduction in personnel, according to a report filed by the American Legion at Washington? The number of ci vilian employeea In the canal zone has been reduced 40 per cent since March 4, 1921 LEGION MEN KNOW HER WELL and Plea, still Trying to World War Beya. "As we tried to serve the boys while shell fire, so we are trying to of today," saya Mrs. Ensign F. O. Burdlck of the Salvation Army, Legion auxiliary. That Mrs. dick did "the boys under shell fire," thou sanda of the A. E. F. will testify. "Ma" Burdlck to the men, ner dough, nuta and pies were known to* the last of Pershing's army. Mrs. Burdlck, who Is sixty years old but doesn't show It, arrived in France In December, 1917, with "Pa," her hus band. With a stove which Mr. Bur dick, also an ensign of the Salvation Army, rigged up, and a sewing ma chine which she found and repaired, "Ma" cooked for the boy's as they came from the lines, mended their clothes and made new ones out of salvaged material. "Ma" and "Pa" were godparents of the First division, and from Decem ber of 1917 until the- armistice Mrs. Burdlck baked her pies and made her doughnuts in every sector of the west ern front, as close up to the fighting lines as they would allow her. The war over, the couple were transferred to Brest, where they ministered to the soldiers until they sailed for home in April, 1919. Mrs. Burdlck, a resident of Wichita Falls, Tex., Is in charge of hospital relief work for disabled ex-service men for the Legion auxiliary of Texas in addition to her duties as national chaplain and ensign of the army hosts. ACTRESS HEAD OF AUXILIARY Miss Thais Magrane la Elected Presi dent of the New York State Organization. A tribute to the stage and to those actors and actresses who gave freely of their time and talents to keep men happy during the war was paid by the American Legion of New York in the elec tion of Miss Thais Magrane as presi dent of Its state women's auxili ary. With her broth er in active serv ice In the navy. Miss Magrane spent little of her time behind Manhattan's footlights and most of It with sick and wounded sol diers returned from France and quar tered in Polyclinic hospital. She later assisted in the organization of the auxiliary of S., Rankin Drew post of the Legion, composed of Broadway's actors, writers and producers who were in service. Miss Magrane is a native off St. Louis, Mo. She was "discovered" while piaying in a stock company in Los Angeles. She played the title role In "Everywoman," and her engagements have Included the leading stock or ganlzatlon8 which have toured the copntry. Carrying On With the American Legion Needy ex-service men of New York clty are being provided for by a mu nicipal fund under direction of the Legion. Boy relatives of members of the Eleventh Minnesota post of the Le gion have been organized into a boy acout troop. The Home Guard company of Fair mont, Minn., has turned over its war fund of $400 to furnish the. building of the Legion post. War vessels tied up at Seattle, Wash., may be used to billet unem ployed former service men, if the plan of the Ranier-Noble post succeeds. The old City club of Champaign, 111, has been obsorbed by the American Le gion post there. The post will erect a' community home, open to the public. A fourth of the freshmen law stu dents at Vanderbllt university are ex service men receiving vocational train ing and belong to a Nashville post of the Legion., "The world's only shimmying chick en" was billed In the "Joy Day" cele bration of Hendrlck (la.) post of the Legion. The post claims the chicken was "born that way." Half of the money for the erection of the community memorial building to be erected by the American Legion post at Sturgls, S. D., has been pledged by Its members from state bonuses. Midst regimental honors galore- and major general ruffles, Hanford Mac Nider, national commander of the American Legion, was received by his old regiment, the Ninth Infantry, sta tioned at Houaton, Tex. A loving cup yaa given him by the men.