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iM -r« N a niche above a door way In a great house in Now York city a marble statue of a woman holds a little child close to her breast. Beneath her, through a swinging door that has not been locked in 40 years, women pass in to the Foundling hospital with their babies in their arms and com© out with their arms empty. A single white cradle in the entry of a bare reception room receives and rescues nearly 2,000 babies a year. Two thousand men and women are the number of a village community Here in the home of deserted children are the things which are eternal—the tears, the laughter and the joys. "It is the little children we must save," one of the matrons said. "We keep them from privation, from cru elty, even from death—the little ba bies nobody wants. We are just trying to give them their chance. We hope to preserve the mothers from greater sin, from the life of the streets, from the doors of prison, but it is the babies that count. We re»«t save our babies" The law of this country will not permit the giving or selling of little children, but it cannot protect them from desertion The foundling hos pitals in our big cities are the state's efforts to play the part of universal motherhood, to care for the children who are thrown on her mercy and who will help make her future The room where the mothers relinquish their babies is called the saddest place in New York. There is nothing in the receiving room but the little cradle, and no one in sight. A matron is always in waiting near by. She never forces a mother to confession, but, if possible, persuades her to tell why she wishes to desert her child, and perhaps influences her not to give it up, but to begin life over again. A mother must under stand that the choice is with her—the matron may give the mother 10 or 15 minutes in which to decide—but the choice is final. If the mother wishes it, and it can be arranged, she is often taken into the hospital with her baby and allowed to nurse it, by having charge of another of the tiny children and helping with one older child There are now 300 mother nurses working in the New York home, and there have been as many as five or six hundred at other times. The mother who comes into the hospital to work can often prove her fitness to have her baby back again But once she puts it down in the rescue cradle and goes out the ever open door the baby belongs to her no longer she may never see or hear of it again. The child belongs to the state. No prayer nor entreaty, no pleading of circumstance, will afterward avail The child has entered a world that shall never know its origin. Somewhere a future waits for it, but the baby is to have no knowledge of its beginning outside its adoption in the Foundling home A bath and clean clothes are the first signs of the baby's adoption in the Foundling home. A doctor next inspects the little person to see that it shall not carry a contagion to any of the thou sands of small brothers and sisters who are wait ing for it outside the walls of the reception ward. Two or three weeks the baby may be detained in the reception quarters—the smaller the baby the less danger of contagious diseases—or as many days. Then it becomes either an Indoor or an outdoor baby. There are 600 indoor babies being cared for inside the New York City Foundling homo. It is necessary to board on the outside 1,200 more Seven thousand four hundred and twenty-four little foundlings have been looked after in the past two years, and there are relatively as many in Boston, In Chicago, in Philadelphia—in every large city in America In Europe there are an even greater number of foundling babies. The European states take charge of the deserted waifs, but the mother is only permitted to bring her child to an entrance way, ring a bell and give it into the arms of the attendant who opens the door—and go away without a word. In the homes of love, of wealth and happiness there are no sounder, sweeter babies than the deserted children of the foundling homes. The babies are so far untroubled by their situation in life and have not the institution look of older children What is the institution look? It trans lates itself the expression of a cramped individ uality, of a longing for a more personal expres sion the look of too much routine, of drilling, of the law without the spirit. But the babies know of no difference between themseHes and other children, and many times before thpy wake to the thought a home has been found for them Nearly 500 babies a year from the New York Foundling home are adopted by private families all parts of the country. They prove in their lives that it does not matter in this world how wo are born, "it is just the way we're eddicated." "Nobody but a baby lover would adopt one of our babies older children may be taken by fami lies and made into drudges, but who would adopt a tiny child except for love?" one of the sisters at the hospital said. There is a wonderfully wide choice in babies, for they are taken into the home without regard to nationality, to creed or color so there are pink and white blond babies, brown-haired, black-eyed babies, girls with curls and boys with round, close-cropped heads. The children wear no kind of uniform. The little girls have as big bows of red and blue and pink ribbon on their hair as the most fashionable little person who lives round the corner on Fifth avenue. The clothes of several thousand children are an important consideration. Think of what a single baby's trousseau means at home. Fortu nately, home babies outgrow their clothes and pass them on to other babies. There are all sizes to be fitted at the Foundling home. In the last X%&&&$&&^^ The National Colors. "Why are you looking so white? "I just had my future read." "Gee! It must look blue." The Philosopher of Folly. "Men," observes the Philosopher of Folly, "are in one respect a good deal like chickens. Aa soon as they begin drinking up go their bills." A GROUP FROM Wff/CZ/A SO/Y OR OHUGHTSR HAY two years New York's outdoor babies have re ceived 100,000 little garments and inside the poor mothers and babies have been equally well sup plied How many buttons do you suppose need to be sewed on? Here is a charity no one can dis pute—sewing for the babies Sisters and nurses can only look after their health and happiness Deserted babies can count on friends, if other things in life have failed them. Hundreds of rich society women in New York, who have seam stresses to sew for their own children* work for the Foundling babies Sewing classes meet in private homes, their sole purpose devoted to the wants of the hospital's children. Twelve hundred little garments were the gift of a single class The babies have every-day clothes, and dress-up clothes when visitors come, like the rest of .the world. The churches also have sewing circles devoted to the trousseaus of the deserted babies. Money for materials for their clothes comes from women who find this the simplest way of helping with such extensive wardrobes Occasionally a shop will send something to help clothe a baby. New York gives a quarter of a million dollars a year to look after her foundling babies, and forty thousand more is contributed. The Found ling hospital extends from one end of a long block to the other, and besides its nursery buildings has a quarantine hospital and a hospital for oper ations and for the treatment or ordinary diseases. The Foundling hospital must not only care for the waifs deserted at its doors, but also for the babies sent by the department of charities, the Society for Prevention of Cruelty to Children and the courts. There are three groups of babies, from the few weeks old to those three or four years, and they have their separate quarters the runabouts are th» children from 18 months to two years old and the grown-up babies, as old as three or four, are the kindergarten children. The recep tion room is the schoolroom—a long room full of tiny desks and tables, the walls lined with pic tures and corners Diled with splendid tovs. In the middle of the room is a parrot in a gpia cage who talks and sings like the children. The foundling babies who are brought up in side the institution know nothing of the perils and joys of the street. In connection with each of the nurseries there is a roof garden, where the children take their air and exercise. The Found ling baby has a scientific bringing up that may give it a better chance for health than the home baby reared in affectionate ignorance. Doctors, nurses and matrons study its life from hour to hour. The most vital principle in modern thought is the effort that is being made in every direction to start the child on the right way. With all its wealth of babies to care for, the Foundling hospital does more for the baby's health than the average mother. As each child is received at the hospital its weight is regis tered, together with the name and number of the baby, on a weight chart. The weekly weighing of all babies is an established feature of the hos pital care. Physicians regard the weighing of babies as of utmost importance in the proper care of a baby's health. The sick baby is judged by its loss of weight the well baby by its increase. Sick babies are weighed oftener—sometimes ev ery second day. Notes of the baby's illness are kept on the back of its weight card. The Infants Science Academy, which is now discussed in New York city as a possible way to sa\e the babies from the ignorance of mothers, wishes to establish the same scientific method for the care of all little children that is applied in the Foundling home. Each mother is to be taught to keep a chart of her baby's condition, not in any special class of society—rich and poor alike—and this chart is to be submitted weekly to a baby's academy to be inspected by boards of baby specialists Foundling babies are always in charge of spe cialists. Important books on children's diseases have come from the study of the unwelcome ba bies. Not only do the students and physicians on the staff of the hospital work with the children, but nearly all the city's prominent doctors have served the hospital as consulting or attending physicians. In special cases physicians come from the outside to study the mysterious causes, the mysterious expressions of baby diseases, which are borne in silence, or expressed only in inar ticulate sounds. The outdoor baby is the surplus baby. Not always because the Foundling home has no room for it, but because the baby often needs what the hospital cannot give. "Little babies live on love. I don't mean thin as a sentiment I mean it as a fact a tiny baby lives on the love that cuddles it„ that warms and feeds it. To take it into the hospital without a mother means it may die. If an outside nurse is found to care for it, the baby often grows healthy, strong and happy in her charge." Women who have lost their own babies, or respectable women who desire to earn a small' living by nursing, are the foster mothers of the Necessary Violence. "How d|d William get along at his friend's, when he played Santa Claus there?" "I understand he was decidedly put out." "Indeed! What happened to have him put out?" lie set himself on *re." Conclusive. Matchett—The girl who just passed in that blue auto was the rich Miss Pendershute. Do you think she's pretty? Weigles—Well, if I was her chauf feur, I'd never lose control of the ma* chine by looking around to admire tor. THE fttVER'S ALTERNATiVe *G foundling babies who are brought up outside the hospital. They must be able to show a clear record of health and character and obey the rules of the hospital for the care of the child. Once a month the outside nurse comes to the hospital with the child in her charge to be examined by a physician, but in case of sudden illness she must make an immediate report One hundred and forty thousand dollars a year goes toward paying for these outside nurses—at a rate of $10 apiece—nearly one-half of the found ling babies' income. When the child is three or four it must be retarned to the hospital one of the rules of the institution is that no child may be adopted by the woman who acted as its nurse. "Italian women make the most successful moth* ers for the delicate babies," one of the head ma trons explained. "There is something in their warm-hearted temperaments, in their natural sense of motherhood, that helps the frail baby to thrive." Colored children are taken care of by colored women until they reach the required age, when the girls go to a home in Baltimore and the boys to Nebraska, where they are educated to trades. Sixty-six babies boarded a car for New Orleans a few weeks ago and started gaily off on a voyage of discovery. They were on their way to find their mammas and papas. The babies are taught through the years when they are kept in the found ling home that somewhere waiting for them in the world outside are mothers and fathers, and some day they are to go to find them. Many years ago, on a cold winter night, a phy sician sent to the New York Foundling hopital for the youngest baby who was healthy and promising He only wanted to borrow the baby for a few weeks A patient had given birth to a child and the baby had died. The mother was desperately ill, and the news of the death of her baby would possibly cause her death. A beautiful baby boy two weeks old had that day been left at the Foundling home. The baby was wrapped in blankets and taken away to one of the wealthiest homes in New York. For a month or more the sick mother nursed this baby, think ing him her own. When she was well enough the truth was told her, but the borrowed baby was never returned. In the weeks of her suffering, the touch of its little lips and the clasp of its hands had made it in truth her baby. This year the boy graduated with honor from an eastern college as the oldest son of a promi nent man a large sum of money for the foundling babies came as a gift from an "unknown friend." Two agents, whose work It is to find mothers and fathers for the waiting babies, are a part of the regular staff of the Foundling home. They work through other agents all over the country, through churches and missions and children's aid societies the appeal is universal. Do you want a baby? Here is a lost baby looking for a mother and father. You may have any kind you desire. Descriptions and requirements may be written to the staff at the hospital, and you may have just the baby you are looking for. You may require the color of hair, eyes, or even specify the disposition. Usually the asylum has more than it can fill. Girls are asked for in about twice the ratio of boys. Blue-eyed girls are the greatest in demand, and a "sweet" disposition is almost always one of the specifications. One woman wrote to the asylum from a town within easy travel of New York. "We are plain people," she began. "The height of our ambition has been to have a house of our own. Now we have it, all furnished as we have wished. Yet we are not content. Our home is so perfectly orderly that we have decided that we need someone td make it sweetly disorderly." Four or five times a year, 40 or 50 babies start off in a little band in quest of homes. The babies are sent to any part of the country. Nurses and attendants travel with the babies, who are distributed to agents who wait to place them in homes along the way. But the child is not to lose its connection with the Foundling home Until the children are grown they are still looked after, and their care and future guarded by the supervision of the agents who make yearly visits to their homes and the matrons who keep in con stant communication with them through letters. Many times the adopted baby comes to mean to a family all that their own baby could have meant Thousands of letters come back to the matron from the foster mothers and fathers of the babies. "After God, dear sister," an adopted mother writes, "it is to you I owe my darling child, so I will ask him to bless you forever." "Dear sister, I feel it my duty to let you heat from us, in regard to our little boy and girl. My husband and I often wonder can it be possible that they are not our own children, when we see their sweet, loving faces. If God will spare us to raise them, we feel confident that they will be a credit to all and a comfort and pride to us in years to come." Children write home to the sisters of their hap piness and growing outlook on life. In most cases the child is made to understand its connection with the Foundling home. A little girl in the busy days of her school life wants to tell of her success. "As it is so long since I heard from you, I thought I would write and tell you that I am well, and that I have just completed my first year at school. I have the highest average in my class, it being 93 per cent, for the whole year. As I was the only girl in the high school perfect in attendance I received a pretty gold medal as a reward." Happy endings come of many stories with tragic beginnings. The unwelcome baby finds a welcome somewhere, makes a place for itself some how, in a world that failed it at the start. The Proper Place. "Where on earth did you ever gw such a flaming hat feather?" "At a fire sale," Ere You Flutter. The whole wide world's preparing' So the papers say, to fly But before you do your flying Tou must be prepared t8_MMP jar MEREDITH NICHOLSON jELLk5TRAr/0/i6.3Y #/C/WALTr/?d SYNOPSIS. Miss Patricia Holbrook and Miss Helen Holbrook, her niece, were entrusted to the care of Laurance Donovan, a writer, summering near Port Annandale Miss Patricia confided to Donovan tha? she feared her brother Henry, who, ruinett Uy a bank failure, had constantly threateswl her. Donovan discovered and captured an intruder, who proved to be Reginald Gillespie, suitor for the hand of Helen, Donovan saw Miss Holbrook and her fa ther meet on friendly terms. Donovan (ought an Italian assassin. He met the man he supposed was Holbrook, but wh» said "he was Hartridge, a canoe-maker. Miss Pat announced her intention of fighting Henry Holbrook and not seeking another hiding place. Donovan met Helen in garden at night. Duplicity of Helen was confessed by the young lady. At night, disguised as a nun, Helen stole from the house. She met Reginald Gil lespie, who told her his love. Gillespie was confronted by Donovan. At the town postofflce Helen, unseen except by Dono van, slipped a draft for her father into the hand of the Italian sailor. A young lady resembling Miss Helen Holbrook was observed alone in a canoe, when Helen was thought to have been at home. Gillespie admitted giving Helen $20,000 for her father, who had then left to spend It. Miss Helen and Donovan met in the night. She told him Gillespie was nothing to her. He confessed his love for her. Donovan found Gillespie gagged and bound in a cabin, inhabited by the vil lainous Italian and Holbrook. He released him. Both Gillespie and Donovan ad mitted love for Helen. Calling herself Rosalind a "voice" appealed to Donovan for help She told him to go to the canoe maker's home and see that no injury be fell him. He went to Red Gate. At the canoe-maker's home, Donovan found the brothers—Arthur and Henry Holbrook—who had fought each other, in consultation "Rosalind" appeared. Ar thur averted a murder Donovan return ing, met Gillespie alone in the dead of night. On investigation he found Henry Holbrook, the sailor, and Miss Helen en gaged in an argument It was settled and they departed Donovan met the real Rosalind, who by night he had sup posed to be Miss Helen Holbrook. She revealed the mix-up Her father, Arthur Holbrook, was the canoe-maker, while Helen's father was Henry Holbrook, the erring brother. The cousins, Helen and Rosalind, were as much alike as twins. Thus Helen's supposed duplicity was ex plained. Helen visited Donovan, asking his assistance in bringing Miss Patricia Holbrook and Henry Holbrook together for a settlement of their money affairs, which had kept them apart for many years. Donovan refused to aid. He met Gillespie. CHAPTER XX.—Continued. He was at once cane and serious, and replied, soberly: "I never doubted that it was Arthur. It he wasn't guilty, why did he run away? It was a queer business, and father never mentioned it. Henry gave out the impression that my father had taken advantage of Holbrook Brothers and forced their failure but father shut up and never told me anything." "But you have the notes—" "Yes, but I'm not to open them, yet. I can't tell you about that now." He grew red and played with his cravat, "Where are they?" I asked. "I've just had them sent to me they're in the bank at Annandale. There's another thing you may not know. Old man Holbrook, who lived to be older than the hills, left a pro vision In his will that adds to the com plications. Miss Pat may have men tioned that stuff in her father's will abcut the honor of the brothers—" "Bhe just mentioned it. Please tell me what you know of it." He took out his pocket-book and read me this paragraph from a news paper cutting: And the said one million dollars herein before specifically provided for shall, aft er the lapse of ten years, be divided be tween my said eons Henry and Arthur Holbrook, share and share alike but if either of my said sons shall have been toeched by dishonor through his own act, as honor is accounted, reckoned and Valued among men, my said daughter Pa tricia to be the sole judge thereof, then he shall forfeit his share of said amount thus withheld, and the whole of said sum of one million dollars shall be adjudged to belong to the other son. Gillespie lighted a cigarette and smoked quietly for several minutes, and when he spoke it was with deep feeling. "I love that girl, Donovan. I be lieve she cares for me, or would if she could get out of all these entangle ments. I'm almost ready to burn that packet and tell Miss Pat she's got to settle with Henry and be done with it. Let him spend his money and die in disgrace and go to the devil anything ks better than all this secrecy and mys tery that enmeshes Helen. I'm going to end it I'm going to end it!" We had gone to the library, and he threw himself down in the chair from which she had spoken of him so short a time before that I seemed still to feel her presence in the room. "Cheer up, lad! If we can't untie the knot we'll lose no time cutting the string. There may be some fun in this business before we get through with it." I began telling him of some of my own experiences, and won him to a cheerier mood. When we came round to the Holbrooks again his depression had passed, and we were on the best of terms. "But there's one thing we can't get away from, Donovan. I've got to pro tect Helen don't you see? I've got to take care of her, whatever comes." "But you can't take care of her fa ther. He's hopeless." "I could give him this money my self, couldn't I? I can do it, and I've about concluded that I ought to do it." "But that would be a waste. It would be like giving whisky to a drunkard. Money has been at the bot tom of all this trouble." Gillespie threw up his hands with a gesture of helplessness. "I shall undoubtedly lose such wits as I have if we don't get somewhere in this business pretty soon. But, Donovan, there's something I want to ask you. I don't like to speak of it, but when we were coming away from that infernal island, after our scrap with the dago, there were two people Walking on the bluff—a man and a woman, and the woman was nearest us. She seemed to be purposely put ting herself in the man's way so we couldn't see him. It didn't seem pos sible that Helen could be there—but?" He clearly wished to be assured, and I answered at once: "t saw them it couldn't have been Helen, It was merely a similarity of, CHAPTER XXI. A Blue Cloak and a Scarlet. Miss Pat asked me to dine at St. Agatha's that night. The message came unexpectedly—a line on one of those quaint visiting-cards of hers, brought by the gardener and when. I had penned my acceptance I at once sent the following message by Ijima to the boat-maker's house at Red Gate: "To Rosalind at Red Gate: It is im portant for you to appear with me at the Port Annandale casino to-night, and to meet Reginald Gillespie there. He is pledged to refer in no way to family af fairs. If he should attempt to, you need only remind him of his promise. He will imagine that you are some one else, so please be careful not to tax his imagina tion too far. There is much at stake which I will explain later. You are to re fuse nothing that he may offer you. I shall come into the creek with the launch and call for you at Red Gate. "THE IRISHMAN AT GL.ENARM. "The casino dances are very informal. A plain white gown and a few ribbons. But don't omit your emerald." I was not sure where this project would lead me, but I committed myself to it with a fair conscience. I reached St Agatha's just as dinner was an nounced and we went out at once to the small dining room ased by the sis- ATRE GAT] "I Am Tired sf Being Cooped Up Here." figure. I couldn't distinguish her face at all. Very likely they were Port An nandale cottagers." "I thought so myself," he replied, evidently relieved. It did not seem necessary to tell him of Rosalind at Red Gate that was my secret, and I was not yet ready to share it. "I've got to talk to somebody, and I want to tell you something, Donovan. I can't deny that there are times when Helen doesn't seem—well, all that I have thought here at other times. Sometimes she seems selfish and hard, and all that. And I know she hasn't treated Miss Pat right it Isn't square for her to take Miss Pat's bounty and then work against her. But I make allowances, Donovan." "Of course," I acquiesced, wishing to cheer him. "So do I. She has been hard put in this business. And a man's love can't always be at par—or a wom an's either! The only thing a man ought to exact of the woman he mar ries is that she put up a cheerful breakfast-table. Nothing else counts very much. Start the day right, hand him his gloves and a kind word at the front door as he sallies forth to the day's battle, and constancy and devo tion will be her reward. I have spoken words of wisdom. Harken, O Chief Button-Maker of the World!" Good humor mastered him again, and he grinned his delightful boyish grin. "I'll tell you what I'll do for you, my lad," I said. "I'll arrange for you to see Helen to-night! You shall meet and talk and dance with her at Port Annandale casino, in the most conven tional way in the world, with me for chaperon. By reason or being Mr. Glenarm's guest here, I'm ex officio a member of the club. I'll manage everything. Miss Pat shall know noth ing—all on one condition only." "Well, name your price." "That'you shall not mention family affairs to her at all." "God knows I shall be delighted to escape them!" His eyes brightened and he clapped his hands together. "I owe her a pair of gloves on an old wager. I have them in the village and will bring them over to-night," he said but deception was not an easy game for him. I grinned and he colored. "It's not money, Donovan," he said, as hurt as a misjudged child. "I won't lie to you. I was to meet her at St. Agatha's pier to-night to give her the gloves." "You shall have your opportunity, but those meetings on piers won't do. I will hand her over to you at the casino at nine o'clock. I suppose I may have a dance or two?" "I suppose so," he said, so grudging ly that I laughed aloud. "Remember the compact try to have a good time and don't talk of trouble," I enjoined, as we parted. _/B- ter in charge during vacation, where I faced Miss Pat, with Helen on one hand and Sister Margaret on the oth er. They were all in good humor, even Sister Margaret proving less austere than usual, and it is not too much to say that we were a merry party. Helen led me with a particular intention to talk of Irish affairs, and avowed her own unbelief in the capacity of the Irish for self-government. "Now, Helen!" admonished Miss Pat, as our debate waxed warm. "Oh, do not spare me! I could not be shot to pieces in a better cause!" "The trouble with you people," de clared Helen with finality, "is that you have no staying qualities. The smashing of a few heads occasionally satisfies your islanders, then down go the necks beneath the yoke. You are incapable of prolonged war. Now, even the Cubans did better you must admit that, Mr. Donovan!" She met my eyes with a challenge. There was no question as to the ani mus of the discussion she wished me to understand that there was war be tween us, and that with no great faith in my wit or powers of endurance she was setting herself confidently to the business of defeating my purpose. And I must confess that I liked it in her! "If we had you for an advocate our flag would undoubtedly rule the seas, Miss Holbrook!" "I dip my colors," she replied, "only to the long-enduring, not to the valiant alone!" "A lady of high renown," I mused aloud, while Miss Pat poured the cof feet, a lady of your own name, was once more or less responsible for a lit tle affair that lasted ten years about the walls of a six-gated city." "I wasn't named for her! No sugar to-night, please, Aunt Pat!" I stood with her presently by an open window of the parlor, looking out upon the night. Sister Margaret had vanished about her household duties Miss Pat had taken up a book with the rather obvious intention of leaving us to ourselves. I expected to start at eight for my rendezvous at Red Gate, and my ear was alert to the chiming of the chapel clock. The gardener had begun his evening rounds, and paused in the walk beneath us. "Don't you think," asked Helen, "that the guard is rather ridiculous?" "Yes, but it pleases my medieval in stincts to imagine that you need de fenders. In the absence of a moat the gardener combines in himself all the apparatus of defense. Ijima is his Asiatic ally." "And you, I suppose, the grand strat egist and field marshal." "At least that!" If the Arab and his horse are by legend closely allied, they are in point of fact even more intimately connected. His mount is his first thought, and at all times by far the most interesting topic of conversation He is ungroomed, undipped, unhal tered, for the Arab prefers to shackle him by means of two ropes, a short cord connecting the fore and hind fet locks and a long line tethering him above the hind fetlock to a peg in the ground. Thus he can move about or roll at leisure, and should -there be any .rough herbage at hand can for age for It Perhaps one of the nrlnci- "After this morning I never ex pected to ask a favor of you but if, in my humblest tone—" "Certainly. Anything within reason." "I want you to take me to the casino to night to the dance I'm tired of being cooped up here. I want to hear music and see new faces "Do pardon me for not having thought of it before! They dance over there every Wednesday and Saturday aight I'm sorry that to-night I have an engagement, but won't you allow me on Saturday?" She was resting her arms on the high sill, gazing out upon the lake. I stood near, watching her, and as she sighed deeply my heart ached for her but in a moment she turned her head swiftly with mischief laughing in her eyes. "You have really refused! You have positively declined! You plead anoth er engagement! This is a rlace where one's engagements are burdensome "This one happens to be important She turned round with her back to the window. "We are eternal foes we are fight ing it out to a finish and it is better that way. But, Mr. Donovan, I haven't played all my cards yet." "I look upon you &« a resourceful person and I shall be prepared for the worst. Shall we say Saturday night for the dance?" "No!" she exclaimed, tossing her head. "And let me hava the satisfac tion of t^Uing \ou that could not have gone *«fith you to night, anyhow. Good-by." Treated as a Good Friend Intimate Association Between the Arab and His Horse. It is most Interesting to note the way the Arab treats his faithful friends. So Inured, indeed, is the Arab pony by long usage and descent to the manner of life in the desert that even my own pony positively im proved on the treatment and I never saw him so fit as when he came back from the trip. I found 'tfima ready with the launch at Glenarm pier, and, after a swift flight to the Tifc-eecanoe, knocked at the door of Red Gftte. Arthur Hol brook admitted me, aa& led the way to the room where, as his captive, I had first talked with him. "We have met before," he ai&d, smil ing. "I thought you were an enemy at that time. Now I believe I may conat you a friend." "Yes I should like to prove myseSI your friend, Mr. Holbrook" "Thank you," he said, simply ant we shook bands. "You have taken aa interest ira my affairs, so my daughter tells me She is very dear to me-* she is all I have left you can under* stand that I wish to avoid Involving her in these family difficulties." "I would cut off my right hand be fore I would risk injuring you or her, Mr. Holbrook," I replied, earnestly. "You have a right to know why I wish* her to visit the casino with me to night. I know what she does not know, what only two other people know I know why you are here." "I ant very sorry I regret it very much," he said, without surprise but with deep feeling. He would have said more, but I interrupted him. "As far as I am concerned no one else shall ever know. Tbe persona who know the truth about you are your brother and yourself. Strangely) enough, Reginald Gillespie does not know. Your sister has not tbe slight est idea of it. Your daughter, I as sume, has no notion of it—" "No! no!" he exclaimed, eagerly. "She has not known she has believed what I have told her and now she must never know how stupid, how mad, I have been." "To-night," I said, "your daughter and I will gain possession of the forged notes. Gillespie will give them to her and I should like to hold them for a day or two." He was pacing the floor and at this wheeled upon me with doubt and sus picion clearly written on his face. "But I dttn't see how you can man age it!'' "Mr. Gillespie is infatuated with your niece." "With Helen, who is with my sister at St. Agatha's." "I have promised Gillespie that he shall see her to-night at the casino dance. Your sister Is very hitter against him and he is mortally afraid of her." "His father really acted very de cently, when you know the truth. But I don't see how this is to be managed. I should like to possess myself of those papers, but not at too great a cost More for Rosalind's sake than' my own now, I should have them." "You may not know that your daugh ter and her cousin are as like as two human beings can be. I am rather put to it myself to tell them apart." (TO BE CONTINUED.) pai reasons why the Arab so excels at long journeys is that the never worries himself nor does he ever distress his mount unless there is real cause to do so. He simply continues a steady walk all day and hardly ever gallops in the wild way in which one so often sees them depicted by artists. At the Turn of the Road. In the perspective from the turn of the road we may now see how man* times the paralyzing hand of procras tination touched the good deeds we meant to do, the golden dreams we longed to transform into actualities. We wished to do, and we wanted to do, but we did not will to do. The fault was not in conditions, but in us. We were not equal to opiportunities. It is a false philosophy Oiat teaches that opportunity calls orly once at any man's house. It comes with the persistency of an importunate cred itor, always in a new guise, and clam ors for admission, but we may be tat busy to answer the bell.—Ctreto *$&*&> •pi ^i3