Willmar tribune. [volume], November 26, 1913, Image 6

About Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931

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Historic Mansion Scene of
but Twelve Ceremonies
in a Century.
W
HEN Miss Jessie Wilson, sec
ond daughter of the presi
dent, becomes the wife of
Francis Bowes Sayre on
Nov. 25 she will have the distinction
of being the thirteenth young woman
In the history of the republic who has
been wedded within the historic walls
of the White House. "All the world
loves a lover," and a love affair that
finds its denouement behind the clas
sic portals of the president's official
residence holds an interest to the pub
lic that is quite above and beyond that
of ordinary, everyday romances. In a
sense the executive mansion is the
people's own house, and so it naturally
follows that oue who is married there
is in some degree the chosen child of
all the great family of whom the presi
dent is the official head.
For generations the White House
has been a familiar figure to the Amer
(v.
MISS JESSIE WILSON.
lean people. It has stood a central
landmark in the national capital since
the time of its founding and is known
the world over as the home of the
chief executive of the republic. Gre
cian in its architecture, it stands a
monument to the stern simplicity of
the true ideals of the nation.
So it happens that whenever a wed
ding takes place within the White
House the nation is prone to weave a
mystical web of beauty and romauce
about the principals that sets theirs
quite apart from other bridals and
pedestals them high in the court of the
country's affection and regard.
Previous White House Bridals.
Prior to Miss Wilson's wedding there
have been Just twelve young women
fortunate enough to have their wed
dings celebrated within the executive
mansion. The last of these was Miss
Alice Roosevelt, the daughter of Presi
dent Roosevelt, who was married to
Representative Nicholas Longworth of
Ohio on Feb. 17, 1006. Until then
there had not been a White House
wedding for nearly twenty years, the
previous nuptials being those of Miss
Frances Folsom, now the wife of Pro
fessor Thomas J. Preston of Princeton,
to President Grover Cleveland on June
2, 1886.
The marriage of Miss Alice Roose
velt was one of the most brilliant cer
emonies ever held in the White House,
differing much from some of those in
the last century. Some of the White
House marriages have been severely
simple, and the approaching wedding
also will partake largely of the demo^
cratic simplicity which is the dominant
note in the daily life of the bride and
her family, but Miss Roosevelt's mar
riage, like the first held in the White
House, which was in President Madi
son's administration, was accompanied
by much display.
Early Administrations Brideless.
In the early days of the republic,
when the nation's capital was located
at New York and Philadelphia, there
were no weddings at the executive
mansion. Nellie Custis. the beautiful
and charming stepdaughter of General
Washington, was too young to be mar
ried during the period that he occu
pied the presidency, and the second
president, John Adams, was unfortu
nate in having no young people in his
household during his incumbency.
President Jefferson's administration
was the first that began and ended in
the White House. He was a widower,
and whatever success his administra
tion had of a social character was due
to the presence of Mrs. Madison, wife
of the secretary of state and the great
est social factor of Washington official
life.
The election of James Madison
brought this most popular of American
women to the highest social position
in the republic.
There were two weddings in the
White*House while she was Its mis
tress, and she took as much delight In
making them happy occasions
Method.
"Willie asks a great many remark
able questions," said the pensive fa
ther.
"Yes," replied the observant mother.
"Whenever he wants to get out for the
afternoon he puts a lot of queries up
to you so that you will let him go out
fand play while you consult the ency
clopedia."—Washington Star.
The Clock on the Stairs.
I When is a clock on the stairs dan
f'^Vgerous? ,:., *,'',.
'p^s- When It rum down. t*
i''--JJ-
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CEREMONY IN WHITE HOUSE
Some Were Brilliant and
Others Exceedingly
Simpl In Form
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though both brides had been her ow*
children. The first wedding to occur
in the president's house was that of
the widow of a nephew of George
Washington, Lucy Payne. Mrs. Madi
son's younger sister, who was married
at the age of fifteen, in 1792, to George
Steptoe Washington, and lived during
her widowhood with the Madisons in
Washington.
Payne-Todd Wedding.
The engagement of this sister In the
winter of 1S10 to Justice Todd of the
supreme court, a widower, many years
older than herself, the father of five
children and a resident of the then far
distant state of Kentucky, was approv
ed by her family, and Mrs. Madison
reveled in the preparations for the"
fine wedding she gave the couple. It
was celebrated on the evening of
March 11. 1ST 1.
The second White House wedding
took place after the war of 1812 was
ended. The bride was a relative of
Mrs. Madison by marriage, Miss Anna
Todd of Philadelphia, and the bride
groom was a member of congress from
Virginia, John G. Jackson, a great
uncle of "Stonewall" Jackson.
The third wedding was that of Miss
Marie Monroe to LawrenceGouverneur.
Being the daughter of a president, it
might have been expected that the oc
casion of her wedding would have
been marked by great festivity. But
such was not the case, and the affair
1913, by American Press Association.
MK. FRANCIS BOWES SAYRE.
was a distinct disappointment to those
who thought they had a right to expect
more from the White House family.
Monroe Marriage Simple.
Mrs. Monroe was a city bred woman.
She had been brought up in the exclu
sive circle of New York, and she did
not approve of the Virginia style. So
the wedding of her youngest daughter
was the reverse of a grand affair.
The circular or blue room was cho
sen for the wedding, and the Rev. Dr.
Hawley of St. John's church perform
ed the ceremony, which took place at
noon.
The fourth marriage celebrated in
the president's house was that of John
Adams, the son and private secretary
of President John Quincy Adams." He
was married to his cousin. Helen Jack
son of Philadelphia. Miss Jackson was
a niece of Mrs. Adams, and her broth
er, Walter Jackson, was a secretary to
the president and lived in the White
House.
It wag an evening affair, and the
ceremony was performed Feb. 10, 1828.
in the blue room in the presence of
a distinguished gathering. Dr. Haw
ley officiated on this occasion as he had
done at Miss Monroe's wedding, and
the president and Mrs. Adams, though
it was known that they did not whol
ly approve of the match, matte the
wedding a notably gay one.
The Jackson Administration.
Andrew Jackson's administration
succeeded that of John Quincy Adams,
and it is recalled as one during which
there were three weddings.
The fifth marriage in White House
history was that of Miss Delia Lewis
of'Nashville. Tenu., whose father, Wil
liam B. Lewis, was one of President
Jackson's most intimate personal
friends. He practically lived in the
president's house and was a member
of that famous kitchen cabinet carica
tured so persistently in that day
Miss Lewis was married to Mr. -Al
phonse Josoph Yver Pnjreot. a native of
Martinique, who was secietary of the
French legation at the time of his mar
riage.
President Jackson was intensely
fond of his wife's relatives and. being
a childless widower and having not fl
relative in the world of his own. gath
ered about him many young people.
GOOD ACTIONS.
When we have practiced good
actions awhile they become easy.
When they are easy we take pleas
ure in them. When they please us
we do them frequently, and then by
frequency of acl they grow into a
habit.—Tillotson.
To Talk About.
"She hasn't any friends to speak of.*'
"No? Then what are they for?"—
llick.
A y£. '£&J*"*!***
Twelve weddings have been held
In the White House in the history
of the United States. The marriage
of Miss Jessie Wilson will be the
thirteenth. The twelve are:
1811—Lucy Payne Washington to
Judge Todd.
1812—Anna Todd to Representative
John G. Jackson.
1820—Marie Monroe to Lawrence
Gouverneur.
1S2S—Helen Jackson to John Adams.
1829-37-Delia Lewis to Alphonse Jo
seph Yver Pageot Mary Easten
to Lucien B. Polk Emily Martin
to Lewis Randolph.
1842-Elizabeth Tyler to William
Waller.
1874 Nellie Grant to Algernon
Charles Frederick Sartoris.
1878—Emily Piatt to General Rus
sell Hustings.
1886—Fiances Folsom to President
Cleveland.
1906—Alice Roosevelt to Representa
tive Nicholas Longworth.
among whom were several of Mrs.
Jackson's nieces.
Mary Easten. a Tennessee girl, was
one of these nieces, and when she was
married to Lucien B. Polk of Tennes
see the president arranged to have the
ceremony take place in the Blue room.
Another White House marriage that
occurred during President Jackson's
administration was that of Miss Emily
Martin, a niece of Mrs. Donelson. who
became the bride of Lewis Randolph,
a grandson of Jefferson.
Tyler-Waller Marriage.
The eighth wedding to occur in the
White House was that of Miss Eliza
beth Tyler, daughter of the president
of that name, to William Waller oi
Virginia,- the bride being but nineteen
years of age, on Jan. 31, 1842.
The next wedding, the ninth to oc
cur in the White House, did not tak
place until the Grant administration
when the general's beautiful daughter
Ellen, or Nellie, as she is better known
became the bride of Mr. Algernon Sar
toris. The ceremony, which was with
out doubt the most brilliant functiOL
held at the White House during hei
father's tenure there, has become a
recollection to which all who witnessed
it de.light to revert.
It was the first wedding to be cele
brated in the east room and took place
on May 21, 1S74, or nearly thirty years
after the Tyler wedding.
The Tenth Bridal.
The tenth White House wedding was
that of Miss Emily Piatt, niece of Pres
ident Hayes, who was married to Gen
eral Russell Hastings on June 19, 1878.
The bride had been to the president
and Mrs. Hayes as a daughter, and
she had lived in their home for many
years, going to the White House with
them from Ohio.
When next the blue room was deco
rated for a marriage ceremony the
Photo by American Press Association
UBS. NICHOLAS IiONGWORTH.
wedding was that of President Cleve
land, the first president to be married
In the White House.
Miss Frances Folsom, the bride, was
twenty and was noted as being grace
ful and winsome Her engagement to
the president was made in the summer
of 1S85. Soon after she went to Eu
rope with her mother and remained
there until a few days before her wed
ding. That occurred on the evening of
June 2. 18S6, at 7 o'clock, in the blue
room.
Roosevelt-Longworth Nuptials.
The wedding of Miss Alice Roose
velt to the then Representative Nich
olas Longworth of Ohio in 1906 is of
too recent date to need more than pass
ing mention. It was the twelfth of
the series and was by far the most
brilliant ceremony ever held in the
White House, with the single excep
tion, perhaps, of that of President
Cleveland and Miss Folsom. It took
place in the east room, where the com
ing nuptials of Miss Wilson and Mr.
Sayre are to take place.
Yet while Miss Jessie Wilson will
have the distinction of being the thir
teenth young woman to become a
bride in the White House, as .mention
ed at the beginning of this article, it is
by no means certain that hers will be
the only wedding ceremony to be held
there during her father's administra
tion. The president has two other
daughters, who vie with their sister in
charm and attractiveness, and it is by
no means impossible that the names of
one or both of these may yet be added
to the distinguished list of White
House brides.
According to Hoyle.
Rev. Joseph Gravely (giving his
views of the evils of card playing dur
ing a pastoral call)—As 1 was saying.
I am in doubt-
Parrot (interrupting eagerly)—When
you are in doubt play trumps!
And no member of that family has
been able to account for the parrot's
utterance to the satisfaction of the
pastor.—London Punch.
J''
-, ii Our Cornfields. b% "*••?^?l
The combined area of the cornfields
of the United StatesJs nearly equal to
the area of France, or Qeruianys/^-?
•^lil^
HUSBANDS
OF EDITH
Bu
GEORGE BARR
M'CUTCHEON
GoKiilght tu Dodd. Meed ft Co.
CHAPTER XIII.
The City Prison.
HE anticlimax had struck the
Hotel Tirol 'some hours be
fore it came upon Brock and
Miss Fowler. Mr. Githens de-
manded the person of the man calling
himself Roxbury Medcroft The prin
cipal bank in the city was also repre
sented in the company of investigators.
Likewise there was a laconic gentle
man from the British office.
Mr. Medcroft was out. Then, they
agreed, it was necessary to see Mrs
Medcroft, or the lady representing her
self to be such. Mr. Githens was per
mitted to go to her rooms in company
with the manager of the hotel. What
transpired in those rooms during, the
next fifteen minutes would be quite
Impossible to narrate short of an en
tire volume. Edith promptly collapsed.
Subsequently she became hysterical.
She begged for time, and, getting it.
proceeded to threaten every one with
prosecution.
"I am Mrs. Medcroft!" she declared
piteously. "Where is the American con
sul? I demand the American consul!"
"What has the American government
to do with it?" gruffly demanded Mr.
Githens.
"Mr.—Mr.—the gentleman whom you
accuse is an American citizen!" she
stammered.
"Oho! Then he is not an English
man?"
"I refuse to answer your questions
You are impertinent I ask you, sir.
as the manager of this hotel, to eject
this man from my rooms."' The man
aged smiled blandly and did not eject
the man.
"But, madam," be said, "we have a
right to know who and what you are.
If Mr. Medcroft is in London this gen
tleman surely cannot be he, the real
Mr. Medcroft We must have an ex
planation."
"I'll—I will explain everything to
morrow. Oh, by the way, is there a
telegram for me in the office? There
must be. I've been expecting it all
day. I telegraphed to London for It."
"There is no telegram, down there,
madam."
At this juncture Mr. Odell-Carney
appeared on the scene uninvited, but
welcome.
"Wot's all this?" he demanded stern
ly. Everybody proceeded at once to
tell him. Somehow be got the drift of
the story. "Get out, all of you!" he
said. "I stand sponsor for Mrs. Med
croft. She is Mrs. Medcroft, bang you
sir. If you come around here bother
ing her again I'll have the law upon
you. The Medcrofts are English citi
zens and"—
"Oh. they are, are they?" sneered Mr
Githens. with a sinister chuckle.
"Who the devil are you, sir?"
"I'm from Scotland Yard."
"I thought so. Vou've proved it, 'pon
my soul. 1 am Odell-Carney. Daresay
you've heard of me."
"1 know you by sight, sir. But
that"
"Clever chap, by Jove! And there's
no but about it. Mr.—Mr.—never mind
what it is. I don't want to know your
name. Mrs. Medcroft, will you permit
me to send my wife up to you? Mr
Manager, I insist that you take this
c'nfended rabble down to the office and
tell them to go to the devil! Don't do
it up here do it down there."
After some further discussion and
protests the Scotland Yard man and his
party left the room to its distracted
mistress. It may be well to remark
for the sake of local color that Tootles
was crying lustily, while Raggles bark
ed in spite of all that O'Brien could do
to stop him.
Odell-Carney sent his wife to Edith
A few minutes later, as be was making
bis way to the office, he came upon
Mrs. Rodney and Eatberine, hurrying,
white faced, to their rooms
"Oh. Isn't it dreadful?" wailed the
former, putting her clinched hands to
her temples.
"Isn't wot dreadful?" demanded he
brutally.
"About Edith! They're going to ar
rest her."
"Not if I can help It. madam. Where
Is Mr. Rodney?"
"He hasn't anything to do with it:
We're as innocent as children unborn
It's all shocking to us. Mr. Rodney
shouldn't be arrested. His rectitude is
without a flaw. For heaven's sake,
don't implicate him. He's"—
"Madam, I'm not a policeman," said
Odell-Carney with scathing dignity. "I
want your husband to aid me in bush
ing this c'nfended thing."
He started away as Mr. Rodney
came puffing up the stairs. Odell-Car
ney changed bis mind and waited.
"Where's Edith?" .panted Mr. Rod
ney.
"Good heavens!" groaned his wife,
lowering her voice because three cham
bermaids were looking on from a near
by turn.^
rtDon't
MGo
mention that crea-
ture's name. Just think what she's got
us into. Re Isn't her husband. Alfred,
telephone for tickets on tonight's train.
Tomorrow will be too late. I won't
stay here another minute. Everybody
in the hotel is talking. We'll all be ar
rvoicu. ,.
But Mr. Rodney,TtOroneei was'the
head of the family. He faced heir
sternly.
"Go to your rooms, 'both of you.
We'll stay here until this thing is end.
ed. I don't give a hang what she's
done, I'm not going to desert her."
"But—but be isn't her husband!*
gasped Mrs. Rodney, struck dumb by
this amazing rebellion. i^i^l'i-f-x^i^
"But she's your cousJri,"isn't she,
madam?' he retorted with fierce Irony.
"I disown her!" wailed his wife, sans
to your rooms!" stormed pudgy
Mr. Rodney. Then, as they slunk
away, he turned to the approving
Odell-Carhey, sticking out his chest a
trifle in bis new found authority. "1
•ay, Carney, what's to be done next?**
"We'll have a" drink first and then
see," he said.
As they -were entering the buffet a
cheery voice accosted them from be
hind. Freddie Ulstervelt came up, real
distress In his face.
"I say, count me in on this. I'll buy,
if I may. I've just heard the news
from the door porter. Beastly shame,
Isn't it? I had Mile. Le Brun over to
hear the band concert—she's related to
that painter woman, by the way I
told Katherlne she was. Say, gentle
men, we'll stand by Mrs. Medcroft,
won't we? Count me in If it's any
thing that money can square I'm here
with a letter of credit six figures long."
"Join us," said Odell-Carney warmly.
"You're a good sort, after all."
They sat down at a table. Freddie
stood between them, a hand on the
shoulder of each. Very seriously he
was saying:
"I say, gentlemen, we can't abandon
a woman at a time like this. We must
stand together. All true sports and
black sheep should stand together,
don't you know."
It is possible that Odell-Carney ap
preciated the subtlety of this compli
ment Not so Mr. Rodney.
"Sports? Black sheep? Upon my
soul, sir, I don't understand you." he
mumbled. Mr. Rodney, although he
hailed from Seattle, had never known
anything but a clean and unrumpled
conscience.
Freddie clapped him jovially on the
shoulder. "It's all right, Mr. Rodney.
I'll take your word for it. But if we
are black sheep we shan't oe black
guards. We'll stand by the ship.
What's to be done? Bail 'em out?"
Mrs. Medcroft despite Mrs. Odell
Carney's friendly offices refused point
blank to discuss the situation. She'did
not dare to do or say anything as yet.
Her husband bad not telegraphed the
word releasing her from the sorry com
pact She loyally decided to stand by
the agreement no matter what the cost
until she received word from London
that he had triumphed or failed in his
brave fight against the "bloodsuckers."
"I will explain tomorrow, dear Mrs.
Odell-Carney." she pleaded. "Don't
press me now. Everything shall be all
right. Oh. how I wish Constance were
here! She understands. But she's off
listening to Silly love talk and doesn't
even care what happens to me. Bur
ton, will you be good enough to spank
Tootles if she doesn't stop that scream
ing?"
By 9 o'clock that night every one
was discussing the significant disap
pearance of Constance Fowler and tbe
fraudulent husband of Mrs. Medcroft.
Just as Mr. Odell-Carney was prepar
ing to announce to the unfortunate
wife that the couple had eloped In the
most cowardly fashion, Miss Fowler
herself appeared on the scene, dis
heveled, mud spattered and "hot. but
with a look of firm determination in
her face. She burst in upon her sister,
a very angry young person indeed.
"Are we alone?" demanded Miss
Fowler, not giving Edith time to pro
Claim her joy at seeing her. "Well,
I've arranged a way to get him out,"
she went on. her lips set
"Out?" murmured Mrs. Medcroft.
"Of course. We can't let him stay
In there all night, Edith. How much
money have you? Hurry up, please!
Don't stare!"
"In where? Who's In where?"
"He's in jail!" with supreme scorn.
"Haven't you heard?"
Mrs. Medcroft began to cry. "Mr.
Brock in jail? Good heavens, .what
shall I do? I—I was -depending on
him so much. He ought to be here at
this very Instant What has he been
doing?"
"Edith Medcroft. stop sniffling and
don't think of yourself for awhile. It
will do you a great deal of good.
Where's your money?"
"I have a little over 4,000 crowns,"
Edith murmured helplessly.
"Give it me. quick. There's no time to
waste. I have about 5.000 It's all in
notes, thank heaven. It isn't quite
enough, but I'll try to make It do.
Don't stop me, Edith. I haven't time
to answer questions. He's in jail,
didn't you hear me say? And I love
him!"
"But the—the money. Is it to bail
him out with?"
"Bail? No, my dear, it's to buy him
out with. Sh! Is there any one in
that room? Well, then. I'll tell you
something." The heads of the two sis
ters were quite close together. "He's
In a cell at the—the prison hof, or
whatever you call it In German. It's
Jail in English. I have arranged to
bribe one of the jailers—his guard.
He will let him escape for 10,000
crowns. We must do it. Edith. Then
Mr. Brock will ride over the Brenner
pass and catch a train somewhere be
fore his escape is discovered. I ex
pect to meet him in Paris day after to-
morrow. Have you beard from Rox
bury?"
"No!" wailed Roxbury's wife.
"He's a brute!" stormed Miss Fow
ler.
"Constance!" flared Mrs. Medcroft
aghast at this sign of lese majesty.
"Don't tell anybody," called Con
stance as she banged the door behind
her.
Soon after midnight a closely veiled
lady drove up to a street corner adja
cent to the city prison, a dolorous look
ing building which loomed up still and
menacing just ahead. She alighted
and, dismissing the cab. strode off
quickly Into tbe side street At a dis
tant corner, in front of a crowded eat
ing house, two spirited horses, saddled
and In charge of a grumbling -stable
boy. champed noisily at their bits. The
young woman exchanged a few rapid
sentences with the boy and then re*
turned in the direction from which she
came. A man stepped, out of a door
way as she neared the corner, accost
ing her with a stealthy deference that
proclaimed him to he anything but an
unwelcome marauder.
After eager pleading on one side and
stolid expostulation on the other,' a
small package passed from the band
of the young woman int* the huge
paw of the man. The latter gave her
a quick, cautious salute and hurried
back toward
•The
ous and
way back,
*x2J.0£\ ».t!
were TiFaruling. Making" fier way
through tbe cluster of small tables
which lined the inner, side^f the side
walk she found one unoccupied at the
extreme end. a position which-com
manded a view of the street down
which she bad Just come.
Half past 1, then 2 o'clock. The mer
rymakers were thinning out she was
quite alone at her end of the place,
By this time a close observer might
have noticed that she was trembling
violently there was an air of abject
fear and despair in her manner.
Why did he not come? What had
happened? Had the plot failed? Was
he even now lying wounded unto death
as the result of hisHeffort to escape
captivity? A hundred horrid thoughts
raced through her throbbing, over
wrought brain. He should have been
with her two hours ago—be should now
be far on bis way to freedom. Alas,
something appalling had happened,
she was sure of it!
At last there hove In' sight,' coming
from the direction in which lay the
prison, a group of three men. It was a
jaunty party, evidently under the influ
ence of many libations.
Tbey bore down upon her. The next
instant they were solemnly shaking
hands with her, much to her dismay.
"Cons'ance, we've been lookin' f-fer
you ever'wbere In town. W-where on
earth 've you been?" asked Mr. Rod
ney thickly, with a laudable attempt
at severity.
"Ever sinch 'leven o'clock, Con
shance." supplemented Freddie, trying
to frown.
"My dear Miss F-Fowler," began
Odell-Carney In bis most suave man-
A Small Package Passed Into the Huge
Paw of the Man.
ner, "it is after 2 o'clock. In—in the
morning at that. You—you shouldn't
be sittin' here all 'lone tbish—this hour
In the morniug. Please come home with
us. Your mother hash—has ask us to
fetch you—1 mean your sister. Beg
pardon."
"I—I cannot go, gentlemen," she
stammered. "Please don't insist
please don't ask why. I cannot go"—
"I shay, Consbance, by Jove, the
joke's on you." exclaimed Freddie. "1
know who 't ish you're waitln' f-for.
Well, he can't come. He's locked In
"Freddie, you are drunk!" in deep
scorn.
"I know it." he admitted cheerfully.
"We've looked ever'wbere for you.
We're your frien's. He said it was at
'n eatin' bouse. We've been ever' eatin'
house in Inchbrook. Was here first of
all. Leave-It to Rodney. Wassen we,
Rodney? You bet we was. You was
sen here at 'leven o'clock. Come on
home, Consbance. 'S all right He's
safe. He can't come."
"But be will come, unless something
terrible has happened to him," she al
most sobbed in her desperation.
"Cousin Alfred, won't you go to the
jail and see what has happened?"
"Permit me." interrupted Odell-Car
ney with grave dignity. "Your friend.
Miss Fowler, is not in Jail. He is
out"
"Not in jail!" she almost shrieked.
"I knew it! I knew it could not go
wrong. But where is be?"
"He's out on bail. We bailed him
out at half past 10— Wot!" She had
leaped to her feet with a short scream
and was clutching his arm frantically.
"On bail? At half past 10? Good
heavens, then—then—ob, are you sure?"
"Poshtive, abs'lutely.''
"Then what has become of my 9.000
crowns?"
"You c'n search me, Conshance,"
murmured Freddie.
"I don" know what you're talkin*
•bout, Cons'ance," said Mr. Rodney in
a very hurt tone. "We—we put up se
curity fr five thous'n dollars, that's
what we did. This is all the thanks
we getsb for it. Ungrnchful!"
Constance bad been thinking very
bard, paying no heed to his maudlin
defense. It rapidly was dawning upon
her that these men had secured her
lover's release on bail at half past 10
o'clock, an hour and a half before she
had given her bribe of 9,000 crowns to~
the jailer. That being the case, it was
becoming clear to her that the.wretch
deliberately had taken the money
knowing that Brock- was not in the
prison and with the "plain design to
rob her of the amount. It was a trans
action in which be could be perfectly
secure bribing of public officials is a
solemn offense in Austria and Ger
many. She could hare no recourse,
could make no complaint Her money
was goneK SJi'S:Z\Ci^ ^:i/$?ifk
"Where is Mr. Br-Mr." Medcroft?"
she demanded, her voice full of anxie
ty. If he were out of jail why bad be
failed to come-in .the meeting place?
"He's locked in," persisted Freddie.:
"That's Just it, Miss Fowler ex-"
plained Odell-Carney glibly. "You shee
—see, it was this way: We got him
out on bail on condition he'd 'pear to
morrow morning 'fore the magistrate*
Affer we'd got him out he Insisted-on
irannin'. away with you.' "So we had
him-locked in a room on top floor of
the hotel, where he can't get out n'
leave us to hold the bag, don't you see.
He almos' cried an' said you'd be wait
in' at tbe cburcb cr—or something like
that bally song, don't you know, an'
as a lash reshort. to keep him quiet
like a good ferrer—feller, we said we'd
come an' get you an' 'splain everything
saffls—sasfac—a hem!—sasslsfac'rly."
She looked at them with burning
eyes. Slow rage was coming to the
flaming point And for this she had
sat and suffered for hours in a street
restaurant! For this! Her eyes fell
upon tbe limp horses and the dejected
stable boy. Two hours!
"You win release him at once!" she
stormed. "Do you hear? It is outra
geous!"
Without another word to tbe dazed
trio she rushed to tbe curb and com
manded tbe boy to assist ber into tbe
saddle. He did so, in stupid amaze
ment. Then she instructed him to
mount and follow ber to tbe Tirol as
fast as he could ride. The horses were
tearing off in the darkness a moment
later.
(To be continued)
•»»K« 'I' ft 'l 1, .» fr •|„|HfH,.iHtHf.
Thanksgiving at
Lonesome Hollow
By FRANCIS A. MILLER
S
EEMS awfully forlorn to eat a
Thanksgiving dinner all alone,"
said Milly soberly, looking over
at the young fellow who sat
mending a harness strap beside tbe
blazing hearth. "1 haven't the heart
to get up a big dinner for Just us two."
"I don't see what else we can do. No
neighbors to invite except old Pete
Sprat, and he wouldn't come. We might
send him something by way of being
neighborly."
"And be turned away for our pains."
tbe woman laughed.
"You can't even go out on the 'high
ways and hedges' and gather in strag
glers like the ancient host of Bible
fame. Maybe it is just as well not to
have all the work of getting up a
Thanksgiving dinner, for it seems to
me that you look tired. Milly. What's
tbe matter?"
"Nothing. Mm I guess 1 need a little
outing. I'll take a run across the
hollow and be back before supper."
Milly put on her cloak and went out
Into the crisp autumn afternoon. The
woods were bare except for a few
torcblike flames of red which marked
the presence of an occasional gum tree
The sky was clear, cold and pallid,
tinged with a greenish glow where the
dark forests rimmed the far horizon
Not a sign of human habitation waa
visible, and not a sound broke the vast
stillness save the steady tap-tap of a
woodpecker. Tbe loneliness oppressed
Milly strangely. For two years she
bad endured it in cheerful silence,
working patiently at whatever her
hand found to do in tbe rough little
shack, which bad gradually assumed
&-<c«40-
"I'D LIKE TO HAVE rotr AMJ TAKE DIN
N EB VTTH D8 TOMORROW."
a cozy, homelike appearance. Tbey
bad left tie busy, grinding east in
quest of bea th for her young husband,
who was owly regaining his lost
strength and vigor in the bracing cli.
mate of Colorado, which alone kept
Milly's heart light and hopeful, but in
spite of that joyful fact she could not
dispel a shiver of loneliness when she
thought of the long, dreary winter be
fore them.
"I'm getting morbid simply for the
want of a little company," she said as
she walked down the untraveled road
in the face of the crisp north wind
"That will never do for you, Milly Ben
net For Jim's sake, you mustn't give
way to such foolishness."
Suddenly Milly's ear caught' the
sound of chopping, which seemed to
come from the hollow beyond tbe di
vide. She turned and made her wa
easily through the leafless thicket
walking brfokly over tbe bill and down
the opposite descent until she distinct
ly heard' voices. Farther on, at the
edge of a natural clearing, she came
upon a partv of-travelers camped be
side a newly, kindled fire, where a lean,
gaunt appearing fellow busied himself
with prepai tions for the evening mea
They, were eight in all—a rough, un
kempt lot in leathern Jackets and
rusty boots. Beside the cook lay a bag
of flour, a side, of bacon and,, two jugs
stoppered ^'th corncobs,."
Milly. stwped- abruptly when she
found berseif observed by .the curious
eyes of the eight strangers, then chang
ed her mind and crossed the ley little
brook and made her" way toward-the
flre -i "v,f'-i i.*4-"-/?' \*£r?* •'.-^s. v/
-•*-"»"/*?T -,1 ~k». *,1**?-.'-p8s£gs£ $^3iS$teiK
big. block whlsl^red man dropped
A dropped
1 happened, to hear you cfiopplng and^ §f||gj&
stopped ont '»t-cniioslty.w- 3^v-^^^="iS**
The.man's" insistent gaze annoyed hjprf?^^^r
but- the forlorn, gaunt appearance' of ^iS^^V
the little group Incited a little throb of
pity and made her think gratefully.of
her own. cozy, cheerful little shack,
with Jim .waiting for her beside tbe
glowing bea lib.
"I suppose you are simply camping
here for tbe night." she ventured, look
ing about at the meager comforts of
tbe camp
"Well, no." answered the black
browed man, who impressed ber at
once as being spokesman of tbe party.
"We came down to prospect a ON.
There's talk of gold in this claim, and
if it's worth our while we may set
up for a week or two."
"Oh. then, you'll be here over
Thanksgiving, won't you? I'd like to
have you all take dinner with us to
morrow."
Tbe man looked at bis fellows with a
curious smile, half questioning, half
incredulous. "It's rather unexpected,"
he remarked humorously.
"Oh, we're all neighbors out here,
you know," Milly explained cordially.
"My husband would be very glad to
have you with us. We are from the
east and we're used to having com
pany for Thanksgiving."
"Your husband is a prospector, too. I
take It?"
"Oh. no. He came out here for his
health two years ago, when be was all
run down with overwork. We expect
to stay here until he's quite well."
"We didn't notice any bouses as we
passed along. Where do you live?"
"Two miles below here on the Sun
rise road, not on tbe trail. Will you
come over tomorrow?"
"Well, being as you're so kind as to
take the trouble to invite us. we'll be
glad to accept your hospitality and
thank you."
"Very well. I shall expect you
promptly at 12. There are eight of
you. aren't there? I want you all, re
member. Now I'll go, for the walk
is rather long. You cross tbe hill and
go straight south till you reach the
Sunrise wa^on road, which will take
you directly to our shack, going west
Good night"
MUly returned in great good spirits.
Jim looked dubious at first, but he was
loath to dampen tbe ardor of his good
little helpmeet by voicing his doubts
as to the wisdom of inviting eight
strangers to their home.
"I hope we have enough stuff on
hand," said cautious Jim. "It will take
heaps to satisfy eight hungry men. yon
know."
"Of course we have plenty. We'll
kill both turkeys, and I'll make four.
pies instead of one and two boiled pud
dings besides. We'll have potatoes and
turnips and the canned corn I put up
myself and as much cider as they can
drink. For dessert we'll have real good
coffee and iced cake. Oh, we'll have
enough, you may be sure. Jim, you
must rig up a table big enough to seat
them all."
Tbey woiued till bedtime that night,
peeling apples, seeding raisins and
picking tbe turkeys. The next morn
ing Milly rose long before dawn and
set about ber baking and brewing,
while Jim put up a big deal table that
stretched almost the length of the
room, and by noon it was set with all
the luscious viands of an eastern
Thanksgiving dinner, set with homely
platters and dishes, to be sure, but not
rougher in appearance than the men
who finally seated themselves about
tbe steaming board. Jim beamed hos
pitably from, bis place at the head of
the table and tried dutifully to "act
as if the company belonged there." as
Milly had »aid. The big, black whisk
ered fellow whom tbe others addressed
as Blaisedale watched Milly with 4
curious intentness which made ber un
comfortable.
"You're mighty comfortably fixed for
these diggings." said he presently, look*
ing about the walls with their homely
prints .and ornaments.
"Yes. we are rather comfortable,
thanks to Milly's Ingenuity," Jim an
swered, with a glow of affectionate
pride.
"You're lucky to be able to afford
such luxuries, for all those fancy fix
ings are luxuries in Colorado," Blaise
dale remarked significantly.
"Yes, I count myself one of tbe luck
iest men in the world. I owe every
thing to M'lly. even my life. I was a
poor law s.odent when we were mar
ried, and when my health broke down
she simply took all responsibility Into
ber own bands. It was her money that
enabled me to come here. It's her bit'
of money that we're living on now. All
that she his in the world is in the UN
tie bank at Sunrise, where she goes
once a month to draw the necessary
sum for our provisions. But now that
I've got to work we're making our
way along without much help from the
bank. I tell you I bated to use that
money bad enough, but if it hadn't
been for that the Lord only knows
what would have become of me."
Milly blushed deeply and becominglyI
"Why, it doesn't amount to that" said |^%Mi
she, with a snap of her brown fingerali^Spf^
"All tbe money In tbe world would be
worthless to me if 1 didn't have Jim ~4§|
"I've beard a saying about *a good^^L^,
wife being a treasure.'" Blaisedale re^ ^fPfl
marked. "Your wife proves the truth
of it"_ ^~^^i
The dinner was a great anccess^J^^^
Blaisedale, who seemed to exert a mys-'^If^
terious influence over his fellows, grew |gg^
very talkative and entertaining. He'L%&
told stories of queer places and queerer!.^
people, which savored of fajnUiarity -& :i
with-lawlessness and lawbreakers,
which kept Jim breathlessly interested.rV^3
until- the eight strange guests made TJJF"
their adieus. Blaisedale, who was last
to go, tamed to the threshold and held
out his hand to Milly: ~, $ 5
"You remind me of some one I once^-S^I
knewr" he said simply,- "and for her-i"^^'
sake I'd like to shake hands, with yon^^^r
Thank you for your- hospitality. To,n &
won't regret your kindness." a
That night when:Jim and Milly vit^m^
talking beside their cheerful hearth *^~fMt
•crap of white paper crept myatertou*:'^^^
lyi under the door coping.- Jim rose'
hurriedly and threw back the door, but-'
no one was in sight and not a sound
broke -the deep stillness of the lcy«
night. Milly read the note over bisM
shoulder, and this l» what It to & I S
Some curious «rhim prompts me to-piXiS^M
you that It was our Intention .to/brealt'fei?
Into, and rule the little esgihell banket 2
Sunrise beforeSqutttlna these dltf riJK'^C^^'
for the eake of Milly's !-'btt of money! It-*
•hajl «o annarin^i Tbank»a,^roo.afor i-'ir
a A