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SISTERS By KATHLEEN NORRIS Copyright by Kathleen Norris CHAPTER Xll—Continued. —ll— don’t hate him.” she answered quickly. “Indeed I don’t. And it Isn’t just the place and rhe life. Peter! I could be happy In two rooms—some where —anywhere But not—with him. Oh, Peter, if I hadn’t done It —’* Her beauty, as she pushed her plate aside and leaned toward him, was so startling that Peter, a lighted match half-raised to a fresh cigarette, put the match down aimlessly and looked thoughtfully at the cigarette, and laid that down, tbo, without the faintest consciousness of what he was doing. The day was warm, and there was a little dampness on her white forehead, where the gold hair eJung to the brim of the drooping hat. The soft curve of her chin, the babyish shortness of her upper lip, and the crimson sweet ness of the little earnest mouth had never seemed more lovely than they were today. She was youth incarnate, palpitating, flushed, unspoiled. For a moment she looked down at the table and the color flooded her face; then she looked him straight in the eyes and smiled. “Well ! Perhaps It will all work out right, Peter,” she said with the childish, questioning look that so wrung his heart. She imme diately gathered her possessions to gether to go, but when they stepped into sunshiny Geary street It was three (•’clock, and Peter suggested that they walk down to the boat. They met Alix on the boat, but she did not ask any embarrassing ques tions ; she sat between them on the upper deck, blinking contentedly at the blue satin bay, her eyes following the wheeling gulls or the passage of ships, her mind evidently - concerned only with the idle pleasantness of the moment. And always, for Peter, there was the same joyous sense of some thing new—something significant— something ecstatic in life. From that hour he wrs never quite at ease in Cherry’s company and avoided being alone with her even for an instant, although her presence al ways caused him the new and tingling delight He read her honest blue eyes truly, and knew that although, like himself, she was conscious of the new sweetness and brightness of life, she had never entertained for an instant the flitting thought that it was Peter’s feeling for her that made it so. She thought, perhaps, that It would be the old childish happiness that she had known in the valley, the freedom and leisure and irresponsibility of the old days'. The next day she talked in a trou bled, uncertain way of going back to Red Creek, and he knew why. But Alix was so aghast at the idea, and Peter, who was closing Dr. Strick land’s estate, was so careful depart early in the mornings and return only late at night, that the little alarm, if it was that, died away. The next time that Cherry went in to town. Alix did not go. and Peter, sitting on the deck of the early boat with her, asked her again to have luncheon with him. Immediately a cloud fell on her face and he saw her breast rise quickly. “Peter,” she asked him childishly, looking straight into his eyes, “why didn’t we *el! Alix about that?” Peter tried to laugh and felt himself begin to tremble again. “About what?” he stammered. “About our having been three hours at lunch last week?” “Why—l don’t know!” Peter said, smiling nervously. She was silent, and they parted without any further reference to meet ing for lunch. That night, when Alix had gone to bed, he entered the sitting room sud denly to find Cherry hunting for a hook. She had dropped on one knee, the better to reach a low shelf, and was wholly absorbed In the volume she had chanced to open. When she heard the door open she turned, and immediately became very pale. She did not speak as Peter (•ame to stand beside her. “Cherry-—” he said in a whlkper, nis face close to hers. Neither spoke again for a while. Cherry was breath ing hard ; Peter was conscious only of a wild whirling of brain and senses. They, remained so, their eyes fixed, their breath coming as if they had been running, for endless seconds. “You remember the question you asked me this morning?” Peter said. “Do you remember? Do you remem ber?” Cherry, her cold fingers still holding .‘he place in the book she had been reading, went blindly to the fireplace. “What?” she said, !«. the merest breath. “What?” “Because,” Peter said, following her, n sort of heady madness making him only conscious of that need to hear from her own Bps that she knew, “be cause I didn’t answer that question honestly !“ It mattered not what he said, or what he was trying to express; both were enveloped in the flame of their new relationship; surprise and terror were eclipsing even the strange joy of their discovery. “I must go home —I must go back to Mart tomorrow!” Cherry said, in a whispered undertone, as If half to her- self. “I must go home to Mart to morrow ! I—let’s not —let’s not talk !” she broke off in quick Interruption, as he would have spoken. “Let’s—l’d rather not! I—where is my book? What was I doing? Peter—Peter—” “Just a minute!” Peter protested thickly. “Cherry—l want to speak to you—will you wait a minute?” She was halfway to the door; now she paused, and looked back at him with frightened eyes. Peter did not speak at once; there was a moment of absolute silence. **••*••* And in that moment Alix came In. She had said good-night half an hour before; she was in her wrapper and her hair fell over one shoulder in a rumpled braid. Cherry, sick with fright, faced her in a sort of horror, unable to realize at that moment that there was nothing betraying in her attitude or Peter’s, and nothing In her sister’s unsuspicious soul to give signi ficance to what she saw, in any case. Peter, more quickly recovering self control, went toward his wife. “Pete!” she said. “Cherry I Look at this! Look at this!” She held the paper out to them, but it was rather at her that they looked, as all three gathered near the hearth again. “I happened to finish my novel," Alix said, “and I reached for Dad’s old Bible—it’s been there on the shelf near my bed ever since I was married, and I’ve even read it, too! But look what was in It —there all this time! It’s Uncle Vincent’s receipt to Dad for that three thousand that is making all the troupe !” Alix exulted to the still bewildered Cherry. “It’s been there all this time —and Cherry,” she added in a voice rich with love and memory, “that’s what he ifaeant by saying it was in Matthew, don’t, you remember? Doesn’t It mean that, Pete? Isn’t it perfectly clear?” “It means only about fifty thousand for you and Cherry,” Peter answered. “Yes sir, by George—it’s perfectly clear! He paid it back—every cent of it, and got his receipt! H’m—this puts rather a crimp in Little’s plans— I'll see him tomorrow. This calls off his suit —” “Really, Peter?” Alix asked, with dancing eyes. “And it means that you can keep the old house, Cerise,” she exclaimed triumphantly, “and we can be together part of the year, anyway! Oh, come on, everybody, and sit down, and let’s talk and talk about It! Let me see it again—‘in recognition of all claims against the patent extinguisher aforementioned’—sit down. Pete; it’s only ten o’clock! Let’s talk. Aren’t you simply wild with .ioy. Cherry?” But she told Peter later that she had been surprised at Cherry’s quietness; Cherry had looked pale and abstracted and had not seemed half enthusiastic enough. • • • • • ••• It was a Sunday, foggy and overcast, but not cold. The vines about the porch were covered with tiny beads of moisture; among the bushes in the garden little scarfs and veils of fog were caught, and from far across the ridge the droning warning of the fog horn penetrated, at regular, brief in tervals. Alix was away. “Cherry,” Peter said suddenly, when the silent meal was almost over, “will you talk about it?” “Talk —?” she faltered. Her voice thickened and stopped. “Oh, I would rather not!” she whispered, with a frightened glance about. “Listen, Cherry!” he said, following her to the wide porch rail and stand ing behind her as she sat down upon it. “Pm sorry! I’m just as sorry ns I can be. But I can’t help it, Cherry. I’m as surprised as you are —I can’t tell you when it—lt all happened! But it —” Peter folded his arms across his chest, and with a grimly squared Jaw looked off into the misty dis tance —“it is there.” he finished. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” Cherry whis pered on a breath of utter distress. “I’m so sorry! Oh, Peter, we never should have let It happen—our caring for each other! We never should have p.Rowed ourselves to think—to dream —of such a thing! Oh, Peter, I’m so sick about it,” Cherry added, inco herently, with filling eyes. “I'm just sick about it! I know—l know that Alix would never have permitted her self to —I know she wouldn’t!” He was close to her, and now he laid his hand over hers. "I care—” he said, quite involun tarily, “I have always cared for you! I know it’s madness —I know it’s too late —but I love every hair of your beautiful head ! Cherry—Cher ry— They had both gotten to their feet, and now she essayed to pass him, her face white, her cheeks blazing. He stopped her and held her close in his arms, and after a few seconds he felt her resisting muscles relax and they kissed each other. For a full dizzy minute they clung together, arms locked, hearts beating madly and close and lips meeting again and again. Breathless, Cherry wrenched herself free and turned to drop into n chair, and breathless, Pe ter stood looking down upon her. About them was the silence of the dripping garden; all the sounds of the world came muffled and dull through the thick mist. Then Peter knelt down beside her chair and gathered her hands together in his own, and she rested her fore head on his, and spent and silent, leaned against his shoulder. And so they remained, not speaking, for a long while. Presently Cherry broke the brooding, misty silence. “What shall we do?” she asked In a small, tired voice. Peter abruptly got to his feet, took a chair three feet away, and with a quick gesture of his hand and toss of his head, flung back his hair. “There is only one thing to do, of course!” he said decidedly, In a voice unrecognizably grim. “We mustn’t see each other—we mustn’t see each oth er! Now —now I must think how best to manage that!” Her eyes, heavy with pain, were raised to meet his. and she saw his mouth weaken with a sudden misgiv ing. and she saw him try to steady it and look down. “I can—l shall tell Alix that this new business needs me in town for two or three nights,” he said, forcing himself to quiet speech, but with one fine hand propping his forehead as if it ached. “I’ll stay at the club.” “And ns soon as I can go,” Cherry added feverishly, “I shall join Martin. I’ll wire him tomorrow—this Is Sun day—and I’ll go on Wednesday!” Peter sprang over the porch rail and vanished, walking with swift ener gy up the trail that led toward the mountain. For the rest of the day Cherry lived In a sort of daze of emotion: some times she seemed to be living two lives, side by side. In the one was her old happy relationship with Alix, and even with Peter, the old Joking and talking and gathering for meals, the old hours in the garden or beside the fire, and in the other was the confused 1 1H WIF He Seemed Absolutely Dumfounded. and troubled and ecstatic conscious ness of the new relationship between Peter and herself, the knowledge that he did not merely admire her, did not merely feel for her an unusual affec tion, but that he was consumed by a burning adoration of her slightest mo tion, the turn of her wrist, the smile she gave Kow at breakfast time, the motion she made when she stopped to tie her shoe or raised her arm to break an apple from the low, dusty branches. The glory of being so loved enveloped her like a great shining garment, and her cheeks glowed softly rosy, and there was a new and liquid softness, a sort of shining glitter, in her blue eyes. Peter was quiet that evening, and was gone the next morning when the sisters came out to breakfast. He had left a message to the effect that he would not be at home that night, and nt four o’clock telephoned confirming the message. Alix chanced to answer the telephone, and Cherry, who was in her room, heard Peter’s name, and stood still, listening with a shock of disappointment. But at eight o’clock that evening, when she and Alix were sitting on the porch, when the last ebbing pink of the sunset had faded and great spiders had ventured forth into the dusk and the dews, there was a sudden hail at the gate, and Cherry knew that It was he! A flood of utter, irrational hap piness rose in her heart; she had been racked with hunger for the sound of that voice; she had been ’•estless and unsatisfied, almost feverish with long ing and doubt; now peace came again, and content. He came up to them, his glance resolutely averted from Cherry, ex plaining that he was lonesome, assur ing them that everything went well and making them laugh with an ac count of Justin Little’s reception of the new turn of affairs. “He seemed absolutely dunlfounded,” Peter said. “He looked at the paper, read it, laughed and said —in that little nerv ous, smiling wuy of his—that he felt it to be by no means conclusive—” “I can hear him!” giggled Alix. “And I guess both you girls will have to come in in a day or two,” Peter continued. “Cherry’s going in to the dentist to morrow,” said Alix. “Ob, so I am!” Cherry said tn a rather strained voice. She did not look at Peter, nor did he at her, but they felt each other’s thoughts like a spoken word. “Had you forgotten?” Alix asked. “I don’t think I’ll go In, for I have about n week’s work here to do.” Peter left them, without one word or look for Cherry, who went back to the house with her sister in a most agitated and wretched state of mind. She had the telephone in her hand, to cancel the engagement with her den tist, when AJix suddenly consented to accompany her into town; “and at lunch time we’ll take a chance on the St. Francis, Sis,” Alix said, innocently, “for Peter almost always lunches there!” Feeling that the question was set tled, yet restless and unsatisfied still. Cherry dressed for town; they climbed into the car; Alix’s firm hands, in yel low chamois gloves, snatched at the wheel; the die was cast. Yet at the station another change of plan occurred, for as Alix brought the car to the platform Anne came toward them from the arriving train, a gloved and demure and smiling Anne, anx ious, she explained, to talk over this newest development, and “whether It proved to be of any value or not,” to try to find out what Uncle Lee had really wanted for them all. and then agree to do that in a friendly manner, out of court. "My first feeling, when Frenny told me,” said Anne, chatting pleasantly in the shade, "was one of such relief! For I hadn’t wanted all that money one bit,” she confessed gaily. “I only wanted to do what was fair. Only two or three nights ago 1 said to Frenny that it really belonged to us all. and last night we talked and talked about it, and the result was that I said that I must see the giris-r we three are the only ones concerned, after all, and”—Anne’s old half-merry and half-pouting manner was un changed—“what we decide is what really matters!” she finished. “Why, there is no question that it’s Daddy’s handwriting,” Cherry said, with what, for her, was sharpness. I “and it seems to me—lt seems to mo Anne—” she added, “That you have a nerve!” Alix ished, not with any particular venom. “That document throws the case out of court,” she said flatly. "Peter is confident of that!” Anne’s pale face flushed and her eyes narrowed. Cherry was flushed and uncomfort able. There was an awkward pause. "Board?” shouted a trainman, with a rising inflection. The sisters looked at each other in a panic of haste. “I can’t leave this car here,” Alix exclaimed. “I’ve got to park her and lock her and everything! Run; get on board. Cherry. I don’t have to go in, anyway—you’ve got a date!” Cherry’s heart leaped, sank coldly, and leaped again, as with a swift nod of parting she hurried for her train. The other two women watched her with forced interest as she climbed on board and as the trajn slipped noiselessly out of sight. It curved among the redwoods and was gone be fore either spoke a'gain. Then, as her eyes met Anne’s friendly, questioning smile, Alix said awkwardly: “I think the only thing to do is for you and Justin to take this up with Peter, Anne. I mean—l mean that you were the ones who proposed to bring It into court In the first place, and —and 1 don’t understand much about it. As far as coming to any agreement with me Is concerned, you might Just as well have gone back on the train with Cherry. I hate to talk this way—but we all think you acted very—well, very meanly!” Alix fin ished rather flatly. “Perhaps it’a just uJ well to under stand each other!” A,nne said, with hot cheeks. They exchanged a few more sentences, wasted words and angry ones, and then Anne walked over to a seat in the shade, to wait for another train, and Alix, with her heart beating hard and her color high, drove at mad speed back to the moun tain cabin. “I didn't ask her to lunch —I don’t care!” Alix said to herself, in agita tion. “She and Justin know they’re beaten —they’re just trying to patch it up before It’s too late-—I don’t care —I won’t have her think she can get away with any such scheme—!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Sawdust Diet Progresses. Hydrollzed sawdust as a part of a ration for cows is apparently giving satisfactory results in Wisconsin. The forest service of the United States De partment of Agriculture reports that cows at the agricultural college of that state are doing as well on a ration of one-third sawdust as they did when their feed was only one-fourth wood meal. That is to say, they are keeping up their weight and their milk production and show no ill effects from the diet. The bureau of xnimal industry Is considering the, proposal of the forest service laboratory to start feeding trials with dairy animals In which the wood product will form a part of the ration and the tests will extend for an entire year at least. The hydrollzed wood feed for these cows will be made at the laboratory. So far all the stock feed has been made from white pine sawdust. Other soft woods, particu larly the western species, will be tried in the future. Judge not your neighbor harshly; he may be on the jury when it is your turn to face the fudge. DISPOSITION OF SEEDS Replies to Questionnaire Show That Biggest Part Is Sold to Neighbors. LOCAL SHIPPERS GET SHARE Some Growers Get Good Results by Advertising in Nearby Country Newspapers and in Various Farm Periodicals. (Prepared by the United St a tee Department of Asricalture.) The farmer who has produced a sur plus of seed may sell it to any one of the following: His neighbors, other farmers through such means as adver tising and correspondence, local ship pers, traveling seed buyers, distant seedsmen hy mall, and by advance growing contract. In reply to question naires sent out by the bureau of markets and crop estimates, United States Department of Agriculture, 2,- 400 growers scattered throughout the country submitted data showing that the farmer sells most of his seed to neighbors. A considerable quantity, though, is sold to the local shipper. Distant seedsmen by means of their Although the Farmer Sells Most of His Seed to Neighbors, a Considerable Amount Is Sold to Local Shippers or to Distant Seedsmen. traveling buyers and correspondence also buy large quantities of seed direct from farmers. Seed Grown on Contract. Although probably most of the vege table seeds are produced on advance growing cunt routs entered into between large commercial vegetable-seed dealers and farmers located in mure or less well defined areas, only a small per centage of field seed'is disposed of by farmers in this way. Some farmers obtain good results by advertising in nearby county news papers and In agricultural periodicals which circulate in sections of the country that consume relatively large quantities of the kind of seed offered for sale. Various federal and state publica tions and. within recent months, county newspapers and agricultural periodicals publish current information relative to the supply, demand, movement, and prices of the important kinds of field seeds when the principal movement of each kind from the farm Is taking place. The farmer who makes use of this Information lias a better under standing of the worth of his seed and can meet the dealer on more even terms than in the past, when the dealer was almost alone in his knowl edge of what was going on in the seed markets. Early Selling Advisable. There is no one best time at which to dispose of seeds. The general rule of tailing when the buyer is anxious to bur holds ns true in seed transac tions as in others. Ordinarily seeds men are eager to buy seeds as soon after thrashing as possible, especially If the carryover of that particular seed from previous years Is less than normal. Most large seedsmen buy the hulk of their grass and clover seed before Feb ruary 1 and make purchases after that to fill open orders or to replenish low stocks. Frequently higher prices may bp received after February 1, but the grower runs considerable risk In not being able to dispose of his seed to seedsmen as late as that, and con sequently of being compelled to carry It over until the next planting season or to sell it to some seedsman who Is willing to speculate on it nt. a price usually considerably below current prices. By keeping in touch with the published seed market information for the entire country and not focusing nil of his attention on local conditions, which may be just the opposite from those prevailing elsewhere, the farmer can determine pretty well for himself when it is advisable to sell Ilfs seed. KEEPING CHICKENS SHUT UP if Hoppers Are Not Provided Then Clean Off Place to Throw Feed On—Avoid Roup. Sometimes when stormy one lias to keep the chickens shut up and feed In Hip same building; If you don’t have hoppers to feed from, clean a place off to throw the feed unless you want roup. Have plenty fresh air but avoid drafts. The word roup makes one sit up and pay attention, especial ly one that has had It in his flock. It is the most dreaded of poultry diseases ind the chopping block Is about the »nlr and safest cure. WEDNESDAY, FEBRUARY 1, 1922. SILAGE IS FAVORED BY CATTLE FEEDERS Rapidly Attained Use Among Pro ducers of Beef. It Will Not Fatten Animals Unless Ac companies by Concentrates of Some Kind—Moat of Corn stalk Is Used. (Prepared by the United States Department of Agriculture.) It has not been many years since corn silage was considered merely as a feed suitable chiefly for dairy cows, but it has rapidly attained a wide use among beef producers in the corn bell. Now all feeding that is not dune on pasture may be divided into two classes —that in which silage is fed and that in which it is not fed. As a whole the two classes are now about equally divided, but in some states the difference is very marked. Surveys by the United States Department of Agri culture covering the last two winters showed that 83 per cent of 4,556 cattle fed in Indiana received silage in thefr fations, 87 per cent of 7.280 in Illinois. 30 per cent of 8.290 In lowa, 8 per cent of 6,129 in Nebraska, and 50 per cent of 8.964 In Missouri. Where silage is used It supplies meat of the roughage. Nearly all the silage is made from corn, probably 99 per riWt of the total. Sorghum, sunflowers and legumes are sometimes used In.lo calities on the extreme edge of the com belt, such as western Kansas and Nebraska and western and northern South Dakota. A greater use of silage depends largely upon the supply and value of other roughage. The main facts about the use of silage in fattening cattle are thus sum marized by the department: The greater the proportion of silage to corn the cheaper the gains. The greater the quantity of corn-the less silage consumed. Silage will nut fatten cattle unless accompanied hy concen trates. In silage most of the cornstalk is used. Cuttle fed on silage will eat more straw or stover. It purchased protein foods are added to the feed, the resultant manure Is richer. Silage fed cattle do uot finish quite ns well as those strictly dry-fed. Adding com to the silage produces u better finished animal that usually brings a lietter price, and It also results in better gains on hogs that follow the cattie. Silage-fed cattle shrink more than those fattened without silage. The price of corn and the value of other concentrates should be a guide to the limit of corn In a silage ration. FACTS ABOUT RUST OF GRAIN Extensive Studies Have Been Made in Greenhouse at Purdue University. Indiana. Investigations of the leaf rust of grains and grasses are being made by the United States Department of Agri culture in co-operation with the Pur due university agricultural expert ment station. These studies consist principally of experiments to deter mine the relationships of the leaf rust of wheat,- rye. and barley, the deter ruination of possible biologic forms of these rusts, the study of a wide range of plants as possible secondary hosts, and cultural studies of the leaf rust of wheat to determine what grasses may serve as hosts for this rust. Extensive studies have been made in the greenhouse at La Fayette. Ind.. where rust spores collected from nu merous species of grasses have been sown on various plants which possibly may act as secondary hosts. The ex istence of biologic forms leaf rust of wheat has been discovered, and it is now known that these forms have a wide range of grass hosts. In addition to the greenhouse studies, more than 200 wheat varieties and selections were sown in Tennessee, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin, and several varieties resistant to leaf rust are being grown at a number of sta tions In the southeastern states. Prog ress is being made in the breeding of wheat for resistance to leaf rust, and it has been demonstrated that the high-yielding, hard red winter wheat, Kanred, which is resistant to stem rust, is also resistant to leaf rnst. TIME FOR BLASTING STUMPS Better Results Obtained When Soils Are Wet Than When Dry Be cause of Resistence. In blasting stumps the nature of the soil is one of the important fac tors that must be considered in fixing the size of the charge. The more resistance the soil offers to the force of (he explosion the greater will bo the force exerted against the stump. Hence, the United Stales Department of Agriculture points out, stumps In loose, sandy soils must be more heavily loaded than those In firm, stiff soils. It is generally agreed that so-called highspeed explosives give better re sults in sandy soils than do low per centage dynamites or stumping pow ders. Since water cannot be compressed, its presence In the pores or open spaces in loose soils adds something to the resistance that Is offered to the explosive force and thus makes the explosion somewhat more effective. It follow, that, especially in sandy soils, better results will be obtained in blast ing stumps when the ground is wet than when It Is dry. It should be re membered, however, that moist soil In this connection refers to soil near the charge—2 or 3 feet underground and not surface soil.