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The Cody enterprise and the Park County enterprise. (Cody, Wyo.) 1921-1923, March 01, 1922, Image 7

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WEDNESDAY, MARCH 1, 1922.
Ssferal,
KATHLEEN
~
MTHItCW NORRIS’ TIKM J -K’ ' 111 1/M
&r *4MH
CHAPTER XVl—Continued.
'Good-night, old girt?* Something
In the tone touched her, with a vague
hint of unhappiness, but she did not
atop to analyze It. She went hack
through his room, and through the lit
tle passage, and rejoined Martin. The
freedom of Peter’s apartment Alix
had always taken as naturally as she
did the freedom of her father’s.
“Can’t hear us, eliT Martin asked,
when again she stood beside him.
“Positively not!’’ she answered.
"Look here,’* he said, abruptly.
“What brought me up here is this.
Who’s making love to Cherry?’’
Indignant, and with rising color, she
stared at him.
"Who—what !”
"She’s having a nice little quiet flir
tation with somebody,*’ Martin said,
with a significant and warning smile.
"Who is it?’’
"1 don’t know who’s been talking
to you about Cherry, Martin. ’’ Alix
said, sharply, "but you know you can’t
repeat that sort of rotten scandal to
me !**
"I don’t mean any harm—l don’t
mean any harm!” he assured her, with
a quick attempt to quiet the storm he
had raised. “Don’t get mad—don’t
get mad 4 But I happen to know that
there’s some attraction that’s keeping
Cherry here, and I came up to look
over the ground for myself, do you
see? Come od, now, put me on !”
Alix made an effort at self-control.
"Martin, you’re mistaken!” she said,
quietly. “You have no right to listen
to any one who tells you such things,
and If it wasn’t that you’re Cherry’s
husband I wouldn’t listen to you! But
you’ll have to take my word for It
that it’s a lie. We three have lived
up here without seeing any one—any
one! Cherry has hardly spoken to a
man, except Peter and Antone and
Kow, since she came!’*
“Who is this G/eorge Sewall?” he
asked, shrewdly.
“The lawyer! Oh, heavens, Martin!
Why, George was a beau of mine; he’s
a widower of fifty, and has Just an
nounced his engagement to the trained
nurse that took care of his boy!” .
"H’m!** Martin commented.
“If any one mentioned Cherry’s name
In connection with George,*’ Alix said,
firmly, “that was a perfectly malicious
slander—**
“Sewall’s wasn’t mentioned!’’ Mar
tin said, hastily.
"Whose name was mentioned,
then?” Alix pursued, hotly.
“Well, nobody’s name was men
tioned.” Martin took a great many
creased and rubbed papers from his
vest pockets, and shifted them over.
Finally, with a fat. deliberate hand he
selected one and put the others away.
“This is from my mother,” he said.
“My aunt, Mrs. North —”
“We saw her here, a week or two
ago!” Alix said as he paused.
“Well, she was in Portland, and saw
the folks,” said Martin. “And my
mother writes me this—” And after
a few seconds of searching he read
from the letter:
“ ‘Bessie North saw Cherry and Mrs.
Joyce In Mill Valley, and If I was you
I would not let Cherry stay away too
long. A wife’s place is with her hus
band, especially when she is as pretty
ns Cherry, and if Bessie is right, some
body else thinks she’s pretty, too, and
you know It doesn’t take much to start
people talking. It isn’t like she had
a couple of children to keep her busy.’
"That’s all of that,” said Martin,
folding the letter. He eyed Alix keen
ly. "Well, what do you think?” he
asked, triumphantly.
“I think that’s a mean, wicked thing
to say!” she said. Indignantly. “No,
Martin,” uhe said, silencing him, as
he would have interrupted her, “I
know she Is beautiful and young, and
I know-—because she’s told me—that
you and she feel that your marriage is
a mistake, but if you think —”
“Oh. she said that, did she? Now,
look here,” with his air of assurance.
“By George, she had something on her
mind when she met me today. She
was fussed, all right, and it wasn’t all
the surprise of seeing me, either. First
Hhe wanted to telephone you—then
she fussed over your message—”
“Cherry gets fluttered very easily 1”
Alix reminded him.
“Well, she was fussed all right this
morning. She said not to mention It
to Alix, because she had promise'!
that it should go on time. I thought
maybe she meant that you wanted her
io go herself; no, she said, a note
would do—”
“I don’t know what you’re talking
xbout!” Atix said, puzzled.
“Your note!” Martin explained.
“What note! I didn’t write any note.
Cherry telephoned—”
“No,” he said, patiently and per
functorily, '‘you wanted —Cherry—to—
say good-by to—those —people—
Who—were—sailing! That was all.
She wrote it; It got there In time, I
fiuess. Anyway, I heard the girl say
Io tosh it to the bc-atl”
“Oh!” Alix said. “Oh —” she added.
Her tone betrayed nothing, hut
was thoroughly at sea. “Did 1 ask
Cherry to say good-by to any one?”
•she asked herself, going back to the
beginning of the long day. Instinct
warned her that nothing would be
gained by sharing her perplexity with
Martin. "I give you my word that she
hasn’t been live minutes alone with any
one but Peter and me ’” she said,
frankly, looking Into Martin’s eyes.
“Now, are you satisfied?”
“Sure. I’m satisfied!” he answered.
“I’ll take your say-so for it.” He
yawned. “Trouble with Cherry is, she
hasn’t enough to do!” he finished sapi
ent iy.
“I’m a poor person with whom to
discuss Cherry!” Alix hinted, with an
unsmiling nod for good-night.
And she looked at Cherry’s corn
colored head, ten minutes later, with
a thrill of maternal protectiveness.
Cherry whs evidently asleep, buried
deep under the blue army blankets.
But Alix did not get to sleep that
night.
She did not even e.ndress. For it
was while sitting on the side of her
bed, ready to begin the process, that
through her excited and indignant and
whirling thoughts the first suspicion
shot like a touch of flume.
“I’ll tell Peter all this when Martin
has gone,” Alix decided. “He’ll l»e
furious—he adores Cherry—he’ll be
furious —he thinks that there Is no one
like Cherry—”
The words she had said came back
to her, and she said them again, half
aloud, with a look of pain und almost
of fear suddenly coming into her
eyes.
“Peter adores Cherry—•**
And then she knew. Even while
the sick suspicion formed Ttself,
vague and menacing and horrible, in
her heart, she knew the truth of It.
And though for hours she was to
weigh it and measure it, to remember
and question and compare all the
days and hours that she and Peter and
Cherry had l>een together; from the
moment the thought was born she
knew that it was to be with her an
accepted fact for all time to come.
For a few seconds Alix felt 111,
dazed, and shocked almost beyond en
during. She sat immovable, her eyes
fixed, her body held rigid, as a body
might be in the second before it fell
after a bullet had cleanly pierced the
heart.
Then she put her hand to her throat,
and looked with a sort of terror at
the silent figure of Cherry. Nobody
must know’ —that was Alix's first clear
thought. She was breathing hard, her
breast rising and falling painfully,
and the blood in her temples began to
pound; her mouth was dry.
With a blind instinct for solitude
she went quickly and silently from the
sleeping porch, and into the warm sit
ting room. For a few minutes Alix
stood, with one foot on the chain that
linked the old brass fire dogs, her el
bow on the mantel, and her cheek
resting against her arm.
“No,” she w’hispered, almost audi
bly, “no —It can’t Ims that! It can’t be
Cherry and Peter —Oh, my God! Oh,
v MEHL®*
.Mm
On
"No, M She Whispered. “N<s It Can’t
Be That.”
my God, It has been that, all the time,
that, all the time—and I never knew
It —I never dreamed It!
“It’s Peter and Cherry! They have
come to care for each other they
have come to care for each other,” she
said to herself, her thoughts rushing
and tumbling In mad confusion as she
tested and tried the new fear. “It
must be so. But It uan’t*be so!” Alix
Interrupted herself In terror, “for
what shall we do—what shall we do!
Cherry in love with Peter. But Peter
Is my husband—he is my husband—”
And in a spasm of pain she shut her
eyes, and flung her head as if suffo
cating. The beating of her heart
frightened her. “I shall be sick If I
go on this way!** she reminded her
self. “And then they will know. They
mustn’t know. But Peter —” she
whispered suddenly. “Peter, who has
always been so good to me—so gen
erous to me—hihl it was Cherry all
the time! Flven those years ago.
when wo used to tease him about the
lady with the crinolines and ringlets,
it was she. But why didn’t her
instead of me?” wondered Alix, und
with an aching head and a frowning
brow she began to piece it all to l
get her.
The terrible truth rose triumphant
from ail her memories. Sometimes for
a second hope would flood her with
almost painful joy, but Inevitably the
truth shut down upon her again, and
hope died, and she realized afresh that
sorrow, stronger than before, was
waiting to seize her again.
TiS 1 can’t stand it In here!”
Alix said, suddenly. She crossed to
the door, and opened It. and slipped
noiselessly out Into the night, catch
ing a coat from the rack as she
passed.
The night was wrapped In an ocean
fog. there was no moon and no stars,
but the air was soft and warm. With
no goal In vlew\ Alix clhnbed upward,
walking rapidly, breathing bard, and
frequently speaking aloud, as some
poignant thought smote her, or stand
ing still, too sick with pain, under an
unexpected rush of emotion, to move.
“He would have told me about it —
why didn’t I let him!” ran Alix’s
thoughts. “I thought* of some older
woman, I don’t know why—anyway, I
didn’t care so much then. But I care
now! Peter, I cure now! I can’t give
you up, even to Cherry. It is non
sense to talk of giving him up.” Alix
iold herself, sitting down in the inky
dark, on a log against which her wild
walk had suddenly brought her, “for
we are all married people, and we all
love each other. But oh, I ain so sor
ry i I am so sorry, Peter,” she whim
pered, as If she were speaking to him.
“You couldn’t help it, I know that.
She Is so pretty and so sweet, Cherry
—and she turns to you as if you were
her big brother!”
She got to her feet and went on.
“What am I thinking about—it*s ab
surd ! Can’t people like each other, in
this world. Just because they happen
to be married! Peter would be the
first to laugh at me. And is it fair to
Cherry even to think that she would—
“Oh, but it’s true!’ the honester im
pulse interrupted, mercilessly. “It is
true. Whether it’s right or wrong, or
sensible or absurd, they do love each
other; that’s what has changed them
both.”
And site began to remember a hundred
—a thousand—trifles, that made It all
hideously clear. Words, glances,
subtler than either, came back
to her. Cherry’s confusion of late,
when the question of her return to
Martin was raised, her Indifference to
her inheritance, her restless talk dur
ing one hour of immediate departure,
and during the next of an apparently
termless visit; all these were signifi
cant now.
“I am desperately unhappy!” Cherry
had said. And immediately after that,
Alix recalled wretchedly, had come a
brief and apparently aimless talk
about Alix’s rights, and her eagerness
to share them with her sister.
“Poor Cherry!” the older sister said
aloud, standing still for a moment,
and pressing both hands over her hot
eyes. “Poor little old Cherry—Rte
hasn’t been very kind to her! She
and Peter must be so sorry and
ashamed about this! And Dad would
be so sorry; of all things he wanted
most that Cherry should be happy!
Perhaps,” thought AJix, “he realized
that she was that sort of a nature, she
must love und be loved, or she cannot
live! But why did he let her marry
Martin, and why wasn’t he here to
keep me from marrying Peter? What
a mess—mess —mess we’ve made of It
all I”
As she used the term, she realized
that Cherry had used it. too, this* same
evening, and fresh conviction was
added to the great weight of convic
tion in her heart.
“Oh, Peter—Peter—Peter!” she
moaned, writhing as the cry escaped
her. “Why couldn’t it have been me,
why couldn't you have loved me that
way? I know I am not so pretty as
Cherry,” Alix went on, resuming her
restless walk, “and I know that those
thing’s don’t seem to mean ns much to
me us to most women! But. Peter,”
she sai<i softly, aloud, “no wife ever
loved a man more than I love you, my
dear!” She remembered some of his
half-laughing, half-fretful reproaches,
when he had told her that she loved
him much as she loved Buck, and that,
in these respects, she was no more
than a healthy child. “I may be a
child,” said Alix, feeling that a dry
flame was consuming her heart, “but
a child can love! My dear—my dear—
“l wish I could cry,” she said sud
denly, finding herself sitting on a log
where low oaks met the forest and the
open meadows. “But now we must
face this thing sensibly. What Is to
be done? They must not know that I
know, nnd In some way we must get
out of this tangle. Even If Peter were
free, Cherry would not be free,” she
decided, “and so the only thing to do
Is to help them. nrXtt it dies twiy."
No suspicion of the truth stabbed
her, although she remembered Martin
and his strange tale of a message and
wondered about It a little in her
thoughts. To whom had Cherry been
sending that telegram if not to Peter?
And if to Peter, why had she not
simply telephoned? Because she had
known that Peter was not In bls of
fice. because she had been going to
meet him somewhere. But where?
Well, at the boat. Martin had heard
her ted the boy that he must cutch
the boat
Alix did not guess the (ruth. But
she guessed enough to make her feel
frightened and sick. She could not
suppose that Cherry and Peter had
planned to go uwny on that boat to
gether, because at most her thoughts
would have grasped the idea of one or
two days’ absence only, and they had
given her no warning of that. But
until this instant the thought of the
passionate desire that enveloped them
hud not reached her; she had imag
ined Cherry’s feeling for Peter to be
something only a little stronger than
her own.
Now she thought of Cherry’s beauty,
her fragrance and softness, the shine
in her blue eyes and the light on her
corn-colored hair, and knew that life
Cor them all, of late, had been mined
wltli frightful danger.
“Cherry would be disgraced, nfid
Martin—Martin would kill her, if he
found her out! . . . Oh, my little
sister! She would be town talk; she
is so reckless, she would do anything
—she would be a public scandal, and
the papers would have her pictures—
Dad’s little yellow-headed Charity!
Oh, Dad,” she said, looking up into
the dark, “tell me what to do! I need
you so! Won’t you somehow teil me
what to do?” •
Silence and darkness. But even In
that gloom Alix could tel! the fog was
lifting, and a sudden sweep of breeze,
like a tired breath, went over the tops
of the redwoods.
Steadily came the change. The dark
ness, by imperceptible degrees, lifted.
“Light!” Alix whispered, awestruck.
And a few moments later she added.
"Dawn!”
It was dawn indeed that was creep
ing into the valley, and as it bright
ened and deepened and warmed mo
mentarily, Alix felt some of the peace
“Bucky! Did You Miss Me, Old
Fellow?”
and glory of it swelling In her tired
heart She was still sitting on the
log, dreamily watching the expanding
beauty of the new day, when there
was a crashing in the underbrush be
hind her, and wild with Joy, and with
twigs and dried brown grasses on his
wet .coat, Buck came bounding out of
the forest, and leaped upon her.
"Bucky!” she faltered, as he stood
beside her, his quick tongue flashing
ecstatically, close to her face, every
splendid muscle of his body wriggling
with eager affection. “Did you miss
me, old fellow? Did you come to find
me?”
She had not cried during the long
vigil of the night, when a storm had
raged In her heart, and had left her
weak and sick with dread. But there
was peace now, and Alix locked her
arms about the dog’s shoulders, and
laid her face against his satiny head,
nnd cried.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
MONARCH A MEAN NEIGHBOR
Sennacherib, Ancient Ruler of Egypt,
Evidently a Bully of the
Highest Order.
Going about knocking down other
king’s cities when they failed to “kiss
his feet,” was one of the playful habits
of Sennacherib, ruler of Egypt some
two tlousand years ago. according to
cuneiform tablets just placed on ex
hibition at the University of Chicago
Sennacherib kept a “diary” of his
“playful habits.” The big sto:.e slabs
were brought to the United States,
with other records of ancient Egypt,
by Prof. James H. Breasted. “In my
third campaign I marched against the
’and of Hatti (Palestine),” said Sen
nacherib in hfs “diary,” “The kings
of the west land brought rich gifts be
fore me for the fourth time and kissed
my feet.” “Hezekiah, the Judean, who
had not submitted to my yoke, I be
sieged and took 40 of his strong-wailed
cities, together with countless small
cities, by assault of battering rams
and siege engines, attack by foot sol
diers and by mines und breaches. 1
captured some hundred thousand
scane small and great, men and
women, oxen and innumerable sheep.”
"Hezekiah himself I shut up in Je
rusalem like a caged bird.” Other
tablets showed that Sennacherib hud
a Cheops "Jazz hand,” a dromedary
“toddle” and desert “bnuie brew.”
Technical.
The dramatic triangle, Robert, is
earned by people not being on the
square.
When a man laughs at mlsfortum
It’s generally that of another.
You will never Get Stung at the
Busy Bee
Dulis Avdis, Propr.
Hamburgers Made Duley Famous
WATKINS-PR ANTE TRANSFER
Baggage, Express
All Kinds of Hauling
Telephone 5, or i 47 Cody, Wyo.
M. CHAMBERLIN
DENTIST
Cody, Wyoming
■J, N—— |MM J
Dave Shelley
Saddles
COW-BOY BOOTS
Hyer, Justin and Teitzel
on Hand
Chaps, Bits and Spurs
Tourists Outfits
If You Want to Be Shown
THAT
An Oldtimer’s Cooking is Hard to Beat
TRY
GEO. GRUPP’S PLACE
Steaks a Specialty
B ■
BUSY POOL HALL
DULIS AVDIS, Proprietor
Soft Drinks
Tobaccos
Cigars
If you want to have a good time
visit the Busy Pool Hall.
PAGE SEVEN
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