Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, September 24, 1921, Page 8

ae APE CORDTR Cela peas rae tne saa \ N ANONYMOUS LETTER : said Van Bibber, as they left the theatre. “I don't know,” his frien’ dissented, slowly. “Why? “Well, about that letter, for instance,” Van Bibber continued, “The idea of 3 girl throwing a man over Jiks that just because some one sent her an anon, mous letter about him! Of course, cared for the man she'd him a chance to explain; she wouldn't have believed !t at once. ” he added, magnanimousty, “If she ked him about !t there wouldn't beenany more play. The author had to do something.” But Travers disagreed. “Oh, I don know," he said. “I think it's very true to Ife myself, I know I’a hate to have any one writing letters like that about me." Van Bibber laughed easily. sort of friends you have,” he sa hey're your friends.” them are.” “Ss ILLY sort of a play, I cst! it” vice ‘an Fibber cor- ef them than sure I'm will- the anonymous 3 to them you please about me.” ” said Travers, mockingly, “Is because you're so good. . all,” Van isn't whether the letter told the point fs that the girl is| believe it. That’s what I object to. That's where the chap who the play shows that he doesn’t know anything about women.” “It the truth; willing to you know. Y« told me distinctly that/in. the same opening. “It is rather I could “write the letter, and I have/feminiue In a man, I think; not un- written {t, and if you've any confidence a will do nothing |in your friends about it, but let jown way. | of their confidence. You ought to be obliged to me for giving you such a jchance of finding out what dear good friends you have.” | “I shall treat the whole thing with solute contempt, as they will.” said Van Bibber, stiMy.* “It is beneath my notice, and so are you. Maysie Lindsey, indeed! Who the devil is Maysie Lindsey” “I don't know,” said Travers, pleas- jantly. “She is merely « beautiful erga- ture of my imagination. Rather pretty name, I think, don't you | Maysie Lindsey." Then he asked, with a touch of misgiving, “You don’t bap- pen to wear anything around your neck, do you?” “Certainly not, confound you!” sald ‘an Bibber. | Van Bibber had as large a nodding acquaintance with men in New York almost any other man in it, but the wamen he knew were not so many and much more near. The four women of whom he saw the most were those whom Travers had sent the anonymous letters, He was in the hibit of seeing | Bibber answered, | them at their own houses and at other people's houses as often as once a week or more frequently, and he decided that instead of writing them at once, and explaining that a friend of his had sent them an anonymous letter about him, and that he begged that they would “Well, as I said,” Travers repeated, stubbornly, “I think you are altogether | wrong. She acted just as any of the an I said, I should hate to have any/ one write a letter like that to my friends.” i “And ag I said,” reiterated Van Bib- | ber, warmly, “you can write all the let- ters’ you choose about me, and my | friends can stand it, and so ean I." } Travers stopped and looked back over | his shoulder as they mounted the steps | ef the club. “Do you mean that?” he asked, seriously. “I do,” said Van Bibber, laughing. | Then they went into the club, and/ scowled at all the other men as though | they were intruders, and talked about deviled kidneys. Van Bibber slept peacefully that night | tn spite of the deviled kidneys, but! ‘Travers sat up until late composing an | anonymous letter, whichhe hoped would | fall like a bomb-shell into the camp of | his friends. The morning found him} stil! intent upon dt and mischief, and | the time he bad finished breakfast | plans of campaign were already made He first went to a type-eriter in one of the big hotels, and dictated four let- | ters to him announcing the date of a women's meeting for a charttable pur-| pose, The envelopes for these were ad- Greased to four different women. Iie tore up the letters when he reached the street, but put the envelopes with the'r non-committal type-written addresses 1 his pocket. On Sixt Avenue he pur- | ‘ased a half-dozen sheets of cheap! paper, and carried them to his room,| where he locked himself in, and wrote with his left hand, on four separate sheets, the fallowing communication: “Dear Madam,—When Mr, Van Bib- ber calls on you again, ask him how well he knows Maysie Lindsey. If | he denies knowing her, ask him to show you the tintype of the woman | which he wears in a locket on a chain about his neck. “A Friend.” “There” said Travers, proudly, “T think that is calculated to spread doubt and confusion in-the stoutest heart.” He put the letters in the envelopes with the type-written addresses, and posted teem that same morning. Then he wrote to, Van Bibber, and told him of what he had done. “And I call it a piece of damned im- pertinence.” said that gentleman that fame evening. “You're afraid now,” said Travers, easily. “Last night you could trust) your friends better than I could; now you're afraid.” ~Tha’ not it,” said Van Bibber. ean trust them. I don’t care what you said about me, but by sending letters like that to those girls you intimated) that they take an interest in me, that) they are more or less concerned about me, which is a piece of presumption I vouldn't be guilty of myself, and a| thing which you had no business to assume. Suppose they find out that you wrote those letters, theyll ask me: ‘Why did he send one to me? What have I to do with you? Why shoulfi I care what women you know or don't know? It was impertinent to them, that's what I say. You can leave me out of it entirely, but you had no busi-| ness to put them in the light of caring about me.” - , “But they do care about, you, don't} they?” Travers asked, innocently. That’s not for me to say, nor you. | I'm ashamed of you. Practical joking is all very well between idiots like our- selves, but you had no business to drag! women fnto it.” | “wi ighed Travers, “you can't! make me rude by bi rude you: «| 1| |after Travers had sent forth h’ |young Frenciman visiting elf,| and yet she still continued reckless! overlook the impertinence, he would wait until he saw them and then ex- plain the situation verbally. matter take its course got the better of bis first determination, and his curi- osity and his desire to see just how far his friends trusted him overcame his original purpose of setting things right. Mrs. “Jimmy” Floyd was from one of the Western cities: she had married Ployd while abroad and had entered into the life of New York with all the zeal and enthusiasm of a new convert. She had adapted herself to her surround- ings, though she tad not herself been adopted. But now she was undoubt- edly an important personage, and very many people paid court to not for herself so much as for what she could do for them. There were a number of men to whom she was at home every day after five, and Van Bibber came to see her then very frequently. She knew him well enough to ask him to fill a place when some one had failed her, and he thought her amusing, but only that. He had a youthful horror of having it thought that he was at- tached to married women, and made it a rule to come late in the afternoon and to be among the first to go. Owing to this no one had ever found him or left him with Mrs. Floyd, and the men, especialiy those whom he allowed to outstay him, were grateful to him in consequence. Her drawing-room was a place for gossip, and Van Bibber told her once that he came because it <eved him from reading the papers, and that if she would fine herself a penny very time she of her friends said “I suppose you have heard,” she would be able to pay for a box at the Horse Show with the money. He called there a week letters, and found her for the first time alone. When she nodded to him brightly, and ield the servant in the same breath that she was not at home to any one else, Van Bibber smiled grimly to him- self and r ‘ded her with a masklike countenance, He saw that he had been trapped into a tete-a-tete, and that one of the letters had evidently reached the home of the Floyds. Mrs, Floyd's attitude ag she sank back in her cushions was an unsettled one, and her whole manner expressed pleas- urable expectancy. Her visitor ob- served this with amused disapproba- tion, but as she seemed so happy in be- Meving what she had read of him, he thought it would be rather a pity to spoil her enjoyment of {t by telling her the truth. “Well,” she said, “and what have you been doing with yourself lately?” She spoke quite gayly, as though her re- cently acquired knowledge of him gave to whatever he might have to say a fresh interest. Van Bibber observed this also with a cynical sense of amusement, and saw that she had placed him under the light of a standing lamp, which threw his face into strong relief, while hers was in shadow. “Just,” as he said later to Travers, “as though she were keeping a private detective agency.” The talk between Mrs. Floyd and her visitor ran on unevenly. She Was eager to ques- tion him, and yet afraid of being too precipitate, and he was standing on his guard. At last something he sald of a the city Seemed to give her the chance she wanted. “Oh yes,” she commented, indiffer- ently, “I remember him gt Homburg.| is rather a sentimental youth, I| He fancy. He wears a bangle, and a chain around his neck, We could see them when he played tennis. Van Bibber gazed thoughtfully into the open fire. “Yes.” he maid, politely, Mrs. Floyd looked at the fire also. Sh was afraid she had begun too clumsily, fem work it out their I call it a most excellent test | of But as the} ‘we know would have acted, and,| Week wore on, the temptation to let the | sasp of amusement. maniy exactly, either, pose, like writing in-a diary. You pre- tend that you write it without thinking Fon written, but you always have the possi- bility in your mind, don’t you? And They think it gives them a mysterious or sentimental intercst. Don't you think so?” Van Bibber changed his gaze from ‘the fire to the point of his shoe, and then, as an idea camo to him suddenly, smiled wickedly. He looked up as quickly to see if Mrs. Floyd had noticed his change of expression, and then re- }lapsed into gloom ‘gain, “The only man I know who goes in for that sort of thing,” he aaid, “is Travers. Travers wears a gold chain around his neck, and he keeps it on all the time. I've |seen it at the Racquet Ciub, There. ts |a picture of a girl on one side, a tin- | type, on the other, two initials in dia- monds. The initials are M. Ll.” | “M. 1.1!" exclaimed Mrs, Floyd, con- fusedly. “In diamonds,” added Van Bibber, impressively. “M. L. in diamonds! Why,” Mrs. Floyd exclaimed, “that's—” and then correcting herself midway, she added, tamely, “that’s very curious.” “Curious?” asked Van Dibber, Utely. “Why curious? your initials, are they? “I was told,” said Mrs. Floyd, sert- | ously, “that ts—some one told me,” she began again, “that you wore a locket just like that around your nec! “Fancy!” said Van Bibber, with a “Who ‘told~you po- They're not that, if I may ask? “No one that you know,” Mrs. Floyd replied, hastify, “But he must have confused you two: don't you suppose that is it? It Is because you are so | much together.” | you I wore a locket around my repeated Van Bibber, with some severity. “How absurd: ‘It /is very evidené that he has mixed us ‘up. We font look much alike, do we? Per- | | | | haps he saw us at & Turkish bath. Every man looks like every, other one when he is wrapped in a cloud-of steam and a bath robe. Only the other day I took old man Willis for an. attendant, and told him to hurry up my coffee. T suppose that’s how it happened. You had better ask Trayers about jt next time he comes and see what, he says. He'll deny it, probably;> but I assure you I have sten it; so you can charge him -with it with perfect safety.” Mrs, Floyd looked at Van Bibber doubtfully for a moment, but he re- |turned her look with a smile of such evident innocence that she smiled in return, and then they both laughted together. “And I thought it was you all the time,” she said, “What an odd mis- take! “Very humorous indeed,” said Van Bibber. He rose, and Mrs. Floyd made no effort to detain him, Her suddenly | acquired interest in him had departed. jon't forget the initials,” sald Van Bibber. “{ shall not,” Mrs. Floyd answered, laughing. “I shall remember.” “And in’ diamonds, to,” added Van Bibber, as he bowed at the door. 4 ° : : . Miss ‘Townsend was a young woman who took everything in life seriously but herself. She was irritatingly but but rather a seeing what you have men always know that some day some one will see their bangle or their locket.| not consider one-fourth as worthy of | course I would’ not for an instant con- DAVIS Copyright, 1921, by The Wheeler Newspaper Syndicate Silty wep cunperbea tena 6 was given to considering herself an unworthy In- dividual only fit to admire the acticns of real She received de- as sarcasms at her expense, and mads/ xhot was.said of one of my friends, if her friends indignant by waxing en- thusiastic over people whom they did such enthusiasm as she was herself. | was a very loyal friend, and when | to tall: of shose things which might be beyond his reach. Still, when she | did venture with him on those matters of life and conscience and conduct | which most interested her, she found | his common-sense and his sense of hu-| ‘mor vastly disturbing to her theories. She received him this afternoon with a | Dreoccupied dir, which continued until} her mother, who had been with her when he had entered, had left the} Toom, | “I do. not know how soon I shall have | the chance to see you alone again.” she | began at once, “and I have something | to say to you. T have thous it over far some time, and I have considered very seriously; I think I am doing the) right thing, but I cannot tell.” Van Bibber wanted to assure her that it was not to be taken seriously, and felt fresh indignation that rhe shovel | have been troubled so impnudently. By |he only said “yes,” sympatheti » and | waited, | | “I want to'ask you, | ing him with earnest eyes, {that you have an enemy. y she salt. resara- fjyou know i Van Bibber bit his Mps to hide a| smilé, and felt even more ashamed of himself for smiling. “Oh dear, no,” he} said, “of course not. We don't have enemies nowadays, do we? There are! lots of people who doh’t like one, I sup- pose; but enemies went out of daf® tony ago, with poisoned cups and things like | that, didn’t they?” = “No; you are wrong,” she said. “There | is some one who dislikes you very much, who wants to injure you with your friends, and who-goes about doing it in a mean and cowardly way. In so low a way that I should not notice it at all: and then again I think that it is my duiy to tell you of it, so that you can be on your guard, and that you may act about it in whatever way you think) right. ‘That is what I have been trying to decide: whether I am a better friend | if I say nothing, or whether I ought to speak and warn you." She stopped, quite breathless with anxiety, and Van Bibber felt himself growing red. “What | do you think?” she said. | “Oh, I don't know,” said Van Bibber. unhappily. “Suppose you tell me all about it, Of course, whatever you do would be the right thing,” he added. She put her hand in the pocket of, her frock, and drew out a letter with & type-written address. Van Bibber ana- thematized Travers anew at the sight of it, personages. | served compliments either mockingly or |I want rou to understand, No ered She she way with Nan Bipber had the tact | is trying to do you harm, and that it ts n | becau: | with that object in view took a hansom “Last week,” Miss Townsend began, impressively, “I received this letter. It is an anonymous letter about. you. ‘What i says does not concern me or interest me in the least. That is what {t came to me in such a way, it could not make the least difference to me. O! sider anything from such a source, but the point, in my mind is that some ‘one my duty to let you know of it. Do you understand?” m Bibber “gulltily bowed his bead in assent. “Then here it is," she sald, handing him the offen- sive letter as though it were a wet and| dirty rag. “Don’t open it’ bere, and| never speak to me of it again. If you did—if you explained it or anything, 1} would feel that you did not believe mej when I say that I believe in you, and that I only peak of thiy thing at ail| I want to put you on your guard, Some man, or some woman more likely, has written this to hurt with me, He or she has failed. That is the point I want you to remem- ber, and I hope I have done right in speaking of iteto you. And now,” khe exclaimed with a sich of relief, and|and regarded him frankly and without | irl angwered, cons‘dering. with a sudden wave of her hands, as If she were throwing -something away, | “that Is over.” Van Bibber’s first impulse was to put the letter in the fire, and tell her the| truth about it: but his second thought | was that this girl mad for a week been considering as te Rew she could act in| his best interest, @md that to show her Ht ul i | UT A Hi mull) mul She put it in hand and left him | standing gazinz dumbly dow: at it. now that she had been made a joke of) would be but a poor return of her | thoughtfulness of him, So he placed | the letter in his pocket, and thanked! her for her warnins, and sincerely for her confidence, and went awuy. And as he left the house his sense of pleasure in the thoucht that his Stend trusted him was mixed with an unholy des're to lay hands upon Travers. He, deter-| mined to end and clear up the matter | that afternoon, at once and forever, and | to the house of Miss Edith Sargent. Miss Sargent was a friend ef both Travers and himself. She was an un- usual girl, and the fact that she was! equally liked by men and women proved it, (She frequently regretted she had); not been born a boy, and tried to cor- rect this 'njustice y doing certain things better than most men could do them, and so gained their admiration. Van Bibber agreed with her that it was a pity, there were too few attractive | men, while there were so many attrac- tive women that it kept him continually in trouble. Miss Sargent was the presi- dent of a society for the lower educa- tion of women, the members of which were required to know as much about polo as they did of symbolic and im- pressionist pictures, and were able to keep quite separate the popular violin- ist or emotional actress of the day as a person from the same individual as an artist; they did not sob over the viol! ist’s rendering Sf music which kome one else had written, on one afternoon, | curiousty. -triumphant, mocking laugh. | plain. BE H 4 E i § i 3 if could play passably well themselves. _| Was secti- mentally content that Edith Sargent had been born a girl, and-spoke ot her as Miss Sargent, and not as Edith she was half frozen, and that he was just in time for some tea. He waited! until she gave some directions to the foo! for the evening and then walked up the steps beside her. | “You've saved me from writing you a) note,” she sald. “I wanted to see you about getting up a coaching-party for the game on Thanksciving Day. Do} you think it's too Inte?* | Van Bibber observed her covertly,| but she did not seem to be conscious of anything beyond what she was saying. embarrassment. He decided. that she| had not received the letter, and felt a temporary sense of relief. “it is rather late,” he said; “most of the coaches are engaged so far ahead, you know; but we might be able to get @ privavte one.” { They walked into the drawing-room together, and she threw her sable boa and muff on the divan and went to the fire to warm her fingers. “Whom could we ask?” she said. Van Bibber was regarding her so intently} that she stopped and looked up at him “Whom could we ask?” s' repeated, and added, after a paune, “You're not lstening to what I'm s37-| Ing.” } They continued looking at each other for a short moment, and then tie girl | with a sudden exclamation of intelli-| gence, watked back # yond, returning y her hand, Van Bibber saw that (%e address upon it waa type-wri'ten. “Here's that letter you and Travers nt me,” she said. She put it in his and and left him standing gazing dumbly down at it, while she returned| to the open fire and stretched her fin-| Bers out before it, As he continued! silent, she turned and looked over her shoulder at him, and then, as she canght his look of embarrassmen laughed easily at the sight of it. “Don't you think,” she safd, “it’s abouf time you two became accustomed to the fact that you have grown up?’ Van Bibber gazed at her blankly and shook his head. “Travers told you,” he said, ruefully. x “Travers told me!" she repeated with | disdain. “You both tuid me. I do pope| I've intelligence enough to keep up With you two and your games and fooljsh- nesses. There's no one else who would do anything: so silly.” She laughed = “You and) your Maysie Lindsey and’ gold lockets.| you're a pretty trio, aren't you? And/ you thought you were going to h such a fine joe on me. Oh, you're so clever, you two; you're so deep and) subtle. How long have you ceased wearing velvet suits and red sashes?” “That's all right,” said Van. Bibber, sulkily, “but IT want you to know I've had trouble enough about. this thing,| and {t's ail ‘Travers'— “There is some other game, perha sho said, nodding her head at him, “that you play better than thi F *Oh, I'm going.” said Van Bibber. He stopped at’ the door and shook his high | hat at her impressively, “If you have any regard for your young’ friend Travers,” he said, “you'd better send him word to keep out of my way for a week or two.” “Wait and have some tes,” she called after him, but Van Bibber pulled open | the front door, and as he did so heard an echo of mocking, laughter and some- thing that sounded Iike “Give my love to Maysie Lindsey.¥ | There was still one other girl to s: and Van Bibber kicked vicious!y at the snow at the thought of it as he stred> hurriediy towards her house. He wished that he might find her out: but she was in, the man said, and she her-| self.anid that ahe was g’ad to sce h:m.| Miss Norries was a peculiarly beauti-| ful girl, who almost succeeded in I:ving| in a way that was worthy of her face. If she did not do so, it was not through | Jack of effort on her 9wn part. And yet! to others there seen@a to be no effort; people said of her that she had beep born fine and good, and could not be otherwise had she tried. pocr souls who know what temptation is,” they said, “that deserve cred t-for| overcoming Grace Norries always | does the right thing because she doesn’ know there is any other thing to do.” But Miss Norries had her 6wn dim- culties. She had once said to Van Bib- ber, “The trouble is that there are so many standards, evén among one's best | friends, among the people that you-re- spect mest, that it makes it hard. to keep to one’s own.” To which Van Bibber had replied, fiippantly: “You have no right to com- All you have to do when you get up in the morning is to look in the glass and say, ‘Today I must live up to | I threw it in the fire.” live up to, T know, but it's own.” At which Miss Norries had gazed ‘at nothing, and-Van wi he had not complimented her on the one thing for witch she could not Possibly take any credit, She received him now graciously, as a much older woman might haye done, but told him he could not stay, a8 sho had to Gress for dinner. 4It won't take long to say what I came to say” Van Bibber answered her. “I came on purpose to say it, thoug’. Its rather scrious—at least, it didn't start out so, but it's getting serious.” He did not look at her, but et the fire, as though he were trying to draw con- fidence from it. But his anxiety was unticcessary for Miss Norries regarded im tranquilly and without loss of her usual poise. She was ‘ys ready t> laugh with those who laughed, or to Weep with those who wept, just enough of her own perso: make her sympathy of ral never allowing it to carry her aw: “Perhaps,” said Van Bibbe-, with a sudden inspirgtion, “you have some thing to say ¢ ‘No, I don't know that I have,” the “Hear any- thing happened? I mean, {s there any- thing I ought to speak about that I haven't? Are you to be congratulated or condoled with? Is that itt “Well, you ought to know,” Van Btb- ber answered, “whether I am to be con- doled with or net. I'm certainly not to be congratulated,” “I don't understand,” she said, amil- ing. and yet yh, well, then,” he exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, “it's prebably ail right. Oniy I thought you would have received it by this time, and if you had, I want- ed_to explain. But if you haven't re- ceived it you probal ‘Won't mow, and so T needn't if About it. Miss Norri “But,” she idded, “if you don’t wish to speak of we will talk of something T do under- stand. Ob, you mean the package of bgoks you sent me.I ought to have writ) you about them. They were I was so no,” said Van Bibber, with it’s a letter,” he blurted out, “Some one told me—at least I happened to find out—that some one sent you an anonymous letter about me. And I thought you might have received it, and—* He stopped in some confusion, for he Mked Miss Norries better than he did the other women, and he found it, for some reason, harder to talk to her the letter than to those othi ‘Yes, I received it,” she eald. He looked at her a moment with | startled surprise. No!" he exclaimed. “You don't say so! You cid receive tt? Well, but the: I dort understahd. Why didn't you tell_ met” “Tell you what?” said Miss Norries, . but with some hauteur. I speak to you of it? I do not see that it concerns you, It was an anonymous letter addreased to me, and She looked at him inguiringly for a moment, and then turned her attention to the falling snow against the window, “Xes,. I. know,” said Van Bibber, thinking very fast and talking to ma’ time, “but the letter was about me, you know, and suggested—that is, / in rather an unpleasant light, The girl gave a siight laug: noyance and stood up. “I how it concerns you.” she said. insulting to me, that's all. I aid not consider it further than that. What it said about you has nothing whatever to do with it that [ can see. All that I could understand was that some one had tried to annoy me by sending me an anonymous letter.” She stopped and smiled, “You must have a rather poor opinion of yourself and your friends you think they consider you and anony- mous letters with equa) seriousness. Now you have to go," she added, “or I shall be late. Thank you ever so much for the books, and come in tomorrow early, ard tell me what you think about em: but now I really must hurry, eo gootlbye.” Van Bibber put his hat firmly on his head as he went down the steps, ani then turned and gazed at the closed door of the house he had just lett with a look of settled bewilderment. “Weil,” ihe said, with a sigh, “it's all part of the day's work, I suppose. For which,” he added, impressively, “Travers will hi “Why | to pa: A long dinner and a large open fire in the almest deserted club bad melted his-anger by ten o'clock to such a de- gree that Travers ventured to ask for the detatls of the day's adventure, and van Bibber wads wo far pacified as to ive them. “Well, I must say,” declared Travers, rubbing his knees and gazing with much satisfaction into~the open fire, “it turned out to be a very interesting ex- periment, didn’t: it? But it hasn't proved anything that I can se», I don't see that it has shown which of the girls cares the most about yuu, has it? What do you think?” “I don’t know,” aid Van Bibber, lowering his voice and glancing over his shoulder. “Which do you thir now?” YOU'will be guided by me, A LUCKLESS ““ I Gresham. “Oh, I am tired of advice,” pouted cva petulantly. “You men are all You deem your mighty selves with children as to having any inde- pendent common sense.” a dictum, not even a wish. You are I think only of your good.” So prettily “She will learn in time to be practical,” Gresham told himself hopefully, though with a suppressed spoke Wynne} young, artless, impulsive, Eva, and| CHEVALIER By ALVAH JORDAN GARTH jsigh. - Eve chafed at advice and resented opposition to her own ideas, and thi was the only defect in her character that had caused Gresham anxiety jAmiable generally, truthful, sincere, so lofty minded that you list women/|the finer points of her temperament | {had won him completely. Tacitly it |was mentally accepted by both that “I simply expressed an opinion, not |affairs were leading on to a settled | master. | engagement. Some girl friends had suggested a \two nights’ camping out on Bear ; did Eva pout that Island, located in the center of a lake|house on a week Gresham was more fascinated than /in a rough, lonely district some miles|member him, Eva?” |from Granville. Gresham had told |Bva there were elements of risk and discomfort in the affair. “But we expect you to g0, too, Wynne,” sald Eva. Ve should have jlittle fear with such a pilot and de- | fender. | “T shall have to be away from home |the week end,” explained Gresham. Nothing more was said about the |situation then, but. Eva's perversity |burst forth when she met her bosom \friend, Amy Desbrow, an hour later. jsaid with set lips and defiant eye. “Wynne Gresham is not quite my We won't change: our pro- gram, Amy, only we must find a new | | chevalier. “My cousin, Ned Tyrrell, is at the visit. You re- “Oh yes," nodded Eva with a faint blush. ‘Ned was my first beau, you know. Of course it was boy and giri| molded slave to all her whims. When / way, always arguing that she was “IT am going, just the same,” she|the girls made camp. nonsense, but he was ere nice to me.) That will just do.” Ned Tyrrell was only too glad to} |be nice to Eva*when he proudly ac- {cepted his appointment as manager | |and director of the camping function. He braught. his own little tent and {themselves imprisoned in a net work | posted it on the high point of obser-! out in the boat she suggested taking a certain course to reach the island, he nodded agreeably and proceeded to carry out her orders. wrong. But there came a climax the second night of. their stay on the island that fdr all time convinced Eva that Tyrrell, however pliable as the now harassing repetition of the weak-spirited chevalier of the party. “Don't ever tell publicly of ,the abominable time we have had,” _“Just as you say, Eva,” he agreed '!an accommodating man, was indeed | pleaded Eva with her girl friends. amd did not grumble when they found of reeds and weeds, losing two hours’ a broken reed. { There came up an early morning | storm that droye the tents flat.! yation on the island some sixty feet|time extricating themselves from the Drenched, miserable, a further de- |away from the sheltered copse where | a tackle that would ring a bell in his quarters if any alarm signal was needed after he had left them nights. There were several accidents be- fore reaching the island and getting the camp in order. As usual Eva dominated the proposition, She had first suggested the outing and was jthe acknowledged leader. In Nod Tyrrel she found a placid, readily He rigged up| It was Eva’ dilemma. fault that the tents | were placed so that later they caught the ill effects of a sudden windstorm. Always and ever, however, the parrot pronunciamento of the impractical ‘Tyrrell were demonstrated with the lifeless, motionless: “Just as you say. Evi c At first the willing obedience of this slave-like escort pleased Eva. It Was such a contrast to Gresham's a ica: RSs pression came when the girls discoy- ered that during the night someone had carried away a chest in which | was stored all their extra clothing! and jewelry.” Investigation showed that a lot of gypsies had visited the island in the darkness. ‘Tyrrell started in pursuit quite valiantly, but did not overtake them. ‘Home, the shortest and quickest way,’ was the imperative order of the discomfited Eva the next morning. { Ned Tyrrel! proposed marriage the next dar, but departed with a gloomy face and the inevitable: ‘Just as you say, Eva Wynne Gresham wondered at a new docility displayed by the humbled Eva after that. It was some time before he lesrned the details of the distressing outing. One day. when Eva had mildly gsked volun- tarily for his decision on some trivial matier, his eyes filckered mizchiey- ously as he began: ‘ “Just as you say—" “Don’t make me cry, Wynne.” pleaded Eva contritely. ' “Tt s “Just as you say. 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