Evening Star Newspaper, June 18, 1922, Page 62

BEING A NOBODY HE gray murk of :an early November - twilight « deepent in the library-of Judge Wil mont Truman's law office. AN the men had gone for the day except ome very young man,.gray-eyed and shabbily dressed and incredibly ear- nest. Judge Trun offices always wore an air of twilight. A delicate veil of soft coal soot covered "the windows and tempered even the sun of midday the judge's which resembled bookcases, 1o its “fellow. They had been grudgingly added to ‘from | whencver the pile of | He had often watched her help the time to time books in' the cormers became.uncom- fortably pretentious. Facing the windows stood a black onyx fireplace, beautiful and dignided, and over it, tipped slightly aukew, hung a steel eut of Alexander Hamil- ton with a background of marble pillar and lugubrious stage curia In spite of the shiftlessness of his office, Judge Truman was the ablest lawyer in the county, possibly in the state, .and the most meager of Do in his firm was not without s iwe. Bven the dingy rooms. un- modern and drafty, possessed a curi- ous charm. In the middle west one finds seldom a place that has acquired a sense of distinction because men have warked well within it. Two governors and a supreme court jus- read their Blackstone and tice had seribbled and dreamed beneath the same complaining gas lamp where now scribbled Stephen Douglas. leven years before Stephen Doug- had been “placed out” on Zeke eston farm. near Green Mountain, lowa jut the ambitions of youth are not baunded by fortune or logic or probability. They are as real as the wish behind them—and Stephen Doug- las was a valiant wisher. ¥ % ¥ ¥ SUDDENLY the door to the judge's private sanctum and Lily Sedelmever stood in the doorway. She looked at the youug man an instant with a half-amused ahnoyance, and her eyes narrowed. “] take it your heart's in your work.” The blush that crimsoned the boy’s cheeks deepened with exasperation because he knew he was blushiug. “Sorry.” he sald d you want to shut up the shop?” She came a couple of steps mwearer and looked at the littler or papers. “Traction case?’ He nodded. Lily Sedelmeyer shoulder: “Lord." shrugged her she snapped. “yau didn’t think you could settle that tonight. dld vou? It's been hanging around here ever since T came—fifteen years ago. This ti and a flush of anger crept painfully from her high, rouged cheek bones down her ‘too thin neck where the cords had already begun to show. She | had been a fool to give away her age like that! Stephen grinned. “Seems that something that hap- pencd back in '37—Selby County vs. 'Phe Mississippi Valley Traction Com- pany—Is awfully important, and T've been detailed to look it up.” He pointed to the pile of books on the floor beside him. You'd think any dodo could find the thing—it's only 2 court decision—but T can’t. Back of the lightness of his words s an undeniable note of pleading. as. of course, ridiculously young looked up at her and He and earnest—and good-looking. Sedelmeyer hesitated & mo- ment. It was late and she was tired and she had a date. But life, some- w is seldom loglcal. Let's have a look,” she said at| last. “angel baby.” Lily Sedelmeyer had worked fifteen vears for Wilmont Truman. When she firsz arrived she was seventeen, fresh from a school of stenography, and she was long-legged and hard- eyed and bitter. At twenty-five she tad looked distinctly “Fard boiled” | and there had miveady been “gossip about her.” But she was smart. Li “Lily’s worth fifteen Phi Beta Kappas,” the judge explained once, “and she's almost as cheap.” When- ever any imsinuating remark Teacired his cars he raised her salary and re- iterated his faith in her ability. “What was it Lincoln said about Grant's liquor?” he once demanded. And the conversation was dropped. Accordingly, Lily’s position re- mained as unchallenged as her effi- | ciency. She possessed the intense, | clear-headed, narrow ability that de- velops in persons upon whom circum- stances have forced an early matu- rity. At nineteen Lily was completely supporting her brother, little Bennie Sedelmeyer, darning his stockings and seeing he got off to schoel on time. * X X X \VHEN Lity was twenty-four Ben- nie died of scarlet fever. The “Sadelmeyer kids” were orphans and boarded around, so the funeral was held in the front reom of Mrs. Wil- son's select lodging house. Judge Trumen had gone, and he took with him his seventeen-year-old daughter, Constance, upon whom, since his wife's death, he had allowed himself to depend. If he had thought twice, he would have decided to shield Con- stance from the depression this trag- edy would surely cause a sensitive and young person. But he didn't think. He was sorry for Ly, and something had to be done about it— something a little more buman than the paying of the undertaker's fee. Constance Truman, sitting on the| horsehair sofa in Mrs. Wilson's front screeched open. | we it was she who blushed. | | i l | | | | | | | am. room. bemeath an enlarged photo- ! graph of Mr. Wilson, added the last touchrof Rjtterness to Lily's despalr. The dress Constance wore was dark | but he rallied gallantly. Against the walls stnnd‘c one -of | knew more law than he did. that she | was too thin, but pretty, and that she was.all illogical and wrong and child- ed | 180, /but in that instant Lily hated ag she"had never hated in the course of a none too pacific existence. “No.” She shook her héad stub- bornly. “I car't. I don't want to. Go awa f 1t was final. * ¥ ¥ * ONCERNING Lily, all that Stephen Douglas felt sure of was that she wasn't at all like Constance Truman. vther .men in the office, and he had wondered, in a vague way, why she seemed content only to help. Maybe wemen just weren't made ambitious. AS he watched her now he felt that same sense of indolent detachment he had known in school when teacher worked out the hard problem. " shesaid, “Blue Eves. Here's your-case.” ‘Then she looked up at him across the volumes. *“But they're |z~ | nOt_ blue; they're green. “They're gray.” he retorted, and he blushed again. “Anyway, my aunt says s0." “Your aunt!” Lily Sedelmeyer looked at him quizzicaily “You're funny She ‘liked the shape of his head amd the way his hair curled in the nape of his meck and the line of his chin “Well, 1 reckon I better shove off. She -started -to pull on the slightly soiled cotton gloves that lvoked ke chamois. “There's o to buy me # sandwich.” A curious feeling of left-aloneness swept through Stephen. “Don’t go. he said, and then he realized how si it sounded. “I mean. 1 thank you, I'll bet I'd have hunted all night for that darn thing. Someway, this evening, 1 reekon T'll never be famous.” It was a confession she knew he wanted contradicted, and they both laughed. *Too bad about you,” she retorted, “teacher’s pet.” “What do you mrean, teacher's pet | His astonishment was genuine. “Mean?" she taunted. “Why, being put on the traction case, and having « desk in the only room with a decent light—and being asked out to th judge’s for dinner. 1 suppose you hadn’t notieed any of* those things, had you?” He shook his head doubtfully. “Well, not as ‘being especiaily significant. Just—luck Luck!" she repeated, and there was something In her voice that was not pleasant ‘to hear. She was standing now. “Well, goou night. sweetheart Make me ambassador to Yap when you're presiden “Miss Sedeinreyer——" She turnmed abruptly in tie door- way. “Well?" “Are you really going &cmewhere special for supper? Because, I mean™ —he blushed again, but his very awk- wardness had charm—*“I'm fed up on eating around alone.” “Oh, 1 see.” She made him a mock curtsy. *You're asking for the pleas- ure of my company to dinner, are you?" His smile was disarming. “Yes, 1 My technlque’s thin—and so's my purse, but I reckon I could buy you & ‘sandwich.’ " Lily Sedelmeyer wavered. “T've got a date.” Her “date” was neither very young nor very noble, but the sand- wich would be a good one. Besides, Lily seldom planned to yield to senti- . LILY OROSSED THE ROOM AND JU fellah waiting | * | experiance, i {people had pushed the materials of success Into his way They hadn't been ®very powerful people, most of them, Hephzibah, old {Judze Sauires, Jacob Sears, Squire Smart—and Anna—but they had given him that something which ix called experience shorn of bit- He was old Wus appear- | { terness, clean of scars. | tor twenty-two, and he office the next morning she looked {longer at her face than was neces- {sary to administer the swift make- Jup that transfornmed the pallor of her $kin into a perhaps not too deli- If Lily had ever bad sleep enough or a sense of security or affection, she might have been Ipretty. As it was, she possessed a {sort of valiant good looks. This morning, though, she | the slate-colored ¢ back at her. cate rosiness. that stared “Gosh,” she murmured, finally, and she put on the new georgette that was destined only to be worn for “dates. On her way to the offic too, she bought three pink rosebuds. They were ridiculously expensive, and they would fade before evening, but Lily was willing to gamble on the value of even the fleeting esthetic touch. She put them at once in a glass of water on her desk. and in the afternoon she steaulthily turned off the radiator in the judge's office. 7, MPED IMPUDE! ingly youus. | Perhaps. indeed. it had heen Ste-| I phen’s vouth that had captured Lily Sedelmoyer. As she dressed for, the stared hard at | Lily, the Hard-Boiled, Her Romance and Rival | LILY, WFFH STEPHEN BESIDE HER, ENCOUNTERED SARGENT. “HELLO,” SHE SAID ANGRILY. “GIVING THE WWER‘CMSDEI TRE ONCE OVER, ARE YOU™. !dus(_\' pink and red paper carnations. | AN through dinner Lily Sed :imeyer | felt w quite unwarranted and delight- {ful nuppiness. She was at peacs wud~ 1'x<-m_\- ith the world, with herweif | and ner veice becahre less shrill and | she didn't laugh much. She was | neither aggressive nor shy. For the | first time in & nome too guarded exist- conce she ‘was quietly and simply her- self with & man. * % % X | [FOR @ Tong time they talked about the office, and Lily explatned to the wcenurin of the Traction how it had dragged through a W law courts, making &nd despoil- ink and judges and bankers {In its course. 1t was tied up with | the whole game of local politics, and | the grent man who pulled the strings | was one Michael Higgins of Chicago, mivthological tharacter, ‘Whose sury ‘was the judge. iver seen him?" Stephen de- | him ma la | emi | manded. Lily shook her head. “Ne. The judge always meets him in Chicago. This thing's too small for him to mess up in personal. He's got a few railroads and steamship lines to rua besides.” For the first time Stephen visual- | ized the dimensions of high finance, and the vision owught his imagina- tion. "I suppose ‘there wre 2 hen- dred or so gifted young men ltke | me ruining their Saturday afterrogns for that bird, and he never heard ot {one of us TLY TO A SEAT ON THE TASLE. “HUNGRY, STEPHEND SHE SAID, ment. “Tomorrow,” she said, “if| At 6 Lily Sedelmeyer wiped the| “You're too modest, Mr. Dougles” you're still of the same opinion.” stems of the roses on her dust cloth, | Lily mecked. A suspicion that perhaps he |pinned them to her waist, regardless | Stephen grinned. “Anyway, T'd 1ike wouldn't be cromsed Btephen’s mind, |of the holes the pins made in her |to see him.” Amd for & momeat he “Tomorrow, [new georgette, and made up all over | forgot Mr. Gambette's restaurant aad blue end simply made, but it seamed.|then. Thsnk you.” even to the judge, an unchallenged *“Good might"—from the doorway symibol ©f the delicute well belug her|she watched him 2 mement ‘with slow Iot in fife assured her. Lily behaved with a sort of valant deflance, des- eyes—"Stephen,” she drawled. On her way down the @ity woolen tined to paralyze all the gentleness,!stairs, leng age worn into shallow all the potential helpfulness, in the |mpilows, she wished suddenly she other girl. Hven Judge Truman ©ouM|nedn't tried to flirt with him—that, see that it was mot easy to pacily 2]{ndeed, she hadn't stayed to help him. tigruss, and be decided he had done|jt wouldn't pay to grow to care for wrotg to bring Constance—even to have | g hoy like him. One could easily coma himsell. Before the procession was to start for the cemetery the judge’s daughter summoned «IT her courage and went | over to Lily. *TFather wants you to cars tos much. s * ¥ ¥ % "TEPHEN, too, had marveled at the julge’s kipdness. By = lucky come to our house afterward and stay | fluke he had secured e job n the for dinper.” She hesitated a second, | Truman office as soon as he left the amezed 2t her own temerity. *Tt won't| university, and, as the office phrased be so lonesome as here. perhaps.™ it, the big man had “taken a shine” to For an instant the two girls faced | him. Fortune had denied Stephen each other. again, slowly and carefully. No eme was Jeft but herself, now, and Ste- phen, and Lily's methods were direct. She had waited long enough fpr her amoment oY appreciation. As she pushed open the door to the library he %ooked wp startled, then he grinned at her. “Hello” he said. “Got a flower garden at your house?” “From my aunt’s conservatery,” she retorted. “She wants me to come and live with her and take lessons on the harp. But T'd rather be independent.” She crossed the room znd jumped, impudently, to a seat on the library table. “Hungry?” 've scarcely eaten a thing for twenty-seven years.” She siid lightly from the table and confronted him. “The party's on, Lily Sedelmeyer knew | much, perhaps, meney and security the judge's daughter wanted only toland a background of gentle rearing. be kind, end yet, in one of those un- But fortune had given him something acoountable flashes of resentment, she | especial. It had made him the kind of person the world doesn’t mind see- sponsible for Bemafe's death, for the | ing get on. Quite without conscious (amd where, in the center of each =uddenly beld Comstance Truman re- bruising emptiness of the future. then?” = “©Of course. Didn't you accept yes- terdry?” They bad dinner at an Italian res- taurant, where the linen was spotted ] motive, or even recognition eof it,1table, stood & dusty vase lled with the second order of spaghetti and the woman wcross from him Wht:e wyes never left his face. “Cheer up,” she said, “and tell ms ‘the story of your life.” Lily was not untutored in the ways of beguiling 2 mam. “Tell me everything. I'm interested.” Stephen looked mt her a moment questioningly. o “Go on,” she no@ded. "I mean it.” He 'was embarrassed amd yet pleacad. *Tt won't leave you brésth- less” he maid finally,” “Dut .you brought it on yourself.” Then he tolé her about Zeké and Hephzidah and the farm and the Green Moun- tain. When e talked about Hephsi- bah he, someway, found it dificult to express himself. Ever since that first day when she had taken him away from the Orphans’ Home in Des Moines she had beea tire one wwques- tibned thing 1n his existence and he had accepter her devotion, as a plant accepts sunlight-—too completély even for gratitade. | | | | | | care@ for him, |lonely and resourceless, an outstand- But Lily Sedelmeyer understood, and she felt in her throat a curious ache. Perhaps there is something of Hephaibah Preston in every woman. Then she revoited. “This sacrifi stuf’s all wrong,” he contended. *) womder women never get on. They're se o Yorever helping some man. I'm rgainst It, crediti mihi, as they say in Latin Stephen luughed at her protest. “Comes well from you—that,” he said. “You haven't taken any trouble both- | ering about me, now, have you?" L1y Jooked away from him sudden- | Iy. “That's different.” For an instant she Was tempied to ve frank with him, to tell him she that Judge Truman liked him—and Constance. For a moment, too. the old cnmity flared up | instde her, and she hated Constance, hated her for being young and beau- tiful and well born. Besides, she feared Constance Truman as a po- tential rival. Well, the game wasn't over yet. She had a lot of cards she could play Constance Truman did dare to. Being a nobody had its wd- vantages. * ok k¥ TUDDENLY the door of the restau- rant w opened, and the shrill, metailic notes of Joe's Jagz Orchest which rendered determined music at the Nelvon Dancing Academy. blared | into he roem. The rendition was &s | bad as was possible, even for an or- | chestra with talent for the worst, but | the piece was @ wallz an oid onc, the | sort around which memories ave bullt—and forgotten. For an insta the two looked at each other ques- tioning then Lily decided. “let's" xhe sald. The counterpart of Nelson's emy is to be found in every tow: city from New York 1o Seattic neither vicious nor refined coast to coast it exists, gaudy. siab- by, commercial. a retreat for the It is From ing testimoniul o alil that is wabeau- tiful and dreary and yearning in the great American middle class. Stephen dought 50 ceuts’ worth of tickets and handed two to the buil- mecked ¥entleman «t tire ent e the dance floor. This was extravagance, for the dunce was al most over, but Stephen Douglas was oy intinct no Scotchman. Lily whs a good. though somew hat eXaggerated, dancer. In a vague Stephen realized they were making Yhemselves conspicuous, but, after «11, what difference aid it make? The ‘were as much class as any other cou- ple. Al the enfl of the dance they sat in ‘he corner at a table, traced with a sticky pattern of rings from he leni- onede glasses. Other couples, less cpulent, wandered up and down the dingy couridor. To sit one must or- der refrcshments. Tt was a rule of | the house. Swadenly, over the top of her glass, Lily suw Stephen's face change ex-| pression, and her eyes followed his| Yo the doorway. Tt was the beginning | of & mew dance, und the bull-necked | gentleman had risen again from his periedic stupor against the wall into Prussian Thejesty. In the crowd that surged around him had appeared a new element. They were more simply enldl better Oreswed tham the others. Obviously they were mot of the deso- late and tesourceless who composed the <clientele of Mr. Nelson's busi- wers, end instinctively every ol patron rewented their emsy. confident, insulting civility. 1t was the Coun- try Club “gang” on a spree, for, from New York to Seattle. the old dictum obtains that “you can go anywhere with your own ¢trowd.” “The smarties!” Lily spoke with fesling. “Theyll talk about this for @ week now as though they'd done something really lowbrow and devil> ish.” Stephen didn't answer. Tllogical mnd snobbish as he knew it to be, he wished suddenly he hedn’t eome there —and with her. At omce from the group =t the {faced the dancers, and became ab- entrence & counie separatéd itself. It was Constamce Truman and David t. “Went to grade school with him, Lily threw out. It wabn’t necessary te indieate about whem she wus sptuking. “Ne weed to coby my prob- lem: W arithmetie” A Sm twistad his chair, ever so adroitly, 30 that he no longer sotbed in the sugar-voated bottom of his lemonade glass. He was curious- ly ashamed ef hie action, and he 2oped Ly hadn't néticed—<but mére than all, e 4ida’t waht to meet Con- stanee Traman. Suddenly Lily sat up very straight, |have overheard. Somewhere, and her body began to bend and twitch in response to the call of the jazz. “Come om,” she sald, “it's a fo Stephen avoided meeting her eyes. “Awful mob out there,”” he ventured. “Think it's safe to lead a farmer like nie into such traffic?” “I'll take a chance,” she challenged. She was standing now, waiting for him. Obediently, he rose and followed her onto the foor. It seemed to him every person there must be watching them,'and never had Lily thrown her- #clf with such abandon of motion into a dance. She was deliberately show- ing off. It wae u ridiculous act of dcfiance toward a soclety that did not even know she existed, a brave gesture in the face of a great indif- ference. At the end of the dance the little group of explorers gathered, with the rowdyism permitted only the well bred, in the refreshment parlor, and to reach their old table Lily and Ste- plien had to pass Dumbly, Ste- phen started to follow his partner. As luck would have jt, they encoun- lered David Sargent en route from the Prussian deorkeeper with a new instaliment of dance tickets. Lily was intoxicated with the drama of her defiance. She was a Jeanne d'Arc, her spear in the rest against all those privilezed ones who had turned her world suddenly into a shabby thing, who had made her appear ridiculous the man she cared for, to herself. ddenly Lily stopped and accosted the correct young gentleman before lher. “Hello.” she sald. “Giving the lower classes the once over, are you?" It was evident from his expression David Sargent did not recognize in this hard-eyed, angry woman the erstwhile solver of his arithmetic problem or an instant it seemed that he was going to retort. Then he reconsidered and passed them by with the most remote and frigid nod con- sistent with good breeding. It was a rcbuff more stinging than a biow. and, although Stephen had never met David Sargent, he felt a curious and sudden partisanship with Lily. “Polite, talkative young man. ain't he?” In anger Lily lapsed back into the jargon of her native alléy. “Won- der it Miss Truman ever noticed it? The modulation of Lily's voice was never low, and it seemed to Stephen now that every person there must on the other side of that fantastic bartier, Constance Truman Wwas judging. Well, he didn't care what she thought. “Come on, Lily,” he said. and slipped his arm through hers. “More power to you—and this is a fox trot.” For a second she hesitated, then he drew her to him. Lily had known pas- sion and even admiration, but tender ness wae a new sensation. “Stevlp——" All her anger was burned out now. She was a child suddenly hurt and tired and defeated. “Stevie” she re- peated, "I know the cvenin's only a pup, but T'm dead tired. Would you mind if we pushed along?” “I'm with you” He didn't look at her. Someway, he realized the kindest thing was to be casual. “It's hotter than the devil here, anyway.” * ® % % to ALL the way home they chatted as though nothink had happened. At the door of Lily's boarding house Stephen said good-night. They shook hands slowly, amd Lily felt, someway, it was more thzn a formality. 10 was a compact, the two of them against those others. After all, he, tod, was up from nowhere, He had gotten farther than she only because a wom- an, back on that farm in Green Mountain, had sacrificed for him. There had been no Hephtidbah Preston to satrifice for Lily. “How about hext THursday?” he of- fered. 1 In the darkness she' looked uwp at him. “Suits me,” she s&jd. “Fine.” His voice wa¥ Tull of con- victien. “Goed-night.” For many hougs Lily Sedelmeyer made no battle to captave sleep. It was pleasant just to lie thaze and day dream. There would be orrew and tomorrow and them 'Rhursday. Thursday. Finally she siept. But tomorrow brought the unex pected. That jugler of mumicipal politics, that fashionér of cartw's of bankers and mayors and Judgey, the man for whom Stephen Douglas was ruining Ris Saturday afternoons, was about to Appear. Michadl Higglne ot Chicago was coming to town. The entire ofice was rife with gos- sip and endlebs speculation, but it was Lily plans for the dinher party. “Class” she exelaimed, “just the{a bOY.” Cartingtons, thé maydt &nd his wife, the Beacons, the judge, of coursé-- and his daughter.” listening, | Stephen listened, absorbed, to the detalls. “Seems too bud he's not go- ing to meev me,” he eoncluaed. Lily guessed the sincerity of tne wish, €ven under the jeat, but she laughed at him. “Well, I'll_ say he's missing it In his mind's eye Stephen visual- ized that evening. He remembered the beautiful Truman dining room, dignified and shadowy and satisfying. Constance Truman would look very lovely. She would sit at the head of her father's table, and there would be coffee afterward in the library. It was another world from Stephen's, and yet he was not ill at ease. He believed in his heart he belonged. Tomorrow and tomorrow passed slowly for Lily. At last it was Thurs- day. Bhe had been busy all day, and she was glad of the absorption. Each time she looked at the clock more minutes hal slid by than she had be- lieved possible. 8he was happy, hap- py all out of proportion to the cause. Tonight she could not even envy Con- stance Truman. She was glad she was Lily Sedeimeyer and glad she was in love. At 5:30 it seemed as if the hands of the clock would never drag around that last half hour, and still it was pleasant just to anticipate, to sit motionless and watch the twilight deepen, watch the thousand lights of the city flash one by one into the darkness. It was good to be alive. * kK ¥ AT six o'clock the telephone on her desk tinkled faintly, lifted the receiver. “Mr. came the question. It was Constance Truman's voice. On the extension in the outer office Stephen answered. The call was not for Lily. She was eaves- dropping frankly, but without aa qualm of conscience she continued to hold the recelver against her ear. It appeared Mr. Beacon was ill and unable to come to the dinner that evening. Would Stephen be good enough to accept at this last mo- ment to fill the vacancy? It wouldn't be at a!l formal. “Father wants you especially she added, “since you're working on the traction case, too.” Stephen hesitated. “I'd like to— lot more than you can imagine, bu: —there was an instant of silence— ‘ve got a date this evening.” “Oh, I'm sorry.” There was doubting her sincerity. “Wait & minute,” he gaid. “Maybe I could shift it. Would it be too late if T 1et you know in téen minutes The judge's daughter was hll gra clousness. Then the receivers clicked back into place—all except Lily's. For a long moment she sat there. So he wanted to get rid of her, to go away no By Bernice Brown jammed her own receiver into place. Wel!, she wouldn't release him. He belonged to her, for he tod had known poverty and struggle and dis- couragement. It was she against Gonstance Truman—and Lily was go- ing to win. * ¥ ¥ % WITHOUT kuowing what she in- tended to do, she pushed open the door into Stephen's office. He hadn’t come back yet. For a momen! she stood undecided, then she crosse: over to his desk. It was cluttere! with papers and notebooks filled witl, jottings, misspelled and abbreviated and in the hasty, illiterate handwrit ing of youth. Absently she sat dow: and her fingers brought order out ¢ chaos., Then she stopped. Betwec the leaves of some memoranda wa a letter, postmarked from Gree Mountain. It was written on chea lined stationery and with a pen tha: had caught maliciously and left lit tle sprays of ink on the paper. Lily had no inhibitions regarding another’s letters. “Dear Stevie,” she read. “That was a nice letter you wrote me. If You didn’t say those things, I wouldn't never think I had done so much for you. Sacrificing for some people just comes natural, some way. It's a sort of sweetness to do it, and nothing a pedy deserves credit for. But it made me pround and happy for you to write like you did. “Zeke bought a mew harness yes- terday at Jim Cassady's auction with the present you sent us. I think it's a good one. I made some cookles this morning, the sort you like with nuts in them. Zeke ate six for his supper. “I don’t want to say I miss you, be- cause I'm so glad you're succeeding. Thaet repgys for everything, and 1 make myself keep thinking all the time how smart you are and how I helped a little. If you wasn't get- ting on, T don't think it would be so easy to stand it without you—spc- cially since the evenings are getting s0 long and still. | “I'm proud of vou, and so is Zck |ana everybods. It was signed, “Your Devoted Aunt Hephzibah." For a long time Lily sat there and stared at nothing. Then she folded the letter and slipped it again into ¢ the note book. It was dark outsid:, and Stephen would be back any n ment. But she did not move. “Gosh,” she whispered, fina “Gosh Then she picked up a paper & pencil. “Dear Stevie,” she wrote. “Wou ! you mind if we went out to dim some other time? Tve got a he to “those others” who were fortunate and happy and well born. Then she Transiated From the Freach BY WILLIAM L. MePHERSO I had been, a OR two weeks guest in the Vendee country of my friend Carnouet, who had a farm there. He lived in corsair style in an old house, a structure of gray stone hidden in & grove of ancient firs, in the heart of that bizafre, uncanny region, thick with high hedges, full of stagnant pools and desolate marshe: Thut cyening some of comrades, like him, farmers property owners, were gathered about his table for one of his formidable dinners. These last till midnight and il with jollity and heavy-footed pleasantrics Y mansion ordinary lonely and disturbed only by the night's manifold and mysterious noises. \ rHEN the churck clock struck 12 M. Bajolet got up and prepared to take his leave. the wish that some one would bring Carnouet's and * % * % to the door the trap which he had| left the far end of the farmyard, Carnouet called Soie, his little serv- ant, and told him to go and get the vehicle. Souic was a boy of thirteen years, with a round head and thin, flat hair, surrounding a narrow face and with suspicious eyes, fixed only on the tips of his shoes, whatever one gaid to him. He never knew what it was to smile—at least in the pres- ence of his master. When the latter gave him the order the boy hesitated. “What are you waiting for?" Car- nouet asked. “Ah! monsieur, it'’s very dark eut- side.” “What else?” hat else, monsieur? Nothing else.” He started off on a run. But in less than ten .minutes he was back, without the carriage. T have never seen such a change gin a face in so short a time. Souic was deathly pale. His head, his hands, his frame trembled. His dilated eyes shone like burning lights. All the who @ivilged the judge's \\Mat he lfe in his body was in them. The rest of him was dbad. He supported himself against the wall, tried to speak and then fell to the floor. We all looked at him. Bajolet bent over to examine him. Keruec, who was something of an amateur physician, rubbed his temfles and made him swallow a cordial. Carouet, apparently indifferent, shrugged his shoulders and murmured: “What a chicken-heartéd brat! Finally Soulc revived, and even before we ventured to question him sald In a horse whisper: “Don’t go out there! T have seen Coeur-de-Brave! He is there, under a tree, with his big hat and his rope. The vision came back to him, no doudt, for he covered his face with his hands. Carnouet, who was walking up and down the hall, stopped short. “That old story again!” he claimed. “What story?’ I asked. “It's a legend hereabouts. Coeur- de-Brave waE a Couan. In 1795 he was betrayed near Sarzeau by a boy, whe delivered him to Hoche's troops. He was /hanged. The peasants say comes back from time (v hanging ex- Wme to uvenge himself by * ® & % iC listened intently. When Car- *.poset hed finished his explan > The Return of the Chouan By Rene Bizet Since he expresscd | ache thiw evening. Lily. 1 All rights reserved tion the littie servant shouted: “Yes, yes! He has come to hai= me. He is out there! He is out there!” “Stop it, vou little fool.” the master said to him. “Get up and go 16 bed if you are afraid. No more of tins nonsense. Bajolef, old fellow, will go and get your trap for ourselves.” Outside you couldn’t see anything two vard® ahead A h breeze filled the trecs about us with mys- terious whisperings. Instinctively we walked close together and exchanged no words except the “au revoirs” at the last minute. 1 confess that I felt comfortable again only when Carnouet and I were on the door- steps. He said by way of pleasantry Well, was Coeur-de-Brave there’ 0, 1 donw't think he was. v leas “But T tell vou it was only an | vention of that boy, who was seeing things in the dark. At mny rate” I added. shaking my hand, “don’t 1t all this interfere with your sleep.” I Mad no nightmares, and undoub:- edly would never have thought again of the adventure of the evening be- | fore if that morning. when 1 opencd my window, 1 hadu't seen Souic the court. .He had the air of a hunted beast, started at the slightest sound | ana seemed to be examining the ! fir trees, which, at the far end | the inclosure, stood out in queer cut- lines against a mist-laden € denly he dropped his work and straight abead, #s if his muster had led him. Carnouet, 1 thought, must have had something special for him to do. But when I went down to the kitchen fur my early breakfast 1 met my b there drinking a glass of milk. “Did you sleep well?” he asked. “Very well, but “Come, let us take a little strol he suggested. We had been walking for about five minutes. Carnouet’ was a few pac ahead of me. He stopped suddenls and cried: “Ah! The poor boy 1 was at his side in an instant, I, too, uttered a cry. A little ab our heads, at the end of a rope tached to one of the lower branchis - of a tree, Souic wus hanging. * % ko l\ BRETON hat with a wide b £Y much too big for his head, v ered half of his face. We touc the swinging bods longer breathed. “You see,” said Carnouet, in a low voice, “he hanged himself to e Coeur-de-Brave. Tt is frightful My friend kept on talking, while. without listening to him. I examincd the ground beneath the tree. In the grass there were signs of a struggls Souic had been overcome before h died. “And that hat” I eaid, “bent over on all sldes? Did it belong to him® ‘No. 1 didn’t know he owned it Where could he have got it?” At this moment there was a sound Aot rustling leaves and the branches shook as if & huge bird had flown 1 raised my eyes. At the end of his rope 1 saw Soulc hanging barc- hended, grewsome 1o 100K at 1 jumped in the air “Carnouet!” 1 cried Pale and motionless, he passcd his hand across his brow. “Yes, d saw it. 1 saw it.” 3 1 took his arm. He was shivering. The next dsyfie suggested leaving Vendee for Paris.