Evening Star Newspaper, July 5, 1925, Page 62

MINUS ROMANCE THE SUNDAY STAR, WASHINGTON, D. C, JULY 5, 1925—PART 5. By Gerald Mygatt The Story of a March to the Matrimonial Altar Which Took the Form of an Obstacle Race for All Concerned. HE boy and the girl looked at| each other with wide, tender, half-incredulous eyes. He said huskily, “To think that you really love me! about two minutes I'm going to wake up and find myself home in bed, with the alarm going off.” She said: “You're wake up, Charlie. Yow know I love you. I've loved you—why, you o'g goose, I've been in love with you since the first minute I ever laid eyes on vou.” He .grmned. “Well, you had me fooled, all right. Yes, you little fraud vou had me-fooled to a standstill. I never knew I had a chance—not till st now. Honest, I didn't.” The girl smiled softly. ‘“‘Maybe that was because I cared so much,” she told him simply. The seat of again suddenly became too the boy drew her toward kissed her reverently. They had parked under the big elm at the top of Red-Coat Hill—the very never going to Priscilla’s roadster wide as him and same elm that had stood guard over | the making and the baking of choicest mud pies of Prisci baby hood, the very elm—so legend had it under which the Hessians had made their last stand, or at least one of their celebrated last stands, against Washington’s theoretically undiscip- lined Colonfals. Of course it couldn’t have been the same tree, for even elms are mortal, but still it looked as it it might have been. * * % % HE elm was a thing of towering, living green beauty, worthy of any amount of rapture. Charlie Hale and Priscilla Chalders, however, were not thinking about it. They were thinking strictly about Charlie Hale and Priscilla Chalders. The business of rapture was, for the moment, entirely personal affair. After a little time he sighed. “Oh gosh,” he whispered mournfully, “if we could only get married right away! Prilla? Would you really be game to try it—on 60 a week? Game!” she scoffed. * I'm game, Charlie. He shook his head dubiously. “I wonder what your father will say. I know he likes me, all right enough, but gee, Prilla—three thou- sand a year after everything you'v been accustomed to—! That's had me figuring, forward and backward and upside down, for the last months. Said the girl: “Lots of people “get married on 60 a week, don't they? And lots of people get married on 1f they can, I know darned well we can. he. giggled suddenly at the thought Probably I'll be terrible at first, bu v has to learn some time y, I've cooked some in mple thing: u know, like eggs and potatoes and steak.” ‘Gosh, youre a good sport,” marveled with bodylike candor. No, I'm not,” she retorted. “I'm only—I'm just happy, lie, that's 1. It's the kind of thing I've alwa dreamed of doing, way back in the dark of my heart—falling in love with a man who wanted to < way in the world, and enough about me to carr him as his partner. Being rich, dear, isn't all the fun people think it ir. You miss so much that's real.” “Neither is being poor,” he s smiled. She smiled and said: You know Ia he me with id, and “Being poor with you, Charlie, comes pretty \luue‘ to my idea of Heaven They stared at each other again, the big, fair-haired boy and the tiny slip of a girl sitting beside him, she as dark as he was light, her brown eyes and his gray ones glowing with the lighi of that ineffable moment of discovery which comes only once in the life of any two. The boy laughed happily “Let’s go,” he said. “Do you think your father’s home? Priscilla’s father s home. They found him after due inquiry of Harri- son, the butler. in his vaulted attic study, that lofty chamber of oak rafters and gaunt perspectives which the millionaire master of the Chalde: acres had designed for himself as a sanctuary from the insistence of the many, male and female, whom he had christened wanters. * ok % % ILAS CHALDERS was rich enough to wear a beard—albeit a neatly trimmed, businesslike beard—without being laughed at behind his back; and that, in these days, is being rich in- deed. He was also rich enough to know that he preferred his own com- pany to that of most other persons; to own outright some 2,000 acres of land in a community where acreage generally was soid in 50-foot lots; to | possess some wisely assorted ands of stocks and bonds, had earned and paid for out of his earnings as a chemical engineer; and, lastly, he was wealthy enough to have reared a_daughter like Priscilla From his great leather chair be- neath the north window he looked up at his daughter as she opened the door and walked into the room with Charlie Hale behind her. The boy smilted ingratiatingly, fc after the manner of man-folk he was a trifle embarrassed at asking one of his tribe to relinquish all claim in a newcom- er's favor, in the most desirable crea- ture on earth. Charlie Hale would have approached the matter diplomat- ically. Men are accustomed to arrive in this manner discussion of weighty affairs. flla was not 2 man. she said: vou're bus; not.” arm of his chair. 4 thous- at a But Pri Hello, dad! Don't tell us | because I know you're She fluttered down upon the “Dad, Charlie and re going to be married. How do ou like the idea?” Her father smiled. When a man can smile through a grizzied beard his smile means something. ““You scarcely astonish me,” he said. “I—if I may say so—I've been ex pecting an outburst of this sort for some months past. Charlie hasn't been exactly secretive in his atten- tions toward you, I should say. What's the idea, Prilla—did you ex- pect to surprise me? Do you want me to stand up and strike an attitude and shout, ‘What?' Becduse I shan’ The tall boy gulped. “Then—then you approve, sir?” he managed to say “I didn't say merved. that,” the elder ob- *DAD, CHARLIE AND T ARE GO! YOU LIKE In| an | three | I can learn to cook, Charlie.” | which he | “I asked you how you liked the idea,” Priscilla reminded him. Silas Chalders closed the book he | had been reading. “I love you, Priscilla, he sald {shortly, “and, Charlie, I like you. I | think you're a good boy. But as for the idea of your and Prilla’s getting | married—h'm!’ He shook his head, las if in perplexity. I'm darned if I | he stated. “That’s my an- swer."” But we kno “Don't we, Charlle “‘You bet!” the boy avowed. ‘The older man smiled anew. “One of the most precious things in the world,” he replied, “is the confl- dence of youth. It is a priceless thing. | But as experience grows greater with | the passing y confidence auto- matically seems grow less. That is why we older people are more cau- tious, I suppose. H'm!” He seemed | now to be talking to himself. “I won- der,” he added vaguely. Suddenly he sat upright. “Charlie, he said, “how money do vou make?"” “Sixty dollars a week, sir. I ought raised to $75 by the end of the sald Priscilla. “And you expect my daughter to {live on that?" “Yes, sir. he wants to, I think.” “She may want to, Charlie, but do vou honestly think she can? I'm suming for the moment that you don't expect me to help you out—or do 2 The boy flushed. 1 don’t, M Chalders."” “I ‘didn’t_think vou did, Charlie— which is why I'm willing to.” | "I don’t want it, sir. We—we'd | rather play the game on our own.” The elder nodded. | % % % ‘_uA most estimable intention, I'm sure. The only thing —well let's get back to my original ques tion. What makes you think that ‘Prl:«‘illn, who in the last year, on { her own clothes and amusements and | things like that, ha pent. ow much is it, Prilla, that you ran over your allowance, anyway?" She winked. “Only about a thousand, dad. ““Well, including your car and its up- | keep—and not including board and | lodging—that brings your year's cost {up to about five tho , with this | house thrown ir What make: | think, Prilla, that you can po: ) keep house for any man on about half that sum—including his clothes as well as yours for both of you? And what would lead you to that conclusion, Charlie?" “I've two hand: haven'st I?" de- | manded the girl quickly. “And I've a | brain, haven’'t I?" | ather smiled. my boy?” Hale was taken I don't know Py eems i girl, | . Chalders. s but she's spoiled, too, lie. I've spoiled her; so it's my | Ana since it is my fault, T feel r extraordinarily responsible for cilla’s future. T want her to be happy. If she marries y happy with vou, just as I should want | You to be happy w | if either, of you has any well founded idea of how much misery can come | about through the restrictions and hardships imposed upon a married couple by poverty." | “I think I have, quietly. | don’t mean tle money. | ventor, Mr | _“And “You know * * “And what's like She's Char- ault. the boy sald but about having too lit- father was an in- Chalders.” haven't I eyes, dad?" | Priscilla ust because I live in a big house, don’t you think 1 have riends who don't?” Her father said: “That's just the point. You see people who live mod- erately, but vou have never had to be such a person. You, my daughter, have never really been denied any- thing. You have vour car. Come to think of it, you have two cars. Do | ¥bu think you'll be able to keep a | car, dear, on $60 a week? “I—I suppose not,” she answered. * ok ok % “IDO vou think you'll be able to | stay in the country club, Prilla, on sixty a week? Do you think you'll be able to keep up your golf and your riding and all those things that are actually a part of your life—do you think you'll be able to manage them | on sixty dollars a week} Let me give vou your answer right now. You | won't. Why, vou won't even be able | to go to_the theater except once in a | while. You won't be able to go to dances. You won't be able to do any thing except—well, to speak bluntly expect housework.” | think she understands that, siz,” |said the boy. “We've talked it all | , Mr. Chalders.” | " “I' know what Tt he corroborated evenly. “But it'll be for only a little while, dad. Charlie's going to make a whole lot of money | before you know it Her father laughed softly. “A whole lot of money, Prilla, is not so easy to make. I know, because | I've made it. So don’t count on mak- ing a lot of money before vou've given yourself opportunity _to live on mightly little money. That's all that’s worrying me, dear—the possibility that after the first romance has worn | off you might revolt against poverty. Perhaps, my dear, I shouldn’t have ‘(nfll'ul.’fler‘l vou with expensive tastes, but I did, and that’s that. [ “But, dad,” she pleaded, “it won't be | poverty. Three thousand dollars a | year isn't poverty. “It will be poverty for vou” he stated succinctly. “And don't forget it for a minute. I'm not saying that this experience wouldn't be good for you—1I consider it a wholesome ex perience for any one—but I am say put in | be giving up,” k> k/ Deniga, ING TO BE MARRIED. HOW DO THE IDEAZ™ 5 much and food and rent | u I want her to be | I wonder | Not about being married, I | ing that it may make both of you very miserable. Have you ever washed a panful of dishes, daughter— ever in your life?” “Of course, dad. I've been to camp. I've cooked, too, and made beds.” “For a few days,’ he amended, “and when it was supposed to be fun. But let's stick to washing dishes. Did you enjoy it? Be honest, now.” She smiled. “Naturally I didn’t en- joy it. Who on earth could enjoy washing dishes?” “I shouldn’t think anybody could,” he said, “although I managed to do it for a whole Winter once in Nevada. But you get my point, don’t you dear? You prefer golf to dishwash- ing. You prefer tennis to scrubbing floors. What on earth, then, makes you suddenly think you'll prefer dish- ashing to golf, and all the rest”” “Because 1 love Charlie, dad, and because he loves me.” For a moment her father sat silent. Then at last he said: “I think I have an idea. ‘‘How would you like to give a house party, Prilla?” “A house party? mean, dad—a house party? the world—and for whom?” “For Charlie Hale,” said her father. “For Charlie Hale, with me for chap- eron. Would you be willing to try it out for one month, Priscilla, my dear— exactly as you would have to live it you were married and limited to sixty Qollars a week.” The girl leaned forward. “Do you mean—really?” she de- manded. “With a budget and every- thing? Is that what you mean, dad * %ok K \JORE real even that that,” sald her father. “My plan is for you to find the sort of house you could afford to live in on sixty dollars | a week, and then live in it—us three, but with you and Charlie doing all | the work. ~ Of course, I'll have to go to my office, just as Charlie will. It will give you a taste of staving home | alone all day—with your dishes. And after a month, if you still like it—- Priscilla plumped herself excitedly into her father’s lap. “Oh, dad,” she whispered, “you old peach! Would you really go to all that trouble, just for me? Isn't he just a peach, Charlie? Didn't I tell you?"’ ¥ Priscllla and Charlfe bought a bud- get bodk. They pored over it until | dinner time, when Priscilla announced results of their findings. book says, dad, that you n't spend more than a quarter of your monthly income for the item of rent. If you stay under that you'll be safe. Well, since there are four weeks in a month, a quarter of our | monthly income—" “You mean of Charlie's monthly in. come,” her father corrected mildly. “A' quarter of our income,” she wept on, “is just about $60. Have you any idea, dad, where we can get a house for $60 a month? I mean a nice one, that we'd really like to live |in? Charlie thinks we'll have to try over in the Edgemont section. Mr. Chalders chuckled. “There's nly one way to find out,” he said, and that's to go around and look. I have only one suggestion, Priscilla. When you make your inquiries, say that the house is for your father. That will sound better, for after all you are rather well known in town, and it will also have the advantage of being strictly true. When you have | found a place you like let me know and I'll arrange about the rent iangular house party month. The boy spoke up. “There's only one difficulty,” he said, “about furni- | ture. 1f Prilla and I were really get- | ting a house for ourselves we'd get | an unfurnished house. I've got| enough saved up to furnish a place. | What I'd sort of like to do is to go ahead and get the stufft—"" The older man lifted his head. “Not | a bit of it. my boy. This is my ex- | periment, not yours. I'll see that the | house is furnished and adequately | equipped. Then, if the experiment | should prove what you and Prilla| might term a success, I'll arrange 10| turn the equipment over to you. | My plan is this: You go ahead and | choose and equip your house. When | | that's done I'll advance to you the | sum of Charlie’s monthly earnings. | At_$60 a week this comes to about | 1 $270. From this I shall deduct the | rent—and to the remafnder I shall | add a reasonable sum to cover the| | actuat cost of my own board while I | am with you. Five dollars a week, I | think, shouid carry me. You will, ! therefore, be given, say, $235—and on that money you will undertake to run your house, save out a reason- able = amount to cover clothing for | both of you, to cover entertainment | and amusement, doctors’ bills, inci- | dentals and the hundred and one other | expenses of a going household. Do ou accept that as a fair proposition, | P 1lla | |~ “It sounds fair to me,” said the girl. | | “I'a accept anything to get Pris- cilla,” stated Charlie Hale. “That may sound like melodrama, but it's the truest thing 1 ever said.” * ok ¥ ¥ ‘What do you Why in | g T took Priscilla almost a week to find the house. There seemed to be nothing for $60 or less; nothing, that is, with a workable kitchen and two bedrooms and a halfway modern bath. So at last, almost in desperation, Pris- cilla decided upon one place for $75. It was not an attractive house, for it was painted brown; and it was square and high and close to the street. But inside it was, as she told, herself, | rather cute. It had a livfng room with a tiny fireplace. It had a kitchen painted white. Upstairs it had two bedrooms, a sort of sewing or storage room and a diminutive bathroom; all: of them fairly presentable. She took Charlie there first. “Could we live here?” she asked. “You bet we can.” i silas Chalders had only one com- ment. % “At any event,” he observed, “you're | starting out just as if you were a real married couple.” “How's that?” asked Charlie. “By paying more than you planned to and more than you ought to for rent. Do you want this place, you two?” “Oh, yes! “All right, then. Get some furni- ture in here and all the equipment you need. Don't forget coal, Charlie. It's still early Spring. You'll need a furnace for a month yet.” But, dad,” asked Priscilla, “will the coal have to come out of my money, too?"” Her father looked at her. “Nat- urally,” he said. “Did you think the angels brought coal to people? Who is it that I have to see about the rent?” Priscilla told him, adding, “Fix it so we can really keep the place if your predictions don’t work out, dad.” “T'll fix it,”” the older man promised. He did exactly that. At first the landlord was inclined to be stiffish. But at the end of five minutes Mr. Cohen was laughing. “First,” said Mr. Cohen, “you want the roof to leak. Is that it?” Yes,” sald Silas Chalders. “Into the north bedroom and into the kitchen. Mr. Hale and 1, you see, will occupy the south bedroom together. Wil you tell the man to fix it, please, so the leak comes directly over my daughter’s bed?” ‘What an idea!” chuckled Mr. Cohen. “Sure I will. And next—Ilet me see—you want the plumbing put on the bum. . Is that it?" . “No, not entirely, Mr. Cohen. Just so the bathroom won't work very well and so_there'll be a leak in the cellag, In addition, perhaps, the hot water | kitchen range alone. | darned should be out of order. a difficult procedure?” , “Gracfous, n sald the landlord. “Easiest thing on earth. Say, I wish all my tenants had your ideas, Mr. Chalmers.” halcers,” the other corrected. “Excuse me. Iain’t good on names. What else was it you wanted jammed up? Oh, yes—the furnace. Can't do much with that except stuff up the smoke pipe. But that'll help. How about the stove, Mr. Chalmers? Want that fixed up, too? “Not on your life, man! ‘Would that be Leave the Remember, I | may be able to stand freezing to death, | but there’s one think I insist on—I in | tend to eat.” * ok ok ok Y the end of the week a half-dozen | vans and delivery wagons had backed up to the square brown house. | One by one Priscilla had welcomed | them. But when the last man had | clumped his way over the threshold Priscilla_was no longer in a welcom- ing mood. * From floor to ceiling every room was stacked with an assortment of turniture. She was mopping her eyes when Charlle Hale rang the doorbell. He sald: “Well, dear, how’s the old place getting along?” He whipped off his coat, seized hold of the largest piece and asked where it went. “I need a hammer,” he observed presently, and raced out to get it. On his return he stopped just inside the doorway and whistled in sudden ap- preciation. Then he strode into the Kitchen, where he heard noises. “You' little peach!” he commented. “Why, you've got the front room all straightened up. It looks half-wa human. How on earth did you ever o {t?" Priscilla faced him, laughing. it 1 know. “I've just—hustled, that's all. I intend to cook dinner here tonight—some sort of a dinner—if it's my last living act Look upstairs, Charlie—the bedrooms are half-way fixed, too. There's only one satisfaction I can get today—and that's to spoil the laugh I know dad’s counting on. Listen—thgre's his key in the door.’ Silas Chalders came in asking if he could ‘help. “Take off your coat,” said Charlie Hale, “and then unpaci this barrel of kitchen stuff. You ought to have seen this place two hours ago.” “I could plcture it,” muttered Mr. Chalders. “That's why I delayed my arrival. Said Priscilla, wiping her hands upon a grimy apron: “Come across | with your board money, dad. You | start eating here tonight. Now scrambled eggs and with toast and coffee, are fairly simple | to prepare. Priscllla, who had learned the trick at camp, scrambled | elght eggs, fried a panful of bacon, | made a batch of toast and a big pot | bacon, | | ot cof “Tomorrow I intend to begin dig- | ging into a cook book,” the girl an- nounced proud “Why, cooking is | a cinch!" Presently she smiled and said, “Now, dad, let's tackle your bete noir. Here’s where I wash the | dishes. Just watch me.” | She ran into the kitchen and turned | on the hot water. After a moment she put her hand under the tap. “It ought to be hot,” she said. “Isn’t it?” her father inquired blandly. | “No, it’s not. It's as cold as ice.” She faced the two men helplessly. | “Come here and see what's the mat- ter with it, Charlle,” she entreated. He went, traced the pipes from the faucet to the boiler, from the botler | to the range, traced them back again. | n't know,” he said finally. “I guess we’'ll have to get a plumber. “But we can't get a plumber till tomorrow. ~How are we going’ to wash the dishes in ice-cold water?" Priscilla turned sharply at a muffled chuckle from her father. “We'll| wash 'em just the same,” she de determinedly. And for the better part of a clammy hour she and| Charlie did. | “The landlord will send a plumber,” sald Mr. Chalders. “It’s his business you know, to keep the place in rea sonable repair. Just telephone him in the morning. | “I certainly will,” said Priscilla with | dignity. They walked out to the liv- ing room and she sat down. “Is the furnace going all right?” she asked “There’s no heat coming up,” she insisted. | * ¥ % X i (CHARLIE HALE without a word | stalked to the cellar. They | heard him cough, heard him make | one loud remark that was not flatter- | ing to the furnace. Then he came | stumbling up the wooden stairs | “It's out,” he informed them, rub-| bing his eyes. “Or I guess it's out. I couldn’t see on account of the | smoke. Say—we're getting our share | of troubles, all right. What's the matter with this house, anyway?” Said Silas Chalders, smiling: “It's | no different from any other house, Charlis Housekeeping, as I think I told you, is no bed of roses.” “Let's all turn in,” the girl sug- gested at this point. “I'm going to, | anyhow. I don't mind saying that I| could go to sleep standing up to- night.” “An amiable idea,” said her father. “You run up first, daughter, and we'll follow Priscilla ran up. They could hear her setting the bedrooms in order. Then, abruptly, they heard her call out—a cry of fright and sudden alarm. The two men bolted up the stairs, found the girl at the bathroom wash- basin vainly stuffing a towel into what looked like the mouth of a small geyser. “It came off,” she shouted. whole faucet came off."” “Here!" commanded Charlie Hale. | You're getting all wet. Let me get | at that. Oh, yes—here’s the faucet.” | He stooped to the floor and rescued it. | “Now let me see if I can't screw it back on.” In a spray of water he pushed and twisted, fought with the faucet and tried to hold it in place against the pressure. He did not give up until he and Priscilla and the entire room were drenched. Then he shook the ‘water from his eyes, fumbled for the soggy towel, ordered Priscilla to hold it over the pipe by main strength, and rushed down into the cellar. After 15 ‘minutes he came slowly up- stairs again, his face and clothing smeared with wet, black grime. “All right now,” he announced dis- spiritedly, “The water's turned off. I found the handle, at last. It's in the back of the coal bin. Good gra- clous, this place looks like the Great Dismal Swamp.” Priscilla surveyed the dripping room. In her eves shone anguish, but she did not let her features change ex- pression. “For the first 12 hours,” she ob- served lightly, “this looks to me like a pretty good day's work. I won- der what other tricks this house is going to show us. Stop grinning, dad —you, all dry there in the doorway. St it, I say.” “Let him grin if he gets any pleas- ure out of it,” said Charlie Hale savagely. About the middle of the next morn- ing the plumber came. In the man- ner of plumbers he entered with a surgeon's air of abstraction, of de- tachment from things mundane. “You just go on about your busi- ness, little lady,” he said. “Don’t you werry about me. I know this house. Ill fix everythin’ up. Any- way, Mr. Cohen, the landlord, told me $ust whet to do.” This was strictly | “The | He stared at Priscilla quite frankly. | Then he sald ! what's the idea? | expected the truth. The plumber had been given his orders. He adjusted the hot-water system so it would work. Since he had pre- viously adjusted it so it would not work, he knew exactly how to pro- ceed. Priscilla wag astonished at the short time it took.” He tightened the bathroom faucets o they would not twist off again. He descended into the cel and secretly removed a large wad of metallic wool from the furnace smokepipe. But, then, though he should have been finished with his task, he did not-seem to be. He investigated certain pipes in the cel- lar, and applied a wrench to them. He hammered a little. Then to Pris- cilla’s puzzlement, he withdrew to the loftiness of the attic. % RESENTLY he came down. He was a young man, ruddy of face and with competent eyes and hands. “Maybe I_don't get this quite | straight. Cohen said somethin’, but | Your father-inlaw | livin' with you-—is that it?” “The girl flushed. “Oh, no!” she sald. | “I—well, I wish he was. It's my | father. It's just an idea of his. You | see, Mr. 4 | “O'Brien’s the name,” plumber gallantly, | Well, you see, Mr. O'Brien, my | father didn’t think I could economize | very well, and when Mr. Hale—that my flance—when he and I became en- gaged, my father said that if we could live for a month as we'd have to live on Charlie’s salary—oh, gosh, I'm all | mixed up! But what I mean is, this'| a sort of test—that's all.” | aid Mr. O'Brien: “How much does | your feller make | Priscilla hesitated, then laughed and | gave the figure. | ‘Well, ain't that enough?” demand- | ed Mr. O'Brien. “Me—I drag down | a shade better than that, but gee— | sixty a week’s enough for anybody.” | That's just what I've told father, put in the | said Priscila_with triumph. The plumber hesitated, scratched | his head, started to say something, apparently thought better of it, mum- | bled hastily, “Well, good luck, little lady picked up his tools and took his departure. The girl met Charlie Hale that even- ing with the happy announcement that the hot water worked and that | the furnace v fixed. goodness!” breathed the boy and| | went down into the cellar to shake the fire. At the foot of the stairs| he stepped off into six inches of un-| water. He jumped back,| said a word that was expressive | rather than polite. | 1 “What's wrong?” asked Priscilla | opening the door. | Wrong?” he inquired. “Where did vou get the idea, Prilla, that anything | was wrong? “‘Perhaps we've struck oil. The only trouble is, it feels a lot like | water. Wet, you know.” He shook his right foot gingerly. ‘“Yes, very wet. Ah, listen, my partner in adver- | v you hear it trickling?” ald Priscilla | ext morning the plumber was sent | for again. The cellar by this time was two feet deep in water. Mr. O'Brien was irritated. “Fine trick to play on a voung couple!” he muttered under his breath. What's that?” asked Priscilla. othin’. I was just talkin' to me- self. ¢, little lady,” his eyes brigh ened, just thought of somethin You run upstairs a minute, will you? | I want to look at this here kitchen | stove.” | “But why must T go upstairs? | He said:" “Don't ask no questions. Is there anything at all in this here | house that hasn't gone on ths bum in | the last couple of days Yes,” said Priscilia. stove “The kitchen l “Thank | yp, | entered the house together that eve. | won't burn.” | FROM A SPOT IN THE CEIL TRICKLING. IT WAS TRICKLIN __COVERLET. ) el little 1ady—you just use your | mitted dryly, “but just the same there dome for a minute—does that mean |is. It keeps going out. I can't cook a anythin’ to you at all? Everything } thin; 3 but the kitchen stove?" Silas_Chalders "gulped. Fach eve She shook her head. ning these many vears past he had Your old man likes his meals regu-| had his dinner on the dot. He dis lar, don't he? If something had to xet | liked cold things to eat. He disliked out of order, would he like it to belthem intensely. But he forced a the range, which delivers him his|smile. He suggested that swell hot chow?” Charlie could fix the thing. A light flickered into Priscilla’s| Charlie could not, and so reported eyes. “Can you do something to the| “Let’s dine out,” the older man sug stove?” she demanded quickly.|gested. “I'll blow you “Something so it won't work?" “No,” said Priscilla. “We've agreed “Don’t ask me,” said Mr. O'Brien, this for a month, and we're too solemnly. ou just slide along|going to—all of us.” upstairs.” |~ They dined upon cold cereal and Presently she heard him plodding [ milk, with bread and butter as a side up after her. He gave her a sig-|dish. Priscilla ind the boy ate avic nificant look | The girl's father shuddered, but “Now don't you dast follow me up | ished his portion. Then sald Priscill into the garret,” he warned. “Except | “Charlie and I think we'll g0 to the there's nothin’ to prevent you. Got|movies, dad. Want to come?” me, little lady?" | “Nos If I have to stay in this place “1 get you,” said Priscilla and fol-| I might as well improve my time b; lowed him. | reading. By the way, children,” e first smile of the evening cross R. O'BRIEN climbed to the attic| face, “when I came in it looked v and proceeded to a point in the | much like rain. Better take an floor that was directly over Priscilla brella, Prilla.” 4 bedroom. Here upon the boards lay “Oh, no! I love the rain, dad a scattering of sawdust. He looked up| Her father laughed quietly i at the roof over his head. Then he|only would rain, that would be the nodded sagely, turning to see whether | final straw. Never in her life had or not the girl was observing him.| Priscilla had the experlence of being She was. { under a leaky roof. He went to the “My job's done now,” he informed | window. It was raining already her guardedly. “All I got to say is,| It was 11 o'clock when the if you ever want to plug an: turned. Again Silas Chalders smiled , miss, a goodsized cork will do|When at length Priscilla suggested the trick, for a little while anyways. | €0ing to bed he beamed. You get it at the drug store. Smear| The two men went up: it, maybe, with shellac. And if you|gether. As they entered should want to make any alterations room Mr. Chalders paused. He di —I mean, you know—if there was a|not want to miss Priscilla’s firs hole in the roof, which looked as if gasp of dismay. t had been put there a-purpose, and| “It must be raining hard,” he ob- if you didn't like it where it was, served maliciously. “That's good but wanted it somewhere else—over |We need rain.” Then he turned on somebody’s bed, maybe—a brace and | the light in his room. Then he st bit will do the job neat.” From a spot in the ceiling dir “What's a brace and above his bed a thin str £ v asked. ter was trickling. It was ‘An auger. and splashing in the very holes that'll let his neat white coverlet to think of it * % % Maybe I could careless like. aid Priscilla, her eyes narrowing, at last 1 think I'm beginning to get the hang of this. 5 Charlie Hale and Silas it irs to- their bed bit?” she It bores holes. Big rain in. Say, come I got a brace and bit. | leave it downstairs, | center HARLIE HALE said, “Oh, isn't that a shame, Mr. Chalders But the older man said not a word He set his lips together; that was Oh, Prilla!” called out the bo: he came to the door. It doesn’'t seem to be les where else,” Chalders ning. They found it a murk of chok ing smoke. The boy scowled; this experiment in housekeeping was not, s0 it seemed, an unqualified success. But the older man smiled knowingly It would only be a few da before these children had had emough. Priscilla came out to them gasping, her cheeks smudged with soot. It the kitchen range. The darned thing cing any- she reported after a mo- ment’s investigation of the other rooms. “It's too bad, dad, but we can move your bed.” “You can do snapped her father. on that, soaking mattre: for thing. Priscilla, pack your bag, you and I will go to a hotel.” aid the girl. " said her father. ‘How about it Charlie? dad quitting on Her eyes flickered Suppose it was my o such thing," wouldn't sleep “The stove?” Her father drew back | in genuine astonishment. “T don't see how anything can be the matter with the stove. It worked this morning. “Maybe there can't be,” the girl ad. she asked. his agr sudder bed? ow | perhaps | do we? she | - & > DIRECTLY ABOVE HIS HEAD A THIN STREAM OF WATER WAS AND SPLASHING IN THE VERY C NTER OF HIS NEAT WHITE ked. “Just s , that the le tead of in yours 1s good for me, You'd tell me it was life. me to make the best of it. telling you tk me thing.” Her father's jaw sagged slightl; “Oh, come on, Prilla,” he whee We don't have to stick to the lette: After all, sn’t this prov to you how impossible it is to live in a cheap house, in a cheap way? You don’t really like it I do. keep on liking ppose, for the fun of k was in my room in- You'd tell me it wouldn't you? You'd tell Well, I'r And I'm going to And T'll tell you it's real.” ips. “Prilla,” } got to leave this houss can come back tomor- He looked at his bed I insf flla. I will shall D that ou've tonight K row if vou helplessly t and in don’t have “You me £0 to a hotel v nodded to you off dad, on one s is that you'l “I refuse to ad “Then take yc sleep in that ghost of n’s € her eyes twinkled She let he older 1 leak, F After leak He a smile crept into the Did you make tha anded she get row noon. Not Don't y your consent t ar vhy, just After this, 18 will be— one of gruff ideas,” said He began I've my < d over to her fathe and threw he s about h “Oh, “you caroled. Wk long as Cl night to help me dry them? it Evolution of Horse Extends Back ToTime It WasNo Larger Than Fox HE latest and best estimates | made by scientists place the | age of the earth as probably between one and two billion years, and more than a third of this time had passed before the first faint traces of life are discern- able. Earller than the time when these first definite forms of life have been found in the rocks, the pres- ence of life is inferred by certain things that apparently can be accom- | plished only in the presence or b: the agency of life, such as the accum ulation of deposits of graphite, lime- | stone and iron ore. The passage of more than half of geologic time found plants still con- fined to the water, but when, in Devonian times, they came up out of the sea and began the conquest of the land, with them came many | strange animal forms. In the countless ages that followed the first land flora, the world was gradually made ready for the mam- the highest type of life, and yet 90 per cent of geologic time was gone before the mammals came to the dominant position they now hold. Although _certain archaic mam- mals probably came into existence | early in the Mesozoic era, or so- called time of middle life, it was not until the beginning of the Cen- ozoic era, or time of modern life, that the ancestors of the horse made their appearance. Of all the animals of the past and present, there is none more deserving of our interest and affection than the horse. It is one of the most useful of the domestic animals and has played a very important part in the development of civilization. Since the dawn of recorded history, the man with the horse has been in the forefront of progress. Whether lead- ing the military civilizations of the past or preparing the way for the industrial civilization of the present.|of the pioneers and leaders of progre: have always made use of this ani- | mal. | North America during lower eocene The history of the evolution of the | times, and was a small animal, no horse through the teritary period of | larger than a fox or about 14 inch the leading specialists in the paleontologic history of the horse. The first Eohippus appeared in | eral age of mammals affords the best|tall at the shoulder, with four com- | known illustration of the doctrine of | plete toes on each forefoot and three evolution by means of natural selec- [on each hind foot. Eohippus, except tion and the adaptation of a race of [for his hoofed toes and plant-eating animals to its environment | type of teeth, was in general sug- The ancestry of this family has|8estive of the carnivors, or flesh- been traced to near the beginning of | €AUNE animals, rather than the ungu- the teritary without a single import- | 1ates of today. His teeth were the ant break. During this long period | Short browsing type; his back was of time, estimated at four or five|&rched, his head and neck were short millions' of years, thess animals, |and his limbs of moderate length, al gradually increasing in size, passed | though beginning to show adaptation through important changes in all|for speed. parts of the body. and especially in| The oligocene horse, the teeth and feet, adapting them |as suggested by more and more perfectly to their par- | termediate between those ticular environment. eocene and miocene periods. The In the serfes of ancestors of the|l2rgest known specimen was. about horse we can trace clearly every step | the size of a sheep, and while the in the evolution of those marked |teeth in general were low-crowned, peculiarities of teeth and feet which |Some of them were changing toward distinguish the modern animal from | those of the grazing animal. Meso- an ancestor which so little suggests [hiPpus had three toes on each foot a horse that when its remains were|2nd a splint representing the fifth first found its relation to the horse | diEit of the forefoot of the eocene was not suspected, and was recog. | 2nCestor. The middle toe was much nized only when several of the intes. |]arger than the side toes and bore medlate stages between it and jts|MOSt of the weight of the animal. modern descendants had been dis-| The striking evolutionary change covered. between Eohippus and Mesohippus On the other hand, this early ances- | was the steady increase in size from tor of the horse is very difficult to distinguish from the cotemporary ancestors of tapirs and rhinoceroses. indicating how all the modern quad rupeds have diverged from a single twpe, each becoming adapted to the needs of its especial mode of life. Five well defined types connecting the ancestral horse with the living representative are shown in models accurately made to scale by Dr. J. W. Gidley of the United States Na- tional Museum, well known as one was in- of -the its name, cene and the reduction of the lateral toes with concentustion of the weight upon the middle toe. The third important type, Mery chippus, marks the transition be. tween the older short-crowned teeth without cement and the long-crowned heavily cemented teeth of the later stages. Three toes were still pre: ent in this type, but the lateral digi are very slender and, while barely reaching the ground, were functional MODELS SHOWING THE EVOLUTION OF THE HORSE. 0 running or ground Hipparion upper miocene and pliocene represents the latest stage of the horse in which the lat toes are still present, but are much reduced in being almost functionless. In Equu in walking on sof of the the present-day type o horse, the lateral toes have entirel disappeared and the weight of the animal is born on the tip of a single toe on each foot. The teeth have also undergone great changes, especially in increased height or length of the crown. This heightening of the crowns of the cheek teeth was doubt less a deciding factor in the perpetu | ation of some of the grazing types of Mesohippus, | horses. \ | The the lower eocene to the upper oligo- |}, |tvpe to the long, | stages in The face portion of the skull has greatly lengthened and the ani mal is much larger. In addition to the five principal the direct line of descent nentioned above, there were any nt types which became extin Of these Hypohippus is an example Hypohippus is a cotemporary o nd while it increasdJ ained the more primi s of its ancestors, the most apparent of which was the lack of development of the teeth. teeth of Hypohippus were the short-crowned type and could not be come adapted to grazing habits the course of four or five million s, therefore, the teeth of Echippus c nged from the low-crowned prismatic, complex teeth, the fac had grown longer and the eyes were shifted farther back; the s elongated to keep pace with the lengthening of the limbs and the individual vertebrae had become more flexible with no loss of strength; the feet were much elongated and the median or third digit of each gradu- ally enlarged until it carried the whole weight. m in tive characte: had