Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, June 20, 1896, Page 6

=e CHAPTER XI. Amelia’s Expedient. The sight of Philbrick set the doc- tor’s nerves on edge. His interview with Louise had not been productive of all the joy that he could have wish- ed, but there was assurance in it that his suit was not hopeless, and so much was sweet to him. He could have met Philbrick in the village with not a trace of rancor, for all that had been th hed out in the physical en- counter. But to see him here, here of all places, for, of course, he was com- ing to irview, was too much for the doctor's peace of mind. But for the approach of his mother he might have invented an excuse for immedi- ate departure, little ppearance of running av us congenial to him. It is more t kely that he would have stood his ground, but conjecture is unnecessary, for he went down to meet his mother and relieve her of the avling bag she carried, and in wait- ing upon her he lost sight of his rival for a time. 2 hould have started to bring you soon,” he si Aren’t you early The boy 14 1 ad “A little early, perhaps,” she re- plied, “but I was all ready, and so I thought I would go along. I supposed you were here, Mason.” She smiled upon him benignly, and the doctor blushed. There was no mis- taking the icance of her expre sion. It w nt but direct ac- eu terested,” as she would have put it had she spoken, in Miss Drummond. “How are the poor, dear young ladies?’ she asked, continuing with- out waiting for a re “Prof. Drum- mond was so anxious, of course, I would come—he said you would stay here to lunch—for I couldn't help feel- ing for the poor dears being left all to themselves after such a_ terrible I? It is just like you, though, to put urself out for. others.” ! I put out, too, I guess, but I’ve managed it all in my mind. You will take your meals at Fairview and sleep at home. How will that suit your’ “Perfectly. Drummond.” Lovise had heard them as they went up the steps and was at the door to eo’ them. flere we are, Miss és Y panted Mrs. Williams, “what a climb. It’s like living in the garret, sn’t it? I should think once you e you'd never go out again.” “You won't mind it after a day or two, Mrs. Williams. How good of you to cc *Melia, here’s Mrs Will- lams. he last word was uttered as a little scream and Louise’s eyes distended with pl ant excitement. “What it dear?’ asked Mrs. Will- lams, placidly. The doctor knew, although he had his back to the road, that Louise had seen Philbrick. a v somebody I knew, that’s all,” responded Louise, and her cordial bow and smile as she acknowledged Phil- raised hat, smote the doctor ely upon the inmost door of his “Is it possible that he will venture his impudent presence here now?” he asked himself, and he ventured to turn about to see. No. Philbrick was not coming in just then. He had turned from the road and was cross- ing the field toward the point where he had begun fishing in the morning. Amelia came down stairs and greet- ed Mrs. Williams with quiet cordial- ity and the next minute the three ladies were plunged in household talk, planning for the coming days. Mrs. Williams insisting that she should do all the cooking, Louise that she should rook herself and that Mrs. Williams should have a vacation, and so on. {t v evidently a good start for a pleasant experience all round, land there was no apparent excuse for the floctor to remain. There was ample time for him to make his usual after- noon trip through the village before the evening meal, but yet he lingered. After Mrs.“Williams had been shown where her room was and had come own again, she g¢avitated to the dining room as did all who went to Fairview, and sat by a window look- mg out and chatting composedly with Amelia. Louise was flying about, evi- jently finding plenty of domestic work to do. The doctor drifted aimlessly Men Stopped Him on the Street. trom the dining room to hall and piazza and around on the river side and back again. He was looking for Philbrick, of course, and that he fail- ed to see him gave him almost as much concern as if the man had walk- td up to him arm in arm with Louise. Angry with himself, at last, for the annoyunce he “elt over the macter, he briefly announced that he was going to the village, aud left the house. He msde his usual calls and found that he bad a good many questions to answer ecncerning matters at Fairview. Mea stopped hin on the street to inquire what ne thou:sht of the professcr’s sudden departure. “] don’t think of it,” was his usval == THE-— Professor’s Seeret. rently. “He had busincss of his own, and went openiy, as I understand it. Perhaps if he had realized that the people regard him with some suspicion he would have :nanaged to postpone his trip until matters were cleared up; but nobody suggested to him that he ought to stay, I suppose.” The villagers shook their heads. It looked bad, they thought. If he had not appeared to run away, the thing might have been forgotton, but now— well, it Kind of seemed as if some- thing onght to be done about it. The doctor shrugged his shoulders at this suggestion, but did not venture to say anything. It was bard enough for him to pursue the course he had chosen in silence without being called upon to Sd something about about it. He saw that it needed but a few words to te a movement looking to a investigation, and that, as a medical man, the people were niclined | to turn to iim for their cue. He would not give it, while at the same time he could not bring himself to utter a flat contradiction to his own convictions, and thuss till the popular discontent. And his own convictions? He be- lieved that Starkweather had been stunned by an electric shock and his body thrown into the river. He hoped that Prof. Drummond had been inno- cent of any evil intent with regard to “One Moment, Doctor.” the shock; it might well have been ac- cident, or carelessness, but the story of the bed room and the marvelous dis- appearance were wild invention, If the professor were guilty of premedi tated murder, the throwing of Stark- weather into the Miniski had been part of the plan. If he were innocent, it were done in terror without a fair at- tempt to restore Starkweather. The professor had hoped that the body would be carried far away, and thus all evidence of his crime or careless- ness would be lost. In either event, it was clear that Prof. Drummond feared to face the facts. The doctor was conscious that there were flaws in his theory, but he re- garded them as matters of detail. He felt certain that his general view of the matter was correct. Minot Hawkins, the constable, was the hardest man he had to deal with. Minct had little unworthy ambition to figure as an important character by making an arrest, but he was yet sensi- tive to his position in the community, and there were many who egged him on to do something. He hesitated to do anything without ample justitica- tion for it, and he felt the discontent keenly. “The way I look at it.” he said to Dr. Williams, “is that somebody's got to swear out a warrant on information and belief, or less somebody who knows must make a plain statement that there wa’n’t feul play. Now, who's to swear out that warrant? Not me, for I haven’t infor-nation enough to arrest a cat, and belief I haven't at all.” Of course ,it was the doctor who ought either to back up a warrant or settle the whole matter by a profess- | Starkweather | came to his death withvut violence at | ional assurance that the hands of another party, but Minot didn’t say so openl; “It puts me in a kind of hard box. Mason,” he said, plaintively. “OQ, well,” returned the doctor, “wait a while. It will probably blow over. Prof. Drummond will return shortly, and if he sees that people look side- ways at him he may challenge an in- quiry. I’ve nothing to say.” “Can’t blame ye, Mason, ’cause you ain’t a public officer, but there’s a good many who think something ought to be done.” Free from his friendly tormentors at last, the doctor was well on his way back to Fairview when he met Phil- prick. He would havet passed on with a nod, but Philbrick stopped him. “One moment, doctor,” he said, good- that his unfailing equanimity irritated ihe doctor more than a torrent of an- gry words would have done; “I don’t expect you to make up with me and be friends, but you asked for an under- standing this afternoon, and so far as is in my power I want to have one.” The doctor made no comment, and Philbrick continued: “I don’t bear the slightest ill will because you attacked me, or for any other reason. In fact, I rather like you, but I suppose that statement is offensive.” the doctor. “Forget it then. I returned to Fair- view this afternoon to find my rod and take away such fishing traps as I left on the ledge at the top of the hougs.” “Convenient,” thought the doctor; but he didn’t say so. “I didn’t find the rod, and I ghall look for it again—to-morrow. It has probably lodged somewhere along the bank.” “Where are your fishing traps?” ask- ed_the doctor. “At Fairview.” “Why didn’t you take them away?” “I’m glad you ask questions,” re- sponded Philbrick smiling, “because it makes it so much easier to arrive at an understanding. Miss Drummond sug- | gested that I could leave them at the “It seems to me uncalled for,” said | | nouse. I put them in the basement.” “Is this your understandnng as you eall it?” “Jt is about as near as I can get to one at present, doctor. I said I should go there again to-morrow.” “4nd the day after, I suppose. Very well, Mr. Philbrick, I think I under- stand you, but I’ll ask another ques- tion. Did you say anything to Miss Drummond about our—” “Mortal combat?” interrupted Phil- brick in evident amusement. “Why, of course not, my dear fellow. You really didn’t think I’d be so childish, did you?” “I simply wanted to know,” respond- ed the doctor. “I’m obliged to you,” and he passed on. Philbrick looked after him with his curious smile, shook his head solemnly and proceeded on his way. Before he arrived at Fairview Dr. Williams felt better. The acknowl- edged and determined rivalry of this Mr. Philbrick was to be preferred to a game of subterfuges, insinuations and repeated misunderstandings. It put the matter where it belonged—in the hands of the lady to decide between them. “I cannot compete with Philbrick,’ reflected the doctor, “in what I sup- pose is called gallantry. I’m not witty and I can’t smirk and make eyes at a girl. In fact, I don’t believe I have it |in me to really please a woman, but I can try. Louise must love me for what I am if she loves me at all, and | with that I must be content to accept | my fate.” Louise herself told him how she had }seen Mr. Philbrick on the ledge, “and | had called to him not to fall in again. “He thinks his rod,” she said, “has floated ander the bank somewhere, and he is coming up to-morrow to look for | it with a spyglass.” “He thinks a good deal of his rod,” remarked the doctor. “Yes; he says it is a souvenir.” If Louise thought to tease the doc- tor into any manifestation of jealousy, or even of interest in Philbrick’s do- ings, she was disappointed. His meet- ing with his rival had prepared his mind, and yet if he only knew it, an exhibition of jealousy might have | made Louise think more highly of him. | Such is the aggravating inconsistency of young women—some of them. So Mr. Philbrick called on the next day, and on the day after that. Mrs. Williams observed his assiduous atten- tions to Louise and was disturbed, for she thought of her son. She did not venture to speak plainly to Louise about the matter, for her position in the house hardly warranted that. Mrs. Williams was a sensible woman in most respects. She saw that her pres- ence at Fairview was a mere formal- ity, and was not intended as an actual guardianship, and she saw, too, that she could not help her son by attempt- ing to plead his cause for him. There were times, too, when she doubted whether she desired his success with Louise overmuch. Nevertheless, she took occasion, now and again, to extol |Mason’s qualities, speaking of his | struggles * gain education and liveli- | hood at the same time, his loyalty and jtrue kindness of heart, and excusing | his defects, if he had any, on the | ground that his early loss of his father ‘had deprived him of proper counsel during his boyhood. Perhaps Mrs. Williams’ good sense | failed her a little in these well meant | discussions. Perhaps it is generally indiscreet to try to influence a young woman's heart. At all events, Louise did not give the doctor any special comfort in the way of showing him that he was advancing in her favor. He met Philbrick at Fairview occa- sionally and took pains always to con- ceal his hostility, a matter that was comparatively easy now that there was an “understanding” between them. Philbrick, on his part, sedulously re- frained from induging his satire at the doctor’s expense, and so the days pass- ed without apparent friction. A week after Mrs. Williams went to Fairview an elderly woman was driy- en to the house in a depot carriage. She | brought a note to Louise from her father in which he introduced Mrs. Appleton, su ‘sor to Betsey Hub- bard, as housekeeper. “How much she looks like Betsey,” thought Lovise, “only older and sourer. | He Tried to Get Into the Profes. sor's Workshop. {I’m afraid we shan’t have any more good times.” The professor sent a message to Mrs. Williams, asking her to remain a day or two longer, “until my return, if pos- | sible, or at all events until Mrs. Ap- pleton has got in the way of managing the house.” Mrs. Williams agreed to this, and promptly set to work to make comer. the situation pleasant for the new- A day or two after this the doctor was startled by an announcement from Constable Minot Hawkins. “It's come at last, Mason,” said he. “’Twas bound to, and now there’s no stopping it, even if anybody wanted to.” “What's. come?’ asked the doctor. “The official inquiry into young Starkweather’s death. A brother of ; his has turned up and brought a smart i lawyer with him from New York. I think there’s a detective with ’era, too, and they’re stirring up things. I ex- pect a warrant will be placed in my hands before the day is over.” The doctor made his round of visits in a hurry. He was anxious to be at | Fairview when the blow should fall. He had by no means lost sight of the mystery during the days of his moth- | er’s occupancy of the house, but he , had accomplished nothing. Once he ‘had secretly tried to get into the pro- | fessor’s shop, and had failed. He had been content to let matters rest with Sort fbi da for bee could not see that ick was making any progress. In fact,. Philbrick’s interest in the mystery seemed to have vanished ut- terly. He never referred to it, or did anything that lookd as if he had it in mind. Everything at Fairview was as usual when the doctor returned. He sought for Amelia to tell her the dis- agreeable news so that she might pre- pare her cousin’s mind for it, but he was utterly unprepared for the way Amelia had received it. “The worst has happened, Miss Willis,” he said. “A brother of Mr. Starkweather has come to Belmont, and an official inquiry will be insti- tuted at once.” with “Aa last!” gleaming eyes. “What!” cried the doctor; “you wel- come a public investigation?” “Yes,” she replied, with energy. “I saw how you were placed, and while I regretted that I had spoken to you, I sympathized with you. I do now, believe me. You could and would do nothing. So I sent to Mr. Starkweath- er’s people, and this, thank God! is the result.” she exclaimed, CHAPTER XII. A Smart Lawyer From New York. Dr. Williams was horrified, and his expression said so plainly. Amelia, by “What Have I Done,” She Moaned, a quick revulsion of feeling, almost broke down. A moment ago she had been exultant, now she was suddenly a penitent. “What have I done?’ she moaned?” “I could think of nothing but venge- ance and justice. I thought I was doing right, and I am afraid I have done very wrong.” “You have certainly precipitated a calamity,” said the doctor, coldly, “and much suffering will ensue to in- nocent persons. What good will come of it I fail to see.” “But, Doctor Williams,” she pro- tested, “were you not yourself de- voted at first to the same purpose? Did you not want that justice should be done?” “I wanted to know the truth, Miss Willis.” “Well?” she faltered, as he paused. “Isn’t that enough?’ he asked. “it was all you demanded. I know now what was in your mind. I did not then realize .that punishment of a guilty man was your real design.” “If you could have discovered the truth, then, you would have conceal- ed it?” “T think I should. Will exposure re- store the dead? Will an inquiry that may fail do any conceivable good?” “Dr. Williams, is it right that a murderer should go about the world unpunished?” Amelia had recovered her self pos- session; she was once more fired by the spirit of revenge. ‘i “You ask a hard question, Miss Wil- s—” “You dare not answer it!” “Pardon me; you did not let me finish. It is hard to answer yes to your question, and I cannot do it. But neither can I answer no, in this instance. There are other circum- stances that cloud the issue.” “Only as those circumstances apply to yourself, Doctor Williams. You think you are in love with Louise, and out of splendid loyalty to her you per- mit yourself to be blinded to justice.” The doctor flushed. He was all of a tremble. At no time in his life had he been so agitated. Amelia stood almost defiantly before him, seeming, in the strange argument, to be the in- vincible defender of truth. Every word she uttered sank deep into his mind, and remained there a vivid memory for long after. Not yet sub- dued, he responded: “And when you apply the circum- stances to yourself, Miss Willis, you permit them to blind you to family ties, humane instincts, and your sense of justice is distorted to a mere cray- ing for revenge.” “Yes,” she said, paling and speaking more slowly, “you are partly right. I have acted wholly from selfish im- pulse. I felt that a wrong had been done to me and that it must be right- ed. I never should have tried to drag you into it, that is all. am sorry, truly sorry on your account.” “Is that all? It is too late to make regrets of any avail, but do you think of your cousin?” “Yes,” very slowly, “yes, I am sorry for Louise. She will suffer for a time, I suppose?” “A time!” cried the doctor; “can such a stigma with its agony disap- pear in a long lifetime?’ “The stigma cannot, perhaps, though even as to that some people will be happily capable of disregarding the stigma, I think. The agony will be short.” “You refer to Louise.” “Of course, I do not mean to speak harshly, but I understand her. She is gifted above most others in a buoyant disposition. I regret that she must suffer at all, but I could not see before how that was to be avoided, and I do not now.” “Prof. Drummond may be innocent.” “I hope so, truly. Hush!” They were standing in the room off the hall, opposite to the dining room. Louise came to the oor. “Now I’ve caught you!” she cried gleefully. “What are you two plot- ting there?” “Miss Drummond,” said the doctor gravely, “there is to be a legal in- quiry into the death of Mr. Stark- weather.” “Dear me!” she responded, showing annoyance, but nothing more; “I had supposed that unfortunate affair von be forgotten. What will they lo Amelia glanced significantly at the doctor. He saw at once that there was a possibility that Louise, after all, might be shielded from keen suffering, inasmuch 9s it failed to occur to her that the inquiry arose from suspicion against her father. He knew that no open charge would be made until a coroner’s jury had heard all procur- able evidence, and he felt a faint hope that the evidence might be such that no charge could be brought against the professor. In answer to Louise the doctor said: “Witnesses will be summoned to tell what they know about the matter. Do you know where to reach your father by telegraph?’ “No. I never know papa’s move- ments when he goes away. He ought to be here, hadn’t he?” “I think so. At all events he ought to know what is going on.” “I will speak to Mrs. Appleton. It is just possible that she will know ee he is ,as she saw kim so recent- ry.” Louie consulted the new housekeep er, who declared that she knew noth- ing about the professor’s present lo- cation. “What can we do?” asked Louise helplessly. “Nothing,” responded the doctor; “there is no need to be distressed. The inquest cannot take place im- mediately, and for all we know the professor may come home to-night.” There was relief for all in this thought, for had not the professor in his message to Mrs. Williams written that he might be back soon? Mr. Philbrick called after the eve- ning meal. He wal dull and gloomy, for him, but, at that, a beacon of good cheer, compared to the doctor, who had remained at Fairview contrary to custom in order to be near Louise should there be any startling occur- rence. The doctor was exceedingly depressed. He knew that he would be called as a witness, and he dreaded the ordeal and the “smart lawyer from New York” more than he had ever d:caded anything in his life. “I suppose you've heard what’s com- ing, doctor?’ remarked Philbrick in- quiringly at a moment when the ladies were chatting by themselves. “I have,” replied the doctor. exceedingly sorry.” “So am I.” The doctor looked inciedulous surprise. “I mean it,” said Philbrick quietly. “Have you seen this man Starkweath- ex?’ “No. I suppose you have. What is he going to do?’ “You credit me with a good deal of information. However, by living at the hotel I happen to be in the way of knowing what's going on in this matter. Starkweather talks pretty loud. That’s my ene hope.” “You mean he threatens more than he is likely to accomplish?” “That’s about ft.” Dr. Williams knew not what ,to make of this kind of talk from Phil- brick. It was the only private conver- sation they had had since the “under- standing” after their encounter, and the doctor was even less disposed to trust him than before. ‘The report than an inquest was to be held had reawakened all his suspicions concern- ing Philbrick’s “casual interest” in the Faixview mystery, although the doc- tor would have been hard put to it “Pm at Philbrick in He Met Constable Hawkins. to name a single act or appearance during the last ten days or so to justi- fy his suspicion. Philbrick had intro- duced this talk, and seemed rather anxious to continue it, but the doc- tor held back. There was either a great deal to be said or nothing at all, and it was the latter policy that he had adopted. “I’m rather glad you warned the ladies,” continued Philbrick, after a moment, “that the blow was coming.” “Oh, are you?’ returned the doctor, interested. “How did you know that I had done ‘that?’ “Why, there was nobody but you to convey the information ahead of me, and I know that they must know of it when I saw the housekeeper at the telegraph office just before I started up. Of course, they’ve sent for the professor. A very doubtful proceed- ing, vel but, of course, you couldn’t have advised it.” “Tt would hardly be my place to do so,” responded the doctor, hardly able to repress his perplexity. What was Mrs. Appleton doing at the telegraph office, if not sending a message to the professor, as Philbrick supposed? Could it be possible that she had pri- vate business that required the use of the telegraph? Pbilbrick seemed to conclude that it was vain trying to draw the doctor in- to a discussion of the case, and pres- ently joined the ladies with something like his customary vivacity. ‘The doe- tor started home early, for there was no pleasure to him at Fairview as long as Philbrick was there, too, especially this evening, when his mind was so oppressed. As he was ascending the hill, a short distance from the house, he met Constable Hawkins. “Hello, Mason!” said the constable. “T’ve got a paper for you.” “All right, constable; I'll accept it,” responded the doctor. He knew it was a summons to ap- pear as a witness before the magis- trate, whose functions in that rustic neighborhood included the holding of a _coroner’s court when necessary. Having received the paper, he was about to pass on, when he observed that the constable was not turning about to go with him. “Wait a minute, constable,” said he. “Are you gonig on to Fairview?” “Yes; yes. More papers, you know.” “I didn’t think of that at first. The professor is still out of town, you know.’ “Yep; but here’s the girls.” “I wish you’d do me a favor, consta- ble.” “Tl try to. What is it?” “Let me serve these papers,” Hawkins o' hat and ran his fingers through his sparse hair. “By gum, Mason, I dunno!” he en- swered. “Duty is duty, you knew. You wouldn’t have an official go back on his oath of office, would you?’ “Not for one minute; but you know me. You know Gat Nt te serve the papers TH ketp say word, don’t you? “Ne doubt about that, Mason. But why Go you want to take the pa) They Gon't amount to nothing; 7ow know that well enough. They don’t accuse nobody.” ‘Of course. % know that, but the la- dies might not. To receive them from a stranger might startle them painful- ly. I speak as a physician, constable. When are the papers returnable?” “To-morrow morning before 10, be- fore ’Squire Taylor.” “Then let them wait. The time is short, I know, but I shall see the Mr, Levy Announced His Business. young ladies at breakfast. Keep the papers in your pocket. I give you my word of honor that the young ladies will be at ’Squire Taylor's to-morrow morning at 10, and, of course, Vl never s2y a word to anybody of our arrangement.” “Tl go you, Mason. ‘They couldn’t leave town without my knowing it, anyway; so I guess it’s safe enough to wait.” In the morning Dr. Williams told Louise what he had done. “Have we got to take our oaths, and answer a lot of questions betore a lot of men?” she asked. “You may not be called upon at all,” he answered, “and as there is very little yon can say ,the ordeal will be quickly over.” “I don’t think I shall mind, anyway,” she said. “It was kind of mean of you not to let us have the fun of being served with official papers.’ She laughed as she said it; but the doictor was hurt. He felt not only her lack of appreciation of his thoughtful- ness, by which he had hoped to save her and Amelia a night’s rest ,but he was also jarred by the trifling way in which she viewed the matter. Of course, he refiected, trying to see her in the perfect light she was sweetly, unconscious that anybedy could think ill of her father ,and as for poor Starkweather, well, perhaps it was too much to expect that ber joyous nature should be deeply touched by the death of 2 man in whom she felt no interest. Amelia had spoken truly in referring to her buoyancy. ’Squire 'Taylor’s little court room was densely crowded at 10 o’clock, for all Belmont had Jearned that an inquest was to be held. A coroner’s jury of six men was impanneled without de- lay, and Dr. Willims felt his heart sink when he saw among them Land- lord Delos Hawkins—he who had been the first in his presence to utter suspi- cions of the professor. What if Delos should cherish resentment for the re- buke the doctor had administered to him? What if he should insist on his right to ask a lot of questions? The doctor sat with Louise and Ame- lia, near the front. A little way from them was Philbrick, and directly in front of, him were two strangers, Charles Starkweather and Isidor Levy, the “smart lawyer from New York city.” The latter, after the jury had been impaneled, rose and formally an- nounced that he was present in the in- terests of the family of the deceased. “Your appearance is recognized, Mr. Levy,” said the magistrate, “but tech- nically speaking, we have yet to learn the identity of the deceased. I am not saying this, however, to discourage you from making any suggestions you see fit. The court will be glad of your assistance in arriving at the facts in the matter.” Mr. Levy perfunctorily declared his confidence in the methods that would be pursued by the court and sat down. The men who had found the body in the river near Waldo’s mill were called first. They were quickly disposed of, as were the undertaker and Constable Hawkins. Through them the identity of the dead man seemed to be suffi- ciently established, and there was enough brought out by them, too, con- cerning the wounds on the body to sat- isfy most people. “Is Nathan A. Drummond here?” asked the magistrate. Constable Hawkins rose to repeat the statement he had made to the ’squire about the professor’s continued absence, but he was told that he need not trouble himself. “Mason Williams,” said the ’squire. There was a general stir when the doctor took the witness chair, for the conviction had got abroad that “Ma- son” would be an unwilling witness, and that if ’Squire Taylor couldn't make him tell all he knew the smart lawyer from New York would. In an- swer to questions the doctor told about his examination of Starkweather’s re- mains, detailing with scientific accu- racy the nature of the wounds. He also corroborated the identification of the body already established. “When and where did you first hear of Starkweather’s death?” asked the magistrate. “At Fairview shortly after it was supposed to have occurred.” “Do you know when it occurred?” “T do not.” “Tell what occurred at Fairvie} while you were there. “Shall I tell what Prof. Drummond told me?” The magistrate looked at Lawyer Levy. (To Be Gontinued.) “My dear,” said Senator Breezibarb’s wife, “do you know you are contract- ing the habit of talking in your sleep?” “That is not a habit. It is an aoe Plishment. I’ve been practicing so as to be fully equipped for the speech aes I Sone delivering for me-consuming Dpurposes.”—Washing~ ton Star.