The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, May 17, 1903, Page 4

or tech that de : and in the settle- the secret of the past of the one man in Plattville so un- happy @s to possess a past. From that settlement and his own preceding action all, his disgrace with the loss of his wife. se and anguish of her s's- tha’s husband, Henry separation from his and the ighter, which was by far to him the hardest to bear. For Fisbee, in his own way and without consulting any- body—it occurred to him. and he was su to forget' that he had a wife nally- turned over to t mon y which care of, and n expedition which w pres‘dent of the 1 se talked to the ccted to beome 1l and technical; they course in fine arts, which connection with them, loved his money abolished ah h to for the mechani- . lepartment. Fisbee was nothing. His wife and kinsfolk exhibited no bril- n N, a totall irrespon- sible n thilities, and they made a tragedy of a mot surprising asco. Mrs. Fishee had lived in ber zm- tions e died of heartbreak over he disce ¢ what manner of man she ad marrie before she died she daughter. the story after his said, as Lhey dust and litter of the Sunday afternoon, *you that my sister-in-law has al- held her approbation from me, her disapproval is well ed—1 shall say probably. My wite ad also & considerable sum, and this she t d over to me the time of our marriage, though I had no wish regarding i or the other. When I gave my > the university with which 1 had or to be connected 1 added t» it recl 1ad received from her, as 1 ient of a comfortable salary the institution and had iving well, and 1 was in providing that rhe be perfectly equipped. magnitude of that 1 are expensive, I m you, and this onc investigations regarding rtant points very elaborazely: still convinced it would have clusively many vital questions & the derivation of the Babylo- colums whether the lotus col- without prejudice said io— prescnt moment 1 will not en- 1 fear 1 had no great expe- oney matters, for the transuc- almost entirely verbal, and was nothing 1o bind the trustees to us for the expedition. ympathetic, but what )? they begged leave to in- itution cannot give e donated, and it was character for a school of 1 engineering to send fa- estigate the lotus column}’ Mr. Parker observed, genially. is with the most ingratiating kpowir g that he had a rich sen- Plattville as a dish a King Fisbee's was no con- umunication. The old man hawe told a part of his history JoLg t never occurred to him to ffaire—things had a habit ing to Fisbee—and the efforts ps to draw him out always settled ncern be for pzssed over his serene and absent head. wife,” W to my dly, A hes were as vehement ¢s nt was sincere.” He hur- of his narrative ubled look, but the fn- 1 poor Mrs. Fisbec's a mind between the sentences. She never seemed to regard me in the . bt again,” the archaeologist went did not conceal from me that prised and that she could not me as a practical man; indeed, y say she appeared to regard me with marked antipathy. She sent for her sister and beggged her to take our daughter and keep her from me, as she did not con- der me practical enough—I will substi- tute for her more embittered expressions —to provide for a child and instruct it in the worl My sister-ln-law, who S nted to adopt the lit- tle one, on the conditions that I renounced all claim, and that the child legally as- sumed her name and should be in all re- spects as her own daughter, and that I consented to see her but once a year, in Rouen, at my brother-in-law’s home. “I should have refused, but I—my wife —that is—she was—very pressing—in her last hours, and they all seemed to feel that T ought to make amends—all except the little girl herself, I should say, for she possessed, even as an infant, an ex- ceptional affection for her father. 1 had nothing; my salary was gone, and I was discomfited by the combined actions of the trustees and my relatives, so—I—I gave her up to them, and my wife passed away in & more cheerful frame of mind, I think. That is about all. One of the instructors obtained the position here for me, which I—I finally—lost, and I went to see the little girl every New Year's day. This year she declared her intention of visiting me, but she was persuaded by friends who were conversant with the circumstances to stay with them, where I could be with her almost as much as &t my apartment at Mr. Tibbs’. She had long since declared her intention of some day returning to live with me, and when she came she was strenuous In insisting that the day had come.” The old man's voice broke suddenly as he observed: “She has—a very—beautiful—character, Mr. Parker.” The foreman nodded with warm con- firmation. “I believe you. sir. Yes, sir, I saw her, end I guess she looks it. You take that kind of a lady usually, and catch her in a crowd like the one show- day, and she can’t help doing the Grand Duchess, giving the tenants a treat—but not her; she didn’t seem to separate her- self from ‘em some way."” “‘She is a fine lady,” said the other sim- ply. - “I did not accept her renunclation, though I acknowledge 1 forbade it with & very poignant envy. I could not be the cause of her giving up for my sake her state of ease and luxury—for my rel- stives are more than well to do, and they made it piain she must choose between them and me, with the design, I think, of making it more difficult to choose me. And, also, it scemed to me, as it did to her, that she owed them nearly every- thing, but she declared I had lived alone #9 Jong that she owed me everything also, :fi.e is a—beautiful—character, Mr. Pa Ler. ““Well,” said Parker, after a pause, “the town will be upside down over thi and folks will be mighty glad to have it ex- plained aboul your being out there so . much, and at the deepo, and all this and that. Ewerybody in the place has been wondering what in—that is—" he finished in some confusion—“that js—what I started to say was that it won't be so bad as it might be, having a lady in the office here. 1 don't cuss to speak of, and Ross can lay off on his till the boss comes bacl Pesides it's our only chance. if she can’'t make the Herald hum, we go to the wall.” The oid man did not seem to hear him. “I forbade the renuncia- tion she wished to make for my soke,” he said gently, “but I accept it now for the sake of our stricken friend— for Mr. Harkless.” “And for the Carlow Herald,”™ pleted the foreman. The morning following that upon which this conversaticn took place the two gen- tlemen stood together on the station plat- form awaiting the arrival of the express from Rofien. 1t was a wet, gray day; the wide country lay dripping under formicss wraps of thin mist, and a warm, drizzling tain blackened the weather-beaten shin- gles of the station, made clear-reflectirg puddles of the unevenly worn planks of the platform and dampened the packing cases that never went anywhere too thoi- oughly for occupation by the station lounger, and ran in a little crystal stre4io off Fisbee's brown cotion umbrella ard down Mr. Parker's back. The bus driver, Mr. Bennett, the proprietor of two at- tendant *“cut-unders,” and three or four other worthies whom business or the lack of it called to that locality, availed them- selves of the shelter of the waliting-rourr, but the gentlemen of the Herald were too agitated to be confined save by the limits of tie horiz;n. They had reached the fta- tion half an hour before train time, and consumed the interval in pacing the plat- form under the cotton umbrella, address- ing each other only In _monosyliables. Those in the waiting-room gossiped eagor- Iy, and for the thousandth time about the late events and the tremendous news concerning Fisbee. Judd Bennett looked out through the rainy doorway at the latter with reverence and a fine pride of townsmanship, declaring it to be his Le- lief that Fisbee and Parker were waiting for her at the present moment. It was a lady, and a bird of a lady, too, else why should Cale Parker be wearing 2 coat and be otherwise dooded and fixed up beyond any wedding? Judd and his friends were somewhat excited over Park- er. Fisbee was clad in his best shabl black, which lent an air -of state to the occasion, but Mr. Parker—Caleb Parker, whose heart during his five years of resi- dence in, Plattville had been steel-pruof against all the feminine blandishmen:s of the town, whose long, lank face had shown beneath as long and lanker locks of proverbially uncombed hair; he who had for weeks conspicuously affected a single, string-patched suspender, who never, even upon the Sabbath day, wore a collar or blacked his shoes—what es- thetic leaven had entered his soul that e donned not a coat alone, but alse a waist- coat with checks?—and, more than thut, a gleaming celluloid collar?—and, more than that, a brilliant blue tie? What had this iron youth to do with a rising ex- citement at train time and brilliant blue ties? Also, it might have been inguired if this parade of fashion had no connection with the simultaneous action of Mr. Ross Scho- field, for Ross was at this hour engaged in decorating the battered chairs in the Herald editorial-room with blue satin ribbon, the purchase of which at the Dry Goods Emporium had been directed by a sudden inspiration of his superfor of the composing force. It was Ros: in- tention to rnish each chair wilh an elaborately tied bow, but as he was no sailor and understood only the in- tricacies of a hard knof, he confined him- self to that species of ornamentation, leaving, however, very long ends of rib- bon hanging down after the manner of the pendants of rosettes. It scarcely needs the statement that his labors were in honor of the new editor- in-chief of the Carlow Herald. The advent and the purposes of this person- age were, as yet, known certainly to only those of the Herald and to the Bris- coes. It had been arranged, however, that Minnie and her father were not to come to the station, for the journalistic crisl was immoderately pressing: Herald was to appear on the morrow. and the new editor wished to plunge di- rectly, and without the briefest distrac- tion, into the paper’s difficuities, now ac- cumulated into a veritable sea of troublss. The editor was to be delivered to the Briscoes at eventide an@ returned by them again at dewy morn; and this was to be the daily programme. It had been further—and most earnestly—stipulated that when the wounded proprietor of the alling journal should be informed of the addition to his forces he was not to know. or to have the slenderest hint of, the sex or identity of the person in charge during his absence. It was inevitable that Plattville (already gaping to the utter- moet) would buzz voluminously over it before night, but Judge Briscoe volun- teered to prevent the buzz from reaching Rouen. He undertook to interview what- ever citizens should visit - Harkless, or write to him—when his iliness permitted visits and letters—and forewarn them of the incumbent’s desires. To-day, the Judge stayed at home with his daughter, who trilled about the house for happiness, and, in their place, the Herald deputa- tion of two had repaired to the station to act as a reception committee. Far away the whistle of the express was heard, muffled to sweetness in the damp, and the drivers, whip in hand, came out upon the platform, and the loafers issued, also, to stand under the eaves and lean their backs agalnst tie drier boards, preparing to eye the travel- ers with languid raillery. Mr. Parker, very nervous himself, felt the old man’s elbow trembling against his own as the great engine, reeking in the mist and sending great ciouds of white vapor up to the sky, rushed by the; and came to a standstill beyond the plat- form. Fisbee and the foreman made haste to the nearest vestibule and were gazing blankly at its barred approaches when they heard a tremulous laugh behind them and an exclamation. “Upstairs and downstairs and in chamber! Just behind you, dea Turning quickly Parker beheld a blush- ing and smiling little vision, a vision with light-brown halr, a vision enveloped in a light-brown raincloak and with brown gloves, from which the handles of a big brown traveling bag were let fall, as tha vision disappeared under the cotton um- brelia, while the smitten Judd Bennett recled gasping against the station. “Dearest,” the girl cried to the old man, “you were looking for me between the devil and deep sea—the parlor car and the smoker. 1've given up cigars and I've begun to study economy, so I didn't come on either.” There was but this one passenger for Plattville; two enormous trunks thun- dered out of the baggage-car on the truck, and it was the work of no more than a minute for Judd to hale them to the top of the omnibus (he well wished to wear them next his heart, but their di- mensions forbade the thought), and im- mediately he cracked his whip and drove off furiously through ine mud to deposit his freight at the Briscoes'. Parker, Mr. Fisbee, and the new editor-in-chief set forth, directly after, in one of the walt- ing cut-unders, the foreman in front with the driver, and holding the big brown bag on his knees in much the same manner he m:uld have held an alien, yet respected, infant, com- CHAPTER XIV. The drizzle and mist blew in under the top of the cut-under as they drove rapidly into town, and bright little drops sparl(le'd on the fair hair above the new editor's forehead and on the long lashes above the new editor's cheeks. She shook these transient gems off lightly, as she paused in the doorway of the office at the top of the rickety stair- way. Mf. Schofield had just added the last touch to his decorations and man- aged to slide into his coat as the party came up the stairs, and now, perspiring, proud, embarrassed, he assumed an atti- tude at once deprecatory of his endeav- ors and pointedly expectant of commenda- tion for the results. (He was a modest youth and a conschous; after his first sight of her, as she stood in the doorway, it was several days before he could lift his distressed eyes uncer her glance, or, indeed, dare to avail himself of more than a hasty and fluttering stare al her when her back was turned.) As she en- tered the room, he sidled along the wall and laughed sheepishly at nothing. Every chair in the room was ornament- ed with one of his blue rosettes, tied care- fully (and firmly) to the middle slat of each chair-back. There had been several yards of ribbon left over, and there was a hard knot of glossy satin on cach of the ink stands and on the docr knobs; a biue band, passing around the stovepipe, im- parted au antique rakishness suggestive of the charioteer; and a number of streamers, suspended {rom a hook in the ceiling, encouraged a supposition that the employes of the Herald contemplated the intricate festivities of May Day. It need- ed no genius to infer that these garni- tures had not embellished the -editorial chamber during Mr. Harkiess' activity, but, on the contrary, had been put in'place that very morning. Mr. Fisbee had not known of the decorations, and, as his glance fell upon them, a faint laok of valn passed over his brow; but the girl examined the room with a dancing eye, and there were both tears and laughter in her heart. “How beautiful!” she ‘eautiful!” She crossed the room and gave her hand to Ross. “It 1s Mr. Scho- fleld, isn't it? The ribbons are delight- 1 1 didn’t know Mr. Haikiess' room was so pretty." Ross lovked out 6f the window and laughed as he took her hand (which he shook with a long up and down motion). but he was set at better ease by her ap- parent unrecognition of the fact that the decorations were for her. *Oh, it ain’t mach I reckon,” he replied, and con- tnued to lock out of tne window and laugh. She went to the desk and removed her gloves and laid her rain cloak over: a chair near by. s this Mr. Harkless chair?” she asked, and, Fisbee answer- ing that it was, she looked gravely at it tor a moment, passed her hand gently over the back of it, and then, throwing the rain cloak over auother chair, said cheerily: “Do you know, 1 think the first thing for us to do will be to dust everything very carefully.” ‘You remember I was confident she would know precisely where to begin?” was Flisbee's earnest whisper in the will- ing ear of the long foreman. *‘Not an in- stant’s indecision, was there?”’ “No, siree!” replied the other; and, as he went down to the pressroom to hunt for a feather duster which he thought might be found there, he collared Bud Tipworthy, who, not admitted to the cou- clave of his superfors, was whistling on toe rainy stairway. *“You hustie and find that dust brush we used to have, Bud." said Parker. And presently, as they rum- cried. “How maged in the nooks and crannies about the machinery, he melted to his smail assistant. “The paper is saved, Buddie— saved by an angel In light brown. can tell it by the look of her.” “Gee!” said Bud. Schofield had come, “Say. You blushing, tu Cale, did you notice the I thought so, 100, show day, and at Kedge Halloway's lecture; but, say, Cale, they're kind of changeable. When she come upstairs with you and Fisbee, they were jest as blue!—near matched the colur of our ribbons. “‘Gee!”” repeated Mr. Tipworthy. ‘When the editorial chamber had been made so neat that it almost glowed- though it could never be expected (o shine as did Fisbee and Caleb Parker and Ross Schofleld that morning—the editor took her seat at the desk and looked over the few items the gen- tlemen had already compiled for her pe- rusal. Mr. Parker explained many tcch- nicalities peculiar to the Carlow Herald, translated some phrases of the printing- room, and enabled her to grasp the amount needed to fill the morrow's issue, ‘When Parker finished the three incom- petents sat watching the little figure with the expression of hopeful and trust- ing terriers. She knit her brows for a second—but she did not betray an in- stant’s indecision. “I think we should have regular mar- ket reports,” she announced, thought- fully. “I am sure Mr. Harkiess would approve. Don’t you think he wouid?" She turned to Parker. “Market reports!” Mr. Fisbee ex- claimed. “I should never have thought of market reports, nor, do I imagine, would either of my—my associates. A woman to conceive the idea of muarket reports!” The editor blushed. “Why, who would, dear, if not a womap, or a speculator, and I'm not a speculatur, and neither are you, and that's the reason you didn't think of them. 8o, Mr. Parker, as there is s0 much pressure, and if you don't mind continuing to act as reporter as well as composer until after to-morrow, and if 1t isn’t too wet—you must take an umbrella—would it be too much bother if you went around to 2ll the shops— stores, I mean—to all the grocers’, and the butchers’, and that leather place we passed, the tannery’—and if there's one of those places where they bring cows, would it be too much to ask you to stop there?—and at the flour mill, if it fsn't too far?—and at the dry goods store? And you must take a blank-book and a sharp- ened pencil. And will you price every- thing, please, and jot down how much things are?’ Orders received, the impetuous Parker ‘was departing on the instant, when she stopped him with a little cry: “But you haven't any umbrella!” And she forced her own, a slender wand. upon him; it bore a cunningly wrought handle and its fabric was of glistening silk. The fore- man, unable to decline it, thanked her awkwardly, and, as she turned to speak to Fisbee, boited out of the door and ran down the steps withou: unfoiding the umprella; and as he made for Mr. Martin's emporium, he buttoned it s curely under his long “Prince Albert,” de- termined that not a drop of water should touch and ruin so delicate a thing. Thus he carried it, triumphantiy dry, through the course of his reportings of that day. ‘When he had gone the editor laid her hand on Fisbee's arm. ‘‘Dear,” she said, *do you think you would take cold if you went over to the hotel and made a note of the arrivals for the last week— and the departures, too? I noticed that Mr. Harkless always fllled two or three —sticks, isn‘t it?—with them and things about them, and somehow it ‘read’ very nicely. You must ask the landlord ail about them, and, if there aren't any, we can take up the same amount of space lamenting the dull times, just as he used to. You see I've read the Herald faith- fully; isn't it a good thing 1 always sub- cribed for it?” She patte@ Fisbee's cheek and laughed gayly into bis mild, vague old eyes. “It won't be this scramble to ‘fill up’ ruuch longer. I have plans, gentiemen,” she cried, “‘and before long we will print news. And we must buy ‘plate matter’ instead of ‘patent insides’; and I had a talk with the Associated Press people in Rouen—but that's for after a while. And I went to the hospital this morning before I left. They wouldn't let me see nim again, but they toid me all about him, and he’'s better; and I got Tom to go to the jail—he was so mystified, he doesn't know what 1 wanted it for—and he saw some of those beasts, and I can do a col- umn of description besides an editorial about them, and I will be fierce enough to suit Carlow, you may belleve that. And T've been talking to Senator Burns—(hat is, listening to Senator Burms, which is much stupider—and I think I can do an article on national politics. 1'm not very well up on local issues yet, but I—"" She broke off suddenly. “There! I think we can get out to-morrow’s number without any trouble. By the time you get back fiom the hotel, father, I'll have half my stuff written—‘written up,” 1 mean. Take your big umbrella and go, dear, and piease ask at the express office if my ty pewriter has come.” She laughed again with sheer delight, like a child, and ran to a corner and got the cotton ‘umbrella and placed it in the old man’s hand. As he reached the doo- she lled after him: “Wait!" and went to hi and knelt before him, and with the humblest, proudest grace in the world turred up his trousers to keep them from the mud. Ross Schofield had never con- sicered Mr. Fisbee a particularly sacred sort of person, but he did from that mo- ment. The old man made some timid piotest at his daughter's action, but she answered: “The great ladles used to buckle the Chevalier Bayard's spurs for him, and you're a great deal nicer than the Chev—you haven't any rubbers: [ den’t belleve any of you have any rub bers!” And not until both Fisbee and Mr. Schofield had promised to purchase over- shoes at once, and in the meantime rot to step in any puddies, would she let hier father depart upon his errand. He crossel the square with the strangest, jauntiest step ever seen in Plattville. Solomon Tibbs had a warm argument with Mis; Sclina as to his identity, Miss Seiina maintaining that the figure under the big umbrella—only the legs and coattalls were visible to them-—was that of a stranger, protably an Englishman. In the Herald office the editor turnsad, smiling, to the paper's remaining vassal. “Mr. Schofield, I heard some talk Rouen of an oil company that had been formed to prospect for kerosene in Car low County. Do you know anythig about it? Ross, surfeited with honor, terror, and pessessed by a sweet distress at finding himself tete-a-tete with the lady, loohed at the wall and replied: “Oh, it’s that Eph Watts’ foolishness." Do you know if they have begun to dig for it yet?" “Ma’am?” said Ross. “Have they begun the diggings “No, ma'am, 1 think not. They'v contrapshun fixed € south. I don’t reckon they've begun vef. hardly; they're gittin’ the machinery in place. 1 heard Eph say they'd begin to bore—dig, 1 mean, ma'am, | meant to say dig—"" He stopped, uiterly confused and unhappy; and she understood his manly purpose, and knew him for a gentleman whom she liked. “You musn't be too much sukorised " she 'safd; “but in spite of my ignorance about such things, 1 mean to devote a good deal of snace to the ofl company: it may. come to be of great imporiance to “arlow. We won't go into ft in to- morrow's paper, beyvond an item or so: but do you think you could possibly find Mr. Watts and ask him ior some informa- tion as to their progress, and if it woulg be too much trouble for him to culi here some time to-morrow afternoon, or the day after? | want him to glve me an in- terview if he will. Tell him, please, he wiil very great'y oblige us. “Oh, he'll come all right,” answered her companion, quickly. buggy and go down right off. Eph won't lose no time gittin' her And with this encouraging assurance he was flying forth “I'll take Tibbs' when he, like others, was detained by her solicitous care. She was a born mother. He protested tkat in the buggy he would be perfect v sheltered: besides there wasn’t another umbrella about the place; he liked to get wet anyway: had always loved rain. The end of 1t was that he went away In a sort of tremor, wear- ing her rain cioak over his shoulders. which garment, as it covered its owner completely when she wore it, hung al- most to his knees. He darted around a corner, and there, breathing deeply, ten- derly removed It; then. borrowing papesr and cord at a neighboring store, wrapped it neatly and stole back to the printing office on the ground floor of the Hera!d building and left the package-in charge of Bud Tipworthy, mysteriously charg- ing to care for it as for his own life ara not to open it, but if the lady so mueh as set one foot out of doors before his re- turn to hand it to her with the meesn7e. “He borrowed another off J. Hanks.' Left alone, the lady went to the desk and stood for a time looking gravely at Harkless' chair. 8he touched 1t gently. as she had touched it once before that morning, and then she spoke @o it as if he were sitting there and as she would have spoken had be been sitting there. ‘You didn't want gratitude, did you?" she whispered, with sad lips. Soon she smiled at the biue ribbons. patted the ehalr gayly on the back. and, selzing vpon peneil and pad, dashed into her work with rare enerzy. She bent low over the desk, her pencil moving rapidly. and, except for a momentary interruption from Mr. Tipworthy, she seemed not to pause for breath; certainly her pencil did not. She had covered many sheets when her father returned; and, as he came in softly, not to disturb her, she was so deeply engrossed she did not hear him: nor did she look up when Parker entered, but pursued the formulation of her fast- flying ideas with the same single purpose and abandon: so the two men sat and waited while their chieftainess wrote ab- sorbedly. At last she glanced up and made a little startled exclamation at see- ing them there, and then gave them cheery greeting. Bach placed severa! scribbled sheets before her, and she, having first assured herseif that Fisbee had bought his over- shoes, and ©_ having expressed a fear that Mr. Parker had found her um- brella too small, as he looked damp (and irgeed he wa® damp), cried praises un their notes and offered the reporters great applause. “It is all so splendid!” she cried. “How could you do It so qulckly? And in the rain, too! This is exactly what we need. 1've done most of the things I mentioned. J think, and made a draught of some plans for hereafter. And about that man's coming out for Congress, I must tell you it is my greatest hope that he will. 'We can let it go until he does, and then— But doesn’t it seem to you that it would be a good notion for the Herald to have a woman's page—'For Feminine Readers,” or, ‘Of Interest to Women'— page!” exclaimed Fisbee. “I could never have thought of that, could you, Mr. Parker?” ‘‘And now,” she continued, “I think that when I've gone over what I've written end beat it into better shape I shall be ready for something to eat. Isn't it al- most time for luncheon?"” This simple, and surely natural, inquiry had a singular devastating effect upon her hearers. They looked upon each other with fallen jaws and complete stupefac- tion. The old man began to grow pale, and Parker glared about him with a wild eye. Fortunately, the editor was too busy at her work to notice thelr agitation; she appiicd herself to making alterations here and there, sometimes frowningly crossing out whole lines and even paragraphs, sometimes smiling and beaming at the writlrg; and, as she bent earnestly over the paper, against the darkness of the rainy day,the glamour about her fair hair was like a light in the room. 'To the minds of her two companions, this luster was a gentle but unbearable accusation; and each dreaded the moment when her work should be finished, with a great aread. There was a small “store room' adjoining the office, and presently Mr. Parker, sweating at the brow, walked in there. The old man gave him a look of despairing reproach, but in a moment the foreman’s voice was heard: *“Oh, Mr. Fisbee, can you step here a second?” “‘Yes, indeed!” was Fisbee’s reply: and he fled guiltily into the *store room,” and Parker closed the door. They stood knee- deep in the clutter and lumber, facing €zch other abjectly. “Well, we're both done, anyway, Fisbee,” remarked the foreman. “Indubitably, Mr. Parker,” the old man answered; *it is too true."” "‘Ne\'er to think a blame thing about dinner for he; Parker continued, re- morsefully. “And her a lady that can wurn off copy like a rotary snowplow in @ Dakota blizzard! Did you see the sheets she’s piled up on that desk?” “There is no cafe—nothing—in Platt- ville, that could prepare food worthy of her,” groaned Fisbee. ‘“Nothing!" “And we never thought of it. Never made a single arrangement. Never struck us she dian’t live on keeping us dry and Leing good, I guess.” *“How can 1 go in there and tell her that?” “Lord!" “She cannot go to the hatel”— “Well, I guess not! It ain’t fit for her. Lum’s table is hard enough on a stroug man. Landis doesn't know a good cake from a Fiji missionary pudding. I don't expect pie is much her stye, and, besides, the Palace Hotel ples—well!—the boss was a mighty uncomplaining man, bui | used to notice his articles on field drain- age got ‘'kind of sour and low-spirited when they’d been having more than he regular allowance of pie for dinner, She can’t go there, anyway; it's no uae; iU's eifter 2 o'clock, and the dining-room shuts off at 1. T wonder what kind of cake she likes.best.”” I don't know,"” said the perplexed I'is- bee. “If we ask her—" f we could sort of get it out of her diplomatically we could telegrapa to Rouen for a good one."” Mr. “Ha!" said the other, brightening up. “You try it, Mr. Parker. I fear I have not much skill in diplomacy, but if you—-"+ ‘I he compositor's meuth drooped at the rners, and he interrupted gioomily “But it wouldn't get nere till to-morrow. “Truc: it would not.” They rell into a despondent reverie, with thelr chins on their bosoms. There came a cheerful voice from the next room, but to them it brought no cheer; in their ears it sounded weak from the need of food and taint with piteous reproach. “Father, aren’t you coming Itncheon with me?” “Mr. Parker, what are we to do?” whis- percd the old man, hoarsely. “Is it too far to take her to Briscoes' “In the rain?" “Take her with you to Tib “Their noon- meal is long since over: and their larder is not—is not—extensive.” “Father!” called the girl. She was stirring: they could hear her moving about the room. . “You've got to go in and tell her,” said the foreman, desperately, and together they stumbled into the room. A small table at one end of it was laid with a snowy cloth and there was a fragranea of tea, and amid various dainties one caught a glimpse of coid chicken and lettuce leaves. Fisbee siopped, dumfounded, hut the foreman, afier stammeringly decifu- Ing an invitation to partake, a'leging that his own mcal awaitcd, sped down to the rrinting-room and seized upon Bud Tio- worthy with a heavy hand. 2 “Where did all that come from, there?"” “Leave go me! What! ‘all that' “All that tea and chicken and salad ana wafers—ail kinds of things; sardines, for all I know!" . “They come in Briecoes' buckbosrd while you was gone. Briscoes sent 'em in a basket: I took ‘em up and she set the basket under the table. You'd seen t if yeu'd a looked. Quit that!" And it was unjust to cuff the perfectly innocent and wystificd Bud, and worse not to tell him what the punishment was for, Before the day was over system nud been introduced, and the Herald was 1unning on it; and all that warm, ra ny afternoon the editor and Fisbee worked In the editorial roome, Parker and hud and Mr. Schofield (after his return with the items and a courteous mes- sage from Ephraim Watts) bent o er the forms downstairs, and Uncle Xeno phon was cleaning the storeroom an.i the floor. An extraordinary number of errands touk the various members of the vrinting force up to see the editor-in-chef, lite ally to see the editor-in-chief; it wus hard to Lelieve that the presence nad not fluwn—hard to keep believing, without tie repeated tesiimony of sight, that tihe dingy room upsta‘rs was actualiy the sett 8 for their jewel, and a jewel they sw she was. The printers came down chuck- ling and surgiing after each Interview . it was partiy the 'hougiht that &he oo longed to the Heraid, their paper. Once KHoss, as bhe cul down ore of the tem- porarily distended advertisements, looke up and caught the foreman giggiing to himself. “What in the name of common sensc you laughin’ at, Cale?’ he asked. “What are yuvu laughing at?” rejoinei the other. “1 dunno!™ The day wore on. wet and dreary out- side, but all within/the Herald bosom was snug and busy and murmauarous wi h the heaithy thrum of life and prosperity renewed. Toward & o'clock., system ac- complished, the new gulding spirit was deliberating on a policy as Harkless would conceive a poilcy, were he ther:, when mie Briscoe ran joyously up the stairs, plunged into the room, water- proofs and radiant, and caught her 1r} in her eager arms and put an end to polley for that day. But policy and labor did not end at .twilight every day; there were evenings, as in the time of Harkiess, when lamps shone from the upper windows of the Herald building. TFor the little editor worked hard, and sometimes she worked late; she always worked early. She made to have up mistakes at first and one " :‘T\'xl;!ederl which she took more sei mull(y1 than apny one else did. But she louln_ a remedy for all such results of her l: experience and she developed experiem:(é She set at her task with the energy o her youthfulness and no limit to her lm‘; bition, and she felt that Harkless hl' prepared the way for a wide expansion ol the paper’s interests; wider than he knew. She had a belief that there were pos: bilitles for a country newspaper, and sl:e brought a fresh point of view to operate in a situation where Harkiess had fflll?;l, perhaps, too much in the rut; and she watched every chance with a keen eya and looked ahead of her with clear fore- sight. What she wanted and yearned ""f and dreaded was the time when a copy of the new Herald should be placedrln‘ the trembling hands of the man who iaf in the Rouen hospital. Then, she felt. i he, unaware of her identity, should place everything in her bands unreserved.iy that would be a tribute to her work — and how hard she wouid labor to deserv‘-: it! After a time she began to realize tha’, as his representative and the editor of the Herald she had become a factor in district politics. It took her breath— but with a gasp of delight, for there was something she wanted to do. Above all, she brought a light heart to her work. One evening in the latter part of that first week of the new regime. Parker perceived Bud Tipworthy stand- ing in the doorway of the printing-roomi, beckoning him silently to come without. “What's the matter, Buddie? 2 “Listen. She's singin’ over her work.‘ Parker stepped outside. On the pave- ment people had stopped to listen: they stood in the shadow, leoking up with parted lips at the open, lighted windows, whence came a clear, soft, reaching voice, lifted in song; now it swelled louder, un- consciously; now its volume was more slender and it melted liquidly into the night; again it trembled and rose and dwelt In the ear, strong and pure; and. hearing it, you sighed with unknown longings. It was the ‘‘Angels’ Serenade. Bud Tipworthy’s sister, Cynthia, was with him, and Parker saw that she turned from the window and that she was Cry- ing, quietly; she put her hand on the boy's shoulder and patted it with a for- lorn gesture which, to the foreman's eve. was as graceful as it was He moved closer to Bud and his big hand fell on Cynthia’s brother’s other shoulder, as he realized that red®hair could look pretty sumetimes; and he wondered why the edi- tor's singing made Cynthia ery: and at the same time he decided to be mighty good to Bud henceforth. The spell of night and song was on him: that andgf something more_for it is a strange, In- explicable fact that the most practical chief ever knmown to the Herald had a singularly sentimental mruence over her subordinates from the moment of her ar- rival. Under Harkless' domination there had been no more steadfast bachelors in Carlow than Ross Schofield and Caleb Parker, and, like timorous youths in a graveyard, daring and mock ng the ghosts in order to assuage their own fears, they had so jibed and jeered at the married state that there was talk of urging the mirister to preach at them; but now let it be recorded that at the moment Caleb iaid his hand on Bud's other shoulder his associate, Mr. Schofield, was enjoying a walk in the far end of town with a wid- ow, and it i=s not to be doubted that Mr. Tipworthy's heart also was no longer in his possession, though, as it was after 8 o'clock, the damsel of his desire had probably long sinee retired to her couch. For some faint light on the cause of these spells we must turn to a comment made by the invaluable Mr. Martin some time aflerward. Referring to the lady to whose woice he was nuw listening in sflence (which shows how great the em- thralling of her voice was), he sald: “When you saw her, or heard her, or managed to be around anywhere she was, why, if you couldn’t git up no hope of mariyin’ her you wanted to marry somebody.” - Mr. Lige Willetts. riding by, drew rein in front of the lighied windows and lis- tened with the others. Presently he lean- ed from his horse and whispered to a man near him: “1 know that song.” Do you wh spered the other. he and 1 beard her sing it the It's by Beethoven.” t's a seraphic song.”” continued Lige. No!" excla‘med his fri. ; then, shak- ing his head, he sighed: “Well, it's mighty sweet."” The song was suddenly woven into laughter In the unseen cham- ber, and the lights the win- dows went out, and a small lady and a tall lady and a thin old man, all three langhing and talking happily, came down and drove off in the Briscoe buckboard. The little crowd dispersed quietly; Lige | and cantered ard; William Todd teok his courage between his teeth. and. the song ringing in his ears, made a desperate resolve to call upon Miss Bard- lcck that evening, in spits of its being a week day, and Caleb Parker gently and stammeringly asked Cynthia if she wouli wait tiil he shut up the shop. and let him walk home with her and Bud. Soon the square was qu.ct as before, and there was naught but peace under the big stars of Juiy. That day the news had come that Hark- |ess, after weeks of alternate improve- ment and relapse, hazardously lingering In the borderland of shadows. had passed the crucial point and was convalescent. His recovery was assured. But from their fAirst word of him. from the message that he was found and was alive, none of the pecple of Carlow had really doubted it. They. are simple country people, and they know that Gud is good. CHAPTER XV, NETTLES. Two men who have been comrades and classmates at the a.ma mater of John Harklcss and Tom Meredith; two who buve belonged to $he same club and roomed in the same entry: who have pool- «d their clothes and money in a common stock for eithier to draw on: who have shared the fortunes of atheletic war, tri- umphing tegcther. sometimes with an in- terse triumphancy: two men who were cnce boys getting hazed together, hazing in no unkindly fashion in thelr turn, al- ways helping cach other to stuff brains the night before alt examination and to blow away the suffocating statistics liks foam the might after; singing, wrestling, cancing, laughing, ceeding together, through the four kindest years of life; two such brave cqgpanions, meeting in ihe after years of lifé, are touchingly tender and caressive of each other, but the tenderness takes the shy, United States form of insulting epithets, and the caresses are blows. If John Harkless had becn in health, uninjured and prosperous, Tom Meredith could no more have thrown himself on his knees beside him and call- ed him “old friend” than he could have danced on the slack-wire. One day they thought tent sleeping: the nurse fapned bim scftly, and Meredith had stolen in and was sitting by the cot. One of Harkless's eyes had been freed of the dage. and when Tom came in it was :’:.)nled? but, by and by, Meredith be- came aware that the unbandaged eye had opened and that it was suffused with a pathetic moisture; yet it twink led with a comprehending light, and Jonn knew that it was his old Tom Meredith who was sitting beside him, with the alr of having sat there very often before. But this bald, middie aged young man, not without elegance. yet a prosperous burgher for all that— was this the slim. rollicking broth of a boy whose thick auburn halr used to make one a streak of flame as he spun around the bases in a home run? With out doubt it was the stupendous fact wrought by the alenemy of seven years. For. though seven years be a mers breath in the memories of the old, if is a long transfiguration to him whose first youth is passing. and who finds unsolic ited additions accruing to some parts of his being and strange deprivations others, and upon whom the unhappy re alization begins to be borne in, tha is no particular case, and that he of a the world. is not to be spared. but. like his forbears. must Inevitably wrigg into the disguising. cruciole of time. And, though men accept it with appar- ently patient humor, the first realization that people do grow old, and that they do it before they have had time to be young. 1s apt to come like a shock. Perhaps not even in the interminable months of Carlow had Harkiess realized the length of seven years so keenly as he did when he beheld his old friend at his bedside. How men may be warped apart in seven years. especlally in the seven years between 23 and 30! After the latter age you may return to the in- separable of seven years befors and speak not the same language; you find no heartiness to carry on with each other after half an hour. Not so these classmates, who had known each other to the bonme. Ah, yes, it was Tom Meredith, the same lad. In spite of his masquerade of flesh; and Helen was right; Tom had not forgotten. “It's the old horse thief!" John mur- mured, tremulously. “You go plumb to thunder,” answered Meredith between gulps. When he was well enough they had long talks; and at other times Harkless lay by the window and breathed deep of the fresh air, while Meredith attended to his correspondence tor him and read the papers to him. But there was one phenomenon of literature the convales- nt insisted upon observing for him- If, and which he went over again and again. to the detriment of his single unswathed eye, and this was the Car- low Herald. The first letter he had read to him was one from Fisbee stating that the crippled forces left in charge had found themselves distraught in their efforts to carry on the paper (as their chief might conelude for himself on perusal of the issues of the first fortnight of his absence), and they had made bold to avall themselves of the services of a young relative of the writer's from a distant city—a capable journalist who had other employment for the present. wund who had accepted the respomsivilities of the Herald temporarily. There followed & note from Parker, announcing that Mr. Fisbee's relative was a bird¢ and was the kind to make the Herald hum. They hoped Mr.' Harkless would approve of their bespeaking the new hand omn the sheet; the paper must have suspended otherwise. Harkless, almost overcome by bis surprise that Fisbee possessed a rela- tive, dictated a hearty and grateful in- Gorsement of their action. and soon after recelved a typewritten rejoinder., some- what complicated In the reading, bacause of the numerous type and their corrections. The missive was signed “H. Fisbee,” in a strapping masculine hand that suggested six feet of enterprise and muscie spattering ink on its shirt sleeves. John groaned and fretted over the writ- ings of the Herald's headless fortnight, but, perusing the issues produced under the domination of H. Fisbee, he started now and then, and chuckled at some shrewd felicities of management, or stared, puzzled, over an oddity, but came to a feeling of vast relfef; and when the question of H. Fisbee’s salary was set- tled and the tenancy assured, he sank into a repose of mind. H. Fisbee might be an eccentric fellow, but he knew his business, and apparently he knew sonfe- thing of other business as well, for he wrote at length concerning the Carlow oil field, urging Harkless to take shares in Mr. Watts’ company while the stock was very low, two wells having been sunk without satisfactory results. H. Fis- bee explained with exceeding technicality his reasons for believing that the third well would strike oil. But with the case of mind regarding the Herald Harkless found himself pos- sessed by apathy. He fretted no longer to get back to Plattville. With the pros- pect of return it seemed an emptiness glared at him from hollow sockets, and the thought of the dreary routine he must follow when he went back gave him the same faint nausea he had feit the evening after the circus. And, though it was partly the long sweat of anguish which had benumbed him, his apathy was pierced at times by a bodily horror of the scene of his truggle. At night he faced the grotesque masks of the Cross-Roads men and the brutal odds again; over and over he feit the blows, and clapped his hand to where thesxclose fire of Bob Skil- lett'sipistol burned his body. And, except for the release from paim, he rejoiced less and less in his recovery. He remembered a tedious sickness of his childhood and how beautiful he had thought the world, when he began to get well, how electric the open air blowing in at the window, how green the smils of earth, and how glorious to live and see the open day again. He had none of that feeling now. No pretty vision came again near his bed, and he beheld his con- valescence as a mistake. He had come to a jumping off place in his life—why had they not let him jump? What was there left but the weary plod, plod and dust of years? He could have gone back to Carlow in better spirit if it had not been for the few dazzling hours of companionship which had transformed It to a paradise, but, gone, left a desert, She, by the sight of her, had made hint wish to live, and now, that he saw her no more, she made him wish to die. How little she had cared for him. since she told him she did not care. when he had not meant to ask her. He was weary. and at last he longed to find the line of least resistance and follow it; he had done hard things for a long time, but now he wanted to do something easy. Under the new genius—who was already urging that the paper should be made a daily—the Her- ald could get alorig without him: and the ““White-Caps” would bother Carlow no longer; and he thought that Kedge Hallo- way, an honest man, i a dull one, was sure to be renominated for Congress at the district convention which was to meet at Plattville in September—these were his responsibilitics. and they did not fret him. Everything was all right. There was only one thought which thrilled him— his impression that she had come to the hosplital to see him was not a delusion, (Continued next Sunday.) ‘