The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 2, 1903, Page 3

' This Is the § Fouflh }nsinll- ment of This ‘Merry Lampoon of 'the Nouveau Riche ‘ + & upyright, 1902, By Lothrop Publishing Co. -~ . ’All_rights reserved. *VE made the baron promise to §o into bupiness.with me, and though 1'ain’t told him yet, I'm going to put out & line of Higbee's thin- sliced ham and bacon in glass jars his crest on ‘em for the French This baron'll cost me mor'n that sign 1-showed you coming out of the oid town,-and he won’t give any such returns, bu the crest on them jars, printed in ee colors-and gold, will be a bully ad; it ‘kept the women quiet,” he con- d- apologetically: The baron's a zood fellow,” (3 with sald Per- ure,”. replied ~ Higbee. “They’'re go0d fellows Hank had he . makin's - of good fellow in him. ‘And say, youn§ man, that re- minds me: I hear all kirds - of ‘reports about yoi g -to be one vourself. ow 1 Xnd vour father, Danjel J. Bines, 31 lked him, and I like you; and I be you -won't get huffy, but from what th tell me you ain't doing yourself a bit ‘of. good. “Don’t. believe -all you. hear,” Perc laughed thing plain, if you e right back to. the g-house along with Henry-boy. It's vou ain't got some’one to shut t way. They tell me you pacity for carrying u're known from one sadway to the ather as the mark. that ever came to town. pey say you couldn’t walk in your sleep spending imoney, Now, excuse n speaking, but them are two rep- re mighty hard to live up nd a certain limit. They've put ts of good weight-carriers off the track efore they was due to go. I hear you hed in that wheat deal of Bur- hear ¥ only for a few hundred thousand. The reports of our losses were exagger- And we stool to win over—"" »u stood to win, and then you ‘way back and set down,' as the 2g is. But it ain’t the money. You've too” much of that, anyway, Lord It's this everlasting’ huilabaloo \e drink that goes with it, and the ng sort of a dub it makes out ng fellow. It's a pity you ain't ; that’s all I got to say. 1 want to you again along in September after I back from -San Francisco; 1'm’ going 3y to'get ¥ou interested in some busi- s. That'd be good for you.” ou're kind, Mr. Higbee, and really 1 appreciate all you say: but you'll see me gettle down pretty soon, quick as I°get my bearings, and be a credit to the State of Montana.” 1 say,” sald Mauburn, coming up, *“do you see that angel of the flaming hair With that young Milbrey chap?” The two men gazed where he was indi- cating. ~By Jove; she is a stunner, isn’t she?"” exclaimed Perctval. Might_be one of Shepler's party.’” sug- gested Higbee."He has the Milbrey family out with him, and T see they landed awhile 2g0. You can bet that party’s:-got more than her good looks, if the Miibreys are taking auy interest in her. Well, I've got to take the madam and the young folks over to the Casino.. So long!” Fred Milbrey came up. “Hello, you fellows!” “Who is she?’ asked the two in fault- less- chorus “We're going over Yo hear the music awhile, Come along and I'll present yo “Rot . the luck!’ said Mauburn; “I'm slated to take Mrs. Drelmer and Miss Bines to a musicale at the Van Lorrecks, Where I'm certain to fall asleep trying to Jook as if- 1 quite liked it, you know.” “You come,” Milbrey urged Percival. “My sister's thiere and the governor and mother.” But for the moment Percival was re- fiecting, going over in his mind the recent homily of- Migbee. - Higbee's opinion .of the Milbreys also came back to him. “Sorry, old man, but I've a headache, #0. you must excuse me for to-night. But I'll tell you, we'll all come over l” the morning aud go for a dip with you. “Good! - Stop for us, at the Laurels, stout eleven, or p'r'aps I'll -stroll over and get you.. I'm expecting some mail to be forwarded to this hotel.” He rejoined his .companion, who had been chatting with a group of women fiear the door, and they walked away. “Jsn't she a stunner!” exclaimed Mau- burn. he 18 @ peach!” replied Percival, in tenes: of deliberate and. intense convic- tion. ““Whoever she 18, I'll meet her to- morrow snd ask her what she means by pretending to see -anything in Milbrey This thing has gone too far!” Mauburn looked -wistful but said noth- ing. After he had gone away with Mrs. Drelmer and . Psyche, who soon came-for him, Percival * still ‘sat revolving the paternal - warnings. of Higbee.. He . con- sidered . them “seriously. ‘He decided he ought to think more about what he was doing and what he should do. He de- clded, 1oe, that he -could think better with: something meéchanical . to - occupy kis hands. He took a cab and was driv- en to_ the local -branch of his favorite temple of chance. His host welcomed him at the door. “Ah, Mr. Bines, a little recreation, eh? Your.favorite: dealer, Dutson; is here to- night, if you prefer bank.” Passing through the crowded,. brightly lighted rooms.to one of the faro tables, where his_host promptly secured a seat for, him,. he ‘played meditatively - until- adding - materially. to. his hoet's reasons. for believing he had. done - wisely. to_ follow his New York clients to ‘thelr summer annex. CHAPTER XXV. HORACE MILERE¥ UPHOLDS THE DIGNITY OF HIS HOUSE. ° In the shade of the plazza at the Hotel Mayson next morning there was a sort- ing out of the malil that had been for- warded from the hotel in New York. The mall of Mrs. Bines was a joy to her son. There .weré three -conventional begging jetters, heart-breaking in- thelr pathos, and composed with no-mean literary skill. There was a letter from one of the maids at the Hightower for whose mother Mrs.” Bines had secured .employment ‘in the family of & friend; a position, complained the daughter. “In which she -finds con- stant hard labor caused by the quantity also. a- letter from. the lady's’ employer, saying she would not S0 much mind her laziness - if .she did not aggravate it by drink.. Mrs. Bines sighed despairingly for the recalcitrant. “And who's this wants more help until her husband's profession picks up again?” asked Percival. . “Oh; that's a poor little woman I helped They call her husband ‘the Terrible Ice- man.’ “But this is just tke season for ice- men!" “Well,” confessed his mother, with ma- nifest reluctance, “‘he’s a prize-fighter or something.” Percival gaspéd. *— and he had a chance to make some money, only the man he foughf against had some of his friends drug this poor feilow before their—their meeting—and so of course he lost. If he hadn’t been drugged he would have won the money, and now there's a law passed agalnst it, and of course it isn't a very nice trade, but I think the law ought to be changed. He’'s got to live.” ¥ “I'don’t see why;. not if he's the man I saw box one night last winter. He didn't have a single excuse for living. And what are these tickets—'Grand Annual Outing and Games of the Egg-Candlers & Butter Drivers’' Assoclation at Sulzer's Hariem River Park. Ticket ~Admitting Lady and Gent. One dollar.’” Heavens! What is it?" . “I promised to take ten tickets,' said Mrs. Bines. *I must send them a check.” “But what are they?" hér son insisted; “egg-candlers may be all right, but what are butter-drivers? Are you quite sure it's respeciable? Why, I ask you, should an honest man wish to drive butter? That shows you what life in a great city does for the morally weak. Look out you don't.get mixed up In it yourself, that's all 1 ask.” They'll have you driving.but- ter first thing you know. Thank heaven! thus far no Bines has ever candled an egg and as for driving butter—" he stopped, with a shudder of extreme repugnance. “And here’s a . notice ~about the excursion of the - St. John's = Guild. I've been on four already, and I want you to get me back to New York right away for the others. If you could only see all those bables we take out on the floating hospital, with two men in little ‘boats behind to pick up those that fall overboard—and really it's a wonder any of them live through the summer in that cruel city. Down in Hester street the other day four of them had a slice of watermelon ~from Mr. Slivinsky’s gtand on- the corner, and when I saw them they were actually eating the hard, green rind. - It was enough to kil a horse.” “Well, have your own fun, said her son, cheerfully. “‘Here's a letter from Unele Peter I must read.” ; He drew his chair aside and began the letter: *Montana City, July 21, 1900. “Dear Pete:—Your letter and Martha's rec’d, and glad .to hear from you. T leave latter part of this week for the mtne. Late setting out this season ‘acct. rhumatiz caught last winter -that lald me up all spring.. It was so mortal dull here with you folks. gone that 1. went out with a locating party to get the M. P..Wranch located -ahead of the Short Line folks. So wille you ‘were having your fun there 1 was having mine here, and 1 had Tt good and plenty. “The. worst weather 1 ever did see, - and 1 have seen some bad: Snow six to eight feet on ‘a level and the mercury down: as low as 32 with an ornery flerce wind. We lost four horses froze to death, and all but two of .the men got ‘froze up bad. - We reached the head of Madison Valley . 19, north of Red Bank Can- ¥on, but it wasn't as easy as it sounds. “Jan. §, after getting out of supplies, we abandoned our camp. at Riverside and moved 10 m. down the river carry- ing what we. could on our backs. Met pack train with a few supplies that night, and next day I took-part of the force in boat to meet over-due load of supplies. We got .froze in the ice. Left party to break through and took Billy Brue and went ahead to hunt team. Billy and me lived four days on one Ib. bacon. The second day Billy took some sickness so he. could- not eat hardly -any food: the next day he was worse, and the last day he was so bad he sald the bare ‘sight of food made him gag. -I tbink. he was a llar, because he wasn't troubled none after we got to supplies again, but T couldn't do anything with him, and so I lived high and come out slick and . fat. Finally we - found - the team coming in. They had got stuck in the river and we had to carry ‘out. the load on our backs,. waist-deep in running water. 1 see some man in the East has a fad for: breaking ‘the ice in the river and going swimming. for any fad. Slept In snow-drift that night fn wet clothes, mercury 40 below. Was 18 days golng 33 miles. Broke wagon’ twice, then broke sled and crippled: one horse. Packed the other five and went on till snow ~wns too deep. Left the horses where four out of five . died and carried supplies the = rest - of the way on -our backs. Moved camp agaln on our backs and . got caught in a blizzard and nearly all of us_got our last freezeun that time. Finally a Chinook opened the river and I took a boat up .to get the -abandoned camp: Got froze In_harder than ever and hafl to walk out.- Most cf the men quit on account of frozen feet, etc., etc. They “are a getfing fo.be a sissy Iot these days, -rather le around-a hot stove all winter. “I had to pull ehain, cut - brush and shovel snow after February 1. Our last stage was from Fire Hole Basin to-Mad- ison Valley, forty-five miles. ‘It was hell. Didn't see the sun but once after Feb- ruary 1, and it stormed Incessarit, making short sights necessary, and -with. each one we would have to.dig a hole to the ground and- often a ditch - or - tunnel through the snow to look through. ‘The snow was soft to the bottom and an in- strument would sink through.” - “Here's a fine letter to read on a hot day,” ‘called Percival. “I'm catching cold.” -He continied: “We have a very good line, better than from Beaver Canyon, our maps filed and construction under way; all grading done - and some track lald.. That's what you call hustling. 'The main drawback is that Red Bank Canyon. It's a regular ava- lanche - foreight miles. The snowslides : just fill the river. One just above our camp filled it for a quarter of a mile and forty feet deep and cut down three-foot. trees like a razor-shaves your face. I had to run to get out of the way. .Reached Madison Valley with one tent and it looked more like 'mosquito bar than can- vas.- The old éloth wouldn't hardly hold the patches together. I slept outdoors for six weeks. ‘1 got frost-bit considerable and the rhumatiz. . I tell.you, at .75 I ain't the man I used to be: I find T need a stout tent and a good warm sleeping. bag for them Kind of doings nowdays. . 3 I would not do it . _the " acquaint: : - sald Mrs. Bines, plaintively. expected of her to attend to.” “There was - *‘Well, this. Western country- would be : By Harry Lédn Wilson. pretty dull ‘for you I suppose “going to balls and parties every night with the-Z s- tors and - Vanderbilts. 1 hope you. ain't cut loose none. e ¢ i “By the way, that party -that ground- sluiced us, "Coplen, he met a party in Spokane’ the other day that seen her.in Paris last spring. She was: laying in. a- stock of duds and the party. gethered- that she was going: back to New York—'" The Miibreys, father and son, came up greeted the group on the plazza. ve ‘just frozen both ears reading a letter from my grandfather,” sald ‘Perci- :l'nl, ““Excuse me one}nomem and I'll be one."’, “All right, old chap. .I'll see if there's some mall for me. Dad can chat with-the ladies. ~Ah, here's Mrs. Dreimer. Morn- in’1” Percival ‘resumed his letter: “—going back to -New Ycrk and make the soclety bluff. They sdy she's got the face to do it all right. Coplen learned sfie come out here with a gambler from New Orleans and she was-dealing bank herself up to. Wallace for 'a spell while he ‘was broke. This gambler he was the slickest short-card player ever struck hereabouts. He was too good.” He was 80 good ‘they " shot him all up one night last fali over to Wardner. She hadn’t lived with him for some time then, though Coplen says they. was lawful man and wife, 8o T' guess maybe she was glad when he got it good in the: chest-place—" . Fred Milbrey came out of the hotel of- fice. “No mail,” he sald.“Come, let's be get- ting along. Finish your letter on the way, Bines.” 2 “I've ' just finished,” ‘said Percival, glancing down the last sheet. X “— Coplen says she is now caliing her- self Mrs. Brench Wybert or some such name. T just thought I'd tell you in case you might run acrost. her and—" ‘Come along, old chap,” urged Milbrey; “Mrs. - Wybert - will ‘be ~walting.” 'His father had started off with Psyche. Mrs. Bines and Mrs. Drelmer were preparing to follow. “1-beg your pardon,” said Percival, “I didn’t quite catch the name.” “I say Mrs. Wybert and mother will be waiting—come along!"” “What name?"’ S “Wybert—Mrs Brench’ Wybert —my friend—What's the matter?” “We can’t: go—that is—we can't’ meet - her. Sis, come back a momeént,” he called to Peyche, and then: = “I ‘want a word with you and your. father—Milbrey.”" The two joined the elder Milbrey and the three strolled out to the flower-bor- dered . walk, . while Psyehe Bines went, wondering, back to her mother: 2 “What's ' all ‘the row?" ‘inquired Fred Milbrey. “You've been imipoged upon. This wo- man—this. Mrs: Brench Wybert—there can ‘be 'no mistake; you are sure that's the name?” *“Of course I'm sure; she's the widow: of ‘a Bouthern gentleman, Colene! Brench ‘Wybert, from New Orleans.” _'‘¥es, the -same woman. There is no doubt that you have been imposed upon. The ‘thing to do is to drop her.quick—&he isn't right.”” Y - ¥ “In what way has my family been im- posed upon; Mr. Bines?” asked tl.e elder “ Milbrey, somewhat perturbed; “Mi bert is a lady of - family. and méans—"" " € *Yes, I krow, she has, or did have a ‘while ago, “two million dollars in cold cash.” *Well, Mr.: Bines——?" . R “/Can’t you- take my - word for it, that she’s not right—mot the woman for your wife and daughter to meet?” " *“Look here, Bines,” the younger Mil-y brey spluttered, “this won't do, you Know. If yvou'vé anything to say against Mrs: Wybert, you'll have-to.say it out and you'll have to be:responstble to me, sir.” “Take my word that you've been'im- posed “upon; she's: not—not the kind of person’ you would care "to know, to. be thrown—-"" % g “I and my_ family have found her quite acceptable, ‘Mr.: Bines,” Interposed ihe father, ‘stiffiy. “‘Her 'deportment scrupulously correct, and T am'in. her ‘con- fidence regarding certain . very extensive investments-—ghe cannbt be an’impostor, s 3 “But T tell you she isn't right,” insisted . Percival, gvarmiy. : _.“Oh, I see,” sald the younger Milbrey—=~ his face “clearing all: at orce. 8 “all. right, dad, come on!" : *If you insist.’ sald Percival, ‘but none : of us can meet her.” 3 “It's’ all right,: dad—-I understand—" Nor can- wé Kknow any one who re- ‘ceives her.” A 5 “Really, sir,” ‘began the elder. Milbrey, “your effrontery in. assuming: to- dictate the . visiting ‘list of my family 1is- over- whelming.” 2 3 “If you won't take my word I shall have to diethte so far as.] have any personal control aver it.” “Don’t mind him, dad—T know. all about it, T tell you—TI'l. explain later to you:" “Why;"” ‘exclaimed’ Percival, stung to the revelation, ‘‘that woman, this woman now waliting with your wife and daughteér, ‘was my—" - L “Stop, Mr. Bines—not another word, if vou please!" The father raised his hand in graceful dismissal. *‘Lét this terminate ce between . our families! No more, sir!” and. he turned away; fol- lowed by his son. - As they. walked. out through the grounds: and. turned up the street the young man -spoke. excitedly, while his father slightly bent his hiéad to Nsten, ‘with an air of distant dignity. ‘What's the trouble, Perce?’ asked his sister, as ‘he folned the ‘group -on .the plazza. e “The troubls is that we've just had to cut that ‘fine old New York family off our list.” 7 = S ““What, not " the Milbreys!" exclaimed Mrs. Drelmer. “The. same, sent’you to a Mrs. Wybert—a Mrs. Brench Wybert—don’t you léet them. Understand?” * “I thought as much,” said Mrs. Drelx mer; “she acted just the least little: bit tao. right.” 5 “Well, I haven't ‘my hammer with me— ‘but remember, now, sis, it's for something else than because her . father's cravats were the ready-to-wear kind, or because her worthy old - grandfather- intialed his soup. “Don’t forget. tha EPREAEY “‘As - therd isn’t anvthing else to .do. he suggested, a few moments later; “why not get under way and take a run.up’the’. coast?” 4 2 ST “But-T must get back to my. babies, “Here ‘been away four days.” | e is - Now mind, sis, and you,- ma-—you're not to know -them again—and: ‘mind-this—if any one.else wants to pre- i “All right, ma, I suppose we. shall have to. take. you there,. only let's. - get out ° of 'here right away. We .can bring .sis. and ‘ you" back, ‘Drelmer, when. those people ‘'we don’t Know -get .off again. There's-Mauburn; I'll tell him.” “I'll have my dunnage down.directl: sald Mauburn. - g -Up-the street driving a-fony-cart came Avice Milbrey.. Obeying a quick impulse, _Percival stepped to the curb as she came opposite * to" him. She. pulled over. She was 'radlant in the fluffs of summer white, her ‘hat and gown touched with bits of the same vivid' blue that shone in her efes. . The impulse that had prompted him to hail her now prompted wild words. His long habit of thought concerning her enabled him to master this foolishness. But at least he could give her a friendly .word of warning..She greeted him with .the pretty reserve in her manner that had long marked the bearing toward him. “Good ‘morning! I've borrowed this cart _of Elsie Valner to drive down to the yacht-station for lost mail. Isn’t the day perfect—and ‘isn’t this the.dearest fat, sleepy pony, with his hair in his eyes?” “Miss -Milbrey, there's. a woman who ;;ems to be a friend of your family—a 8, - ‘Mrs. ‘Wybert; yes, you know her?” . “No, I'd never seen her until last night, nor heard that name until this morning; but 1 know .of her.” > = “yes?” “It became necessary just now—really, l("ll not fair of me:to speak to you at all— “Why, pray?—not fair?” “I had to_tell your father and brother that we could not meet Mrs. Wybert, and couldn’t know any one who received her."” “There! ‘I knew the woman —wasn't right diréctly. I heard her speak. ~Surely. a word to-my.father. was enough.” ““But it wasn't, I'm sorry to say. Nei- ther he nor your brother would take my word, and when I started-to give my rea- sons--something {t would have been very painful for me to do—your “lel:? refused to.listen, and declared ‘'the acdaintance Adetween our families at an. en “Oh!” “It hurt me in & way I can’t tell you, and now, even-this talk with you Is off- side play. Miss Milbrey!"” “*Mr. Bines “I “wouldn't have sald what I 4id to. your fatheér. and - brother withcut “good reason.” am_sure of that, Mr. Bines.” “Without reasons I was sure of, you know, so there could be no chance of any mistalke.” Your word Bines.” “Miss Milbrey—vou - and : I—there's al- ways been, Something between us—some- thing-different from what is between most people.. We've never taiked straight out - since 1 came to. New York—I'll be sorry, perhaps, for saying as much as I am say- - ing, after awhile—but we may not talk again at all—1'm afraid you may misun- derstand me--but I must say it—I should like.to go away knowing you would have no friendship—no intimacy whatever with that woman."" * “1 promise you I shall not, Mr. Bines; “they can row if they like.” “And yet 1t doesn!t seem fair to have vou promise as if it were a consideration for me, because I've no right to -ask fit. But if 1 felt sure that you took my word quite as If I were a stranger, and relied upon it enough to have no communication or _intercourse of -any sort whatsoever with her, it would be a great satisfaction to.me."” . ; “I shall not “meet her again: And— fhank you!” There was a slight unstead- iness once in. her voice, and he could al- most have sworn her -eyes showed that ‘old brave wistfulness. and quite as if you were a stran< ger. “Thank you! and, Miss Milbrey?" “Your brother may become entangled in. gome way with-this woman.” “It's “entlrely. possiblé.”” Her " volce ‘was cool .and eve **He might even mafry he - “‘She. has money, I believe; indeed."t R z X ““Always. money!” he thought; aloud; a5 he means. to, ‘Miss- Milbrey, fent: it It is . enough. for me, Mr. again. -he might then. ouldn’t ‘do at’ al; oW ‘Thank you, Mr. Binés; 1 shail remem- I'm -sorry I think that's all-and.’ —o : be we're . not--out. - families -are. ot to friends any mor : - She smiled rather painfully, with-an ob- _cbnventional.. - Good-by!” 32 He: Jooked' after her ‘as she ‘drove off. She. sat’ ereéct, her ‘head strilght to’ the - “front, .hér trim shoulders. erect and- the whip grasped firml ‘He'. stood - motion- less until ‘the fat pony had jolted sleepily around the corner.. “Bines, ‘old ‘boy s “you nearly made.one. of yourself there. 1'didn't know"you. had Such ready'capa- - bilities for .being-.an ol i . CHAPTER XXVI.. + A HOT DAY IN: NEW YORK, WITH NEWS OF AN -INTERESTING MARRIAGE.: .| . At five o'clock that day the prow of the Viluca. cut-the waters. of ‘Newport. har- bor around “Goat Island ‘and pointed for New York.. ' Sy you and this: row Y cut ‘off .any chance that.cub had: “Why not - propose to -her -tornight 2™ = “I'have .seemed to be .getting on,” an-. swered ‘Mauburn.’ - “But- walt . 'a bit. There's -thd( confourded -girf over. there. No telllng . what she’ll" do.. She might “ knocl things on: the head any.moément “*AlF the. more reason -for .prompt - #lon and-there: couldn't-very ‘well be an; thing to hurt.you,” - g hed “By Jove! that's so; théré . could very weil,- could there? T'll take yo vice.”” - . J i _And so Bines sat .late on deck that night, .and under the ‘witchery of a moon that.must long 'since have become hardened.fo the spectacle, the old, old story- was -told, to- the .accompaniment of. thé . engine's muffled throb and the-soft purring: of the silver waters they slipped by the boat and ‘blended with the creamy ‘track as- _ tern. So-little variation was there in’ the . time-worn tale, and In thé malid’ tion of it, that neither need here br of in detall. - 4 5 3 Nor were the next morn- ing ‘less tamely orthodox. Mrs. Bines .rifanaged to forget her relationship of eldék- sister to the poor long enough. to beéhave as & mother ought Wwhen, the 1" -he said. to" himself, * ' empty “houseés it befell: that Mauburn and Miss'. heart of her daughter has been given in- to- a true-love's keeping. ‘Percival de- ported himself cordially. “I'm .really glad to hear it,” he said to Mauburn. “I'm. sure you'll make sis as good a husband -as she’ll make. you a ‘wife; and that's very good, indeed. Let's fracture a cold quart to the future l‘uiy Casselthorpe.” “And to the future Lord Casselthorpe!" ‘added Mrs. Drelmer, who was warmly enthusiastlie. *Such a brilllant match,” she murmur- ed to Percival, when they had touched glasses in the after cabin. *I know more than one New York girl who'd have Jjumped ‘at the chance.” “We'll try to bear our honors modest- 1y,” he answered her. The yacht lay at her anchorage in the East River. Percival made preparations to go ashore with his mother. “Stay. here with the -turtle-doves,” he sald to Mrs. Drelmer, “far enough off, of course, to let them coo, and I'll be back with any people I can pick up for a crulse.” : “Trust. me to contract the visual and aural infirmitfes of the ideal chaperone.” was . Mrs.. Drelmer’s cheerful response. “And if you should run across. that poor dear of & husband of mine, tell him not to slave himself to death for his thought- less butterfiy of a wife, who. tolls nét, neither does ehe spin. Tell. him,!”" she added, “that I'm playing dragon to this engaged couple. It will cheer up the poor dear.” The. city was a flery furnace. But its prisoners were not exempt from its heat, like certain holy ones of old. 'On the dock where Percival and his mother landed was a listless throng of them, gasping for the faint breezes that now and then blew in from ‘the water. - A worn woman with unkempt hair, her waist flung open at the neck, sat in a spot of snade, and soothed a baby already grown too weak to be fretful. Mrs. ‘Bines spoke to her, while Percival bought a morning .paper from z tiny newsboy, ‘who held his complete at- tire under one arm, his papers under the other, and his pennies in his mouth, keep- ing meantime a shifty side-glance on the policeman a block -away, who might be expected to Interfere with his contem- plated plunge. ““That poor.soul's been there all night,” said Mrs. Bines. ‘‘She’s afraid her baby's going to dle; and yet she was so cheer- ful and polite about it, and when T gave her some money the poor thing- blushed. I told\her to bring the baby down to the floating ‘hospital to-morrow, but I mis- trust. it won’t be alive, and—oh, there's an ambulance backed up. to-the sidewalk; see what the matter is.” As Percival pushed through the outer edge of the crowd, 4 battered wreck of a man past middle age was being lifted into the ambulance. His eyes were closed, his face a dead, chalky white, and his body hung limp. “‘Sunstroke?” asked Percival. ‘The = overworked ' ambulance surgeon, who seemed himself to be in need of help, looked up. “Nope; this.js a case of plain starva- tion. I'm neardr sunstroke myself than he is—not a wink of sleep for two nights now. Fifty:two. runs since yesterday at this time, and the. bell still ringing. Gee! but: it's hot. This lad won't ever care about the weather again, though,” he concluded, jumping on to the rear step and grasping the rails on either side while t:ev driver clanged his gong and started off. *“Was it sunstroke?” asked Mrs. Bines. “Man with stomach trouble;” answered her. son; shortly. “They’re 8o careless about what. they eat this hot weather,” Mrs. Bines began, as’ they ‘walked toward a carriage; “all sorts of heavy foods and green fruit—" “Well, if you must know, this one had been careless enough not to eat anything at all. He was starved.” “'Oh, dear! What a ‘place! here people are starving, and look at-us! Why, we wasted enough from breakfast to feed a small family. Tt isn’t right.’ They never vcvlould allow. -such ‘a thing In Montana ty. They entered the carriage and were driven slowly up a side street, where slovenly women idled in windows. and doorways and- half-naked children chased excitedly after the icée-wagons. *1 used to think ft wasn't. right mysalf until I.léarned. not to question the ways of Providence.” 2 “‘Providence, your grandmother! Look at those poor.little mites fighting for that “We havé to aceept-it. It seems to. be proof . of -the. Creator's. .versatility. It isni’t _every. one ‘wha " would -be mneérvy enough and’ original ‘énough to. make .a: world whére people starve to.death Tight - beside ‘those who have.too much’ “That's: rubbish!” . ‘‘You're. blasphenious!: and you're over- ‘wrought-_about “the feéw. cases. of need here. " Think of those' two. million people that: have.just starved to.death in India.”" “That wasn't my- fault.” N :if 'you'd Dbeen there the list ve--been ‘cut down four or. five nd, not more. It was the fault of whaever: makes. the weather: It" didn’t rain and their.curry .crop’failed<or what- ever ‘they ‘raise—and ‘there you-are: and we couldn’t. help miatters-any by starving ourselvés to death.”. . - % “Well," I know of a few matters here I can help.: And ~just. look -at all - thase boarded - up!™ she. cried later, ‘as. they ' crossed Madison avenue. ““Those - poor- things: bake. themselves. to death:down in théir little’ ovens; and. these great. cool ‘places are all-'shut up. Why, that poor little -bal hands were just : Her,'as - they philantnroplc is % . “NEW LONDON; July 2. “You Déar Thoughtful Man: I'll be de. “lighted, and the:-aunt, a worthy sister of, the dear .Bishop, has consented. ‘She is ..an_acidulous maiden ‘person with ultra. ritualistic tendencles. At present she is strong on ‘the reunion. of .Christéendom, -and holds that the Anglican t be_the unifying. médium-of the two tremes. So- don't say I dldn’t Warn.you fairly.. She will, however, impart an alr ‘of Episcopalian propriety to-that naughty .yacht of yours—something sadly needed - “Babe sends her love, and says. to tell “Unecle Percibal’' that the ocean tastes ‘all nassy.’ She stood upon the beach yestar- day after making this d'scovery invelun- tarily, and proscribed it with one mag. .nificent wave of her hand and a brief ex- ciamation of disgust—turned her back disrespectfully upon & body of water that tgious ex- D¢ talked of, and anyway I ! i Watqh for the Astounding De- nouement of = UnclePeter’sRuse ' Next Sundgy. B s sald ‘to - cover two-thirds—or 1§ It three-fourths?—of . ‘the - earth's surface. Think of it! She seemed to suspect she had been imposed upon in the matter of its ‘taste; and is going to tell the janitar directly we get home, in order that the gullty ones may be seen to. Her littls ges- ture of dismissal was supérbly contemp- tuous.. I wish you had been with me to watch her. Yes; the bathing-suit does have litle touches of red, and red—but this will never do. Give us a day’s notice, and belleve me, Sincerely, “FLORENCE VERDON AKEMIT. “P. 8. Babe is on the back of my chalr, cuddling down {n my neck, and says, ‘Send him -your love, too, Mommie. Now don’t you forget.” "’ He telegraphed Mrs. Akemit: “Will reach New London to-morrow. Assure youtr aunt of my delight at her accept- ance. - I have long held that the reunion must come as she thinks it will.” Then he. ventured into the heat and glare of Broadway whers humanity stewed and - wilted. At Thirty-second street he ran into Burman, with whom he had all but cornered wheat. “You're the man I wanted to ses,” said Percival. “Hurry and look! I'm meiting fast.” “Come off on the yacht.” “My preserver! I was just going down to the Orlental, but your dug-out wins me hands down. Come into this poor- man’'s club. I must have a cold drink taller than a church steeple.” “Anybody else in town we can take?” “There's Blily Yelverton—our chewing- gum friend; just off the Lucanfa last night; and Eddle Arledge and his wife. They're in town because Eddie was up in supplementary or something—some low, coarse brute of a tradesmian wanted his old bill pald, and wouldnt belleve Eddie when he said he couldn’t-spare the money. Eddfe is about as lively dish of eold breakfast food, but his wife is all right, all right. . Retiring from the footlights” glare didn’t spoil Mrs. E. Wadsworth Ar- ledge—not ‘86 you could notice it."” “Well, see Eddie if you can, and I'll find Yelverton; he’s probably at the _.hotel yet; and meet me there by five, so-we can get out of thls little amateur hell. “And quit trying to save that collar, urged Burman, as they parted; “‘you look foolisher than a horse in a straw ‘hat with It on anyway. Let it go and tuck See you at five At that hour the party had gathered. Percival, Arledge and his lively wife, Yel- verton, who enjoved the rare distinction of having lost money to Percival and Bur- man. East they drove through the street where less fortunate mortals panted In the dead afterrioon shade, and out on to the dock, whence the Viluca's naphtha launch presently put them aboard that stimptuous craft. A little breeze thers made the heat less oppressive. “We'll be under way as soon as they fetch that luggage out,” Percival as- sured his guests. “It's been frightfully oppressive all day, even out here,” said. Mrs. Drelmer, “but the engaged ones haven't lost their tem- pers once, éven if the day was trying. And really they're the most unemotional and matter of fact couple I ever saw. Oh! do give.me that stack of papers until I catch up with the news again.” Percival relinquished to her the evening papers he had bought before leaying the hotel' and Mrs. Drelmer in the awninged shade at the stern of the boat was soon running through them. The others had gone below, whers Per- elval was allotting - staterooms and urg- ing every one to “order whateyer cold stuff you like and get Into as few things as the law. allows. For my part; I'd. like to wear nothing but a cold bath." Mrs. Drelmer suddenly betrayed -signs of excitement. She sat up straight in the wicker - deck chalr, glanced down a.col- umn- of ‘her newspaper and then looked Bk Mauburn's head appeared out of -ths cabin's gloom. ‘He was still speaking to some’ one ‘below. . Mrs. Dreimer rattled the paper and waved it at him. -He came up the stairs. “What's the row?" “Read It! He took the paper and glanced headlines. “1 knew -she'd dol.hll'. A chap always comes up with something of that sort and 1 :was beginning to feel. so.chippy!” - He ‘at the LONDON, July ‘30.—Lord Casselthorpe to-ddy wed Miss .‘Connle’ : Burke, the music. hall. singer, who has been.appear- ing ‘at-the Alhambra. The marriage was performeéd, by . speeial licénse, - at - St. Michael's ‘Church, -Chester 'Square, Lon- den, the Rev. Canon Mecklin, sub-déan of the. Chapel Royal, officiating. The hon- eymoon will be spent: at-the town House of the groom in York terrace. Lord Cas- selthorpe has” long : been known as the blackest sheep of the British peerage, be- ing called the “Coster Peer’ on account of bis unconverntional language, "Lis coarse manner and slovenly attire.. Two. years ago he was warned off Newmarket heath and the British turf by. the Jockey Club. He fs 88 years old. ‘The bride, like some other ‘lights ‘of ‘the music hall who have become the consorts. of ‘Britain’s heredit- ary - legislators, has enjoyed: considerable ante-nuptial- celebrity among the gilded vouth of the metropdils and is said to have been especially admired .at one time by the next in lirie-of this {llustrious fam- ily, the Hon. Cecll G. H. Mauburn.’ “The Hon. Cecll’ G. H: Mauburn, men~ tioned in the above cable-dispatch,. has been. rather well known In New York so= ciety for two years.past. His engage- mént to -the daughter of a' Montana min- ing magnate, not long deceased, has been ‘persistently fumiored.” .- Mauburn ‘was pale under his freckles. - “Have they seen it yet?”. . ..“I don’t think so,” she answered. “We :n;m drop these papers over the rail ere.’” - “That's rot, Mrs. Drelmer: it's sure fo don’t want to ~if I am to believe the fales I hear about ID¥. its little voyages to nowhere In particular. . claimed Mrs: Dreimer, “Why? I only hope I'll have as much interest in life by the time I'm that age.” “But how. will your “sister take it>* ‘asked Mauburn: “she may be afralf this will k..nuk my title on thé head, you know. - “Oh, T see,” sald Percival; “T hadn't N