The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 2, 1903, Page 4

of that.™ it cant” it all, that bla know, In'a s'mply can’t be any: ssu Yiat—that blasted coritinued Mauburn. d old beggar will fortnight There of the martiage, 8 you describe b while said- Mrs. Dre¢lmer, fe—you. know, ‘will simply the grave a b't, sooner, 1 me of it , title or no iy godd of you old chap. I'm care for me.” will be only fair to before her just as =8 i sure she does “But of conrse it ay the matter it s Io be sure!” “And now, thani Doesn't th igh? We'll eat Mauburn assented. the Lord, we'r way ded Percival, fauburn's position yw, and. | xpecte anvway.,” concl exy L “he’s & good fe other even the difference tor bs you suit ea 't make any course not.” she assented, e guiriea’s stamp.’ T kno meaning to be marrie@ for yet, anyway—it's such fun being engaged.” lep?”’ Mauburn was Inquiring > had proposed it. “Does it ed Percival, overhearing may be said to per- y five ar six, a great one- € baptism, ce of golden brown been the tears r a mortal creation so Her husbs 5 ETh the chatr for umed his fork in-an ecstasy of concentration. - Yet, though Mrs. Mil- brey was full of talk, like a charged siphon, needing but a slight pressure to pour forth matters of grave moment, she observed the engrossment of her-hus. band and began on the half of an orange. She knew from experience that. he would be deaf, for the moment, fo anything less than an alarm of fire. When “he had- lovingly consumed the last morsel he awoke to her presence and smiled_benignantiy. “My. @ear, don't fafl “to {hey’re exqu! arose mect her, and Milbrey sighed. deprecatingly. He couid remember no time. within five years when that ‘necessity had - not weighed upon his father’s sense of duly like a vast bowider of: gramite.. He turned to- wel- ceme the diversion provided by. the rog- none sautees which Jarvis at that moment uncovered before him with & discreet flouris] “Now you really must.” continued his “and-youw'll agree with me when I tell you why.” - “Buf, my. dear, T've alréady talked to the girl exhaustively. I've polnted out that her treatment of M- Wybert—her perverse refusal to meet 'ue lady at all, is quite as mbsurd. as it 1s rude and .that ¥ Fred chooses to. marry Mrs. Wybert it is hey Auty tg act the.part of a sister even if she cannot bring herself to -feel it. I've assured-her that Mrs. Wybert's antecedents are :all they should be; not fllustrious, perhaps, but eminently re- spectable. Indeed, I quite approve of the Southern aristocraly. But she constantly recails what that snobbish Bines was un- fair enough to tell her. I've dome my ut- mdst to convinde her that Bines spoke in the way. he did about Mrs.. Wybert be- cause he knew she was aware of those- ridiculous tales of .his motber’s filiteracy. Hut Avice is-er—my dear, she is like her njother in more ways than one. Assured- iy &he doesn’t take it from me.” He became interested in kidneys. *If Marie had been a man,” he remarked, feelingly, “I often suspect that her fame #s a chef would bave been second 1o none. Really, the suavity of her sauces is a never ending deiight to me.” “I haven't 10l you yet the reason—a Dew reason—why you m talk to Avice. *The money—yes, y¢e, my dear, I know, we all know. Indeed, I've put it to her piainly. Ehe knows how 'sorely Fred needs it §he knows how that beast of a tatlor is threatening to be nasty—and I've explalned how finvaluable Mrs. Wybert would be; reminding her of that lady's generous hiat about the rise In Federal Bieel, which enabled me to net the peat lztle profit of $10400 a month ago, and how*but for that, we might have been actually distressed. Yet she stubborniy clings to the notion that this marriage aould be a mesalliance for the Milbreys.” “l quite agree with ber,” repided his wife tersely, Mr. Milbrey locked perplexed but polite. “I quite agree with- Avice,|’ continued the: lady. “That woman hasn't been right, race, and she isn't right. Young Bines knew what he was talking about. I haven't. lived ‘my years without being able to tell that five minutes with her, cléver as is. 1 can read her.” Like so many of hose woren, she has an intense . p: 10 -bé thought respectable,:and she' enotgh—God only kno —to gratify it. L could tell it, 1f. 3 eise showed it by ‘the way. in which she prer espectability.- She has the thou: nd and one Uttle artificlal Tu.es.for pro- priety - that 6ne” never -does have when cne. has-been bred to- it. “That. kind o anis cerfain to lapse sjoner or She ‘would 'marry Fred because of his standing, because. he's a favorite with rt people she thinks she'd Hké to wih.. Then, after a little she'd es or soethiug, like that appalling person Norm'e¢ Whitmund married.”. the. désire to .be'.respectadls,. my yvou say this woman -has it—is tever. I'm no cynic_about your I shudder to thihk of their—uh— cities if it hould cease to be a n the feminine equation.” Jothing more than a passing fad r—besides, that's not what you.” vourself, were not averse. to )arrying her, in ‘spite of t - opinjons you must secretly have held. ot while it seemed absolutely neces- sary—not while the case was so brutally desperate, when Wwe = were . actually pressed—"" 3 “Remember, my dear, there's nothing magic in those ten thousand dollars. They're winged dollars like all their mates, and most of ‘them, I'm .sorry to say, have already. flow/) to places where they’d long been’ ex- pected.” Mrs. Milbrey's sen- sation was no long- er to ‘be repressed. She had toyed w*“ the situation ciently, Her band was now = fully dissecting 1 deviled thighs of ¢ imnia.ure chicken, Horace." said his wife, - impressively, “Avice has had an offer of marriage— from—-"" He looked up with new’ interest. “From Rulon Shep- ler.” He dropped knife and fork..- Shepler, the man of mighty millions! * - The - un- disputed monarch-of finance! The: cold- blooded, calculating sybAriLe ir his lighter moments, buf = man whose valies a. son-in-law tdeally the Mil- tign” - b eice Nted €nough . e Soeny were perb 0 su- 1k that amt ywh 80 -long and s 1ntimateiy.” with- never an- th t- of 1pen- rrumet Shep- last marry s .bewildering! ever = dreamed I've for expected it nths. I could tell you the. very ment. when ' the first seized the an—on. the yacht last summer. I was sure &he interested bim, eveén before his wife died two" years ago.” ““Margaret, it's too good. to be true! If. you think it'ls Tl tell you some- thing _ that " isn't: Avice practically re fused him.” Her hus d push- ed .away “his .plate; the omigsion of even one regretful glance ‘at_ its ‘treas- urés . betraved the strong emotion un- der which ‘he la- ‘bored. “This. 1s ‘ser'ous.” he said, quietly. “Let us get at it Tell - me - if: you please. 25t “She came to.sea me and cried halr the night. - She re- fused ‘him - definitely at first, but he begged her to take a month to think it over—" 5 Milbrey gasped. Shepler, who manded -markets to rise and they rose, or to fall and they fell—Shepler begging, en- tresting a child of his! sickening tragedy of If, the situation was Dot without its element of subllinit ‘She will consider; she will reflect? “You're guessing now, ‘and you're as keen at that as L Avice is not only amaz- ingly self-willed, as you intimated a mo- ment since, but she is Intensely secretive. ‘When she left ma I could get nothing from her whatever. Bhe was wretchedly sullen and taciturn.” 4 ““But why should-ghe hesitate? Shepler —Rulon Shepler! - My God! is ‘the girl crazy? The very ideafof hesitation is pre- posterous!” : . “I can't @ivine her.” You know she has acted perversely in the past. I used to think she might have some affair which we knew nothing—something silly and romantic. But If she had any such thing I'm .sure it was ended, and she’d Have jumped at this chance a year ago. You know yourself she was ready to mar- ry young Bines, and was really disap- pointed when he didn't propose.” “But this Is too serious.” He tinkled the little gilver bell “Find ‘out if Miss Avice will be down to breakfas not coming down T shall go up.” declared Mr. Milbrey when the man had gone § “She’'s stubborn,” cautioned his wife. “Gad! don't T know it?" Jarvis returned. “Migs Avice won't be down. sir, and I'm to fetch her up a pot of coffee, sir.” “Take it up at once, and tell her I shall be up to see her presently.” Jarvis van- 1 think T see @ way to put preasure on or, that 12 f *he morning hasn't already com: Despite the =oul- : of- “ that -brought her back to her ‘senses.” At 4 o'clock that afternoon Avice Mil. brey’s ring brought Mrs. Van Geist's but= ler 'to the door. s 3 T “Sandon, is Aunt Cornelia at home?" _“Yes, Miss Milbrey, she's. confined to her room: h'account h'of & cold, miss. “Thank heaven!" i Yes, miss—certainly! will you go h'up to her?" i “And Muttercheh, dear. it was a regular- bombshell,” she concluded .after she.had fluttered some of the November freshness into Mrs. Van ‘Gelst's room and breath- lesely related the fac! 2 : ou démentad’ creaturel it must have been." But_Shepler is one ih New York." = . Dad ‘already suspects as .much.” . “And he's kind; he's a big-hearted chap, 1 should ‘say of the riéhest men .& man of the world, generous—a—" 2 “ ‘A woman fancler,’ - Fidelia Oldaker calls ‘him."" 4 My dear, If he fancles you—" “There, you old conservative, I've hear: all his good points, and my. duty has béen written before me in letters of fire. . Dad devoted three hours to writing it- this morning, . so. don't, please, sayover any of the moral maxims I'm likély . to have heard.” s But why are ‘you unwilling?” z ““Because—because I'm. ‘wild, I fancy— just because 1.don't like the idea of mar~ rying that man. round head and positively no-neck—his head juet rolls around on his. hig. pillowy shoulders—and then he gers little right at- right off to a point with those “It. wouldn't be easy - fo have - him, either.” Iames . Mrs. Van-Gelst fixed -her niece with a “sudden look of suspicion. “‘Has--has that.man-anything to do with your refusal?” \ . 4 “No—not a thing=I glve you my word, auntfe. If he had heen what I once dreamed he was no_one would be asking .me to marry him now, but—do you know what I've decidéd? WEy, that he Is & joke—that's all—just a joke. You-needn't think of-him, Mutterchen—I don't,” except to think it was fungy that he should have impressed-me so—he's simply a jokeé."” “I could have told’ you as much long ago.”. < & “'Tell m¢ something now. Suppose Fred marries -that Wybert woman.”. “It will:be a sorry day.for Fred.” “Of coursel Now see how I'm pinned. Dad and- the mater both say the same now—they're more. severe than I . was. ‘Only we were never ‘in ‘such straits for money, It must be had. So this Is the gist of it: I ought to marry Rulon Shep- ler in order to save Fred from a marriage Well?” “Well, has me.’ “And so?" o “And so it's a‘question whether he mar- ries’ a ‘very certaln kind -of woman or whether I marry a very different kind of ma g 3 dal I would do a lot for Fred. He faults, but he's always been good to ‘How do wou feel?"” - “For one thing Fred sha'n’t get into tha 'm still uncertain about Mr. Shepfer.” ‘But you say—" “Yes, I know, but I've reasons for Be- ing uncertain. If I told you you'dWsay they're llke the most of a woman's rea- sons, mere fond, foolish hopes, so I won't He's such a big, funny, might get us into all sorts of scan-. *““Well, dear, work it -out by your lonely it you must, I belleve you'll do what's best for everybody in the end. And I am glad that your father and Margaret take your view of that woman."" “I “was eure she wasn't right—and. 1 - knew Mr. Bines was too much of a: man to_speak of her as he d!d without positive knowledge.. Now please give me some tea and funny little cakes; I'm famished.” “gpeaking of Mr. Blnes;”” #a{d Mrs. Van Gelst, when ‘the tea had beén brought by Sandon, *'I read in the paper this morn- ing .that he'd. faken a party to. North Carolina for the quail . sheoting, . Eddie Arledge and his wife and that Mr. and Mrs. Garmer, and of course Flarence ‘Akemit. - 8hould you. have thought she'd marry so soon after her divorce? -They" say Bishop Doolittle is frightfully vexed with her:"” 4 ¢ “Really’ ' hadn't heard, Whom is Flor- ence to marry?” -~ “Mr. Bines, “toibe sur yoir been? . You know s}ie ‘was . on his yacht a. whole month last summsr-—the bighep's sistef was with her—higlily scan- dalized. all the time.by the drinkfng and gayety, and now every one's looking for the engagement to be announced. - Here, what did I do..with that. Town Toplcs Cousin. Clint left? ~There it {s on:the tab- ouret. Read the paragraph at the top of the page."” .Aviee read: - “An engagement that is Tumored with uncommon- persisterice wili put soclety on the ‘qu!i vive. when it is definiitely. an- nounced. .Thé man in the case s the young son' of a inining Croesus from Mon- tana;, who has inherited the major portion of his father’'s millions and who bégan to dazzle upper Broadway about a year since by 'the reckiess. prodigality of his ways. His blonde inaimorata is a recerit divorcee of high social standing, noted for her eparkling. wit and an unflagging exuber- Stfinnifig Mrs. Wybe jCondesc.::ends. to See Uncie Peter Bines.. ance of spirits.. The interest of the gos- sips, howgver, centers chiefly in the uacle of the .12dy, a Right Reverend presiding over.'a -bishopric not a thousand miles from New’ York, and In. the attitude he will assime toward, her contemplated re- marriage. At the last Episcopal c¢onven- tion ‘this godly afid well-learned ‘gentie- man was a vehement supporter of the proposed canon to prohibit absolutely the marriage_of divorced persons; and though he stoutly championed his bewitching niece through the infelicities that eventu- ‘ated In South Daketa, on dit that he is highly wrought: up over her present . in-_ tentions, and has signified. unmisiakably his severest disapproval.' Howaver, nous’ verrons ce qug¢ nous verrons.' “But,” Mutterchen, that's only one of -those absurd, vulgar things that ‘wretched paper is -always printing. 1 could write dozens :of them myself.. Ton Banning - says they keep _one man ‘writing them ‘all the time, out of ‘his own imagination..and then they put them in- like- raisins in a. cake. 4 “But, my dear, I'm quite sure th's is authentic, ‘I know from Fidelia Oldaker that the bishop began. to cut up about it to Florence, and Florence defied him. That anclent theory that most gossip is without truth was exploded-long ago. As & matter of fact most gossip, at least about the people we know, doesn’t do half justice to the facts. But. really, I can't see why he fancied Florence Akemit. I should have thought he'd want some one it less fluttery. dare s&y you're right abbut the gos- sip, 1 mean—" Miss Milbrey remarked when she had finished her tea, and r fused -the cak *'I remember, now, one day when we met at her place, and he meernied o much at home thera. Of course. it must be s0. How stupld of me to doubt Now I must run. Good-b; and be good to the cold. Where bave ‘Let me know what you do.” ndeed I shall; you shall be the first one to know. My mind is really, you know, almost made up.” « A week later Mr. and Mrs. Horace Mil- brey announced in the public prints the engagem@nt of thelr daughter Avice to 3r. Rulon Shepler. 'CHAPTER XXVIIL UNCLE - PETER . BINES COMES TO TOWN- WITH HIS MAN. : One ‘day. in December Peter Bines of Montana-City dropped in-on the familv= came with his gaunt length ‘of limb, his kinu, brown old face with. eyes sparklini shrewdly far back under. his grizzied brows, . with. hia rough. -resonant, musical voice; the spring of youth in his step, and the ‘fresh. confident strength:of the big hills in. his bearing. 2 rought Billy Brue with him, a-per- se exact social status.some: of friends were never able to ‘fix with any. desirable certainty. - Thus,“Pér- cival had presented ‘the old ~man, morning -aft-r bls arrival, to no less & person’ than Herbert Delaricey Livingston, with whom he had smoked a cigar of un- usual. excellence in the cafe of the High- tower Hatel: “If you fancy that weed, Mr. Bines,” said . Livingston, graciously, to' the old man, “I've a spare couple of hundred I'd like to let you have. The things wers sent ‘me, but_ I find them rather stish. If your man’s about the hotel I'll give him a card to'my man, and let him fetch them.” . “My man?’ querfed Uncle Peer, and sighting Billy Brue at the moment, “why, yes, here's my man now. -Mr. Brue, shake hands with' Mr. Livingston. Billy, go up to the address he gives you, and get some of . thess ~se-gars. fou’ll relish. 'em as much as I do.-Now don’t talk - to any strangers, don't get run over, and don't lyse .yourseif.” Livingston ~ had surrendered a- wav- ering and uncertain hand te- the warm, reassuring. clasp of Mr. Brue. “He ain’t - much for .. style, Billy: ain’t,” Uncle' Peter explained when that person . had - gone upon his errand, “Le an't'a mite gaudy, Lul lie's gut fuiciiuey teviings.” Lhie . dazed . scion of - the "Lavingswi had thereupon iwade u couscieliivus tuur of s . cuos i a public hausum, sole- iy IUT . tne purpose of relaung. . tuis curious ud\enture 1o Lause best quanfed Lo mafveat it 'Lhe oWl miau’s ar- 2ivis hiau beeu Guite unexpecied. ouly had ne sent no word vc his coming, but_ he med, iu- aeed,. Hot Lo Know wual s reasvus huu - beeu for doiwng . \Ding 80 uUngsua. “rnuugut 1'd Jusc drop 1a on you -ail wud B2y ‘howuy, " Lad been tus nrst avowal, which was Jucid 88 far as it wenl: Later he in- voived himself in ex- planations taht were Lotn . obscure -and couilicting. ~ Once it was that he haa felt & sudden great ung- \u§ 10f the Lle or'a gay - city. . Then it wus that he would .-have been content in - Montana -City, but that he had undertaken the wiliter in New York out of cansideration tor Billy Brue, **Just think of it;” he said to Percival, “tbat poor - fellow aln't ever been east of _Denver - beiors now. 1t wa'n't good tor him to be holed ‘up out there m them huls all his life. He hadn't. . got any chance to Improve his mind.” “He'd better im- prove his whiskers tirst thing he doe: suggested - Percival. “iie’ll be gold-brick-~ ed If he wears ‘em scrambled taht wa, around this place.” But-In_ neither of these - -explanations did the curious old man * impress - Per- cival as being wholly g figenuous. Then he remarked casually one day that he had lately met Higbee, who was on his y to San Francisco.’ “I" only :had a'-few minutes with him while . they. changed - engines "at Green River, but he told me all xbout you fo/ks —what a fine time-you was havin’, yachts and ‘card parties, and all like that. bee sald a man had ought to come to. New York ‘every -now and then, jest to keep from gettin’ rusty.” + SIS Back of this Percy imagined for a tim that he had discovered Uncle Peter's tru reason for descending upon them. Hig: bee would have regaled him with wild tales of the New York dissipations, and Uncle Peter had come promptly on to pull him up. Percival could hear the story as Higbée would word it, with the improv: ing moral incldent of his own son snatched as a brand from the ‘Tenderlon" to lve ~a life of - impecunious. us fulness far Chfcago. But when in Fe tiled to hold this beifef, bound to admit Its falsity, For Peter had shown no Inclination to act the part of an evangel from the virtuous West. He had dellvered no homilies, no warnings as'to the fate of people who in- continently “cut loose.” He had evinced not the least sign of any disposition even to criticise. On the contrary, indeed, he appeared to Joy immensely in Perciv: way of life. He manifested a willirigness and -a ca- pacity for unbending in boon companion- ship that were, both of them, quite amaz- ing to his accomplished grandson.’ By de- grees, and by virtue of being never at all censorious, he famillarized himself with the young man's habits and diversions. ® He listened delightedly to the tales of his large gambling losses, of the bouts at poker, the fruitless venture in Texas oil land, the disastrous corner in wheat, en- the - ot - Hig~ " and to prove it from bis observativis. he was - Uncie " gineercd Burman, unsuccessful efforts to n Forty-fourth street. He never ot hearing whatever- adventures chose to eiate, reaily enjoyed thery, the yous to confide freely in him_ and tu . h him without t. Uncle- Peter begg the temple of chas ber of late evenings lar -grandson.- He aiso himseif one of the poker coterie, ished_ keénly the -stock jokes a3 grandscn’s groner “Your pa,” he woild say learri ‘to stiy out-of a jack-pe had “Jacks or better; he'd draw four cards.to an ace a tren- call At-‘hard luck’ when he dida’t draw ‘out: And- be just loyed siraghis open. in - the middle; sald anybody e il them that's open at both -end: atler all, I guess that's the only w bave fun-at the game. If & ‘man. ain't gut the sperrit to .overplay aces-up when he gets ‘ém, he might as well be Eleriin’ in a bank for all the fun he'll have out of the game:™ The oid man’s endurance of late suppers and later hours, and his unsuspected dis- position. to. “cut locse,” became twin mar- vels to Percival. He could not aveid con- trasting this behavior with his' past preaching. After a few weeks he was forced to the charitable conclusion that Uncle Peter's facuities were faliing. The exposure and dshilps of the winter be- fore had undoubtedly impaired his mental powers. “] can’t make him out,” by confided to his mother. “He never warts to go home nights; he can drink more thsn I can without batting ‘an eye, and show up fresher in the morning, and he behives like a yourig fellow just out of college. I don’t know whers he would bring up if he dldn’t have me to watch over him." “I think it's just awful—-at his time of lite, ‘too,” ‘said Mrs. Bines. think that's it. He's getting old, and he’s. come along Into his second childhood. A ‘couple ‘of ~ more months at this rate. and I'm afraid I'll have to ring up one of those nice shiny black wagons to take him off to the: foolish house.” “Can’t you talk to him and tell Rim bet- “‘r‘l could. I know it all by heart—all the things to say to a man on the downward path,. Heaven knows. I've heard them often énough, but I'd feel ashamed to talk that way to Uncle Peter. -If he were my. son, mow, I'd cut off his allowance and send him back to-make something of him- self, iike Siie. Higbee with little Hennery: ‘but I'm afraid all I can do’is to waich him and see that he doesn’t marry one of thuse little pink-silk: chorus girls, or lick a policeman, or anything.” “You're carryin’ on the same way your- ," ventured his mother: “That's different,” replied her perspica- clous son. Uncle Peter had refused to live at the ightower after three days in that splen- @id- and popilous caravansary: [t suits me well enough,” he exp to Percival, “but I have to look Billy. Brie, and this ain't_ any p s, You see Billy ain’t city. brok at_him now over there, the way goes around butting into strangers.. ke does that way because ‘he's all the. time looking' down' at_his new. patent- leather shoes—first pair. -he. ever -had. I plumb,_gtoop-shouldered if he dom’t Up and get the new Kicked off of have to get him a nice. warm @b i An_some place that ain’t so much on the. band wagon . as. this one. - The ceil here are too high fur Blily. And If him shootin’ ‘craps: with the beliboy tr mornin’. . The boy thinks Billy tr the West. is a stage robber, or sométhir like. e reads about In tue Cap' L libriles, and - follows- him around every chance he gets. ~And Billy laps oo many-of them -little striped drinks; and them French-cooked dishes ain't so good fur him, efther. -He caught on to the bill of fare right away. Now he wan't order anything but them allas—them . dishes that has ‘a 1a’ something or other after ‘em,” he explained, when Percival looked puzzled. - “He Knows théy'll always be something all fussed up with red, white and blue gravy, and a littie paper bun- quet stuck into "em. I never knew Billy was such ‘a fancy eater before.” So.Uncle Peter and his charge had es- tablished: themselves fn an old-fashioned but very coimfortable hotel down on one of the squares, a dingy monument to the time when lifé had been less hurried. Un- cle Peter had stayed there thirty years before, and he found the place unchanged. The carpets-and hangings - were a bit faded, but the rooms were generoualy broad, the chalrs, as-the old man. re- marked, were “made to sit In,” and theé culsine was held, by a few knowing old epicures who. still frequented -the place, to be superior even to that of the more pretentious Hightower.. The service, it Is ‘true, was apt to be slo Strangers ‘who chanced in to order'a meal not ‘in- frequently .- became . énrag-1, ~and left before - thelr . food .- came, trailing -plain: short . words = of : extreme - dis- satisfaction. belilnd them as they went. But the elect knew that these delays be- tokened. thie presence of an. artistic con- sclenice ‘iri the kitchen, and that the food was worth. tarying - for... {"They .know how to make you come back hungry . for some, more the next day,” sald Uncle Peter Bines. - From. this headquarters the old -man went forth to join in-the divérsions-of his grandson. _And:here. he kept a waickful eyé. upon .the uncertdin "Billy Brue; at least approximately. Between them. his ‘days and nights were occupled- to crowd- ing. . But Uncle -Peter had. already put in sonie hard: winters and was pot want- ing in -fortitude. 2 Billy.: Brue :was ‘a_sore’ tfouble to the old man.. “I jest can't Keep him off the ‘streéts nights." was'lils chie? complalnt. By day Billy Brue.walked the streets in by >m - a decent,.orderly trance ‘of bewilderment. He was properly pusiled and amazed by rhany strange miatters. He never:could find out what was ‘“‘going o to bring - so many. fo'ks into town. -They all hur- ‘ried somewhere -constantly, but he- was never able to reach the cefiter -of ex-" citement. - Nor did he ever learn how any one.could reach -those high clothes- ines, strung forty feet above ground be- tween thé.backs of houses: nor fiow there could be “50 many shows fn town,’ all ot one night”: nor why you should get so many good things. to eat by merely ‘buying a’ “slug of whisky”; nor why a thousand people weren't.. run. over ‘in -Broadway each twenty-four hours. At.night, ‘Billy Brue ceased t¢ bhe the astounded a'len, and, as Perciyal said Dr. Von Herzlich would say, “began to mingle and co-operate with his enwiron- ment.” In the course of this process he fell into adventures, some of them, per- uneditying. told tded leather fob' was sfolen from him the second night out: also that the following week, In a Twenty-ninth street saloon, he accepted the hospitality of an affasle stranger, who had often been in. Mon tana City. His explanation of subsequent events was entirely satisfactory, at least, from the time that he returned to cor- sciousness of them. To Be Continued.