The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, August 30, 1903, Page 4

THE SUNDAY CALL. By John Seaton Blair. by T. C. McClure. O one around the fron- tier town of Lewisburg knew much of Dr. Davy. He had come to the locality without ostentation, taken up a claim four miles away, and bullt & sod house 21t below ground. For ad dwelt there alone, and had once a fortnight for and h half above & year he enly co to town A Gl L KT70%/5 WIEEY SHE 15 L OVEY MEETING OF R “VOr SHE INTERRUPTED, S~ ; e OYALTY. | R — (Copyright, 18 by T. C. MoClure) ARBARA stood at the gate drinking in the mountain alr, which was like & draught of wine to her. The sun, hanging just above the crest of Bald Hill, had lifted the early morn- the dew-covered spider ing fog and eet webs on the grass shimmering llke so many clusters of crystals, Adown the road linnets and thrushes were chirping merrily in the woods, and occasionally the breeze wafted the scent of pines to ber. The woods were calling her; she would not disregard such an invitation She ran lightly into the house and pres- ently reappeared with a perasol and a emall red volume. Accoutered thus, she started down the road, followed by her sunt’s admonition to be back to dinner &t noon and to remember not to cross Johnson's pasture, where rattlesnakes had been seen recently Barbara went briskly toward the woods with & feeling that on such a day it was indeed good to be alive. Well down the road she passed the great arched gate- ways of the sanitarfum, and looking up the steep driveway, she could see the bulldings perched on the hill. She had not been down this road for ten years, but she suddenly remembered, with a little thrill of pity for its inmates, that the red brick building on the extreme left ‘was the insane pavilion. She took the little footpath which led across the lower end of the sanitarfum grounds and into the pine woods. She found a place where giant pines towered many feet skyward and the ground was covered thickly with pine needles. Here #he sat down and listened for a time to the tinkle of a tiny brook hard by and the sighing of the breeze through the By Sidney H. Cole. pine tops. Bhe had just opened the little red volume when the crackling of a twig warned her of some one's approach. She looked up. Before her, hat in hand, stood & handsome, well-groomed young man, who regarded her with a steadine: gaze decidedly disconcerting. looked up, he bowed gravely. “Good morning, Princess eaid in a cheerful voice. ful morning, isn’t it?” Barbara’s mouth curved scornfully; then ell at once the truth flashed upon her. This man before her was a strayed inmate of the insane pavillon. Her eyes opened wide in alarm, and made her doubly charming—at least so thought the young man with a keen sense of pity. “Charming spot here,” he went on easlly, “Let me congratulate you on your choice.” Barbara’s heart was beating wildly. The men might be dangerous, and she was at his mercy. She remembered had heard—somewhere—it was best and safest to humor lunatics. 8o, smothering & desire to scream, she faced the intruder with as much composure as e could summon. “I should very much like to sit down here with you,” he was saying. “It isn't every one, you know, who is favored with a morning interview with Henry Fourth.” Louise,” he “Really delight- " Barbara sald breathlessly, 0 sit down. I shall be very—glad to have you git down with me. Indeed, I'm :vtuuy—-wfunr pleased to have you sit lown."* He seated himself with a smile, which, in a sane person, would have betokened unlimited patience. *'And what is Princess Louise doing this - ng?” he asked. ‘I'm—1 was reading a book on birds, Mr. Henry Fourth,” she sald. He glanced at her quizzically. “Do you mind if I feel your pulse, your high- — ness?” he asked quite humbly. ‘Oh, no—indeed not,” she assured him, at the same time extending her wrist to him. He pulled out his watch and took her wrist lightly in his hand. Presently he dropped it and returned the watch to his pocket. 5 “Ah, thank you,” he sald as he drew a tablet from 'his pocket and began writ- ing rapldly on one of the pages with a pencil. He laid the tablet aside, and as it lay on the ground near her, Barbara read in the round, full hand on the page: “Janet Tolman. “June 14. Tucker's Grove. Eyes unus- ually dilated. Conversation rational, Pulse £3." “And mnow, Princess Loulse,” the young man was saying, “I think we'd better seek the banquet hall.” He rose and slipped the tablet and pen- cil into his pocket. “I'm—it's very comfortable here, sald, and then as a forlorn hope added, “but don't let me detain you.” “But really, I insist,” he sald with well-bred firmness. ¢ Barbara dared no longer hesitate, “Henry Fourth” assisted her-fo her feet, and as she gained them he slipped her arm through his own. Bhe felt his arm pinning hers firmly against his side and realized that opposition was useless. To- gether they started through the grove, and Barbara was surprised to find they took the path leading to the sanitarfum. They gained the grounds and started up the hill toward the buildings, ‘*‘Henry Fourth" meantime conversing pleasantly, and Barbara answering him as best she could. Bhe breathed more freely now, for she was sure they would soon encounter would an attendant, who relleve her of her dangerous They had nearly gained the summit of the hill, when an attendant {n white coat came running towards them. “Pardon me, doctor,” he sald, address- ing Barbara’s companion, “but they've she he Jusc got her.” - “Who?" sald thé other quicklyh 'The Tolman women. Found her in the laundry,” sald the attendant. ‘*‘Here they come now,” he added, pointing to two men who led a struggling woman be- tween them, “Good Lord,” “Henry Fourth,” then?" ‘‘Then—then you're not insane?’ sald Barbara, giggling hysterically with this sudden removal of the tension. “I wasn't an hour ago,” he sald, rub- bing his forehead in bewildered fashlon. “A woman named Tolman confined here escaped, as we supposed, this morning, he explained. “You are the image of her, which accounts for my actions in the grove. Bhe thinks she's Princess Loulse, and everybody else is some other celeb- rity. Henry Fourth fell to my lot. I'm particularly interested in the case, and be- cause I was wondering what effect the qulet of the woods would have, I took Yyour pulse and made those notes in the grove. It's a terribly absurd situation. I don’t know how to apologize to you. I presume you thought me insane and tried to humor me.” gasped the erstwhile “whom have I got “Precisely,” sald Barbara, and they both laughed heartily. . “At least, let me get my automobile satd. “I and take you home,” he pre- sume you've had quite enough of the grove for one day.” “Thank you,” sald Barbara, ‘“but it's only a step to where I am staying with “Mrs. Durgin’s,” said the doctor, “‘why, I spend half my evenings there.’ “Oh, then you must be Dr. Bennett, my aunt's 1dol,” sald Barbara. “A fallen idol, I fear,” he returned, “when she hears of my latest escapade.” ‘Three months later they sat one even- ing before the fireplace at Mrs. Durgin" “Really, Barbara,’ the doctor said, “I demand an answer.” Barbara lifted her downcast eyes and flushed y. “I suppose I should humor you, as I :l:a.cmcc before, ‘Henry Fourth,'" she “T'm utterly uncontrollable when crossed,” he laughed, *“The ed Barbara, “for the " sigh of peace—" but at this point the sentence was interunted. - provisions. He was called Doctor because he was a doctor, though not seeking to ply his art, and no one was able to say Just how his title came to be known. His next neighbor was a mile away, and travelers who stopped at his house for a drink of water or to Inquire the way were treated with scant courtesy. There was considerable gossip about the stranger, and many people shook their heads and whispered that the officers of the law would turn up in search of him some fine day, but after awhile, as noth- Ing was heard against him, he was put) down as a recluse and left undisturbed. | It was a year or more after Dr. Davy's appearance that he came to town one evening to meet a young woman who stepped off the train from the East. The family resemblance was so marked that it was agreed by a!l that the newcomer was his daughter. She was hurrled away as If the father feared to let the towns- people get sight of her, but it had needed only a glance to show that she was good looking and about 20 years of age. Her coming revived the gossip, but as she was not seen in town during the next three months she was In time forgotten by all with one exception. That exception was young Joe Taylor, who had been made Sheriff of the county a year before, and who was being talked of as a candidate for the Legislature. He had only to ac- cept a nomination to be elected, as he was a general favorite with all. He made it his business while scouting the coun- try for horse thieves to call at the Davy cabin, and he was the first and about the only one to see the daughter Mollle In her own home, and to be hospitably received Ly the father. If he had any curiosity to gratity as an officer of the law he was disappointed. The Doctor was free to talk, but not about himself nor his past. He was made welcome by the daughter, but he could not questicn her as a suspect. He called three or Your times “by accl- dent,” but after that he was a weekly visitor from choice and invitation. In time he was quite ready to acknowledge to himself that he was In love, and to hope that his feelings were reciprocated. He was feeding up his courage to speak Lis mind when something happened to make him turn pale and set his heart to thumping. As Sheriff, he received an offi- clal document by mail one day in which he was commanded to arrest one Dr. James Bird as an embezzler. It was Bird instead of Davy in_the warrant, but the personal description fitted the man who was living out on the prairie with hrs daughter. His offense had been com- mitted many years before, but the com- plainant had kept the warrant alive, and followed the embezzler's trail like a bloodhound. The demand was that he be arrested and securely held until extradi- tion papers could be secured, and as even the locality in which he was in hiding was pointed out, the Sheriff realized that he must do his duty If it broke a woman's heart. An hour after recelving the letter he was on his way to the Doctor’s place. All the way out there he was hoping that the Doctor might have been given a hint and fled, or if he had not, then that he might have indisputable evidence of his inno- cence at hand. His face betrayed his per- turbation of mind to the girl the instant he dismounted at the door. She was alone, and as she stood forth In the June sunshine and looked up at him she quiet- . Taylor, I know your errand here. have come to arrest my father on old charge.” v—they have sent on this warrant!" mmered Joe, as he handed it to her ad, “but I'm hoping that your father r away by this time.” “He is down at the lake fishing We had hoped that this matter was dead at last, but it seems that the man desires a malicious revenge. It says embezzlement Joe nodded his head as he looked away over the prairie. “But it is false. It was a partnership business, and the other man was seeking to. cheat father and fell into his own trap.” “It was Hkely that way,” “But father even restored the money after awhile—all but a paltry sum. He would also have restored that, unjust as it was, but he has been hounded and driven till he has become desperate and determined. Is this wretch to follow him to his grave? Joe sat down on the ground and dropped his chin on his hands and appeared to be thinking. The girl had put the warrant back into his hands, and there was a sob in her throat as she turned and entered the house. It was a quarter of an hour before she reappeared.- Joe looked up into her face with eyes telling of sympa- thy and love, and a blush came to her cheek as she asked: “Well, what are you going to do about nodded Joe. t's going—it's going to be the hardest thing of my life,” he replied, “but I've got to do my sworn duty. I must do it or stand impeached. Girl, you don’t know"— “Joe,” she Interrupted, calling him by that name for the first time, “a girl knows when she is loved.” “Yes; she ought to, and you ought to know that I love you. “T do, Joe; and I love you In return, and you will break my heart if you drag my cld father to jail. Say that you won't do it—that you will leave the warrant un- served.” “Duty, girl!" he whispered, as he rose up and put his arms around her amd kissed her for the first time. “Then you will arrest him?" He kissed her again toward the lake, look his hand through t had not taken a hunc before a rifle cracke: ward on the grass. His h dashed off s iden re port . standing ove acious man. “He—he start and a gun went tween her sobs -and did he h legal paper with him?' queried the father In a whis- per. “If he had it has been burned. Tell me, unded ™" along his scalp a week. I will 1 we must move on and he will b load the wagon a and find ano 1m “But the m Taylor—Joe? he aske “W ali take him with us. He will need my skill and your nursing for some days to come.” It was two weeks later when the Sherifft saw Mollle Davy ide. The old claim dred miles ‘behind and doned cabin of a settler had been Joe Taylor had been wrough fever as the 1 rolled along. Molife, I take it that it was betwixt sald as she saw that he h again. A. “But now"— s betwixt you and me, and as soon as I eca shake myself together I'll fix things so that you won't have to do any more movix nks, dear, that you shot a little toc . — DICK’S PROMOTER. By Belle Maniates. ¥ b YNTHIA sat before the flickering _ firelight 1n the library after Dick had gone, gazing rue- fully at the ringless hand, which might have been diamond-be- 8 decked if she only could she couldn’t. She liked no! Dick; he was generous, good-looking and havé—but, danced so well. tame. It he were only not so She had known, of course, that ultimately his attentions would culminate in a proposal, but she didn’: think it would ecomé so prematurely. It was so like Dick to call at such an absurdly early hour and blurt it right out without any preface, and then to leave immediately without replying to her kind, little offer of friendship, Dick had no finesse. Still, she wasn't sure that she liked a man with too much—like her Un- cle Henry, for instance. As if in obedience to her thoughts there entered the room at this moment her un- cle, Henry Ormsby, a bachelor clubman of some thirty and odd years. What, Cynthia! And no Dick?” Dick has come and gone.” “Dick usually comes and stays.” “I know it,”" she sighed, “‘but, you see— he came once too often.” “And that is why he did not stay “Yes, and it's just as well. Dicks are sometimes tiresome.’ “Not this Dick. He’s quite a favorite with your sex.” “Dick is?” she asked with elevated brows. ‘“‘Oh, the girls llke him because he is agreeable, but none of them are very enthusiastic over him.” “That,” repied her uncle, “is because they are used to him and have grown up in the same town with him. Then you know this is such an old-fashioned place —all paired off in steadies. Dick has been yours for so long that none of your girl friends would think of showing or receiv- ing attention from him, but let Dick be a new man in a new place and he would be the lion of the place.” “He's such a stay-at-home, he'll never go anywhere,” sald Cynthia petulantly. “I think he'll have to go soon, because the junior partner of the firm Dick is con- nected with is quite a friend of mine and he told me only this evening that Dick was a very promising young business fel- low, and he seriously contemplated send- ing him out on an important deal for the firm.” Thereupon Uncle Henry took his de- parture, leaving his young niece to her meditations. The next morning her heart fluttered for the first time at the sight of a note in Dick’s chirography. She read: “Dear Cynthia: I find 1 have to leave very unexpectedly for Denver on a busi- ness trip. Please accept my apologies for my hasty speech and departure last night. T fear I am not a good loser. “Belleve me always, as you wished, “Your friend, “DICK.” Again were Cynthia's feelings mingled and conflicting. He had followed her wishes and become her friend, but the note was most unsatisfactory. He had given her no Denver address nor any idea of the length of his absence. How- ever, possibly she might be able to draw that information from her uncle without his suspecting. She telephoned him the following day and asked him to call that evening. He complied with her request as to the call, but seemed In an uncommunicative mood. “By the way,” she finally said, “I had a note from Dick. He was just off for Denver.” “Yes, we will all miss him at the club.” “I suppose he will not be away long. I think he mentioned the date of his re- turn, but I don’t recall it.” “Why, did he?” exclaimed her uncle, in surprise. “Courtney told me his length °f absence was very uncertain. 1 guve Dick a letter to the Darnleys, friends of mune. Eilen Darnley is quite a society leader. I wrote her person- ally.” Uncle Henry proceeded to expatiate on Ellen Darnley’s charms until Cynthia de- cided mentally that all men were bores. As he was leaving he volunteered the in- formation Ellen Darnley was to be married in a couple of weeks. Then see- ing the little leap of relief in Cynthia's countenance he offset it by the remark that there would be “heaps of doings” and Dick would be strictly in it. In two or three days Cynthia received a Denver paper addressed to her in Dick's handwriting. Under society notes she read of a dinner dance. Dick's name Wwas among the list of guests. He had trans- gressed the United States postal rules by margin. dropped in day ° modest¢ and his address on tt k only said h introducing and received a ing him to t she been hez morse and T night, teliing h glad she was to hear he was having so gay a time how he must dread t turn home. His reply was friendly, and gave de- times he was hav ncluded at which I The brides- f n line with after ke that picture I wish tails of the good “To-morrow night,” he ¢ Miss Darnley’s wedd ciate as one of the maid whom I the cerem of Evang! has eyes U so fond of. you could se Cynthia threw letter in the fire The next time Ormsby called he brought a paper from his pocket. “I want to read to you about Ellen's wedding.” he said. “Dick is given spe- cial meuntion as a cultured young man from the East— “I am sick of the sound of Ellen Darn- 's name and Dick’s, too,” cried Cyn- a forgetting Uncle Henry's shrewd- ness. “I know,” he sald sympathetically, “it fs a bore to hear of people you have never met,” and he discreetly turned the conversation into other channels. Two days later Dick was shown into the library where Cynthia was sitting before the fire as he had seen her last. . “Why e exclaimed, “did you expect to return so soon?’ “No!” he replied. me last night.” He forebore to say to whom “they” re- terred, but Cynthia naturally’ nferred that it was the firm. Later that even- ing Dick met “Uncle Henry” at the club. “Say, Ormsby,” he said joyously, *it's all righ “Why, my dear boy, when you afe as old as I you will know that nothing suc- ceeds like success. I told you I'd fix it." “You got Courtney to send me to Den- ver!” “And the letters and Ellen Darnley’s wedding dld the rest. I saw the fruit was ripe, and I telegraphed you to coms and pluck 1t.” “They telegraphed xy ey o MILLIONTH CHANCE. (Copyright, 198, by T. C. McClure.) F there isn't that puppy, Fielding, again,” growled her father in a low tome. “Turn your eyes away, Sarah, and don't look at him!" Miss Bradford com- Jplied by shooting to- ward Fielding one of those mysterious side glances which enables a woman, without turning her head, to compass wonders of vision. Then she flushed rosily. “You are very hard on him,” she breathed softly, careful , of the near-by clerk at the glove counter in the big de- partment store. ‘Hard nothing,” grumbled Mr Bradford. If there's any impractical animal on the face of the globe it is an inventor. Take that infernally foolish scheme of his, for instance—that spring cushion he has In- vented to attach to the bottom of eleva- tors in case of a fall. Now, what do you suppose the percentage of accidents on an _elevator is “How should I know?" retorted his daughter with a superb feminine con- tempt for statistics. “Less than one in a million journeys,” sald her father triumphantly, if not vera- clously. “Just the same,” returned his daughter obstinately, “it must be very disagreeabls when that millionth accldent does hap- Her father walked stolidly toward the machine in question, Serah tralling obe- diently after him, though her thoughts ‘were ot:nrwhar'oa. ;.nd her eyes now vainly swept’ the cro or & glimpse of young Flelding. ¥ *I suppose you are not afraid to go up?”’ jeered Mr. Bradford, as the two found themselves the only occupants of the cage By Carter Dufresne. as it rose to the fourth floor. “Of course I'm not,” sald Sarah resent- fully. Then she added artfully. “You talk about inventing as though it was like—well, like drinking.” “It is as bad as drinking,” sald her father solemnly, ““or as the cocalne or the poetry habit. Any one of these will ruin a man's career. Now, Sarah, don’t be all day choosing that scarf for your mother.” This last as they stepped from the car. Mr. Bradford was secretly afraid of the majestic females that swept to and fro on this special floor, their demi-trains gliding nolselessly over the deep car- pets, their eyes fronting his with an in- solent scorn that quite abashed him, ty- rant as he was apt to be at home. “Mere man,” they seemed to be whis- pering among themselves. Finally the banker solaced himselrby going to a win- dow and looking out on the street. Hence he did not see Fielding step from the elevator in the next moment. He was not aware that two heads were bending together over the scart, on which neither of the young people saw aught of the colors. But even the choice of a scarf cannot last forever. It was prematurely ended by the return of the magnate, who turn- ed as purple as the Perslan silks before him when he beheld the pretty tableau. He grew more purple still when Fleld- ing quistly entered the car with them. E’u he snapped angrily at the elevator “Why are we be! blank wall, you young prmmmm"‘l :’;l.{’gflmm.m"‘m‘l’-"m' But the boy, a lad of sixi ‘ne n duty, went white with wr:r-' Y. “Somethin's wrong up above,” he stam- mered. “Josh® he's been drinkin’' I knowed, though I never told. Somethin's wrong, and the brake ain't holdin' right | ~it's slippin,” he ended, in a shrill yeil. “Three floors to fall,” thought F ing, as he seized the half-fainting girl In his arms. Aloud he cried cheerily, “Don’t be frightened, any of you! My cusblon attachment was sold the firm jast week. If it's on—" Aye—if! How large a word! As the cage shot downward at fearful speed, very siightly broken by the yleldhg Topes, the banker found a whole centuiy of thought compressed imto that brief period. A voice cried in his ear that it was & judgment on him, the cushion would not be there, that the cage woujd strike the ground with the sound so hap- plly denominated by the newspapers as a “sickening thud.” He saw himself and his child piled in a mangled heap—he to whom life had always seemed so sub- stantial and sure! Then half a dozen women walting in the basement saw the falling cage shoot downward and rise again like a rubler ball. When it came down the second time It rested quiveringly on the springs while inside was an undignified mass, which presently astonished the watchers and the component parts of the heap resolving into four badly shaken but quite undamaged people. A The elevator boy staggered out first. “Gee,” he stammered, holding his head. ¢ I don’t get even wid Josh for dat. I never thought we'd stop this side of Chiny!* Flelding followed, half carrying Sarah, who clung to him with a deliclous aban- don which made him wish such accidents might be frequent. As to the banker, he spoke but little until Fielding had landed father and daughter at their brownstone front. Then he held out his hand. “Inventing,” he said very seriously, “is not so bad a habit as I thought. In fact, I may say that both poetry and cocain® are infinitely worse. Come to see us when you please