The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 13, 1903, Page 8

o Y/ (Cop Dodge ¢t e nk out w what a tist would cell & good fmit son wishing to appear blame rize me in that e with their sis I 1€ jon’t. I don't know maintal & determined silence. He rubbed his together with renewed emphasis q ances met th 1 passed, u - scious of anything he sweet picture of a siste: 1 a bro and a plush bag going d and dutifully to dancing 100! heart was hot at the in- world and the hypocrits t of gir her thoughts were busy with her indictment of him before the family tribunal—she hoped he would be sent to bed. He jumped over the threshold of the leng room and aimed his cap at the head of a boy he knew, who was standing on one fcot to put on a slipper. This de- stroyed his friend’s balance and a cheer- irg scufle followed. Life assumed a more aspect. In the other dressing- s sister had fluttered into a whis. many-colored throng; g with the rest, she adjusted her slippers and perked ou her bows, her braids quivering with socla- bility A shrill whistle called them out in two erowding bunches to the polished floor. Hoping against hope, he had clung to tice Miss Dorothy on slipped rched hert the held it an alluring black 1 mystic evolu- Their eyes were fixed s nted shocs "IN TRE MoRNING HE \ APPLIED HIMSELF TO H1s NHOTE- )l OF APOLOGY ™ — pauses between; sharp clicks of the castane ang through the hall; a line of toes rose gradually toward the zontal, whirled more or less steadily d behind, bent low, bowed, nd with a flutter of skirts resumed the first p ) A littie breeze of laughing admiration circled the row of mothers and aunts. “Isn't that too cunal Just like a lit- y graceful, really, for the two-step, children toierance grew on Richard. If must be, better the two-step than anything else. Any one with a firm inten- tion of keeping the time and a strong arm can drag a girl through it very accepta- bly. It was Dicky’'s custom to hurl him- self at the colored bunch nearest him, seize a ie, 50 to speak, and plunge into the dance. He had his eye on Louise Hetherington, a large, plunmp girl, with a tremendous braid of hair. She was a size too big for the class, but everybody liked to dance with her, for she knew how, and piloted her diminutive partners b ill. But she had been snap- ped up by the 6-year-old Harold, and was even now guiding his infant steps around skirted the row of mothers and autiously. Heaven send Miss Doro- v was not looking at him! She seemed to have eyes in the back of her head, that woman. “Oh, look! Did you ever see anything %0 sweet?” sajd somebody. Involuntarily he turned. There in a corner, all by her- self, a little girl was gravely performing & dance. He stared at her curiously. For the first time, free from all personal con- nection with them, he discovered that those motions were pretty. She was ethereally slender, brown-eyed, brown-haired, brown-skinned. A little fan-shaped her ankles we seemed hardly the other marked the time. jerkily, cloek. See little things “Mine's Richard father’s a lawyer. “I—I don’t know!” she What's your: ly considering flight. d delightedly. Was ever such with Weston? She's an awful baby—a engaging idiocy? She didn’t know. Well, regular 'fraid cat. We girls tease her “Pooh!” he sald grandly. Don’t you, really?” She looked hopelessly at her fan and “Why, Dick Pendleton! She is not! She’s shook her nead. Suddenly a light dawned in her big eyes. “I guess you “She's the prettiest one there!" she murmured. gueth I know. He—he'th a really thtate!” if anybody says anything at all. If you “A really state? .That isn’t anything— ask her a single thing she does like this: he ‘I don’t know, I don’t know.' " Her lip quiv- He smiled scornfully.. Did he not know nothing at frowned at her judiclally. Bhe turned and ran away. “Here, come back!" he called, but she adomable finger, those appealing eyes? length Miss A really state?” Dorothy an- ‘truly she does.’ nounced “That will do for to-day” they “Heavens! Was ever & girl so thick- TIIE SUNDAY CALL. She was swathed carefully in a wadded silk jacket and then enveloped in a hood- liké an ahgelic'brownie. Dicky ran up to her as the curb and-tugged at the ribbon of her ops of her sash in ““Where do you live? Say, where do you to live?" he demanded. . and the artist sank into the Her bair was under the hood, but she hid her face behind the woman, —1 don’t know,” she sald softly. The he wéMan laughed. and his heart “Why, yes, you do, Clasy,” she reprov- ed ell him directly, now “What's your name?” he asked abrupt- She put one tiny finger in her mouth. -1 gueth I ljve on Chethnut thtreet,” she lisped, and shook her she called as the door slammed and shut her in. My His sister amicably offered him half the piush bag to carry, and opened a run- asped, obvious- ning criticlam of the afternocon. ADVAHICED AMND BowWED " “What made you dance all the time just as easy— Do you like her?” he satd. His sister stared at hi 80 little—she's not .half so pretty as Ag- nes, or—or lots of the girls. She's such a baby. She puts her finger in her mouth how she did 1t? Had, he not seen that “And she can’t talk plain!’ She lisps— surged Into the dressing-rooms, to be but- bird- toned up and pulled out of draughts and poised trindled home. to rest on the ground; the hovered easi woman4ed her out to a coupe at headed as that sister of his? Brams, technical knowledge, experience of the world—these he had never looked to find in her; but percentions, feminine irtul- i tions—were they lacking, too? . - ed Mother Hubbard- cloak. She looked * “I .should liKe, *he said to his mother the next day, §'to go and -see her.” “Well, you can go with me to-morrow, perhaps, when I call'on Mrs. Weston,” she assented. “What? Why, of course not! Men don’t go calling in pumps. Your best shoes will do. Are you crazy? A straw hat in February? You will wear your middy cap. Now don't argue the matter, Richard, or you can’t go at all.” Seated opposite her on a hassock, thelr motliers chatting across the room, his as surance withered away. There was noth- ing whatever to say, and he said it, ade- quately perhaps, but with a sense of deep- ening embarrassment. She took refuge behind her halr, and they stared un- comfortably at each other. ke he has never condescended to have anything to do with little girls before, so Wwe are much impressed.’” Oh, why did not the hassock yawn be- neath him and swallow him up? To dls- cuss him as If he were a plece of furni- ture?.'* ¢ * ‘Why didn’t she speak? If only they were out of doors; In a room with pictures and cushions a man is at such a disad- vantage. “If you'll come over to my house I'll show vou the biggest rat hole you ever saw—it's in the stable!” he sald desper- ately, It was a good deal to do for a girl, but she was worth it. “Oh! Oh!" she breathed, and her eyes widened. “Maybe you can see the rat—he doesn't often come out, though,” he added hon- estly. She shuddered and twisted her fingers violently. “No! No!" she whispered revoltedly “I—I hate ratths! I dreamed about one! 1 had to have the gath lit! Oh, no Frightened at' «this long speech, she looked obstinateM in her lap, though he tried persistently to catch her eye and smile. Their mothers’ voices rose and fell; they chattered meaninglessly. NEXT SUNDAY CALL By FRANK H. SPEARM@N. BIG DOUBLE PAGES, This Is the first of an exclusive series of nine of the most thrilling and genuinely realistic Rallroad Storles ever WY 3.5 08 2 : : SUPERBLY ILLUSTRATED. ADVENTURE AND SENTIMENT IN EVERY LINE. ..CONDUCTOR PAT FRANCIS . .. “ If you read at all you know this author's creations are the talk of the world. | — | Bhe would not look at him: at his wits’ ends he played his highest card. If she were of mortal flesh and blood, this would interest her. “Look her: Do you know what Bos- ten bull pups are? Do you?* She nodded vigorously: “Well, you know their talls?™ She nodded uncertainly. “You know they're just little stumps?™ “Oh, yeth!" she beamed at him. My Uncle Harry'th got a- bulldog. Hith name ith Ell. He liketh me.” ““Well, see here! Do you know how they make their talls short? A man bites 'em oft! A fellow told me”— *“Oh! Oh! Oh!" Bhe shuddered off the hassock and rushed to her mother, gasp- ing with horror. “‘He thayth—he thayth"— words failed her. Broken sobs of “El! Oh, BllI" filled the parlor. He was dazed, terrified. What bad happened? hat had he done? He ‘was shuffied disgracefully frem the room; apologles rose above her sobbing; the door closed behind Dicky and his mother. Wav of rebuke rolled over his trou- bled spirit. *Of all dreadful things to say to a poor, nervous little girl! I am too mortifiel. Richard, how do you learn such dreadful, Greadful things. It's not true.” “But, mama, it is! It truly is! When they are little a man bites them off. Peter told me so. He puts his mouth right down"'— “Richard! Not another word! You are disgusting—perfectly disgusting. You trouble me very much.” He retired to the clothestree in the side yard—there were no junipers there—and cursed his gods. To have made her ery They thcught he didn’t care, but, oh, he did! He felt as if he had eaten a cold, gray stone that weighed down his stomach, The cat slunk by. but he threw nothing at her, and his neighbor's St. Bernard puppy rolled inquiringly into the hedge, stuck there and thrashed about helplessly, but he said nothing to frighten it. He thought of supper—they had spoken of cinnamon roils and little vellow custards—but with- out the usual thrill. What was the mat- ter? Was he going to be sick? There seemed no outlook to life—one thing was as good as another. At night his mother came and sat for a moment on the side of the bed. “Papa doesn't want you to feel too bad, dear,” she 1d. “He knows that you never meant to frighten Cecella so. You know that little girls are very different from little boys in some ways. Things that seem—er—amusing to you seem very cruel to them. To-morréw would you like to send her some flowers and write her a little note and tell her how sorry you are?”’ He could not speak, but he seized his mother’s hand and kissed it up to her lace ruffle. The cold, gray stone melted away from his stomach; again the future stretched rosily vague before him. In happy dreams he did the honors of the rathole to a sweet, shy guest. In the morning he applied himself to his note of apology; his sister ruled the lines on a beautiful sheet of paper with a curly gold “P” at the top and he bent to his task with exténded tongue and lines between his eyes. He carried her the note with a sense of justifiable pride. “It's spelled all right,” he sald, “because overy word I &ldn’t know I asited Beas, and she told me.” My Dear Cecella; R I am going to send you seme am sory they bite them of but thay do I hope you will not hafte lite the gas we are all well and haveing & good thme with much love I am your leving sem, RICHARD CARR PENDLETON. “Bess did the but I rememabes ed the large T o=- fortably. abruptly and L‘. mother left m.b.m- - supposing it to on suddenly remembered errands, cifully unconacious of any connestion tween himself and the roars of that came from his father's study. “Just as it is, mind you, Lizale, 1t 1 his father called after her came out again; and though she that it was too absurd and that thing was the matter with her ohildren, she was sure, nevertheless she kissed with no particular occasion and held peace nobly when he selected & purple bicssom with spotty leaves, el by the Interested florist. His offering waa acceptable. That she met him on her walk and smiling al- most fearlessly, offered him a camel an- imal cracker! True, the most obvious projection was bitten off, and that pro- ©ess is the best part of animal arackers. He gave her in return a long-cherished canetop of polished wood, cut in the shape of a greyhound's head, with eyes of or- nge-colored glass. She seemed almost to appreciate it. He had been offered a Wwhite mouse for it more than once For two long months the Little God led bim along the primrose way. The fellow thought it was the main road; he had yet to learn it was a by-path. But the Little God was not through with him. Her brother, an uninteresting fellow at first, had improved on acquaintance, and though he scoffed at Dicky's devotion to Lis sister—thinking her a great baby—he had come to consider him a friend. Ons day late in April he led Dick out to a deserted corner of the grounds, and for the sum of a small red top and a bius glass eye that had been a doil's most winning feature, consented to impart ta him a song of such deiicious badness that it had to sung in secret. He had just learned it himself, and the knowledge of it admitted one to a sort of club, whose members were bound together by the viclous syllables. Dicky was pleasantly uncertain of its meaning, but it contained ‘words that custom had banished from the fanfly circle;, They crooned it fearfully, with faces averted from the house and an exhilarating sense of dissipation. Yellow beily. yellow belly, come ax' take s m Yes, by guily, when the tide comes tn! As he slipped back to the house alema, practicing it furtively and foretasting the jcys of imparting it to Peter, the stable- man, Cecella appeared suddenly from be hind a large tree. She was smiles—she Wwas not afrald of him any more. Dancing lightly odf one foot, she waved her bonnet and began to sing, bubbling with laugh- ter. Horror! What did he hear? Yelly belly, yelly beily, comin’ take & thwimi ¥ith, by—— "?. stop! Clssy, stop it! You mustny e i Ex!! Tl £ L singf that!” he cried wildly. SHe looked elfish. “Why not? Dicky thingth it,” she said, with a happy smile. She had & heavenly habit, left from babyhood, of referring te her interiecu- tor and occasionally to herseif in the third 'son. “But girls mustn’t sing 1t.” he warned her sternly. “Don’t you dare to—it's a secret.” She danced farther away. “Dicky thingth {t. Thithy thingth 1, she persisted, and as he scowled she pursed her lips again. Yeily belly, yelly belly— “I won't sing it! I won't!” he cried - "1 won't If you'll keep stdl. I tell you I won't!"™ She stopped, amused at his emotion. All ignorant of his sacrifics, all careless of his heroic defense of her, she only knew that she could tease him In an entirely new way. And the Little God, knowing that Dicky would ke his word, and that Peter would never get the chance for the scan~ dalized admiration once in stors for him, trutted proudly away and polished up his chains. His victim was secure. Her brother, on learning the facts, sug- gested slapping her well—good heavens!— and having nothing more to do with her, for a mean, sneaking tattle-tale. Here was an opportunity to break his bond: But to those who have served the Littl God it will be no surprise to learn that it was on that very evening that he made his famous proposal to the assembled family, namely, that he and Cecelia should be really engaged like her Uncle Harry and Miss Merriam, and in a little whils marry and set up housekeeping In the guest chamber. “That's what Miss Merriam is going te do,” he explamned, “and Cissy's grandma is sorry, too; it doesn’t leave her any place company but the hall bedroom. But they've got to have the room, she s'roses."” That will do, Richard! You are not to repeat everything you hear. And I am afraid 1 need the guest chamber. What should we do when Aunt Nannie comes?™ “Oh, Clssy could have her crib right in the room. She wouldn't mind Aunt Nan- nie,” he replied superbly. “She always sleeps in a crib, and she always will. A bed scares her—she’s afraid she'll fall out. 1 could sleep on the couch like Christmas time!" But in the manner of age the wide world gver, they merely urged him teo wait. It was that very night that he reached the top of the wave, and justified the Little God's selection. He came down to breakfast rapt and quiet. He sauted his oatmeal by mistake and never knew the difference. His sister laughed derisively and explained his foily to him as he swallowed the last spoonful, but he only smiled kindly at her. After his egg he spoke. “] dreamed that it was dancing school. And I went. And I was the only fellow there. And whbat do you think? All the little girls were Cecelia!™ They gasped “You don’t suppose he'll be a poet, do you, Rish? Or a genius, or anything,™ his mother irquired anxiously. “Lord, no!” his father returned. *“f should say he was more likely to be - Mormon!" Dick knew nothing of either class. the Little God knew very well 'ht!:: was, and was at that moment making his dipioma. o