The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 22, 1903, Page 4

TRE FUNDAY CALL. k2d been mar ried for ten months during that time been T dispute ere i beer her part now fmpa- drifred With: ing a smile “Be. L she said wi . T RS B uarrel was turkey was put go into the ov young wife pre- e ed the vacuum e basting stitches, as she her mother do on several occa- as she had no doubt she could £ we r better. ke was nest- w the table was set for the there was a smile of affection d's face as with was finally trans- is the bird he ¢ finest one I ever saw,” sald she touched up the table e sitting down. cest little woman in mpanied with a key must be carved This fact suddenly wife in the face, and looked anxious and their faces cleared ent eack she sald, as she brought the from the pantry with a carved a tur- key . beg to correct have possibly thing bey s quafl, and I give you your first lesson.” be such a pity to haggle 1t.” [4 to haggle? You talk as never seen a turkey. Y t know how or where to begin, 1 speak to me bake a turkey, and I wil have the carve one knife and cherub ¢ business e might have the wife, who seemed s , and said “Why don't ; the leg and be; propo-e to star “When I shall car he answ w “There is where most [ great mistake in carving. bird as If ere stabbing and slash- ing at a d o get to work rese occasfon for haste After five minutes more of “sclentific " he seized a leg and began a the patient’s thigh- w, what on earth to do?”" demanded stinctively reach had ever carved a would know better as If vou had a razor in yeuar hand. You want to cut around the leg and bend it up to slip the bone out of Its socket."” “Not If T am a man instead of a wob he hotly replied. “You bend the leg down always dow “You never do “You always d . “Will you please remember that I am head of this house.” ‘One of the heads only.” Then fellowed a lull, during which the husband planned a campaign and set about carrying out the details. When he came to look more closely at the body before him on the big platter he con- ceived the idea that nature designed the legs to help a man out of a Thanksgiving n one in cach nand and suf- ficlent muscular exértion used the bird ought to rip open like & ripe squash. Buch a feat would save half the carvini “You mustn't—you can't—you shan't cried the wife, as she fathomed his inten- tions. “Madam, stand back.” “I won't do it. You might as well call in two dogs and let them—" by T. C. McClure.) HE ferr: A a small summer resort lylng next & most pleasurable stretch of Jake was operated sole- ly by its owner, “Old Abe,” as he was called. The service had come %0 be of such an unstable character that the villagers had lost all confidence in it &8 & means of transportation. However, Marian Ardsley was not an tohabitant of the village, and so she stepped confid y eboard the boat, as- sisted by Old Abe. As he bustled about, be was softly chuckling and repeating to himself: “Two. Two. The rear ird of Abe's stern-wheeler was & pilot house and engine room, the central portion was cabin, and in front was what may be termed a deck. On this deck was seated the other of Abe's *“two" passengers, Alonzo Allen, of New York. Allen 4idn’t know, as a matter of fact, where he was going, nor did he care. He had secn the old man puttering about the boat, and on learning that a start would #0on be made for somewhere, he had list- lessly taken a seat for the trip. With a toot of the squeaky whistle the boat got under way. Marian, wishing to #tand in the prow, walked through the cabin. But at sight of her fellow pas- senger she turned pink with embarrass- 4 quickly retreated and sat down carpet-covered seat that was ugh the middle of the cabin. uidance of the jubllant old factory iner—at Jeast to him—until sbout half way atross the lake. Here the paddie wheel refused to continue revolv- ing, &nd, after some minutes of drifting, point & thunder shower, which & time back been steadlly ap- proaching, broke over the lake. Allen, not des & drenching, rose to his feet and went into the cabin. In the darkening interior he saw no one, and sat down on the middie of the seat with a sigh, putting his elbows on his knees and face in hands Marian was sitting but an arm’s length from him. After an awkward pause spent n cogitation she coughed light] Alie 3 y. Alien started to his feet directly, and, with a bow, said “l do beg your pardon, madam; I—" And then a flash lighted the cabin for an inst; and he plainly saw his com- panion’s face, “I thought T was alone,” he added, simply, and awkwardly backing to the farther end of the seat, sat down. There was some reason for these seem- ingly strange actions. It was but the previous evening that they had quarreled and at the end he had flercely taken back the ring she proffered, and they had part- ed forever. At length, “Why are we stopping here?” asked Marian of the boatman, who sat &t his post in perfect tranguillity. “Jest a screw loose, miss,” the old man replied. I figger 1 know where ‘tis now, and we'll be goin' again in a Jiffy.” And with that Old Abe, tools & bhand, [ By Will Burr climbed around to the all-important pad- dle wheel. After an exasperating Wait of perhaps twenty minutes Marian peered out from the or, i seeing no one called: “Mr. Ferryman!” She was now heartily wishing she had stayed at the house. “I'm awful sorry, Miss,” answered the old man, rether dolefully, “but I'm 'fraid 1t']l take & teenty bit longer. You see, worse'n 1 thought.” Do you have to stop like this often?” asked Marian. “Well, sometimes. But now last she didn't break down, Monday Wednesday, all the hull way over!” saying this, Old Abe rose to his height, grinning with pride. “Well, 1 suppose it can't be helped, then,” submitted Marian, but she ap- peared so very much annoyed that Abe at once leaned down and continued his work with a great show of bustle. The rain was not yet over, and Allen was busily engaged staring very hard at nothing whatever. Marian looked at her wateh. It was past lunch time, and, as she had felt too miserable to eat much at breakfast, she commenced to feel hungry. A sudden thought brightened her coun- tenance: she had with her a box of can- dies which she had purchased for her sis- ter's children. She could get them an- other box. She looked at her watch egain. Only a few minutes more had passed, but her hunger had now become unbearable. She loosed the string from the box, opened the paper, removed the cover and ate a chocolate. After she had eaten several of the can- dies she glanced over at All Fastened to the wall of the cabin opposite him was an old landscape In a dingy frame, and he was gazing at this with the concentra- tion of a stolc, “A ndscape!” mentally exclaimed Marian, as she recalled his dislike of land- scapes. continued, eating another candy, ‘“‘when he'd rather look at that than at.me! I wonder—what had I ought to do? If h and I were utter strangers, lost on a des. ert isle, and he had a dozen kernels of corn, I should think him a cad if he didn’t offer me half. I think I ought to offer him some of these candies, even if we're not on speaking terms.” sitting back., and with eyes straight ahead, Marian pushed the candy :)lox along the seat. Allen paid no atten- on. ““Won't you have a chocolate?”’ Marian arked at length, hesitatingly. Allen made no answer. “Will you'—and Marian stamped her little foot—"I say, will you have & choco- late?’ she continued Impatiently. “No, I thank you,” he replied, and re- sumed his contemplation of the landscape. A long pause ensued. The box remained half way between them. “I think you're very—ungentlemanly,” ventured Marian. “Last night you were of the same opin- ion,” retorted Allen. ou are more so now.” How?" “Well, you—you know that I'm too po- lite to eat these chocolates and let you 89 bungry—and I'm simply starved.” week nor And, full With an air of exaggerated politeness, Allen reached over, took a candy and ate it, his eyes fixed the while upon the land- scape. Marian then ate one, waited in e for ten minutes, and again offe; ho helped himself ve ed it back. The opera- tion was repeated until soon only one candy was left. The remalining one was heart-shaped. Allen handed the box to Marlan. She took the box, but directly offered it back to him “No, thank you,” said Allen, on looking in the box.~ “But 1 am offering it to you,” insisted Marian “It's yours,” replied Allen, and he shot 2 quick glance at Marian, who had been gradually moving from her end of thi seat and was now past the middle. She “Taken, one leg in each hand, and sufficient muscular exertion used, the bird ought to rip open like a squash.” slightly raised from her seat, and, leaning rd him, said: on—pardon me—Mr. Allen, please take it; I want you to have it."” “Is it—do you mean—you are offering me a heart?” he asked. She might have answered, but the boat suddenly started with a jerk, throwing rer full into his arms. And there she was when the boatman appeared in the door- ‘I'm sorry for delayin’ ve,” said Old Abe, “but I'm thinkin' things be tinkered into shape ag'in now.” And that was true enough. “We—" and Marian looked at Allen, e not blaming you, Mr. Ferryman.” Vo; and we'll take the trip back with you,” added Allen. *“Thank 'e, thank ‘e, sir,” replied Old Abe, and, ax he went back to his work, there was a merry twinkle in his eye. And he chuckied to himself: “They're not blamin’' me, but I could a started the durn old craft jest half an hour ago.” WITH AN EYE ON P (Copyright, 1003, by T. C. McClure.) ——5—2 R. GEORGE CLAVER- ING drtw his chair nearer the lamp, re- lighted the half-con- sumed cigar and read his sister's note again. “Weare both delight- . ed at your thoughtful- ness in asking Phillipa to spend the month with you at ‘The Cedars.’ I'm afrald youw'll scarcely know the dear child with the eight years she had added since you last saw her. She is quite beside hefself with antjcipation. In her mind Uncle George and archangels are Synonyms. : 4 must caution you, dear, to keep an eye on Phillipa while she is with you. I confess she is an Incorrigible flirt. Henry sends ” . — e THE PERPLEXING INITIAL | =2 HE roar of the river, flas Its waters tumbled over the rocks, drowned the sound of footsteps, drowned even the sigh § of the breeze among the ftree tops. A dense shadow lay over the gorge, for the sun was behind a cloud. The fish in the stream had not been biting to suit a young fisherwoman and she had thrust her pole Into the bank and gone aside to carve something in the bark of an old beech. Laboriously she worked away, and at length had completed a sin- gle large A. A man approached along the river trall and stood directly behind the girl, watch- ing her work. A flush passed over his face when he saw the letter the girl had carved and he frowned. Then he coughed and the girl was startled. She turned Quickly around. " she exclaimed. was the answer.. ‘Why didn’t you whistle or something, *fore you got so close?” “Wanted to see what you'er doin’.” Marth’s face reddened slightlv. “Well?” “Well, I ses ye've got teacher in ver mind.” “'Tain’'t so. Now I wonder what put that in yer head?” “I see ye're fixin' to carve his name.” Marth looked up at the letter In the bark, then looked at Ames m silence. “Don’t reckon ye can hardly deny it,” continued Amos,. jealously, “for I don't reckon you could say that letter stood for anybody else around tnese parts but Aldrich. So I put it up, ye're a thinkin’ a right smart about that same school teacher.” “‘Amos Underwood, ye haven't got a grain o' sense. Ye can’t see two inches ‘nfore yer nose Marth’s eyes were danc- Ing. “I reckon you think so, Marth. But I what's what when a girl name on a tree. M girl, T think ye might have spared me this kind o' thing, an’ me thinkin’ of you the way I do. You might have waited that school Ir By C. S. Reid l L - il T was—till something had happened to me. Then I'd allers thought you loved Tas Marth glanced again at the letter in the bark, then back at Amos, and looked disgusted. | “I've never said I was a thinkin’ gne mite about the schoolteacher, have 1? “Not with yer mouth but ye've said it up there with yer pocket knife.” Amos pointed at the big letter in the bark. Marth turned a steady gaze, full of fire, upon the man's face for a moment, then lat her words fly. ‘Amos Underwood,” she snapped, “ye're the biggest gump 1 ever saw. I hate you; I despise you, Now, you §o: and I do hope the revenues will get you this very night.”” “Marth, 1"— Amos had taken off his hat. “No, ye don't!” Marth stamped her foot, “Ye've said enough. Go!" She pointed up the trall, and Amos moved slowly away. Marth had wound up her fish line by the time Amos had gone from view, and she turned toward the old beech again. “The crazy,” she murmured. 'He couldn't remember his own name started with A. Well, he's gone, and I'm glad of it. 1 do hate a man that can't see with his eves open.” The girl followed the trafl to the top of the ridge, then turned off to the left and went toward a cabin on the side of the mountain, At dusk she milked the cows, then went to thé spring for a pail of water. As she stood and began slowly to dip the water from the rocky basin with a long-handled gourd her quick gur caught the sound of hoof beats agalnst the stones, and ehe turned her head and through th woods to the right of her. Just across a shallow ravine a trail led around the side of the mountain and on this trall Marth's eyes could now see three shadowy harses and riders, there was a gleam of pol- ished metal Which told the girl that each rider had a gun strapped to his back. For a moment ‘Marth's heart stood still. She knew she was gazing ypon the dread- ed revenue officers and her thought flew to Amos more than three miles away down the ravine, where he would soon be at work in the distillery. The girl sat motionless until the riders had passed a boulder which protruded from the hiliside. Then she seized her pail and ran up the trail to the cabin. There was but one thought in her head. Amos must be warned and saved at any cost. Saddling a small mule which she led from the stable, she leaped upon his back, dragged a shotgun up after- her and rested it upon the animal's neck. Then she set off along a trail which di- verged from that taken by the officers. At least she reached a high rock over- looking a bluff; and she stopped and lis- tened intently. Then, slipping down from the saddle, she crept into a laurel thicket on one side of the rock, and, after a few minutes, came out in the glare of a fur- nace fire. She was at the doorway of Amos Underwood's stillhou Springing through the opening she called his name. Amos turned quickly, and his hand grasped the butt of a revolver. But when he saw Marth he allowed his chin to drop to his breast and his hand fell limply to his side. “Have ye brought 'em, Marth?" he asked. “No, Am but they're comin’, an’ I've come all the way here to warn ye s0's ye could save yourself. I'm sorry for what 1 said, though I didn’t reckon I'd ever own it “Marth, I—I reckon, then, ye do love me some, though ye did start to carve—"’ “Amos, jest plain Amos on that tree. I reckon A stands for Amos, don't it, crazy?’ “Marth, I've been a gum fool! But I'm powerful happy right now.” He extended his arms toward Marth, but the girl backed away. “No time for that, Amos. Don’t ye hgar them hoof-beats?" 5 The moonshiner caught the girl's hand, and ther they sprang into the laurel. Five utes later they stood on the rock above the stillhouse and listened to (fe work of destruction that was being car- ried on by the axes. “Well, ye're safe anyhow, Amos,” whis- pered Marth; and Amos, catching her in his arms, tousled her hair with his chin. | By T. B. Eaton T . B g his warmest regards. Your affectionate sister, ALICE. Mr. Clavering laid the note on the li- brary table with a perplexed frown. He was & widower of several years' standing, and, moreover, he was childless. The ways of this younger generation of girls he knew nothing about. When he had asked his sister to send her daughter to him for a month he had mentally pictured Phillipa as still 13, clad in muslin frocks and made perennially happy by a simple supply of sweetmeats. Phillipa came—a happy, charming, ra- diant creature, with a pair of dark eyes that would meit a stond and a silvery laugh that would thrill a graven imags. Clavering felt a glow of avuncular pride 48 he beheld her: at the same time he realized that magnitude of the task be- fore him and his heart sank. a mighty quiet place here,” he ex- 1 plained. “I saw some awfully interesting look- ing men as we drove o from the station,” she sald. “I'm sure you know a lot of them." Clavering bristled perceptibly. “The young men of this plac he an- nounces oracularly, “are of two classes— fools and demons.” “I think I shall prefer the démon sald Fhilllpa sweetly. Phillipa had not been two days at The Cedars when Roderick Winters came over to smoke an evening cigar with Claver- ing. Winters was 28 and not particularly impressionable. However, when his eyes met Phillipa’s he was as clay in the pot- ters’ hand. Clavering saw it was the be- ginning; he took a long breath, as one who intends to run a good race. To those who knew Mr. Clavering, his behavior dvring the next few weeks was inexplicable. When Winters took Phil- lipa to the links, Uncle George went with them, aithough it was known that, hith- erto, a mere mention of golf would suf- ficlent to open the flood gates of his vi- tuperation. He had never been a dancing man; yet ‘when Winters took Phillipa to the Coun- try Club hop it was Uncle George who managed to dance with her the greater part of the evening. His waltzing re- minded one of some stately walk gone wrong, and he was hopelessly tangled in the figures of the:newer dances. Still, with Spartan courage, he stuck to it, and when finally Winters had spirited Phillipa to a corner of the veranda, where the moonlight was particularly suspicious, Uncle George came strolling up with a cheerfully obtuse smile on his perspiring face. The day of the hunt he rodé afield after the pair, taking fences that sent shivers coursing up and down his spine and put- ting his horse to water jumps which ma- terlally increased his gray hairs. Wher- ever his niece might be, there was Uncle George. He was ‘“keeping and eye on Phillipa.” “T don’t know how you class Mr. Win- ters,” Phillipa said one evening. ‘“He isn’t a fool, and heq doesn’'t seem”— “My dear,” Clavering remarked, “he is a demon of the deepest d; They had been salling (with Winters) that after- noon in the rough waters around the outer ledge and the qualms of the deep ‘were still strong upon nim. But he grasped tI yanked and wrenc moved the table ab It was no go. The bird declined to give way to any such treatmen When failure was realized the husband picked up knife and fork mgain to work upon another new idea. Me would eon .,until he even struct a subway to tap the interfor and make it yleld up its stuffing. He began cutting & hole In but had not drifted 1o far when the wife ecried througt That's simply ery {4 tather had known what man you wers he'd never have &i 3 And ¥ adn't snapped George, as the kaife and fork in the air. “Do you say that to me, George Pear- son? 1 go back to my mother to-morrow I have found out at last what a villain you are, an . “And it makes me tired me.alone in the first place I shoul had the carving all done by now. “You have never carved—you will n know enough to carve, and I can put « my things and go over to my sister's to en I am gone you can ar 1 and haul, twist and wriggle get ready you may e your Thanksgiving dinner alone. 1t you had let have “A dinner which would have been a uttle love feast but for your foolish and unwifely Interference.” sir—thank you. room to don resumed W “Thank you, As she left th er out ri dcor garments twisted bird's legs down and his wi up, and then reversed motion, bu nothin, way. Then he resumed s 1 ations. but struck such na to ab: don a und for o ax, no handsaw, ing his house he had things might be in ksgiving day. however, by faithful work accident, he dislodg taste it. Then he perse- in bringing to demand on By and by, elded by lucky a bit of meat old loving t But where—whe looked at the t his she asked, as s “Where is the turkey? Oh, the pr bird won't bother us any more. I drop; it out of the window just in time to hit n on the hea But Ge , I don't unders: “Well, my dear. I got caug with the oldest gobbler in town. You knew no more about baking him than child, and neither of us knows enough a boiled turnip. Take off your things, pet, and we'll eat up the cold p tatoes and the cranberry sauce and be thankful that Thanksgiving has done so well for us that we are able to feast the street with roast turkey. HILLIPA It was the last day of Phillipa's stay at “The Cedars.” Clavering was congrat- ulating himself that on the morrow she would be gone. Then—to use his owy ex- pression—he would go Into drydock for repairs. Phillipa_and her uncle sat on the veranda after lunch Winters came up the drive in his powerful touring car. “Oh, I say, Miss Trent,” he sald; “this is your last day hers, and I Dhaven't shown you the Knob. Shan’t we take a s . been over to the Knob since I was & boy. Do you mind taking me along?™ “Join us by all means,” sald Winters, with a cheerfulness marked “counterfeit” all over it. The prospective departure of FPhillipa seemed to affect the two mem very dif- ferently. All the afterncon, during the ride and the climb to the summit of the Knob, Clavering was as light-hearted as a boy. Winters was taciturn almost to sullenness. Phillipa was pensive. When it was time to return Clavering climbed into the car first and fondled the brakes and levers. “I believe I could run the thing my- gelt,” he observed. “Simple as A, B, C,” sald Winters. “You steer with this, eh?" sald Uncle George, “and start it with this—so.” The touring-car _started ashead. “Ha I thought so. How do you stop her? Hey! Rod, how do you stop her?” A sudden inspiration came to Winters. “Shove that lever down,” he shouted; “way down.” The car sprang ahead at full speed. Clavering gasped and shouted something which was lost In the roar of the laboring gear. Steering wildly, the car reeling from one side of the road to the other, he went banging up the road and disap- peared over the crest of a little hill in a cloud of dust “Oh.”” cried Phillipa In dismay. “Oh, how could you! He may be killed. “He deserves to be,”. sald Winters grimly. S8 8 RN Some twenty minutes later the rea touring-car appeared on the crest of th hill, coming in their direction. In it was Clavering, hatless, covered with dust, b triumphant. He brought his serpenti: course to a finish in front of Winters and Phillipa. “I've got the hang of It now,” he cried Joyfully. “Stopped her all by mysel turned her round, too. Knocked a piece out of Creighton's fence, but I've got th hang of it, anyway.” Winters' drooping have revived, “You left us rather Clavering,” sald he. “And the method ¢ your departure rather werried But while you were gone—"" “Yes, while were gome—" put in Phillipa. She stopped abruptly fiushed. > Clavering lnoked at them In stunned si- lence. Winters cleared his throat. “As long as you've got the hang of it don’t you want to take another little spin, while we decide where we'll spend our honeymoon ™" Clavering smiled weakly. “If you trust me with the machine, Rod.”” he said. “I'll wobble to the station and telegraph Alice.” spitits seemed t unceremoniously us, toe you