The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, July 31, 1904, Page 15

by T. C. McClure.) the wlown, came he ring into the and stopped short. e was sitting on top her usually merry Beside her ceedingly awk- of de world into fact that this d an ex- ¥8 resentful hat jvas all that that ful eye painted to the in- ly, “this least de what comes a atsic ir girls. k you'll be It you 1 have to call ireat Dane, that did & H as leading a pricked up her rose to er feet. from ew sound onately that the point for below Ta 3 he cried i with edu- the e a littie of yel- lied e picked you the mext se Thae was 'way little shrimp rd like try it she explained, an heWess. and this He wants fork with him gle moment Blakely's £ gid. T lawyer, a keen e the circus men was u uld see what the gir s man with the and ~carmine and in the brief ht of an honest desires. - In that made his fight. ice was cold and the he commented, people st be glad of jt. Work t for such ad you.” but more than the on the towe! as he hurriedly changed his face for the doz act As one in adaze he put h pets through paces. and after the show was over and the concert audi- ence ‘was slowly filing into the show Jot, he still went about his work as though in a dream. THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. Z5 1 LaAwYER. T P # PRINCESS FLEUR DE LIS By Troy Allison o e 1 will remember. it has scheme for the last said young Dr. Hil- shing glasses with a less to necessity than to a his ter's flashing 7] wvigor ¢ deslre avoid her head a disdainful ¥ f to another t even like him,” she it to express dis- amount of dig- ek was distorted by said, finding epproval w nity, wk & chocolate that's simply preju- icest fellow at col- ’ man on earth g for you to " na’'s fingers sei d a candiel vio- h she discovered in th corner I know he’'s a wonde: s the reason I know I He sha s0 is probab his food a regu- of times before swal- Hilyer laughed “I've seen h swallow sandwiches #o fast take a lightning cal- culator up with him. Now, Bettina, please be reasonable! I haven’t seen Dent since we left col- lege, but if he is as jolly a doctor as he was a medical student you certain- ly will not have cause to complain of his primness. He will be here in time for the dance to-night, and I simply want you to be nice to him. I don't cnow what it is women do to them- res when they want to be especially charming, but you can do it when you try, little Sis.” Bettina balanced the somewhat de- pleted candy box on top of a gkuil that ornamented the doctor's desk. “That's to keep the servant from eating the rest of .it,” she laughed. “Maggie wouldn't dare touch it now. Well, Brother Doctor, I'll see what ef- fect the new pompadour silk will have on Dr. Dent. If it is immediate and startling, and you see me sitting in the conservatory holding ' his hands, don’t be alarmed—it may be necessary to take his pulse.” Dr. Hilyer smiled as his erratic lit- tle sister flitted from the roo! He' had been resident ph the Burton Asylum for where it Was customary to’give an occasionkl dance for the inmates. Bet- tina foupd something unusual in these dances that she fairly reveled in, and she had not been known to miss one since her brother had been in charge. She would take the electric car from the’ city and arrive at the sanitarium triumphantly bearing a box containing her pewest party dress, produced by bome. talent. The girl's mother en- couraged her -Industry by giving her all the material for party dresses that she would make up, and her chic crea- tions were the envy of her girl friends. When she had arrived that after- noon she had shown her brother a gay little blue and pink pompadour frock that he had vowed would make it necessary - to send all his harmiess patients back to padded cells and leave a paucity of dancing men. Dr. Dent’s train was late. He hur- ried into his dress suit and the twg friends started down the hall toward the ballroom. An attendant came up hurriedly and whispered that Hilyer was needed immediately. “I'm sorry, old man,” he said, turn- ing to go with the nurse. “You'll have to find your way in alome, There’s no hostess, so go in and talk to any one you like. You'lt find Bettina some- where, Look for a yellow-haired little girl in a blue and pink dress. I be- lieve the little minx has sprinkled dia- mond dust in her heir and put a black patch on her cheek to be in keeping with her pompadour costume, so you ;rm have no trouble in recognizing er.” Bettina was partly hidden by a group of palms when Dent entered the room. She saw him speak to sev- eral of the patients near the door, and finally ask one dark-eyed girl to dance, Bettina recognized him immediately from the photograph in her brother's room, and studied him calmly as he and his partner passed her. Certain she was’ that Will had not told her Dent was a perfect Hercules, and that even the photograph had been misleading, She acknowledged to her- self the improbability of a man of his type masticating food according to set rules, and wag rather inclined to think ‘Will might have mentioned his style of dancing as a point in his favor when he had given a list of his friend's many virtues that afternoon. cjan at two years, Wh she saw him coming toward with the evident intention cf speak- ing, she thought he mistook her for a patient, and her eyes sparkled with mischief. “May T introduce myself?” he asked, bowing before her. na raised a haughty little head. somewhat unusual for royalty to be approached with so little formality,"” she said icily, “but, of course, the daughter of the lost Dauphin of France has had to put up with a great many trials.” Dent looked startled. “Perhaps I have made a mistake—" he commenced. “Oh, don’t mention it,” she interrupt- ed with an airy little wave of the hand, “’tis within royal power to pardon, and even I, Princess Fleur-de-Lis, feel that it is no condescension to talk to Alex- ander the Great on an equal footing.” Dent bowed again profoundly, so pro- foundly that when he stood erect he had gained control of the smile that threatened to convulse his countenance, for he knew he could not be mistaken about that patch and diamond dust. It was scarcely probable that two girls would be dressed just like this. “Your Highness, no battle trophy ever filled me with a joy that the effect of your approval does not far exceed. Permit me,” he added, seating himself beside her. “It's really a pleasure,” she contin- ued affably. “It is so seldom that one meets royal blood in this democratic America. It will positively be the cause of my being an old maid, for, of course, a princess could not marry a common- er, could she?”’ Bettina's wicked little dimple was now in evidence and the patch on her cheek called attention to it ih a way that seemed positively audacious. “No, indeed,” he assented eagerly, “of course princesses must marry—er— kings and things.” - Bettina nodded approvingly. Her blue eyes looked into his with guileness expression that threatened Dent with a second attack of convulsions. “Yes, of course,” she smiled into his face with a confidential friendliness. “I rather thipk I would like a king my- self, but I have met so few,” sighing. “In fact, you are the first one.’ He leaned ove. and took the fan from her hand. “Fair Princess, I feel that one could wish the first might be last and the last might be first.” “Oh, don’t; “please don't,” she en- treated hurriedly. “Don’t wish for any- thing. I'm afrald you might—ecry.” Dent stared in astonishment. , . “Perhaps I ought not to have men- tioned it,” she drew the corners of her small mouth down in an absurdly con- trite manner, “but we heard about— + Alexander the Gres: weeping it's real- 1y a matter of history. I would not start you to erying and spoil the even- ing for you—not for anything.” “l feel a lump in my throat right now,” he declared. “I am perfectly sure that if you don’t dance this next waltz with me I shall burst into tears according to history.” / She arose quickly. “Anything to please the ba—I mean anything to keep you from crying,” she said as they joined the dancers. He had loved and watched over Nellie ever since that time in Rio Janeiro, 'whem, “’'way back in '92," they had picked up the little slip of a girl, the sole survivor of a circus troupe which had played ~through South America the season before. He had known Frank Cosgrove well, a fine, gentlemanly f‘ennw.‘ who had run off with an English girl whet her parents had objected to her marrying the ‘“riding master” of an English caravan. They had come to ‘America to es- cape memories, and she had taken up with circus life-as willingly as though she had not been reared in luxury. It was Blakely who had persuaded Del- more to take the girl into the troupe, and it was he who had completed her education as a rider. Before a broken leg compelled him to take ing he had been a wonderful bare- back somersaulter himself. He had hoped some day to make her his wife when the nest egg in a city savings bank had grown large enough to warrant the purchase of a country place and assure tence when they should have retired. Until then he had spoken no word of love, but rather had encouraged her to look upon him as her foster-father. Now he was to lose her and all that ke had planned and worked and saved to clown- a compe- for. But it was best for her—that was enough for him. He took no part in the ring-bank chat after supper. He had no heart to sit there about the bank and hear the comment that would be bout the good fortune of the girl, so he went ou back of the dressing tent, and lighting the short stub of a pipe he carried, blew great .clouds of ke into the soft ing air, as he tried to think what w with made y one mer: that came There in the soft lig k tent she fou as life and mc him. Out ent. Here front all w they were practica slipped down beside hi turned manger and ped h hand into his. His horny palm closed over her tiny fingers and he put away the pipe, but he gave no other sign. It was ghe who ope: ' “1 feel like a dream girl to-night,”, Girip-of - Enviropment ]| she began confidingly. “Don’t you re- member how we used to plan that If we e\"er got money we would start a show of our own, and only have In the company. people we really liked, and make them-do only one act aplece?” He laughed shortly. ° “It's funnvy what rot we think. Now, you've got the money, you've got to go and live up to it. It would never do for an heiress to ride In the ring.” “I don't want to go a bit,” she pr “This is the life I xXnow and I want to stdy here and be my- tested love, self, not anether girl all dressed uy. with servants and all that sort of thin, ' “Séa here, “don’t talk dolng two ac for you, my girl to that.” ] She tur with the toe of a dainty shoe. I don's want to make up my mind to it,” she protested. “I don’t care for the old money. I want to be here with you and all the rest. You hurt me!” she broke off suddenly, releasing her hand from his grasp and rubbing it. 3 “I didn’t mean to hurt ysu, child,” he said sadly. “I was thinking.” He could not tell her how that one sen- tence had torn at his heartstrings, al- ready sore. He rose. “Well, I've got to go In and g pangles regdy. I'll say good-by after the show.” He turned on his heel and prssently she could hear h g to the' ‘dog. Then other sounds of preparation be- gan and presently she, too, went in- si Nell,” he commanded, that. It's hard work ts twice a day. It's mot Make up your mind up the t was already wagons and its way to “round-top” packed in th he cars when to up the Put my trunk in o said; g0- went boss .prope the wagon, ing on with the show The law ustered and sformed, but she was adam and appealed to B X “You can't go with us, N sald the clown, his face as white as though he had not removed his ring make-up. “There is no reason why you should stay on.” - She made him a saucy courlesy. “There is every reason, good sir,” she smiled. “In the first place, this is my ife; the only one that I know or wgnt, and besides—" she went very close and whispered in his ear—"besidsds, I found out back of the tent there that —I—loved you.” : And after that what could Biekely L o Hilyer peeped into the conservatory an hour later. “I guess I'll not disturb that,” he muttered and tiptoed away. On the last day of Dent's holiday Bettina’s maid carried a box into her room. It con ved delicate purple and white lilacs, tied w a royal purple ribbon strangely decorated. On one streamer was a hand-painted shield of strange device and another end of ribbon was tied around a small scroll of paper. The girl opened it eagerly. “Little Princess Fleur-de-Lis, Alex- ander the Great feels another lump in his throat. He wants to call this afternoon and ask that thé fleur-de- lis shall be bound always'by the royal ribbons of his house.” Later that afternoon Bettina smiled into his eyes admiringly. “I certainly am glad to marry a man who knows so much,” she sald, pointing to .the painted .ribbon that she wore in a knot on her breast, “now I was so ignorant that I had no idea how Alexander’s coat of arms looked.” Dent drew the curly head over on his shoulder and laughed. She asked him why he laughed. He didn't think it necessary fo tell her that he had pald a girl in &n art store to copy the strangest looking shield he could find in the dictionary. A lion couchant or a charger rampant were all the same to him—he had trusted to luck that she would not kfow the difference, and he now added a touch of diplomacy that promised him great future success s a married man. “What am I laughing at, little girl2 You might know that a man who was emotional enough to ery fer mers worlds would laugh when he found— heaven.” (Copyright, 1304, by Troy Allison.) # ¢ SPRING'S FAIRY WAND By Heith Gordon T was the English sparrows that put it into Mowbray's head, though perhaps the rhythmic beating of carpets and the sight of winter garments out for their last air- ing in the sunlight may have prepared his mind for the idea. The world, so far as he could see it from the windows of his back room, had grown suddenly domestic. Every time he approached the window some new sign of household upheaval greet- ed him. Every one seemed distract- ingly busy putting his house in order and, without realizing precisely what was the matter, Mowbray had a vague, injured sense of being out of it. Then one morning there was a deaf- ening clatter outside the window, where on an adjacent wall the ivy leaves were already changing from russet to rich green and the plumes of the wistaria vine waved with lan- guid elegance in the spring breeze, True to their nature, the sparrows were wrangling fiercely. It was -2 homely moment for self- revelation, but it so happened and so it must be set down. An instant later he was thinking that it wouldn't be half bad to be one of those married fellows who at this season were re- ceilving such injunctions as: ‘“Now, John, don't forget to telephone the paper hanger!” or “Just stop at the carpet cleaner’s on your way to the station and hurry him up.” During the rest of his toilette Mow- bray grinned at himself in the glass, more or less humorously. Up to the present moment the serious gamé of money making, with occasional gay hours, had seemed to him as satisfy- ing an occupation as any man could desire. Now it had ceased to be all absorbing. He wanted to be consulted about the color of wall papers, the de- signs of rugs and the style of furni- ture. He wanted to hear some soft, feminine volce saying: *“But do you think we can afford it this spring, dear?” and to answer grandly: ‘Cer- tainly, madam! Do you suppose your hurband ia such a duffer that he can't pay for a few luxuries now and then?” Queerly enough the eyes that looked into his as in fancy he made this speech ‘were of a clear, lucid gray, with long, dark lashes and beautifully penciled brows. To be candid, they were the eyes of Elinor Grant, one of the few girls of his acquaintance whese soclety he had ever found as entertaining as business. It seemed a sort of miracle that they should appear at this particular juncture, De- cidely, Fate was giving him a tip. ‘When he calied that afternoon Miss Grant was out and he had a childish feeling that the bottom had dropped out of things. A dark suspicion that other men besides himself might have received tips from Fate also haunted him and the thought made him a trifle uneasy. He wandered back down town, feel- ing -rather glum. There were other girls, of ceurse, always. But he wanted to see her aud no one else. Some way, of all the girls he knew she was the only one he could think of In con- nection’ with the household details that had suddenly appealed to him with their homely charm. In imagina- tion he could see her bustling about her little 4omain, one of those narrow, brownstone houses huddled ' timidly between more preténtious ones on some side strest, directing her maids and taking a lively interest in the affairs of her little household. The fancy pleased him immensely, and he was going on to elaborate it when the gay colors of a display of wall paper in a window he was pass- ing caught his eye. He slackened his pace and then and not until then did he obsgerve the figure of a trim young woman standing before it, absorbed in contemplation. In a moment he was by her side. “One would think you had an es- tablishment of your own and were getting ideas for having it done over,” was his laughing salutation, as he looked down at her with a. pleased warmth in his eyes and enjoyed the startled glance she turned upon him. It seemed the sweetest thing that he should have come upon her like this; as if some subtle Influence had turned her thoughts into the same channel with his 6wn. Decidedly, things were coming his way. He felt exhilarated, triumphant, boyish. Miss Grant laughed rather foolishly as she greeted him. “I was playing a game that has been a favorite of mine since I was a small girl,” she explained, as they turned away from. the window together, “a game of ‘make-believe,” in which I ar- range everything in life to suit myself. Nettie and I—Nettie was my best friend, you know—used to spend hours describing our husbands, houses and children to each other. It was great fun, I can tell you, and we entered into details until it actually seemed real.” She paused and glanced up at him to see if he understood, and then con- tinued: *“When you came up I was just furnishing a love of a house in thought, selecting the. color scheme for my wails, you know!” Mowbray listered, almost too rapt to speak. There was something thrill- ing in the knowledge that her thoughts had been the very complement of his. A strange, strong happiness and cer- tainty possessed him. “Would you mind telling me whether the husband that you had planned bore any resemblance to me?” he ques- tioned, daringly. She regarded him critically. Then shook her head. “Don't think me rude,” she murmured, “but to tell you the truth, he was always ' feet tall and blond. O- » I remerzber when we had reached the end of a game, that is, seen our daughters grow up and marry, we began all over again, and, for a change, I chose a dark, cold man who filled me with a delicious ¥ fear. -But I was always forgetiag and harking back to my faverite type, so at last I gave up.” “Too bad, too bad,” murmured her companion, but his tone implied that his pity was for her disappuintment rather than his own. They walked along in silezce for awhile, absorbed in their thoughts and the Ilively scene about them, yet strangely conscious of each other.- At last Mowbray spoke. “F don't see how the thing is coming out,” he began with feigned bewilder- ment. “For when the sights and sounds of early spring suddenly made me homesick for the thing I've never had— a home—" His voice grew low and he paused a second as if the thoughts were too sa- cred to be menti . Elinor's heart went out to him, though she stub. bernly kept her glance fixed indiffer- ertly on the crowd about them. “It was your face that rose before me instantly, your eyes that looked mine, your dear presence that I fel the house that I planned, like a b diction, a caress. You were the place, its queen, the gracious s an to whom I fancied myself co home each night with a deeper, ful love." A heedless pedestrian jostled them, all vnconscious of the fact that in dc 1ed against el eir way, the sweetest ve story " most greene magic into fa In a flash d to see her life stretch the future, transformed matchless as that befor She laid h arm and Mowbray's oment her eyes. > said very softl believe that you ‘dreamed true! (Copyright, 1304, by K. M. White- head.}