The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 18, 1906, Page 2

that T am a very lucky girl, for there is not & truer or a better man in the world than Jack. He s working so hard to nake a home and position in the world, I sometimes feel that I am not worthy of such untiring and unselfish devotion. He teils me his plans ‘and his ambitions—oh, hey are so glowing!—and he is so happy and light-hearted. And then when every- thing seems to go wrong and he becomes § little discouraged, I do So long me when 1 can help him to bear for his disappointments.” And the mother’s voice was tender and her eves were dim as she folded the vounger woman in her arms and declared that her boy had chosen well—that she not have had it otherwise had the with her. And then Maude ss upon the dear old lips of her, and told her how happy s: how she had feared at times— 3 tiniest bit, you know—that his mother might not approve; that she might ther hope 1 plans for her was almost afraid to say ¥ Jack had asked her to be his wife. st the she reupon the mother protested with t seriousness, that her fondest hopes been that her boy would choose good d true woman for his helpmate regardless of wealth and station, as she did not belleve that riches position made happiness. That riches a yourg couple could possess love and confidence In each other, and with good health they would soon gether worldly goods and find happiness in so doing: for in her poor opinion, real appiness was to be found, not alone in ing achieved a desired position, but \ the effort of achieving—at least that nad been the experience of Jack's father and mother. “I have done my, duty by my boy as I heve seen it, and when he was left with- out a father's care and guidance, I felt Tes were t a greater responsibility rested upon I have taught him to be truthful and to hold himself above tty meannesses of smaller natur ve impressed upon him the respect and consideration due our sex..l have tried to mold his character so that it might be invulnerable to the shafts of temptation for which his youth and in- experience would be a shining mark Yet, when he went out into the world. d into the great city, I feared for his strength, feared lest there might be some weak spot that my ignorance of the world bad not properly *protected, and is never a night but I pray that Gud may give him strength to resist ptation, and to remain good and unm- ed from the contact with his fellows. felt that an added strength and a greater incentive to be true to himself seen given him, and that angther s= of temptation had been removed from his path, when you became & part of his life, his hopes and his bitions, my dear. No cne knows the feel- ngs of a mother—none but a mother can know—that waking or sleeping but one image is in her thoughts, and her whole life radiates around that one dear form. But 1 have done my best, my dear, and I cannot think that after all my care and teachings—no, I will not belleve—that my boy can so far forget the duty he owes himself, his mother, his sister/and now his afianced wife, as tp be untrue to his manhood. But if thi should ever hap- pen, it will not be ause he has not been forewarned and forearmed, but be- cause, after all, he is my only boy, and but @ man Wwho overestimated his strength, only to find himself weak, and the current strong.” And here the good woman suddenly recalled that she was dwelling too long and too gloomily upon the subject nearest her heart, and, smil- ing upon her interested listener, declared that she was borrowing needless trouble, for did they. net know that their Jack would never fall the: ah, no—her king could do no wrong! It was ever so—may it ever be.. This gentle and kindly soul with whitening locks and wrinkled brow, looking back over years weighing heavily against the allotted span; this fresh young soul, buoyant and hopeful of the life t6. come— the dawning light and the setting sun. From cradle to grave—in sickness and in heaith—in adversity and In prosperity— in joy and in sorrow—the gentle spirit of woman watches over the destiny of man, asking no greater boon than to applaud his successes, laugh when he is gay, cheer him in misfortune, or cool his fevered brow. Ah! gentle soul, you are the better half of man—the inspiration of his better deeds—the incentive to greater and high- er aspirations: and even the crowns of kings or laurel wreaths of heroes shed no brighter luster than the love with which you crown your King. CHAPTER XI. there Those Who Watch and Walt. “I am very much interested in Mr. Wal- aron,” declared the little maid, who had maintained a discreet silence during this very serious conversation, but not for an instant relinquishing her watchfulness. “Really? And how long has this serious state of affeirs existed?” inquired Maude. “Ever since Jack began to write about him. You are interested in Jack; I may be Interested in Mr. Waldron, may I not?"” “To be sure, my dear,” laughed Maude. “We are all very much interested in Mr. Waldron—we have guite given him a place in the family circle. You will share him with us just the littlest mite, will you , anyway, I am very curious and —impatient,” she truthfully added. “Perhaps after all, you may be disap- pointed—" “Subject to acceptance only on approval —returnable if not entirely satisfactory,” interposed the young miss. “] hope Jack is not mistaken in the man’ sald Mrs. Winston, with a moth- er's concern for the associates of her boy. “Jack is sometimes overenthusiastic con- cerning his friends, and an older man generally possesses considerable influence over a younger man for good or fIL."” “I hope he does not smoke cigarettes, and has a mustache, and is big and strong, and is not a—bubble,” interjected the irrepressible. “Why. Edith! Why do you say things?"” remonstrated her mother. “Well, mamma, I just can’t stand this suspense any longer—I just have to say things.” ’ For a moment her impatience gave way to curiosity, and she wondered where Jack had met this new friend and why be was bringing a comparative stranger down to their quiet country home. “‘Be- cause,” she explained, “Jack says he is from the West—plains and mountains and that sort of thing—and at best he must be a species of cowboy—a diamond in the rough, perhaps,” as her brother was wont to designate some of his friends. On sec- ond thought such a possibility was re- garded with rather more favor. He could surely tell her 1o end of stories—very real storfes—but her chatter was brought to a sudden termination, and with a cry of “Here they are!” she dashed out Into the darkness, fortunately for her ladyship taking the precaution of opening the glass doors before passing through. Pres- ently she came trooping back, one arm around her brother, the other carrying such am- his grip, his hat perched on the back of her own little head, laughing and talking in the same breath—she had got her Jack. The young man greeted his mother and sweetheart as became a dutiful son and devoted lover, and then proceeded to intro- duce the stranger, who had followed leis: urely after, He would relieve the introduc- tion-of all formality—would Jack—and de- clared his mother ta be the dearest and best of mothers, and Maude the sweetest of sweethearts; and catching Edith in his arms, gave her a resounding smack, and assured the stranger that she was the darlingest sister a fellow ever haa, which seemed not to surprise or embarrass that young lady in the least. Mrs. Winston greeted the stranger with cordial’ handclasp and assurance of wel- come, which he modestly aéknowledged. With blushes suffusing her fair face, and a mien not entirely free from embarrass- ment—muidenly modesty not being in full accord with Jack’'s extravagant informal- ity—Maude graciously added her welcome. “You must pardon Jack's enthusiasm,” she said, with a smile reflecting the cor- diality of her greeting, ‘‘and believe that the welcome of his little home circle is quite as sincere as are his superlatives.” Warm welcome indeed.” for Jack was nothing if not sincere in his expressions of love for those near and dear to him. theg Still retaining the little hand in his strong muscular grasp, and looking down into eyes reflecting the sincerity of the words just uttered, “‘Superlatives give adequate expression only, upon occasion—Jack chooses well,”" he said. It was not flattery ner form of speech. Each knew that the othér was merely honest; each recognized in the other the innate. qualities of man- hood and wamanhood speaking as plainly one to the other as the simple words of greeting. Lucky fellow to call this man friend—twice lucky to win this woman's love. 4 The youngest member had withdrawn somewhat apart from the group. where she calmly contemplated the formalities of greeting, and the stranger in particu- lar. To be sure, the first step was to look the guest over carefully and discover his possibilitles; or, if he were quite impos- sible. why, very well, this young woman would promptly wash her small hands of all responsibility of whatsoever kind or character. Jack brought him down and Jack may entertain him—so there! The first impression seemed not entirely fa- vorable to the stranger; all unconscious of the ordeal through which he was pass- ing, and a look of disappointment might have been discerned on ‘the young face. He was not a cowboy, or even distantly related to one—that was easily apparent; but just a plain every-day man. No nov- elty in that—peoh! And yet, was she guite sure? The little miss was a keen ‘ob- server, and something about the man who had so unassumingly, yet with a cer- tain dignity and seif-possessjon taken his place in the little family circle, told her that this was a type of man new to her, and after all, even if he were not a wild and woolly Westerner, he might possess possibflitie: Perhaps he could do things —Qh, very great thinge! She simply adored a strong man who was master of himself and of men—did this little woman —in which respect she was one with the great feminine heart. Jack was quick to ndte the very pro- found attention with which his sister re- garded the stranger. and rightly surmised the genetal trend of her thoughts. ‘‘Well, Sis, I am sure that Mr. Waldron would be very much embarrassed were he awaye of the very particular attention belng paid him by a certain young lady,” he told ler, rudely interrupting very serious meditations, If brother had thought to embarrass lit- tleé sister, the tahles were lkely to be well turned upon him. Without the slightest hesitation or suggestion of confusion— rather apologetically, " If “you please—she replied, *“Well, I belleve I was just a lit- tle disappolnted at first, because I ex- pected to meet 4 real and truly West- erner. But on the whole I rather prefer Mr. Waldron just as he is, and I hope we shall be very. good friends.” And suiting her action to ner words, she proceeded to take the initiative, perhaps as a gentle guarantee of good faith, and with a mien of ‘quiet self-possession, advanced to where that gzentleman was sitting, and explained that she would shake hands again, If he pleased, as it appeared there had been a misundersfanding. And that gentleman, nothing loth, rose very sober- 1y, took the little hand In his, and ex- pressed great satisfaction on his part. The geritlemen properly welcomed, the young ladies suddenly betbought ' them- selves of a promise to look in at “a little informal.” near by, and insisting that they did not require escort, nor need the gentlemen' call for them, as they should return with Mrs. Davidge, “who, by the way, Jack, is paying us a visit,” explained sister, and promising not to be long, “just to look in,” from Maude, disap- peared with swish of skirts and laugh- ing voices. Mrs. Winston also retired al- most immediately, leaving the men tem- porarily to their own devices, CHAPTER XIL A Yellow Streak? Jack watched the dear old- form of his mother as she passed from the room, and for a moment stood gazing blankly at the door which hid her from his sight. Sud- denly, with a moan, as if stricken by a leaden missile, he sank into a chair; and bowing his head covered his face with his hands: his frame, convulsed with the tu- mult of emotion, seemed to slowly shrink within itself. For a moment he seemed to have lost complete control of himself, but by a strong effort he pulleq himself together, and looking -up at his friend, his voice trembling with emotion, “Forgive me, old fellow,” he cried, “I did ot intend to give way in this manner, but the meaning of the whole thing seem- ed suddenly to fall upon me with crushing welght, and it simply took me off my feet.” Truly one could not look upon that face without pity, for only suffering, nay, only the anguish of a tortured soul, could leave such marks upon the flesh. The quick eye of the mother had long since discov- ered that something was amiss with her boy, which even his forced gayety could not veil from her sight. *’'Tis nothing— nothing, indeed—but a little overwork that a day or two at home will set right,” and gweetheart tells sister, “Jack is work- ing too hard—it's a shame—indeed, it is!" ““Never mind, old chap,” said the elder man, encouragingly, “I understand your feelings, and am not .surprised that you threw up your hands for the .moment. But you must brace up. It is all over now, and you are going to begin anew and make & cleay sheet this time,” and slightly raising the young fellow's head, and looking into his eyves, “Isn't that right?” he asked, with a kindly smile. “Yes, yes! God knows I am going to begin anew, and with his help I shall make a clean sheet this time, for if I were to live a thousand years I could never forget the torture I have endured. But when I think how near I came tp sacrificing everything on garth dear to me, and was saved only by a miracle— a miracle, do you understand?—I tremble from sheer weakness. And they say that the days of miractles are past. Good N {riend!” he cried, impulsively, spin; the other by the hand, ‘“to yo\fn; ‘:aw: everything that I possess, or ever can possess; but for you I should be even now in a felon’s cell, disgraced and de- spised by the world, and an object of nity and shame to those whose lives I had ruined. ©h, it drives me mad to think of it!" “Don’t think of it. Think of the good resolves you have made—and live them.” *‘You have never told me why you did all this for me,” said Jack, with some hesitation. “You promised, to tell me some time. You must not think me im- patient. I know you will tell me when you feel inclined, and all in good time. Besides,” smiling wanly, “you have never lectured me, and I am prepared to take that also when it suits your pleasure.” Once—twice—thrice—the elder man paced slowly back and forth across the room before being moved to speech. . “*You are right, Jack,” he finally said, “I did prom- ise you an explanation—it is vour due; and as well now as another time, I dare say. This miracle, as you are pleased to term it, is really a very simple matter."” Taking another turn across the room, and then carelessly, as if the matter were hardly worthy of serfous consideration. or perhaps to change the current of the young fellow's thoughts, he continued: “You know”me as from the West—yet [ am not Western born. Something less than half my life has been cast in the wild and sparsely settled sections of the West, with companions no less rough than the country itself. It is a hurd fight at best. Old ‘Dame Fortune and Miss- Fortune wage a never ending struggle for supremacy. Rich to-day perhaps, and away to the bad to-morrow without a moment’s warning. But it is all a part of the life, and you pick yourself up, pull yourself together, and go at it again. I have looked - starvation in the face, and had the gaunt- old specter for cbmpany much too long upon several occaslons, and the regulation 'misfortunes have fallen to me without particular partiality, I think 1 may say without undue exag- geration. With these same misfortunes and privations comes a more generous and magnanimeus feeling for our fellows, and when we see a pdor chap in hard luck or in distress, we give him a lift. A man never knows how soon the positions may be reversed, but he does know that the best and surest way to deserve a good turn himse!f is to treat the other fellow just about as he would like to be treated under similar circumstances. Simple sort of theory, yet after all, pretty good pnil- osophy, and not a bad religion if one is casting about for a creed—its simplicity recommends it. So. then, to those rough fellows of the plains and mountams, it becomes a part of their better natures to offer-a lift or a life, If necessity demands, and one is nat more freely offered than the other. “How did I come to give you a lift? 1 will tell you.. This unfortunate: experi- ence, new ‘to_you, is-an old story to me. Too many times_have I-seen men, young and old, come into mining camps - and the frontier towns, stake and lose their money. Perhaps the wages of a season or two, carefully hoarded.for some partic? ular purpose; proceeds frowm the sale of a mine—the results of months and perhaps years of labor, suffering and privation; a drove of cattle, one thing or another, it mattcrs not. It is bad enough If a man has gambled away his own money, but the poor devil deprived of even this so- lace is miserable indeed. After that point is reached, they are much the same, dif- fering only in minor details. The night - I saw you at the docks 1 recognized your condition at a glance.” Your white: face, haggard and drawn, ‘the unnatural giitter in your eyes, told me the st asplainly as words. - I said to myseff; this ¥o fellow is a hard leser, andf needy l90king after.. You ran into me in your way, and permitted you te but up against me. When you had finished your story the whale thing seemed per- fectly clear to me. 1 saw the happiness —the lives—of four people balanced against four. thousand dollars. A thou- sand dollars a life! It seemed tgo great a sacrifice. Lives are worth-more than a thousand dollars—such lives as I felt sure were at stake in this instance. I was satisfled that you had told me the truth, at least I was willing to gamble a little myself on the general proposition, and merely, as.a small precaution, to fesl that I was at least getting a.run for my money, wished to assure myself that you were in the employ of the brokerage firm you mentioned, and that I easily ascer- tained next day.” *“Ah! good friend, it is all very simple, and yet—yet [ am unable to grasp the full significance of your generous deed,”” cried the young man, tears rolling down' his pale face: “L could not well have done less under the circumstances. [ am something of a coward.. Most of us have a yellow streak in our makeup and I am no exception. I woulé not dare—fact, I literally would not dare—to have in‘my keeping the power to save four lives, or what 1 am pleased to consider their. equivalent, and withhold that power merely for the sake of a few paltry dollars that I had dug from the earth. I should fully expect, sooner or later, in one way or another, to pay even a greater price for my cowardice. Now you know it all. I shall not lecture you, as I believe you have suffered sufficiently to teach you a lesson for all time, If not, no words of mine will impress you. I in- tend to keep you in sight, and the settle- ment 1 finally make you will depend much upon yourself.” That the young fnan was at first deeply -interested in the explanation that seemed to involve such an air of mystery was plainly apparent. That his interest quick- ly developed into a distinct admiration for the man speaking. so carelessly .and indifferently ‘of his life, and the motives ‘which actuated him, was no less apparent. Here was a process of reasoning and a type of man new to him. Here was a man who showed him the littleness and nar- rowness of his own life. Here was a man who had struggled—had been beaten, but not cowed; a man who had suffered want and privation, adversity and temptation; who had faced death in many forms; yet this man had come through the fire not only unscathed, but strengthened and made better for the lessons he had learn- ed from his rough and bitter experiences. Here was a good example to follow—a superb specimen of manhood to mold his own life after so far as it lay in his power. “‘As I have thanked you before, I thank you agaln, and you shall never have cause to think me careless or ungrateful for what you have done for me,” he earn- estly declared. “You will forgive me,” he said, hesitatingly, “but you—you could afford to do all this?” “I have not inconvenienced myself. I will, however, offer you one ‘suggestion. You have suffered—suffered deeply. Re- member this, when you meet any of your fellows in distress—man or woman—do not refuse them at least a little assist- - ance. - Go out of- your way to do a good turn. Give according to your means, iven a cup of coffee will sometimes put new life into a discouraged stomach, and you can never tell ‘when even a kind word will make the world seem -brighter and perhaps give new hope to a weary soul. You can always afford both. and the good you are able tq do for others will help “developed, if you please. cause 'l stood .18 the vi “always a crowd around h you to forget your own troubles, and ex- plate the wrong you have done. Try it.” - e CHAPTER XuL The Woman. the way,” Waldron quickly re-- mafked. doubtless to divert the conver- sation to lighter ways, “your sister men- tioned a guest.” . “Yes, Mrs. Davidge,” said Jack. “She is the daughter of an old friend of my mother's. We are all very fond of her, and she runs down from the city for a day or two whenever she feels inclined, knowing that,she is always welcome. I 't know,” thig uncertuin declaration accompanted by a shake of the . , and a smile not too jovial, “but I been the unconscious means of bringing you into the presence of ‘your fate. Fact is, Mrs. Davidge is a widow, of say, seven and twenty, rich and charm- ing. Mark me well, apd beware! But that is not all,"” he added, glancing crit- ically at his guest to note the effect of this possibly startling information. ““What else? I may as well know the worst at once.” % “Well, nature hasg been very kind to her in many respects—positively lavish in others. To be sure, she possesses only the fashionable requirements in the way of features—she is nothing if not correct, you must know. But her eyes! Ah, old chap, I verily belleve she. was designed by her Creator as a punishment to our sex. Hyes without Intellect—champagne without fizz. But she has intellect—well She possesses the faculty of bringing aboriginal traits into evidence to an alarming degree— she simply makes monkeys of men. Are vou interested?” he inquired, somewhat doubtfully. . “'Qh, cxcéedingly!" replied the guest, glancing over a book he had taken from the table. *‘Is there more to be said?” “Much, my dear feHow, much—the limit is my incapacity. .1 am not well versed in the classics of beauty, but she is in the, blue ribbon class with lengths to spare. She is a New Yorker in all the term Implies. Is your curiosity aroused, sir?” “l am pessessed by contending emo- tions,”” was the somewhat ambiguous re- ply of the gther, as he tossed the book back on the table and possessed himself of a comfertable chalr. “‘She married very young. Parental af- fair—-money involved,. and that sort of thing, you know,” continued Jack, evi- dontly desirous that his friend should be well informed concerning 'his fair guest. “Her parents and old man Davidge were about the only ones who seemed to think well of the match, but as it was for them to give and to recelve, the deal went through. I don’t think she was very en- L.usjastic about the affair herself, if the truth were known, but she xept her thoughts to herself, at least she never confided in me., But the next time she starts sne will have something to say about the weight she takes up, or I don't know her.” “Ygu are still speaking of the young woman?" g “I guess they. all realized when it was too late that she had been given the worst of the start,” he continued, ignor- ing this rather questionable interruption, “and when the old Man discovered, as he must have done, that it was sheer non- sense to hitch up an old campaigner with a voung filly just coming into her stride and expect them to keep an even pace, he showed that he wifs still a dead game spart by just quletly cashing in—died, you know—and left her all his money and the house on.the avenue, where she and her mother. still live, ‘Rather. handsome of the old fellow after all. His widow Is certainly very popular, .and none the less ‘on account of the money he left her, She hole thing wherever she appears; er—admiratios of the men and of course. the envy of the women—if no worse. “If you enter the running, old chap,” he rattled on, no comment being. offered by his auditor, “vou will find g large fleld, but Mr. Chadeller is the man you will have to beat out—at least he will be most in the way. I suppose he is down here now—he will bring the girls home: He owns quite -a little property hereabouts “which requires considerable looking after —at times. . He seems to be the most likely. winner in sight, but 1 don't think much of his form—ugly performer, you know—liable to throw himeelf.” ‘‘Your appreciation.of the gentleman is of a negative quality, I am compelled to infer,” said Waldron. 5 “There is certainly not much love lost between us. He is insanely jealous, and resents any attention pald to Mrs. Da- vidgs, Result, he has developed a state of chronic disagreeableness which at times amounts to downright insolence. I should have taken' positive delight in thrashing him upon several occasions, but unfortu- nately my ability has not been equal to my desire by about forty pounds.” ““The appreciation of your lack of avoir- dupols would seem to be the conservative part of valor.” “I think she tires of the mad whirl at times and comes down here to get away from the crowd and enjoy a little rest and quiet,”” continued the young man, ignoring what he evidently regarded as a mild facetiousness at his expense. ‘‘Dur- ing the summer she frequently prolongs her visits and then some of her more devoted satellites suddenly discover an attraction about the old town and send down their traps and put up at the hotel, or drop their hooks off the shore, and the whole crowd stands at attention. Her ability to manage men—and horses, too— is little less than marvelous. She drives them both—man and beast—with a high hand.” “Well, .young man, after your very comprehensive dissertation and warning, I can hardly do less than to absolve you from al] responsibility of whatsoever kind or character. All of which is ex: tremely kind of you even If a trifle unfair to the lady,” sald the guest, rising from his chair. “All right, Jack! Forewarned is forearmed, and thanks to you I am a walking arsenal. Please order up the enemy “Here they are!” exclaimed Jack. “I hear their voices outside. You had bet- ter get over by that table, old man,” his spirits rising perceptibly; “you will need a bracer. She alwaye comes with a rush —sweeps you right off your feet.” “We crawl Into a hole in the ground out in my country when things of that sprt appear on the horizon.” said Wal- dron, apparently not impressed with the serious nature of the -situation. “Let me give you a few final injunc- tions,” said Jack, his eyes sparkling with merriment. ‘‘Her manner will be charm- ingly - impulsive and effusive, and sufi- ciently personal to make you think rather well of yourself. She will perhaps tell vou that she is delighted to add her wel- come although this Is not her home-only by adoption, you know, She should have been a politician; ag a man she would have shaken her way into the presidential chalr. The mere extending of the hand is a revelation In itself—graclousness, impulsiveness and frankness, all concen- trated into.one Pmty ‘movement, ly seconded by a smile of seraphic sweetness. Yes, indeed, +has heard dear Maude and dear Edith speak of you so many, many times. They have all been impa- tlently awaiting your coming, but men have so many calls upon thelr time what can they, poor things, expect? But you have come to them at last—you are from the West, aren't you? ‘unsus- pecting mortal—the tdils of that fate are being drawn about you. Really; she pos- sesses a great admiration for men of the - West—the colls are being drawn closer and closer—especially. men of the plains and mountains—Ah, son of Adam, it is the same old story!'—they are such brave, rugged, manly fellows, such perfect types of manhood, and—it's all over, poor fel- low—those same eyes that I have warned vou against have done thelr deadly work." - “What would this—this divine creature —say to hear herself so maligned?”’ ‘Wal- dron protested, ” “You may tell her at tunity, with my compliments,” replied the unabashed youth. “I am deeply indebted to her for past courtesies,” he added. rather apologetieally. “I should really like to see some estimable gentleman— Hke yourself, for. instance—stand up and give and take with her for a few rounds. She has had so many walkovers she Is rather inclined to patronize our sex.” “Really, Jack, you are as difficult to follow as you are uncomplimentary, which is saying considerable. I refuse to hear the lady further maligned,” declared the mild mannered man, with an assump- tion of serfousness, which in truth seem- ed noty too deep. “I can see Mr. Chadeller even now,” persisted this young man terrible, “glar- ing at you and wanting to know who you are, where vou came from, and your pedigree gerieraily, before he permits you to enter the charmed circle of distin- guished admirers of the fair Cathalee. of which he is the self-constituted head ang censor. Oh, me!"” “Here they come!”" he cried a moment latér, eagerly grasping that fact to fore- stall a possible move of retaliation on the part of his long-suffering victim. “‘That's she!” he exclaimed, as the sound of a mirthful laugh came rippling into the room. “Those are her skirts!" he an- nounced an instant later. ‘‘She will be in the lead—she is always first under the wire,”" h¢ cried, his eyes snapping with suppressed merriment. “They're oft!"” was his finaj admonition, under his breath, as into the room swept the subject of his remarks. CHAPTER XIV. Al As Men Are Made. Cathalee Davidge was a distinct fype of American womanhood. In the worjd, and of it, possessing power over others of which she was not unconscious, yet rot realizing the full measure of her control, nor whence it came. The great strength of her personality, which transcended all others, and beside which the little arti- ficlalities faded into insignificance, was her own - innate goodness of heart, her depth.and breadth of. character, which rose above the sordid smallness of her gurroundings, and compelled the recogni- tion of weaker mentalities. Hers was a bappy disposition, seeking the pleasures and recreations which ap- pealed most strongly to her robust. and buoyant vitality, and giving her unstint- ed efforts to the work she had relegated to.herself with equal energy and enthu- slasm. Free from malicious gossip, pre- . ferring to think well rather than ili of any and all, and ever ready to stind by a friend through thick and thin, once satis- fled that he or she was in the right, the very buoyaucy. of. her nature would, of necessity,. give that element of society which constitutes itself the detractors and -censors of its fellows golden opportuni- ties for speeding its shafts of innuendo and malice, but the breath of scandal had never seared her fair name. “Bgad! It does my old heart good to see that: girl sweep ‘into a ballroom,” - voeiferated old. Major Rothford. i ward for it, she's just bubbling with life ‘and splrit, and brings a freshness along with her that takes ten years off my old age to lay eyes on her. Natural as a flower, true as steel, and smart as a whip. Egad, sir, you can’t beat her!" and the . old majer voiced the sentiments of the many. : 5 It is true that the littie archer had sped more ‘than one dart with unerring alm, buf each in the end had received the same answer when he -stepped béyond the boundary line of friendship. She had nothing further to offer. No, there.was no other. And if he went away and re- turned, thinking that the lapse of time might work a change, the answer ' was the same. So it. was not strange that men. falling despite their repeated as- . saults to make any appreciable impression upon the impregnable wall of perfect self-control with which she seemed to for- tify herself, aiso failed to understand the cause of their futile efforts, and were in- clined to agree with the oft expressed be- liet that in matters of the heart she was cold, If not impossible, never thinking that the secret might lie in the weakness of the besiegers, rather than in the un- conquerable strength of the fortress. “Whati was that remark, k—you ras- cal! Confess—you look positively guilty!” she declared, descending upon that luck- less youth. ¥ But why the start, barely perceptible, perhaps, on the part of the other occu- pant of the room? Well, indeed, suppose he dig start? Men have doubtless started before, and perhaps even trembled when this same person came into their pres- ence. Ah! the mystery depens. Or was it mere coinoldence? As the lady turned to greet. the . gentleman, she. suddenly started—hesitated—but. for an instant; however, and the formalities of introdue- tion were duly acknowledged. As Jack had predicted, Mr. Chadeller had been the escort of the party, and was duly presented to Waldron. He was cer- tainly not more than clvil. Perhaps he looked upon the newcomer as another pos- sible rival, and while no particular harm need be anticipated, no good could possi- bly result. All of which would indicate that he was a man of caution, and not confident unto rashness of his ability to ultimately carry off the prize on which he had set his hopes and his ambitions, and as much of his heart as he could disassociate from the process of money- letting and getting. The conversation quickly became gen- eral, or more properly speaking, was mo- nopolized by Mrs. Davidge, Edith and Jack, all seeming to talk at once, their running fire of badinage being directed for the most part upon the stranger. The first named opened civilities or hostilities —there might have been some doubt in ‘Waldron's mind which term was applica- ble—much as Jack nad predicted, which was really not surprising as they were channels Into which the copversation might naturally drift. A m of Wal- dron's robust physique -and the life he had led would naturally appeal to her own wHolesome nature. He seemed inclined. however, to regard her pleasantries with mild suspiclon. He-had seen men of the ‘West make tendérfeet dance to the mu- sic of shots fired at their feet; was he merely dancing to the music of this si- ren's flaiery and badinage? He was a tenderfoot once upo. a time, it was true, ‘but that was long ago, undet con- - ditions that left no doubt’ as to the eti- -quette involved, which was promptly and cordlally expressed through the medium the. first oppor-. "My . of'a “straight right” delivered with tb trained athlete, bri the festivities nhnu‘:ln-‘n and his would-be entertainer to the floor. Such heroic measures were hardly ap- plicable to present conditions, and the dance must be permitted to go merrily on with.the best grace possible. 8o It was that while the charming creature (figura- tively) talked around , he mere- 1y (another figure) turned in his tracks and met her at whateyer point of the cir- cle she presented herself. She had ddubdt- less soon discovered that her antagonist ‘was not to be lightly rated—a fellow who n choosing his ground. and the pace he would go, refusing absolutely to be drawn away from the stronghold of his self-possession, and avoiding ambushes like a seasoned veteran. In short, show- ing commendable adaptability to the re- quirements of the situation, and withal. conveying® the Impression of a reserved force should oceasion require. Mr. Chadeller’'s part in the conversation had been merely of a perfunctory char- acter. That gentleman was palpably ill at ease. Matters were not progressing to his liking. His greeting to Jack had been none too gracious, which doubtless caused that young man to regretfully recall the disparity of forty pounds of avoirdupois standing between him and simple clvility. He viewed with little satisfaction the frank, good-natured greeting Mrs. Da- vidge bestowed upon the young man, nor did the unaccountable incident of the greeting with the stranger escape him. It was insignificant, to be sure—yet it boded no good. What was it anyhow? He was suspiclous and uncomfortable— he was rarely otherwise. Moreever, he was ignored; certainly was not a neces- sary adjunct to the little party. To re- ‘cetve his sanction, or even toleration. his was tne central figure -Bmund'wh:chu- company must reyolve. By some strange procguyor :.:leh' nature alone holds the secret, he saw things from a converse standpoint to the majority of his fellows, with the Inevitable result that he grati- fied his own inordinate vanity, and bored the many. & His desire to shine in society through the medium of his intellect was doubtless owing to these same conflicting elements in his character. If his wit was small his purse was large, which secured for him a courteous tolerance in certain quar- ters: in others, varied forms of flattery— a kind of subsidized adulation—a tribute to his purse which deluded the manfand demeaned his flatterers. Even a gentle and enduring patience has its limitations, and as Mr. Chadeller was a stranger alike to one and the other, he could not be expected to long abide his present negative position, and the young man was therefore little surprised when the gentleman indicated that he would ak with him. “Who is he?” he d led, indicating the “he” by a movement of his head. whén he had led the way a littje apart from the others. “The ‘gentleman is Mr. William Wal- dron,” replied the young man, none too amiably, doubtless irritated by the inso- lent abrupthess of the demand as well as by the meddlesome spirit which prompted it $ On geveral occasions this same gen- tleman had attempted to exercise a censorship over the young “man, presuming not a little upon-his long acquaintance with the family. and a certain Interest he was not unwilling should be undérstood that he enter- tained for its general welfare. The real cause of his' Interest, however, might better be attributed to the extremely friendly relations of a certain fair lady with the family, and his present agita- tion was doubtless inspired more by the graciousmess with which sheswas pleased to régard the stranger than “by ‘his possible “demoralizing influence upon the family circle. - “Waldron?" he repeated. with ill con- cealed 'displeasure, “I don’t know any Waldrons. I—" “It is sufficlent for me to say. Mr. Chadeller, that the gentleman is my friend—a guest in my mother’s ‘house —a welcome guest—and you can hardly do less than to remember that you are also a guest if you would retain the same consideration,” sald the young man, with careful distinctness, looking his inquisitor squarely in the eye. Surprise and indignation were plainly depicted upon Mr. Chadeller’s counte- nance, as he grasped the full intent d meaning of the young man’s reply. ‘ou will be sorry for thi: before you are much olde under his breath. “You will see the day when you will need the assistance of the friends you so glibly insult— but I wash my hands of you,” and turn- ing abruptly, he made a hurried adieu to Mrs. Davidge, conceded a nod to the young ladies, no notice whatever to Waldron, and passed out. “What have you done. Jack?” cried Maude, not a little alarmed, as she was aware of the rather tense relations ex- *isting between the men. and had long feared an open rupture, against which she had frequently warned Jack. “I hope you have not been rude, Jack,” Mrs. Davidge ventured, well knowing his impetuous disposition. “Well, I didn’t exactly turn the other cheek,” he admitted. “I gave about as I received. A feeling of constraint had fallen upon the little party. Maude should be returning home, which meant escort duty for Master Jack, and the young ladies hied themselves upstairs for her wraps, and Mrs, Davidge, refusing. as she laughingly declared, to assume en- tire charge of the men, followed almost immediately. “I am the immediate cause of the severance of peaceful relations with Mr. Chadeller, I presume,” said Wal- dron, when they were alone. “You felt that circumstances warranted such ac- tion, I have no ‘doubt, yet I am sorry to have been the particular element of discord.” “T felt entirely justified, yes,” replied Jack. “The man reflected unkindly and unnecessarily upon my guest. His impudence to me I might have over- looked rather than be disagreeable in my own ‘home, but he forfeited that consideration when he ceased to re- member that he was himself a guest.” “Ready!” announced Maude, descended the stairs. “Good-night, she said, giving Waldron her hand, and a pretty smile. “I shall send Jack back immediately.” “Take the big chair and light up your weed, old man—I shall not be long,™ sald Jack, as he left his guest in sole possession. CHAPTER XV. “Do I Intrude:” In the great easy chair, the soft glow of the shaded light falling full upon his upturned face, comfortably reposed the lone occupant of the roem. Silently he sent ring arter ring of fragrant smoke into” space, which disa one after the other even as his thoughts took wing, and left no trace of their coming or their going. All unconscious was he of ‘white-robed figure that was softly, most timidly, desce: the stairs; all unconscious of two bright