The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 25, 1906, Page 3

ing, and cares not whether or how you come. Gentlemen, at your pleasure. CHAPTER XIX. Man Must Conquer. The regular Saturday lunching crowd was in full and animated attendance at the Waldorf. Waldron had invited his friends to a luncheon and matinee, invitation all had enthusiastic- accepted with the exception of Winston, who had, insisted that the was tar too gay for her to think b pace with. The affair was nceded to be a compliment to the desires of that lady all had meekly bowed. She had immediately declared for the Wal- f, when the all important question 1e Juncheon came up for considera- she had never been inside the ich hotel, and this, to be sure, was 2 golden opportunity mot to be neg- lected. You are all right, Sis!” Jack had declared with gracious condescension. You can be your brother's sister so long as you possess such fine discre- tion.” The little party was fortunate in se- curing a position affording an excellent view of the large dining-room, and to the youngest member the scene was as a glimpse of another world. Her eyes expressed wonderment; her words quaint impressions of the people and surroundings. To her all was gold that glittered, and there was much that shone resplendent. All were men and women quite ideal—indeed, who shall say to the contrary! Princes and prin- cesses there seemed to be in surprising numbers upon this particular occasion, and a king or queen might shortly wander in, if a certain Jack-—better called a knave—did not desist from ushering in these notables and seating them promiscuously about the place as best suited his diabolical purpose. If the many were & source of interest to the few, the latter were accorded no little attention. Cathalee numbered among her acquaintances many of the lunchers. Theirs was a one-star com- pany, Jack had occasion to early re- merk; indeed one could hardly fail to note the very especial attention accord- ed that bright and particular luminary Ly friends and strangers alike. Not unconsciously, another member he party was receiving rather more his share of the attention from a ain quarter. Miss Constance Hill- chanced to be present with a party of friends. Could that young woman believe her eyes? “Really, take—u Strik- ' Did My there must be some m! ing resemblance, surely know the gentleman? , ves. Really, my dear Con- , it can't be, you know—By Jovel—' Old Major Rothford came stamping in briskly and pompously as became an man of valor, and catching t of the little group, all of whom he had known from childhood (with the exception of Waldron), charged down upon them, and accorded his usual hearty greeting. “Delighted! Believe me, sir—delighted!” he vigorously de- clered, giving Waldron's hand a cordial grip. 1t was characteristic of the major to accord a mew acquaintance a hearty greeting, and to declare himself “De- lighted—delighted, sir!” yet the pene- trating glance of the sharp old eyes, which seemed to have lost none of their youthful fire, seemed to say no less plain that this -hearty initiative ‘was probationary to the good graces of the old warrior. As for the opposite sex, the major was far too gallant an old soldier to lend himself to even a remote possibility of causing embarrassment by such tactics, and, moreover, would doubtless have erred in his charac- stic speech, “Egad! you read in a woman's eyes only what she pleases you to know,” and he was merely “De- lighted, ma —1 assure you, delight- ed!” bending his straight old back with a gracious dignity a younger man might well envy. Bless my old soul!” he vociferated, it does me good to see such youth and beauty,” glancing around the little group. “Edith, if some young fellow doesn’t catch you pretty soon and lock you up in a dark closet, you will break more hearts than Cathy one of these days. Ah, yes, my dear!” he Insisted, in reply to Cathalee’s vigorous protest of “major!” “You don’t know the havoc your sex creates among us. We're a sad lot, Waldron,” he solemnly de- clared, “they dazzle our eyes, xteal our hearts, and call us fickle. 'It's wrong— all wrong!” he declared, wagging his ancient head. “The odds are against us.” “The major is the most gallant old beau in New York this very minute,” laughed Cathalee. “Away down deep in his heart is a firm and abiding con- viction of the very great superiority of man, yet mark you the compliment he and I mean it—every word hé vigorously protested “My old white head, and a rebel bullet rat- tling around in my old anatomy, and a gout, are all that keep me from mak- ing as big a fool of mysElf as some of the younger chaps,” he declared, as he bade adieu to his young friends, who were much amused by his infectious good humor. The major had retired from active service some years since on a compe- tency sufficient to afford his declining years the comfort which a long and faithful service to his country richly entitled him. He had been fighting for his country since he could “tote” a gun—"Fought for her, and Egad, sir! bled for her too—and I'm proud of it. And there’s a chip of the old block out there in the West that will go on fight- ing for her so long as she needs a de- fender, just as his old dad did before him.” The old fellow was a modern edition of the old school. He had kept pace with the times, yet his underlying char- ecter and principles were essentially of times long past. He was old—he knew, it, and had mo objection to being called” old. He was out of the running with the young fellows—he was an old fool! but “Damme! there are older fools who have not Giscovered what everybody 1 known for twenty years or 1e bad declared, with character- vehemence upon a certain occasion when his temper had been ruffled. He lived at his club, and despite his intimation of infirmities, enjoyed very good health, and took life very com- placently. He was a general favorite with all his acquaintances, and his mood seldom varied from that in which he greeted bis young friends/ Cathalee was his particular protege by virtue of a long-standing acquaintance with her parents, and rarely a week passed but the old fellow wended his way to . the house on the avenue, where he was ever a welcome guest, and dined with mother and daughter. “If that head- strong boy of mine had only consult- ed bis old Gad, instead of going off out West and marrying to sult himself,” he o~ = s ‘ <) - [ (@ e SR O frequently remarked to Cathalee, with a regretful and expressive shgke of his venerable head. *Oh, that unduti- ful boy of yours!” she invariably re- plied, with mutual commiseration, and between them the far away soldier boy was ever the “Undutiful” Had she been his own daughter he could not have been more concerned for her wel- fare and happiness. Your old father and 1 were boys together, Cathy,” he had told her more than once, “and as my useless old life has been given me to make a nuisance of myself, and be in the way generally—which is about all I can say for myself—I am bound to do by his child as he would have done for mine if circumstances had been reversed. So, girl, you must make use of the old major in any way that he can serve you, because vour happi- ness is nearer and dearer to his heart than anything eilse in his worn-out old life. My voy (he speaks proudly) is a soldier—he belongs to his country, and has no need of his dad, What he is not able to do for himself, his old dad can- not do for him. When I was his age” (and the eyes of the old war-horse flash with the spirit of youth), “I was al looking for trouble and only hap when I found ft—and 1 was happy pretty much all the time, as I h.wk back over the march I've made. You are without father or brother, my dear, and a man who has your best in- terests at heart, cven if he is only an old duffer, may be of use to you. Men understand men for what they really are, better than women. There are strange credtures masquerading as men in this world; they may have a definite purpose, but as yet it has not been made clear. In the meantime, they serve to cut down the general average of decency and respectability.’ So it happened that the major was a frequent escort of mother and daugh- ter, and more or less familiar with the men of Cathalee’s acquaintance. When, therefore, a stranger appearsd and evinced a desire to enroll himself among the no inconsiderable number of admirers of his charge, he very soon acquainted himself with the genepal worthiness or unworthiness of the new- r let them find their own level, “ath he had told her. “Life is too short to stand on dress-parade before the enemy merely to show him the strength of your forces. Besides, there is always the danger that some dis- gruntled coward or gibbering idlot may deal a blow behind your back—putting your heel on a viper after his sting is poor satisfaction.” And waxing warm- er, for this was a subject on which the major never hesita.ed to speak - his mind, t alone the crawling species, my dear, run out their tongues and strike an- innocent hand—they are true to their natures and may be guarded 2gainst. The others are anomalies, and for some inexplicable reason, form and instinct are not inseparable—more’s the pity.” s It weas his custom to stroll down to the Waldorf in the late afternoom, and with some old crony, or young chap, he was sure to find around the place, indulge himself to the extent of a con- genial cocktall. A day or two after making Waldron's acquaintance, he chanced to run across him in the hotel, and the two enjoyed a chat over the aforesald cocktail, at the major's invi- tation. “By the way, Cathy, who is this man Waldron?" he inquired, in his usual matter-of-fact way, when next he saw her. “Seems very much of a stranger —nobody seems to know him,” he add- ed, as a reply was not immediately forthcoming. “A friend of the Winstons and— mine,” she replied, with a sly glafnce at the old fellow, well knowing the ob- ject of his inquiry. The unmistakable emphasis on the last word mildly sur- prised the major—his intervention was clearly not desired in this particular instance. “Had a little chat with him'a day or two ago—accidentally ran across him down at the hotel,” he told her, not quite satisfied to drop the matter so inform- ally. “Seems a very decent sort of a chap, but better be a little careful, my dear—don’t place too much reliance on appearancas.” “That terrible horse of mine has again distinguished himself,” said Cath- alee, addressing Waldron. “Mr, Chad- eller,” glancing at Jack at the mention of this name, “is the latest victim. He essayed to manage the animal but yes- terday, and the poor man fared rather badly.” “He is a beast of fine discretion,” was the somewhat ambiguous comment of Master Jack. “My mother,” she continued, ignoring Jack's vemark, “is in mortal fear lest I intend to use him for my own mount —which was my original intention— and declares if I do not dispose of him immediately, or i. I permit another man to endanger his life, she will com- plain of me to the society fors the pre- vention‘of cruelty to animals. Whether she feels that the animal or the men have been abused, is not quite clear. Therefore, Mr. Waldron, I shall not trouble you, or permit you to endanger your young life in attempting to curb the spirits of my fractious steed—un- less,” she hesitated, seemingly reluct- ant to accept as final the idea of part- ing with the animal, “you are possessed of a wild desire to try your skill, in which case I may be able to obtain my mother’s consent to offer’ one more acrifice.” 1 am not conscious of possessing just such a wild or uncontrollable de- sire,” replied Waldron, with indifferent good nature, “yet if you wish tu retain the anfmal I am entirely willing to exert my influence over his fractious spirits,” “I realized that my expression was not tempered with the finest distinc- tion,” sald Cathalee, with an assump- tion of seriousness. “I do not believe you capable of possessing a wild de- sire for anything. You simply take people and things as you find them, utterly indifferent and careless of the particular form they assume. T am curfous to know the sort of man that really exists under all this indifference. However, I accept your offer with the modification that you will undertake the task to please me, rather than from any particular desire on your own part, which serves to make the obligation even greater, notwithstanding which, I continue to accept,” she laughingly de- clared, “and you may expect to hear from me before many days. Oh, I am quite serious!” she insisted. Maude had been a very quiet and in- terested member of the party, and she promptly expressed the hope that Mr. ‘Waldron would be able to manage the unruly animal, and her eyes, as.they regarded the stalwart form by her side, sald no less plainly, that she, at least, had no doubt whatever as to the outcome. “Other bright eyes had wandered from one to the other of the two per- sons arranging this very questionable proceeding, owner ventured to hope that Mr. Wald- 2 AN = and at its conclusion their. THE SAN FRANCISCO SUNDAY CALL. S ron would not permit himself to be in- jured by the unruly beast. Whereupon that gentleman explained—very seri- ously and very confidentially, to be sure—that Mrs. Davidge, strange to say, seemed to derive a great deal of pleasure in poking fun at him, and was even then trying her best to make him acknowledge that he was afraid of her 6ld horse, but he would not give her that satisfaction, to all of which that lady felt constrained to gracefully sub- mit, but a certain glance bestowed upon that same gentleman was strong- 1y suggestive of a later accounting. “Fractious steed, indeed!” laughed Jack Winston. “Don’t be alarmed, Sis. Mr. Waldron is only going to put the old nag through a few fancy steps, and perhaps one of these days we shall see Cathy and her venerable steed do- ing stunts in the center ring. Walk up, lzdies and gentlemen, and see the great and only Cathy—" Time and place are accountable for much, and in the present instance may have had a very material bearing upon the general well-belng of a certain young man. This was positively an imposition upon good nature, calumny against a youthful steed of bluest blood. ; ‘Jack Winston!” exclaimed the sadly maligned young woman, under stress of righteous indignation. “I am capable of but one flendish wish at the present moment. That you might be compelled to ride that venerabls steed is a retrl- bution I heartily wish you. Venerable! Indeed! The idea! Why, he is only a baby!” All of which was very confus- ing to the young miss whose innocent concern for the welfare of her host had precipitated such tragic and con- ficting expressions. Anyway, she hoped that Mr. Waldron would rot per- mit the venerable, or baby steed— whichever he might be—to ‘- do him harm. CHAPTER XX. Woman Must Chose. Friendship and character—the de- mands of the one reveal the strength of the other, As fire is the test of clay, s0o no man may be adjudged friend until he has been tried and not» found wanting. On the following Monday morning . while Cathalee was looking hurriedly over her mall she came upon a letter that for the time being dispelled all othér thoughts from her mind. She had read but a few words when the brightness gradually faded from her eyes, and her features became sternly, even rigidly set. “Dearest Cathalee,” the letter read, “I cannot rest until I have sent you a note of warming—indeed, 1 should go immediately to you, were it not that I am leaving town this very aftgrnoon. “Who could have so cruelly déceived you? Do you—of course you cannot have any idea who the man really is. it seems quite like a dream that he, of all men, should be here in our very midst. My dear, he is a very dangerous man. He is the leader of a band of men as reckless and unscrupuious as himself. He actually had the audacity to defy my father, and to hold up our entire party quite like a highwayman. There can be no mistake, my dear, as Mr. Herrington also recognized him beyond the possibility of a doubt. I am sure he recognized us—he could not have failed to do so—and will doubtless be. guard, as must you, my dear. ringdon will. you si formation, as time forbids me, and may trust to his discretion in dealing with the man. I cannot bear to think of what might have happened but for this chance recognition. I shall see you immediately upon my return—in about 'a week, my dear. Lovingly yours, CONSTANCE HILLMAN.” Again she read the letter and more slowly, her eyes seeming to follow the tracing of each little word. The maid came to tell her that her carriage was waiting, but the words fell upon un- heeding ears. A few minutes later the maid again looked in but her mistress had not changed her position; she sat staring blankly at the letter. The min- utes sped by unheeded; a half hour passed, and she made no movement. She was thinking—thinking as she had never done before. She was at the crossing of the road, and she must choose ,for herself—her own womanly instincts must be her guide. Nearly an hour had passed when she suddenly roused herself, and turning to her desk, deliberately penned a brief note. “Dear Mr. Waldron—Saturday is the day—1:30 the hour, which means that you are invited to luncheon. You will meet my mother—a small formality to be observed—after which I may ride with you in the park. Cordlally yours, “CATHALEE DAVIDGE.” Calling the maid, she gave her a few brief Instructions, and taking the let- ter with her she went calmly out to the waiting carriage. She had chosen and she would abide the consequences. ‘Waldron presented himself at the ap- pointed time and place. He Imme- diately discovered that mother and daughter were as dissimilar as two per- sons of the same flesh and blood and dwelling beneath the same roof could well be. He also learned that he was persona non grata with the mother, and understood that he had been bid- den to come simply because it suited Cathalee’s purpose, and at best the mother's acquiescence had been but submissive. The inevitable conceded, nothing remained but to make the best of an uninteresting situation, and to observe certain formalities of which graciousness _and, hospitality were not the necessary accompaniments. Per- force, ill concealed, were several re- marks addressed to the guest adapted with commendable consideration to his understanding, clearly demonstrating that Mrs. Worthington had failed to discern any common ground (indeed it is a grievous error to suggest even the ground as common on which this aris- tocratic woman might deign to tread) on which she and the stranger might stand. He was from the West, she understood. Had he never been in New York before? Yes—many years before. “Ah! Indeed!” expressive of resignation and- a duty conscientibusly performed, for what could possibly avall after such an admission. The man was quite impossible. She knew little of the world outside of her New York, and possessed no inclination whatever to make ‘its acquaintance, while her desire to rub elbows with its denizens was even more remote. Cathalee was easily equal to the nec- essary formalities of the occasion, and no embarrassing situations were al- lowed to obtrude themselves, but even her admitted talents and cheery good nature failed to dispel a certain frigid- ness in the atmosphers, and it is no great hazard to say that, while the luncheon doubtless served its purpose, all were frankly glad when it came to an end. “Please sir, do not permit anything terrible to happen, T beg of you,” sald S and a ' ":@))‘%‘ Cathalee, with an air of tragic con- cern, as clad in a simple and vastly becoming habit she descended the steps. “I have gimply been made to fuel that I am jeopardizing your young lite, and dire responsibility hangs over me.” “Your- wishes shall be most consist- ently and conscientiously observed,” he laughed. “I certainly am not seeking a reckless and untimely disposition of myselt.” “Might it not be well to make the acquaintance of your mount before assisting me?” she inquired, regarding with some concerm the spirited and restless animal that was giving the groom no little trouble to manage. “The formalities shall be duly ob- served, I promise you,” he said, ex- ténding his hand to assist her to mount. “It would be extremely embarrassing to be compelled to take to the street cars after all,” she suggested, rather more Il at ease than she was willing to admit. “Do you know, sir, you have never eveft inquired what are ,his faults,” she informed him, her mount mplished. That would be taking rather an unfair advantage, would it not? I dare say he will confide in me as our ac- quaintance progresses.” “Well, really, I don’t think I am versed in equine etiquette if it runs along those lines,” she laughed. “But Judging from his behavior I should say that a heart to heart interview awaits you.” “You might tell me his name and assist the acquaintance to that extent,” he lightly replied, stepping along to where the groom was having ccnsider- able difficulty with the spirited animal. “His christening was a marvel of foresight. He bears the black and sug- gestive appellation of Wizard.' " “Certainly prolific of tbilities. ‘Well, old chap, are you as black in equine arts as your color and name suggest?” he affably inquired, laying hold of the bridle and stroking the animal's head and neck, and glancing critically at the restless eyes. “Not such a bad eye. Just a little headstrong—a little spoileé—and a little misunder- standing all around, I guess. After all, you would not be of much account without a will of your own, would you, old fellow?” “He's werry wishus, sor! He'll give you a dale of truble, if no wurse,” the “osity. groom hastened to explain, earnestly solicitous lest a false estimate be placed on his charge. “I'll howld him, sor!” he protested, as Waldron would relleve him of further responsibility, “He's a ‘werry bad actor!” “What is your name?’ asked Wald- ron, looking down at him rather amusedly. ohn, sor!” * “Very well, John, you may trust your charge with me and I will return him to you a better and a wiser animal.” “It's not the baste I'm thinking of, sor! Shure, and if he niver cum bark, divil a tare wud John Flanagan wape. Shure he’ll cum bark arl right—the divil laves no harrum to his own.” “You have sald it, John,” laughed ‘Waldron. “On that basis we shall get on very well,” which conversation amused Cathalee not a little, but the finer point was lost upon John, who failed to discern humor in any form even remotely associated with this “black baste.” John had seen several men coms to grief in their efforts to this same animal, and knowing If from sad experience the temper ‘brute, he reluctantly released the to the -natured stranger, emed not to realize the trouble ' he was making for himself. ‘Waldron backed Wizard away from the curb, stroking his sleek and shin- ing coat, talking to him with easy fa- millarity, his every movement indica- tive of the confidence characteristic of a master and lover of the equine race. To him the horse was endowed with instinet little less than human. Indeed, he had said upon more than one occa- slon that a good horse was far more companionable than many & man, and as he had spent weeks on the plains and among the hills, a faithful horse his le companion, the remark might be regarded as something more than a mere figure of speech. He had broken and ridden horses ranging from the flerce and stubborn thoroughbreds, to the mongrels, even worse, lacking as they do the finer instincts of the truer . breeds, and are simply brutes worse confounded. “l am not surprised that you are reluctant to part with him,” he sald, stepping back and regarding the ani- mal with unfeigned admiration. “He is certainly a beauty.” “Thank you, sir!” she replied, with prettily feigned seriousness. “I be- leve this is the first real interest, or anything approaching enthusiasm, that T have seen you manifest.” The time had now arrived to proceed with the business in hand. The man prepared to mount, but was immediate- Iy made aware of an exceedingly well- developed and no less undesirable pro- pensity on the part of tha animal. Away went Wizard with a bound, and from a less strong arm would have freed himself. As it was, his antie was merely indulged for the moment, a vise-like grip placed on the reins just back of the bits exerting no gentle pressure on the tender mvuuth, quickly bringing him to terms, and convincing his equine understanding of the futility of attempting to escape. “You see, sir, his conduct leaves something to be desired,” said Cathalee. “I fear you will find him rather diffi- cult. That is really his worst fault— in other respects his conception of the proprieties is fairly commendable, I believe.” The movements of the man were now brisk and businesslike. Formalities had been duly observed, and the real question of supremacy of man or beast would now be settled promptly and conclusively. Stroking the arching neck, and running his hand over the shapely shoulder on which the veins stood out like animated cords, he ar- ranged the stirrup to ‘his liking, and taking a short hold on the nearest rein, ‘Wizard was suddenly made to feel the heavy hand of retribution. With no gentle movement the pretty head was brought around almost to the Ilimits prescribed by nature, #nd before re- Jeased—without which he could not well repeat his previous performance— the man wes in the saddle. It would be difficult to say which was the more surprised—the lady sitting on yonder horse or the Wizard. 5 As he was not permitted to go his own way, he would go the way his head was turned—with a vengeance. He received encouragement entirely unexpected, and - after making several revolutions sud- denly discovered that he was merely chasing his own tail, which, despite his most frantio effort, was as far removed as_in the beginning, all of which, to an animal of his spirit, was an ingly mortifying not to say monotonous proceeding. Mpreover, he was a_little dizzy, a little confused, and decidedly uncertain of things in general, except <A that the way of the transgressor —at least for a horse—in the hands of this rough man was closely allled with a cramped neck, a very uncomfortable mouth, and a promounced inability to follow his own inclinations; and as‘he was not such a very bad Wizard after all, ne allowed himself to be guided elongside his more sedate stable com- panion, admitting his defeat like the sensible fellow he was, and the two ambled amiably down the avenue. “Well!” exclalmed.Cathalee, express- ing surprise little short of incredulity, “however did you manage? I have cer- tainly r.issed something—I did not even see how it happened. I fancy ‘Wizard has not even yet recovered from the shock—poor fellow—he sesms quits dazed,” she sald, glancing sympatheti- cally at her pet. “He is not viclous,” apparently unconscious of the very pretty compliment. pald him. “High spirited and a trifle headstrong. There is a deal of human nature in & horse. Give him his head once and he expects it the next time and will fight for it— and a little more. Natural—the man does the same. We put a bridle on the horse, jerk his head, twist his mouth and perhaps beat him—a furthar proof of our very superior intelligence—and the animal eventually reflects the char- acter of the man—some horses resem- ble asses.” B said Waldron. CHAPTER XXIL Man’s Regeneration. “Do not flatter yourself, sir, that all this marked attention is a tribute to your good looks and magnificent phy- sique,” sald Cathalee, with a sly glgnce at her companion after several car- riages had passed and the occupants, nodding recognition to her, had turned their attention to her escort. “Listen! You'shall know how very conceited T can be upon occaslon—even to your detraction,” she told him, with great good . humor.. *“You must know that I ride in'the park with very few gentlemen. My mother has very de- clded ideas as to the proprieties in- volved, and the sudden appearance of a handsome stranger,” making him pretty salute, “as my escort, naturally excites some interest—not to say curi- I hope you are fully conscious, sir, of the very great favor you are supposed to be enjoying at the present moment. 'Now have I not fairly out- done myself?” she demanded, with en- gaging frankness. “I tear that I have only succeeded in confusing you,” she continued, more seriously. “You are trying to recon- cile my mother's permission to ride with you with her general attitude, are you not? Please do not try. I may as well tell you In the beginning they are quite irreconcilable.” “Please to deflne my responsibility. “Incidentally, of what conspicuous mis- demeanor have I been guilty?” he in- quired, but apparently not greatly dis- turbed. “I shall be perfectly frank. My mother does not approve of you in the least. Not because of anything you have done—her seal of disapproval was placed upon you in advance—but my acquaintance with you. You may trace your ancestry back to Caesar's time; you possess wealth untold; you may be a member of an ultra exclusive set in some quarter of the globe; but as you have not confessed to any of thes possibilities or their kindred my mother immediately assumes the lack of them. To me such things are Intensely shal- low. To be sure, I do not object to a well-defined position in society; nor do I consider an ancient lineage a mis- fortune; and one may suffer -wealth with complacency. My objection is to the homage and adulation paid to these deities—they are little less in the esti- mation of many—and to the desire to cast into outer darkness those:.who chance not to possess a heritage of something or other for which they were in no way responsible. I find interest- ing people in all stations, and the re- verse is no less true; but if the innal man or woman appeals to me all else is secondary.” i Life and vigor were in the very at- mosphere this golden autumn day and these two young persons in the robust- ness of their matured youth breathed it and were made light of heart and strong in mind and body. “That is Mr. Burrows, the great financier,” she told him, as a victoria of consplcuous, elegance flashed past containing, as was evident from the merest glance, two opposing elements of humanity. An exceedingly portly gentleman was sitting rigidly erect and well forward, his conspicuously large hands resting on a massive gdld-head- ed cane, his gaze of scowling Intensity directed steadily before him. Reclining far back behind her lord and master was a frail and diminutive creature upon whom the vicissitudes of life had weighed too heavily, and the slight form had slowly shrunk within itself until its flickering light seemed in imminent danger of being snuffed out by the first fair wind. “I am told that he makes thousands of dollars every day. Is it really possible? I have much sympathy for her, poor soull She seems so utterly and helplessly op- pressed by the sense of his overpower- ing personality that I sometimes think she would be meekly grateful if a mer- ciful Father might take her away, and have done at once what man is accom- plishing by degrees.” And thus the two men who were des- tined before many days to make his- tory in the world of finance were met for one brief Instant. Unknown and unheeded on the ome side: barely known and scanned with one quick im- perturbable glance on the other. “Bertie Holly!” she suddenly ex- claimed, as they made an abrupt turn in the road, and an effeminate youth perched high on a jlggly cart whisked past with flourish of whip, doff of cap and a reckless disregard for the dimin- utive beast pegging away for dear life, his short ¢umpy legs making a com- tinuous rat-tat-tat on the hard roadway. “I could not imagine what was com- ing,” she laughed, with a sigh of re- Hef, “and to think it was only Bertie Bertle is really very useful in his own peguliar way. He seems never so hap- .Df‘:l when pouring tea for a party of ladies. Whether because of his par- ticular fondness for our sex, or because he fancies himself more the man, as sole representative of his own, I have never been able to discover. Bertle is a product of our effete civilization—he would hardly thrive in your strenuous country?” “He would hardly be considered in- digenous to the soil. Such rare exotics seldom thrive In the transplanting.” “I fancied as much,” she said, laugh- ing softly. “I was curious to know the u{flsnlu form your expression would take. “There is a strange and lamentable from the endowed divergence divinely . man to the individual evolved by fon- tact with his fellows,” he briefly ob- served. “Qh, me!” she sighed, as a tightly closed brougham rolled sedately past permitting & momentary glimpse of a solitary fisure muffled almost out of sight in furs. “How can one put one- self into such closa confinement this lovely day? That poor creature Is afflicted with what I am pleased to term the sensitive habit.” Several times he had surprised a look of curious inquiry directed upon him by his companjon which he w: at a loss to interpret. “I'll confess,’ she laughed, when again caught in the act. “T have simply been trying to dis- cover whether you are interested in these sidelights I have been throwing upon your felldw creatures or—" f I am satiated with clvilization?" “Yes—certain phases of it—since you are pleased to place it in that way. I do not think you much in sympathy with the idiosyncrasies of our much lauded soclety.” “I confess my inability to take them altogether seriously,” he was compelled to admit. “I thought sol” she laughingly ex- claimed. “I am well aware that yours is quite a different standard. I confess I am rather curious to know more of that pecullar standard by which you gauge yourself and your fellows—and ; shall not be quite satisfled until I 0.” “I fear you will ind my regeneration rather a difficult task. I have -been too long removed from the influence of civilization to be at once made over.” “I shall find it very interesting—of that I am quite convinced. . I have strong suspicions that latent possibilities— perhaps very interesting possibilities— may lie concealed beneath that coolly indifferent exterior,” she declared, with interesting frankness. “Now there is & man whom I consider truly unfortunate,” she sald, with an assumption of seriousness, as a sorrel charger loped past bearing the indi- vidual in question. “The poor man is really anxious to take unto himself a wife, but to date his quest for the par- ticular woman upon whom he can be- stow his heart's affections has met with dire failure. No, he seems not unduly fastidious—even admits that he does not expect perfection. He is at a loss to understand why we, as a sex, do not find it to our aavantage to be less artificlal. Plainly, why we per- sist in climbing to heights beyond our power to maintain, only to dellberately cast ourselves down. He frankly pro- pounded the query to me, and I sug- gested that he try the effect upon his sensibilities of less ecstatic creatures —the mors common flber—the supposi- tion, of course, that the mean fall would be less and the resultant dis- parity materially modified. The sug- gestion met with even heartler ap- proval than I could have properly an- ticipated and I fancled that I de- tected a certain something which I promptly nipped in its incipiency, by declaring my own Irresponsibility and general unworthiness of the trust. I could not possibly appreciate such a very literal interpretation of my sug- gestion.® One need not necessarily suf- fer crucifixion to prove one’s theory— need one?* “Man’s vagaries and woman's theo- ries afford a broad fleld for specula- tion,” was the non-committal reply. “At last!” she exultantly exclaimed when, after persistent probing and eir- cumvention she had succeeded In ex- tracting a. desired bit of InfOrmation. “Now I have the key to the situation and I shall proceed to put the parts to- gether and draw my own conclusions.”, “I refuse to be responsible for con- glu:lonl drawn from such a source” e protested, good naturedly. “Of course you do! But what is one to do when you are approachable only on the Installment plan—when one i3 more curious than polite?” “Stil], it is palpably unfalr to thrust conclusions upon one; misconception, not to say injustice, may e~ 2 “The only alternative is a full and free confession when I wish to know things, otherwise I shall simply Dde compelled to draw my own conclusions, and I may—I dare say I shall—think very badly of you. So, sir, bewarei— your reputation is at stake.” “QOr rather, hangs upon & woman's fancy—rather a slender thread, I fear.” “Indeed, yes,” she laughed. “I posy itively would not dare tell you all the things I think of you even now.” she recklessly declared, and the sudden consciousness of the literal truth of the assertion caused her to blush furiously and to quickly change the subject. “There now!” she laughed, with fem- inine exultation. “There is the other side of matrimonial fellcity—a verita- ble triumph of the weaker sex by force of will and avoirdupois,” as a carriage drawn by a dashing palr of bays whirled past, the woman in this in- stance being the dominant power. “That couple will certainly bring me to grief some day. I have not the least control over myself whenever they ap- pear upon the scene. One Is never pre- pared for thelr coming, whick perhaps is well. They put in an appearance at odd and uncertain intervals, and b fore one is aware they have sald good- by and gone or zipped past in thelr mad race with something or other which seems forever keeping them at their best paces. You must know that you have looked upon Mrs. and Mr. Hannum—please note the precedence. “Is it possible? You quite surprise me! Well, then, she bears the more or less enviable distinction of being ons of our foremost clubwomen—goes In for reforms, advanced i{deas, and I don’t know what all. What particular move- ment has she inaugurated? Sir, you are most unkind to develop this sudden curi- osity. As you insist, I belleve that she has not yet achieved greatness outside her own particular coterie of followers, but she possesses marvelous ideas which in time are tound to be accorded due - recognition. At least that is the oft- repeated assertlon—in the meantime we are all very patient. She Is a very busy woman, but very considerately devotes Saturday afterncons to her husband. The implicit faith of the lttle man in her whom he loves, honors and obeys, and regards, as 1 am inclined to mightier than his Maker, Is beau behold.”