The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 3, 1906, Page 3

THE SAN FRANCISCO SU DAY CALL In today’s Sunday €all ix published th third instaliment of “The Sagebrush Parson,” by A. B. Ward. It is a strong Western story, depicting the unconventional life in the sage- brush wastes of Nevada, and been compared most fav- by the best eritics with “The Virginian” = and | ather high-class literary pro- ductions of the day. The char- are all distinctly the hero, Clement an Englishman, be- ing particularly striking: The [ trong denocuement of the novel | vividly unfolded, and the author's semse of humor, ap- throughout the story, contributes greatly to the re r's enjoyemnt, and he will find running through the chapters a powerful plot re- plete with sensational scenes. “The Sagebrush Parson” wiil be in five issues of Call. has acters marked Vaughan, parent concladed the Sunday a joke the k: went women went ered - arour A FPOUGH, HEAV AFFEAREV ELV-BEOWN £ ke the tumbler. He were amons | AND AFPFPECACHLV HITL 5 H TONY/N ; call “a dopeT” HANGING : id 3 tumbler 304 TWO HANVS CEIMOONLV . : I WO - HANVO s Seiaa 7 FEVING g 1 } © & OVEF THL TL ? 4 1 you, ‘and to say that they will be very| She went on: 1 glad to have -you call.” 33 “Ha sang of.joy in overflow. | . “The Richmond Hi people”™ meant He sang the pain mankind must/| Mrs. Chisholm, both men knew, but the S ent ; | B 1 bripk. JoIer Wik Gryiug to ketp. out. dF U8 voice 362 3 o 1 . Widder |any betraval of the fact, and the younger | -FPeoplé needed to near of these, £o xh“[‘;‘ knew when Mike |with an effort stezdied his pulses before | Of them in a widy to stir the ‘heart, ’ h oy B 1 wil} | &rouse them te sympathy and action. She| g 2 cadunkered. |he answered, “They aré very kind: I will 2 . e h - i anankered. | avail myself of the opportunity, soon.” | herself had been'a different woman since all’ she thinks (s o Yo he sang to her. Life had been different, caedie : bad meant something at last. Under the P. 1.7 CHAPTER XIV. frivolity and carelessness and preoccupa- S itterly. - | s tion of thosé she met he had touched | No, F we take incur-| A Troubadour. something in her, had found men and B Katharine Clisholm ~ sat before her| Women eager with desire. sore with dis- | and when e 4 tappointment, dulled by waiting too long | courthouse | Piano, -idly playing whatever came . intd | ¢ "0t 8 Nl o Gag | te steg as - they {her head and ran down to her-finger-PS. | g1y this was a fine thing to do. to | . ip the she hardly knew .what. until she fell |, "\ "N N Gitive and disesrning, not 't take He, con- | upon. the melody ‘the young Methodist had | S0 % U8 4"} otcelr “but toward others.'| tinue N belong | Played that hot day.in -July-when -he (0¥ QRSSO CEt, Pl o e sing the'| e T and told her about himself s g of the people and. ietwho will - Sor new tlie appealing str: t their batties™? | it is whether they came unbidden, as now, or| 1 o S said Vaughan. |invoked—she might as ‘well confess it—by Along the, silent ways there came | a desire to pl & what they in. |iDfuénce she had-felt then. .It was notf vi e ewver |like - any. other - influence she -had - ot stowyer|ever felt; therein lay its charm, and, s to a degri knew when men . w it was not like that. She kiew when they were ! straining ‘every nérve to -win her ap- > proval, her interest and co-operation; it e oM 'we that of | was none of these. What was If she as 4 sort {could find the words to this un- And elf and laugh. | in this | get up a i tg for, his sidelong I'd | worded son, mystery. she felt she could uniock the at-did the notes say? - The how did it go? | W st strain { long the silent ways there came { A troubadour, a troubadour,” " g : she sang under- her breath. That was 1it, it Sagnthon) ot g0 i |the Voice, where there had been—silence; T emptiness. - She had not known, but one g o b himed mk':m-:—x does know till—afterward | = B ”‘mq | What dull days, what & meaningless ex of Turela Jus. | iStence hers had been! Breakfast. lunch- & eon and dinner, @ drive or a- ride be- | tween, books to 1’ over or get angry with, ca afternoon tea. Then, the . P‘}ffi" (lr}::y”a'uné-n in the evening: ~ Winslow,. immacu- k. 3 secing thet |1ate, fastidious, full of little flings at this o harae. |and that; Haverford, poor, tragic Hav- ; ne into | erford—no one v how tragic except f they | herself; dear, good Ned Wilkins, faithful as the sun; and Arthur, bored but po- es ean? ¥ - lite il s e mean?’ . the .Judge | “\What did Arthur really.think of the ife aatter, Judge replied | here? He would never - tell. - He would ¥ | Just go_on, with ‘silent. fenac until he o oialith bs |haa rolled up his - millions; "~ then he . e Lo would carry Mabel and Marguerite off ‘to | ion 1 ever got from |Europe and never come back. He had his | " rker | passion for his beautiful wife and his| ed. His laughter, his |love for the child. man's utter- | And Katharine had 'Elsie, the.fay, the . | elf, incomprehensible, elusive. *I' adore Barker | her, of course,” Katharine assured her- in the [Self. “But she never-was really mine— r doings. | any more than her father was.” ife, that hor- | And Emmeline, with her clothes and her 't see how you | cosmetics, that ‘was ‘the dreariest of all. “Along the silent ways there came were . at ‘the A troubadour, a troubadour,” €d his hat, in the | As out of darknese shines a flame, c bullding. He And in his hand no harp he bore.” - e Ane. Mret| No harp, no lute: she had furnished the = the middle” ang |instrument. Nothing but himself, quaintly - 1o cover the thiy |Earbed. Miny of Winklow's gibes had o tell-tale marks about | Pe€R about that long black coat. -On any. his . the corners of -his |ON¢ else it’ would'be grotesque. But: it eves e llor of his smoothly | Suited him. the palior of age, not | -ONLY three times had she seen’hi Yet That he was a refined gen- e could see. There could |fure. the quick movements, the haunting telon for sueh a mature in a |Pands. Ned Wilkins told her he had been thic. Why was he here? He | doing well.” The small brick church had miséionary, no zealot. Antipa- been filled every Sunday during the sum- s deepened to disiike in|Mer and the midweek prayer-meetings | \ghan for an instant, then suddenly |1ad not been neglected by the motley con- | aissolved into = curious pity as Haver. | ETegation he gathered about him. Sunwl went on, “Some time, when you've | 8 l!dheg;\;ou\l.idxn‘m‘n;ar :im preach; she here long enough to realize the hor- | W' 2 o take her. _\-m,‘ don ‘x realize them yet— |him. praised his sincerity, his enthusiasm, | What vou do, you won't attempt to put 1 believed in his ability to do a great work, | while she was away? o ‘words—then you will be grate- founder of the D. P. L for re- the teusion in any way that he started 1o Jeave, but returned, as d suddenly occurred to him nd Hill people -are back,” be_ suid briefly; “they wanted me to tell priestly side. that he appealed to her, mission, t00? | she ‘could recall perfectly the tall, slender But that was the. other side of him, the It was as the troubadour | Wias not that a Along the silent ways there came A troubadour, a troubadour. As out of darkness shines a flame, .And in his hand no harp he bore.” ce herself again undér the| A troubadour, a troubadou And as out of darkness saines a flame, Afid in his hand no harp. he bore. 1 He sang-of joy in overflow, He sang.the pain rmankind must know.” She played tne final bars: “And they who listened to that voice With it did mourn, with. it rejoice. | Over and over again sne played the melouy and sang the words, . | “What is that?” asked Miss' Emme-| line; - rapping at the door.and entering| at the same time, a fashion of hers that | did not. please. her : little thing 1 picked up some ti ago, returned Katharine careless! u'Tike it?” .« is ‘very sweet. the Mortons"? | Katharine dashed into the .izzicato | polka. ‘‘Haven't decided,” she called .out | o1 the uproar she -had invoked “It seems fo me we ought to inake the i effort,”” called Miss Emmeline above the | noise here are so few of- us."” | Katharine stopped playing and whirled around on the stool. ' .-to.. Mr. Haver. ford to say to Mr. Vaughan we ‘were at home and would be glad fo see him at any time.” “You-surely wouldn't stay at home on that * account!” exclaimed the elder sister. “Wiy not?” demanded Katharine. “He wouldn't ask or expect such a thing.” “He wouldn't need to,” said Katharine mischievously. : “Kitty! ° I . cannot ~understand how you've come to be so fascinated with | that. man—you who have been followed | by perfect mobs-all your life!” “Why do you think I'm fascinated?” . Katharine demanded, with a laugh. “Yaou show it in every way, exclaimed | Miss Emmeline. *“That night he was] here ‘to' difiner you 1lairly’ hung on his| words, .and after he cameé and stayed | all the afternoon you wére as absent | minded as you could be. I know. Eugene Winslow feels it,” Miss Emmeline added, receiving no response. : ““What-i§ it to Mr, Eugene Winslow it | 1 ike or’ dislike any one?' exploded Katharine. “He takes too much granted. | Yes, I'll.go with you, Em, if you won't | tease.” 5 ¢ 2 | What are you golng to wear?" ‘asked Miss Emmeline, brightenening, and eon. | tinued, without walting for an answer, “Would you wear my black lace with | the spangles if you were in my place, | or do you ' think the lavender-and-white | peau de soie is more becoming?" “You look very well in either,” said | if Mr. Vaughan should come | She did not want | to leave a message. Still he might not | come again for weeks, ana she wanted to see him-—she had a plan for him. It is impossible for a woman of Kathar- ine's stamp to be interested in any man and not have a plan for him. Dréssed for the afternoon, white, from head to foot, parasol to shoes, she came Are you going to - o down the stairs to-the cairiage. Elsie followed her, rhapsodizing. - "My t mamma is the most beauuful woman | the world,” she" chanted.. “And she wears the most beautiful colthes.” L Katharine turned at the door. “I'm a bit suspiicous about you today, young lady,” she said, looking up and down the tiny figure. ‘“‘You've been so sugary. Elsie, please be good while I'm away.” “Promise,” said her mother, holding | her at arm’s length. “Promise,” repeated Katharine. T won't kiss you till you de.”- “How good, mamma?’ demanded the eu, standing on one leg, like a contem- plative stork. “Do come, Kitty,” called Mabel from Ned liked Katharine, trying to appear interested. | the carriage. ‘‘She’ll be good, ‘won't you, dear? Marguerite’ll look after her.” “Will you promise not to turn on the’ water -in the bathroom, or—'" “Do come, Kitty,” urged Mabel. Katharine gave her offspring a final shake and squeeze, kissed her reproach- fully and let her go. “I know she's up to something, she | ejaculated as they drove away. ‘I can feel mischief all through her, like elec- | her l T dune,” said Nora Flynn to Mrs. Mat- | thews, the cook. It was half-past 6. The |children had had- their supper and were playing about the vard. “‘And Mary’s| | sent up word by Jerry that her little sister | Ellen’ has come out from home and she | wants me to come down. - 'Tis only oie | sister she has, all the rest byes.” ! “Run along,” said M Mat kind- ly. “I'll keep an‘eye on the voung ones. Their- mothers’ll be home by §.” i “Oh, T'H.'be back ‘long before 8, said | Nora, and took the ‘back way out of the | house to es¢ape notice. | In this she failed ignominicusly. Before | she reached the street shé' heard - Elsie call, “Where ‘are you going, Nora?" , - | “On an errand,” she called baek.. “T'li| not be long.” | “She’s gone down- to Mary’s,” pro- | nounced BEisle, “and she won't be back; she never is. What let’s do? | They had done very nearly everything, | but Elsie’s fertile brain would undobut- edly have devised further mischief had she not caught a glimpse of a tall, dark | figure entering the yard. | “There's C. V.!" she cried. “Come on!" and flew down the path to meet him. It was very pleasant, after days spent | with saloon-keepers and saloon patrons, | miners and cowboys and the D. P. L. to | be met by two -little with laughing | eyes and floating hair, to feel two. small | soft palms slide inte his, to hear two | childish voices pipe of what had hap- | pened since he was last there. t Vaughan's Celtic ancestry stirred ‘in | him with joy' over these representatives | of the Litile People. He gave himself up | unreservedly into their hands: They led | him into the small sitting-room—Kath- arine’s sitting-room. They seated him on the couch and climbed all over him. They took liberties with him, rifled his | | pockets, played with his watch: and he {leaned his head back among the cush- | lons and closed his tired eyes, submit- | {ting utterly to the spell of their fairy| fingers and the bird-like twittering with | !which they commented on what they| | found. | How long he slept ~ he did not know. When he awoke the room was dim with shadows, and far away the bell of his| church rang Z‘or the midweek prayer- | meeting, quite forgotten until now. He tricity. T don’t see how I came to have gprang up hastily, thrust the two ‘chil- such a child.” |dren gently aside and ran. ! “You were just like her,” said Miss| The bell gave its last peremptory | Emmeline.. “Ask Arthur. You kept us | stroke as he reached the church. He en- on tenter-hooks until you were sent tered without delay. One quick ‘glance | away to school.” about the room told him that it was| filled. “Look back, Kitty, and wave your |Wied- : i Every one turned as he passed up the hand,”. cried, Mabel, as they reaclied the | ,i51 on his way to- the' platform, and an turn in the road. | expression of. surprise, of amusement, ap- | The two children stood on the veranda, peared on - every face. Some of the | their arms round each other's waists, a | youngest people present laughed outright. picture of youthful inuocence and docility. | What could be amiss? The women in: the. carriage waved their | | He ran his fingers through his hair hands and blew. Kisses. The children re- |and brought them out filled with bits ot sponded. Then the two small white fig- ribbon, through his beard and found ures were lost to view. |more. He touched his forehead; it was “I'm goilng to be very good until- haif- |set with curls plastered down upon it in past 5, said Elsie as they went back into | a row. the house. It was then 5. “It was the children,” he said apologet- “What's going to happen then?' in- |ically, as he vigorously brushed away the quired Marguerite. |web of ‘the Little People. “We will sing “I don't know,” replied Elsie, shaking | hymn 48. curls. ‘’'Most anything. And they Ned Winkins, who had slipped in for won't be home till § o'clock.” {a few minutes on his way home, de- e | scribed the sceme to the Richmond Hill |friends. “If he'd set out to make himself |as ridiculous as possible he couldn’t have succeeded any better,” said Ned. “l woa: der who the children were?” - CHAPTER XV. Fairy Fingers. s that contrary-the.day, I “Miss Elsie’ | it was mentioned to hinv. |s | English Hom Katharine at once started for tae nall chamber. opening out of her own, in which ie spt. ~ Her precocious daughter lay on her little v te bed, fast asleep in the g round arm flung over her head. It seemed cruel to awaken any one. most of all ‘a child, from s profound and peaceful sleep, but Katharine was inexorable Elste,’ she said fke up, and teil me who has been: her Eisie nait lened uer sieepy eyes, and | immediately closed them ‘C. V. she murmured drowsily. and was apparently fast asleep once more. But her mother had no mercy “What did you do to him?" she asked sternly. “Answer me. You're not asleeps You needn’t. pretend you are 3 “F'm -not pertending.” whimpered the nild. “And it was Marguerite much as me. We parted his hair in the middle, She had half 5 of!"” ejaculated and his beard. What was he thin Katharine. “He wasn't e replied. too. thinking at all. mamma,' “He was asleep.” You were a Katharine have to punis| “Oh, dear:™” now I'H have Can’'t you puni “No, 1 shall w tomorrow. Yow ought to lie: awake and rémember what & naughty girl you've: been.™ aughty girl.” said “and mamma will ¥ou tomorrow Elsie set up a_ wail tor very verely “And nd worry. awake me tonight?” Katherine left the room. _An hour-later, in dressing gown and slippers, she re= entered the hamber. Calm. evenm breathing from the -littlé white bed -told how brief had been the culprit's vigil. “T'll write a. hote to him tomorrow ing and logize,” said to here And T k him to call in the son and se¢ me on a matter of busis was she in phrasing ti morning., that Eilsie’s pu ayed and finally for- &otten. ' Vaugl came - promptly and laughed away, the whole affair as soon as Katherine hers was impatient to reveal her plan. “I've been 'thinking." she said, when they had decided. to remit Elsie’s punishe ment. “that you might lecture. “I've thou rat; he said, “and even gone s¢ far as 10 make out a list of subjects.” ‘What, for- instince? “Well, I'd take for one subject.'An Old I made a study of & place the town where I was born, and the nol vned it sent the pam per I wrote to the Royal Historical Soei= ety. They made a member.” Are you an F. H * she qierieds you must put that in.” And F.B.A. S, FR M S, FG& and ‘M. V..I.” he added, with youthful complacency “Put them al} in!” she exclaimed, with enthusiasm. iave cards printed, giving a list of your subjects and saying. by the teverend Clement Vaughan, F. R. H. S F. R. A. S,’—what were the olhers?* He told her. She brought pencil and paper: and in- sisted upon writing out a form for him use. “Now don’t leave out a single title, she comanded. ~ “If you think of any more; put them in. Have your cards printed immediately and send me a hun= dred. Il see that they so to we righ§ people who are not too far away. Don'g you see,” she spoke like an elder sistesy or a mother. or a maiden aunt. ‘““Thig work will help the other. You can enl vour sphere and intefest people of wealthy and influence in your mission, at the same time you bring new life and vigor to yougp work bere by not .being tied down to i§ too clesely. You can ‘make both hands wash,” as Jerry says.” He left her, full of enthusiasm and hope. It was hard to be confined to the. people making up the body of his congre= gation. It would be a help to get away once in a while. And he needed the money. The very next day he took the fi ntinued oo Paze Four.