The evening world. Newspaper, July 21, 1915, Page 15

aly x ‘The Evening World Daily Magazine. Wednesday, July 21, 1915 (Coprright, 1906, by Street & Smith.) SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS. & famous jockey, fa fa) ae cee eae. was s Tosh oe fe the horses, came 1910 the Re sree be he'wes es ‘ue offer CHAPTER V. \ WEEK had passed—a week of new life for Garrison, such as he had never dreamed of living. Even in the heyday of his fame, forgotten by him, unlimited wealth had never brought the peace and con- tent of Calvert House. It seemed as 4f his niche had long been vacant in the household, awaiting his occu- pancy, and at times he had difficulty in realizing that he had won it through deception, not by right of blood. The prognostications of the eminent lawyer, Mr, Snark, to the effect that everything would be surprising!y easy, were fully realized. To the major and his wife the birthmark of the spur was convincing proof; and, if more were needed, the thorough coaching of Snark was sufficient, More than that, a week had not passed before it was made patently @pparent to Garrison, much to his surprise and no little dismay, that he was liked for himself alone. The major was a father to him, Mrs. Cal- vert a mother in every sense of the word. He had seen Sue Desha twice since his “home-coming,” for the Cal- vert and Desha estates joined. , Old Colonel Desha had eyed Gar- rison somewhat queerly on being first introduced, but he had a poor mem- ory for faces, and was unable to con- pect the newly discovered nephew gf his neighbor and friend with little lly Garrison, the one time premier dockey, whom he had frequently seen "the week's stay at Calvert House Re already begun to show its bene- lal effect upon Garrison. The regu- lar living, clean air, together with the services of the family doctor, were fighting the consumption germs with No little success. For it had not taken the keen eye of the major nor the lov- jag one of the wife very long to dis- cover that the tuberculosis germ was clutching at Garrison's lung: “You've gone the pace, young ma’ said the venerable family doctor, tap- ping his patient with the stethoscope. “Gone the pace, and now nature is clamoring for her long-deferred pay- ment.” ‘Tu: Jor Was present and Garrl- 80 +t the bot blood surge to his fave, us the forme: eted upon him, “Youth is a prodigal spend tunigt it in the major sadly. t isn’t it reditary, doctor? Perha; ‘J the seed was cultivated, not sown, eh?” diously cultivated,’ Doctor Blandly dryly. back to first principles, my boy. ou've made an oven out of your lungs by cigarette smoke. hale? Of course. Quite the correct thing. Have you ever blown tobacco , smoke through a dkerchiet? Yes? « Well, it leaves jark-brown stain, doesn't it? Thi what your lungs are like—coated with nicotin, Your wind is.gone. That is why ipeied ‘ ape so injurious, Not becau: le tell you, they are made eof | in y or tobacco, but because you inhale (them. That's where the danger is. ? Smoke a pipe or cigar, if smoke you must; those you don't inhale. Keep » your lungs for what God Intended them for—fresh air, Then, your vi- tality is nearly bankrupt. You've made an old curiosity shop out of your ,etomach. You require regular sleep— tans of it"—— “But I'm never sleepy,” argued Gerrison, feeling very much like @ Seecolboy catechised by his master. . I wake in the mornings, L instantly, faculty yes were riv- every alert"”—— ; “Naturally,” grunted the old doc- «tor. “Don't you know that is proof positive that you have lived on stim~ It is artificial. You should be drow: I'll wager the first thing you do mornings |s to roll a smoke, eh? Exactly. Smoke on an empty That’a got to be stopped. imple life for you. Plenty in the open air; live, in sunshine. It is the essence T think, major, we can 4 ut bath of life. this young prodigal of yours. he must obey me—implicitly.” Subsequently, Major Calvert had, for him, a serious conversation with Garrison. “T believe in youth having its filme,” he said kindly, in conclusion; “but I don't believe {n flinging so far that vou cannot retrench safely, From Dr. Biandly's statements, you seem to have come mighty near ex speed limit, my boy. He bent his white bi marded Garrison steadily Keen eyes, in which lurked @ fund of potential understanding, “But sorrow,” he continued, “acts on different natures in different ways, Your mother’s death must have been A great blow to you, It was to m He looked fixedly at his nails, “I understand fully what it must mean be thrown adrift on the world at the age you were. 1 don't wish you ever to think that we knew of your condition at the time. We didn't— not for a moment, I did not learn of your mother’s death until long afterward, and only of your father's by sheer accident. But we have al- ly discussed these sulfects, and only touching on them now be- cause I want you, as you know, to be as good a man as your mother was a woman; not a man like your father was. You want to forget that past Ife of yours my boy, for you are to + to be worthy of the name of Calve as I feel confident you will, You have your mother’s blood, When your health is improved, we will discuss more serious questions, rding your future, your career; your marriage.” He came over 4 laid a kindly hand on Garrigon's ” faouler. sy You in-. Can You For YouR VACATION _ JUST WHAT ‘You NEED FoR A REST And Garrison had been sile was in a mental and moral fi He guessed that bis supposed her had not been all that a man should be. The eminent lawyer, Mr. Snark, had said as much, He knew himself that he was nothing that a man should be. His conscience was fully awak- ened by now. Every worthy ounce of blood he possessed cried out for him to g0; to leave Calvert House before it was too late; before the old major and his wife w to love him as there seemed danger of them doing. He was commencing to see his de- ception in its true li the crime he was daily, hourly, committing against his host and hostess; agai: all decency. He had no longer a prop to support him with specious argu- ment, for the eminent lawyer had re- turned to New York, carrying with him his initial proceeds of rai fraud—Major Calvert's check for ten thousand dollars. Garrison was face to face with him- self; he was beginning to see his dis- honesty in all its hideous nakedness. And yet he stayed at Calvert House; stayed on the crater of a volcano, fearing every stranger who passed, fearing to meet every neighbor; fear- ing that his deception must become known, though reason told him such fear was absurd. He Atayed at Cal- vert House, braving the abhorrence of his better a stayed not through any appreciation of the Calvert flesh- pots, nor because of any monetary benefits, present or futures He lived in the present, for the hour, oblivious) to everything. For Garrison had fallen in love with his next-door neighbor, Sue Desha. Though he did not know bis past life, it was the first time he had un- derstood to the full the meaning of the ubiqitous, potential verb “to love.” And, instead of bringing peace and content—the whole gamut of the vir- tues—hell awoke in the little Billy Garrison's soul. The second time he had seen her was the day following his arrival, and when he had ed on Doctor Blandly’s open-air treatment. “I'll have a partner over to put you through your paces at tennis,” Mrs. Calvert had said, a quiet twinkle in her eye. And shortly afterward, as Garrison was aimlessly batting the balls about, ‘ling very much like an overgrown schoolboy, Sue Desha, tennis racket in hand, had come up the drive. She was bareheaded, dressed in a blue sailor costume, her glee’ rolled high on her firm, tanned arms. She looked very businesslike, and was, as Garrison very soon discovered, Three sets were played in profound silence, or, rather, the girl made a epectacle out of Garrison. ‘Her ser- vices were diabolically unanswerable; her net and back court game would have merited the earnest attention of an expert, and Garrison hardly knew where a racquet began or ended, At the finish he was covered with perspiration and confusion, while We opponent, apparently, had not be; to warm up. By mutual consent t ey occupied a seat underneath a spread- tng magnolia tree, and then the girl insisted upon Garrison resuming his coat, They were like two children, “You'll get cold; you're not strong,” said the girl, finally, with the manner of a very old and experienced mother, She was four years younger than Garrison, * strong. That's right, Always obey.” “I am strong,” persisted Garrison, floabing, He felt very like a school- boy. The girl eyed him critically, calmy, “Oh, but you're not not @ Little bit Do you know, you rickety? Very rickety, indeed” Garrison eyed his flannels in visible perturbation. They flapped about his thin, wiry shanks most disagree- ably. He was painfully conscious of his elbows, of his thin chest. Pain- fully conscious that the girl was phy- sical perfection, he a parody of man- hood. He looked up with a si and met the girl’s frank eyes, “I think rickety is just the word, he agreed, spanning a wrist with a finger and thumb, “You cannot play tennis, can you?” LEAVE MUDHOLE AT 9:15 LEAVE AT 7:15 ARRIVE AT LEAVE BY BOAT AT 1:05 come home? Su; ing I had been dead?” sane “Why, then, @ replied calmly, “then 1 suppose would have a chance of marrying some one | really loved. But what is the use of suppos- ing? Here you are, turned up at the last minut a bad penny, and here I am, much alive. Ergo, our relatives’ hes respectfully ful- filled, and—conoubial misery Mbi- tum. Mes condolences. If you feel half as bad as I do I really feel sorry for you. But, frankly, I think the joke is decidedly on me.” Garrison was ailent, staring with hard eyes at the ground. He could not een to analyze his thought: ‘ou are not complimentary, at pets 'So every one tells m “I did not know of this arrange- ment,” he added, looking up, a queer smile twisting his lips. “And now you are lonesomely mis- erable, like I am,” she rejoined, cross- ing a restless le; “No, doubt. you have left your ideal in New York. Perhaps you are married already. Ar you?” she cried eagerly, seising asked the girl dryly, “Not @ little, @rm. tiny bit?” “No such lockertoy you,” he “No; not a little bit.” added, under his breath Golf?" Heag on one side, “I thought she sighed resign- Not guilty. edly, “Of course no one would have ‘Swim?" you, It's hopeless.” ‘Gloriously. Like a stone.” “It's not,” he argued sharply, his Run?" Head on the other sid pride, anger in revolt. He who had ‘If there’ ny one after mi no right to any claim, “We're not “Ride? Every one rides down this- compelled to marry each other. away, you know.” free country, It is ridiculous, posterous.”” “Oh, don't get so f " she inter- rupted petulantly. “Don't you think I've tried to kick over the traces? And I've had more time to think of {t than you—all my life. It is a fam- ily institution, Your uncle pledged his nephew, if he should have one, and my parents pledged me. We are hostages to their friendship, They wished to show how much they cared for one another by making us su- premely miserable for life. Of course {spent my life in arranging how you should look if you ever came home— which I devoutly hoped you wouldn't. It wouldn't be so difficult, you see, if you happened to match my ideals. “It 1s small,” admitted Garrison, ey- Then it would be a real love feast ing it ruefully, “I wish Thad thought with parents’ blessings and property of asking mother to give me a bigger © ene, Is it a crime? “No; a calamity." Her foot was zo- ing restlessly. “I like your eyes,” she said calmly, at length, mouthed at rt. " he echoed, eyes far away, “I—I think “Only think so! Humph She ese foot Can't you “IL think I can Let me see your hand.” She took it imperiously, palm up, in her lap, and examined jt critically, as if it were the paw of ‘8 a8 small as a she exclaimed in dismay you could wear my glove, I be- lieve.” "There was one part disdain to three parts amusement, ridicule, in her throaty voice, up—a little, un- dersized, nothingless pea instead of the regular patented, double action, stalwart Adonis of your imagination,” ; aa? é added Garrison dryly. Garrison bowed, He was feeling “How well you describe yourself!” decidedly uncomfortable, He had + * sald the girl admiringly, never met a girl like this. Nothing ®®\1, 00, 5 MQi ble!” he condoled weamed aawed to her. She was 4 nuit cynically. nk as the wind or sun. ind or “And of course you, too, were hor- ou Know" she continued, her ripiy disappointed?” #he added after great eyes half closed, “I was awfully . a moment's pause, tapping her Oxford anxious to see you when I heard you With tennis racket. were coming bome"—— “Why? Garrison turned and deliberately looked into her eyes. She turned and faced him, her es; 1 am—horribly,” he lied Bray eyes opened wide. “Why? Isn": calmly, “My ideal is the Wark, quiet one always interested in one’s future girl of the clinging type.” husband?" ¢ wouldn't have much to cling It was Garrison who was confused, niffed the girl, “We'll be mis. Something caught at his throat, He together, then. Do you know, stammered, but words would not almost hate you! 1 think I do, I'm come. He laughed nervously. “Didn't you. know we were en gaged?” asked the girl, with childlike simplicity and astonishment, “Oh, ye! How superb!” “Engaged? quite sure I do.” Garrison eyed her in siilence, the emile on his lips. She returned the look, her face flushed, “Miss Desha” “You'll have to call me Sue, You're Why—why" “Of course. Before we were born, Billy; I'm Sue, That's one of the Your uncle and aunt and my parents minor Repaitie Our prenatal en- had it all framed up, I thought you fentiat us this charming knew, A cut-and-dried ses Are familiarity,” she interrupted scath- ing! Tie, then. Sue,” continued Garri- oe uletly, fastinnes your type, I Hee ned of better ma. " expostula: Garrison his face white, “aupponing, the, real ne—— I mean, supposing I Joun t'Ve, THE IDEAL TRip ARRWE AT BLUFFHILL AT 10/00 LUNCH AT COLD STORAGE CAMP 2 seen Beat It? ARRIVE AT STucicyi LEAVE AT 1:00 PM BY Kook ARRIVE MOSQUITOESCAMP AT 6:00 P.4 . LEAVE AT 8:00 UNDERGROUND FALLS AT 9:00 ‘ bs the os rove New York Brening World.) wright, 191% HERE 1S THE TRIP JOHN LEAVE PUNKVILLE 4 5:00AM. ARRIVE AT PIFFLETOWN AT 7:00 A.M. LEAVE AT 10:15 By STAGE COACH - ARRIVE ‘OLD SPRINGS II! 30 - LEAVE SY BOAT AT 12:40 A.M ARRIVE A FOGHIUL AT Noon LEAVE SWAMPTOWN AT MIDNIGHT or LEAVE FOUNTAIN LEAVE AT 6:10 CONE BACK JOHN HAVEN'T FINISHED THE TRIP terial. Now, don't jode — yet awhile. I mean property and parents’ bree uld not weigh a curse with I said curse—damn, if you wish, If you loved, this burlesque en- gagement should not stand in your way. You would elope with the man you love, and let propery and parents’ blessings"-— “That would be a good way for you to get out of the muddle unscathed, wouldn't it?” she flashed in. “How chivalrous! Why don't you elope with some one—the dark, clinging girl—and set me free? You want me to suffer, not yourself. Just like you Yankees—cold-blooded icicles! Garrison considered. néver thought of that, Y with @ laug! enough if I bad only myself to con- sider.” “Then your dark, clinging girl is you find is in me, cannot say I blame she added, scanning the brood- ‘rison, hed good-humoredly. “How you must detest me! But cheer up, my sister in misery. You will marry the man you love, al! right, Never fear.” “Will 12” she asked enigmatically, Her eyes were half shut, watching Garrison's profile, “Will I, sooth- sayer?” ie nodded comprehensively, bit- terly. “You will, One of the equations of the problem will be eliminated, and thus will be found the answer.” “Which?” she asked softly, heel tapping gravel. “The unnecessary one, of course, Isn't it always the unnecessary one?" “You mean,” she said slowly, “that you will go away?” Garrison nodded, “Of course,” she added, after @ pause, “the dark, clinging girl is wait- ing?” “Ot course,” he bantered. “It must be nice to be loved like that.” Her eyes were wide and fer away. “To have one renounce rela- tives, position, wealth—all, for ‘ove, It must be very nice, indeed.” Still, Serres was silent. He had cause to “Do you think it is right, fair,” con~ tinued the girl slowly, her brow wrin- kled speculatively, “to break your un- cle's and aunt's hearts for the sake of a girl? You know how they have longed for your home-coming. How much you mean to them! You are all they have, Don't you think you are selfish—very selfish ?' “1 believe the Bible si and cleave unto your wif Garrison. “Yes, But not your intended wife.” “But, you see, she is of the cleaving type.” “And why this h depriving your necessarily early? take a risk, her,” © leave all * returned y? Aren't you le and aunt un- “But It is the only answer, as yo! pointed out. You then would be free. He did not know why he was In dulging in this repartes Perhaps be the situation w: novel, 0 new forge that day, im- rting a peculiar twist to his humor. Vie hating himself, He was hope- less, cynical, bitter, Tf he could have laid hands upon that eminent lawyer, Mr. Snark, he would have wrung his accomplished neck to the best of his ability, He, Snark, must have known about this And his bitter- were all the he knew that my phe bantered. cared more than he would confess even to himself. It seemed as if always had cared; as if had ways been looking into the those great gray Tl part of a dream, t of the misty pas oc! ‘The girl had been considering bis answer, and now she spok: ‘Of course,” she said gravely, “you are not sincere when you say your primal reason for leaving would be in order to set me free, Of course you are not sincere, “Is insincerity necessarily added to numerous physical infirmities?" “Not necessarily, But there is al- he love to make a virtue of hey were ‘focussing point forever out of y—especially when th waiting on necessity.” But did I say that would be my primal reason for leaving—setting you free? I thought I merely stated it one of the following blessings attend- ant on virtue.” “Equivocation means that you were not sincere. Why don’t you go, then?” “Eh?” Garrison looked up sharply at the tone of her voice, “Why don't you go? Hurry up! Rowan the clinging girl and set me ree." “Is there such a hurry? Won't you let me ferret out a pair of pajamas, to say nothing of goodbys?” “How silly you are!” she said coldly, rising. “The question, then, rests en: trely with you. ver you make up your mind to go"—— “Couldn't we let it hang fire indefl- nitely? Perhaps you could learn to love me. Then there would be no need to go.” Garrison smiled deliberately Be into her eyes, the devil working in jm. Miss Desha returned his look stead- ily. “And the other girl—the clinging one?” she asked calmly. “Oh, she could it, If we didn’t hit it off I could fall back on her. 1 would hate to be an old bachelor.” “No; I don't think tt would be quite said the girl critically, , I think you are the mos! detestable person I ever met. I real pity the other girl. It's better to be an old bachelor than to be a young-- cad.” Garrison rose slowly. CHAPTER VI. 6“ ND what is a cad?" he asked abstractedly. birth and position by breeding.” “And no question of dishonesty en- ters into it?" He could not say why he asked. “It is not, then, @ mat~ ter of mora) ethics, but of mere— well" —— “Sensitiveness,” she finished dryly really think I prefer rank dishon- y, if it is offset by courtesy and god breeding, You see, I am not at all moral.” Here Mrs. Calvert made her ap- pearance, with a book and sunshade. She was a woman whom a sunshade completed, “T hope you two have not been quarreling,” she observed, “It is too nice a day for that. I was watch- ing the slaughter of the innocents on the tennis court. fteally, you play @ wretched game, William.” “So 1 have been informed,” re- plied Garrison. "Tt is quite a relief to have so many people agree with me for once,” 4 PEN HOTEL A ARRIVE AT Joy TOWN AT 6: fel AN By Maurice Ketten as deren mount a ultation swelled which he Ke not quite “Could I have been a the favat= the stretch.” She was smiling a Hittie: “Indeed? murmured Garrison, - jan al LJ i to Peguee & lM geld! ‘ tm-m,’ nottly. m, Gerri ison, you snow: rode Bis.” “Oh, did he?” “You. And, di know, was identical itn yours?” turned gad yed him eteadily, tinued drea: con! smile at her lips; “it's course, but Billy Garrison used my hero, We silly girls one.” hy we observed dare say any number RA aoe Garrison. Popular knew" Uke that always piques my curiosity. sang J suppose the major wanted it for ute; and like a eee the filly ht the book yet. I wonder who wanted yo nf it? Let me Lay or pg He ended here. rap! record of that jockey, and gy Garrison! mber him? never hears of him nowadays. wonder what became of him?” ‘hy—I—I think I" Ho was cut ge bj a toca” Why: I his name io be ow Bid Ve have heard Te Bu it. 9 who do don’t rs. Calvert walked slowly fn Sve," she called back. nd a — might get up an appetit: William, I on weight.” the major has reserved a horse for properly?” said the gir i use. He is mild and thorough. r; ing her mind weir asin iy to you in the stable. You must ide oh 2 tr ide Yew Gad Hding-elothes 1a thems Oe MNON excellent in Sue. Good-by, and don’t get thrown.” onsen heart was pounding atranely, His ao was dry. “Yes, t-faced cockney, Crimmins, yi was in, the stable when Garrison, in entered, Four nam was whirling over and over in his brain ¢ names—-Sis, Waterbury, Gi and Crimmins. He did @ot know wh: ning persistency, And yet how familiar y all seemed! Crimmins ly, “IL wonder what it wast A thing now, Make a breeze, reference, Hut then he hasn't seen Oh, it iy hay the photo- What 4 brilliant career he hadi ass | “Billy Ferrecet echoed eine the girl. wy thea, et you ever went “Ot course you'll stay for lunch, meant to tell you before this that “And so you think I o broken, Crimmins will tant him h, yes. But women can’t your ge pee T recommend an ly laughed a little, ‘Are you willing?” asked the girl 7a e said eagerly. riding breeches, puttee leggings, eto. they had been first mention bane Fene should keep recurfing with suc! ved him sir? Ho yusi ‘orse the marster said to ride, sir, It don’t yeh get on. ‘BE’ a@_alarum, clock. Ho, cal im Waterbury Watoh— artly because I ‘appen to ‘ave a Brotner wot's trainer for Mr, Water- bury, the turfman, sir.” Cimmins shifted “his cud with gt satisfaction at thi uninpariots ed flow of loquacity an humor, Garrison was ik animal over instinctively, his han running Een hock to wit! back again, “How old is ng t he asked absently. yea Ho, yu Thor- Gator from the Duryea out of Hambur, dare say,” she echoed ‘onmsibly the dark, clinging He eyed her was looking very innocently at ip nreantes. chipmunk. four. racing career, and an easy wi animal here i: fa} G annoyed by a beast of « Mr. Garrison got “In this instance you can believe them,” commented the turned to Mrs, Calvert inga aro you ing to listen she asked, ti carried. elder woman. “No; It came this morn ‘hose ra 8 to now?" Ing the book Mra. Cal- h ‘A matter of duty,” Jaughed the it’s not @ novel. ing. The major wishes me to assimilate it and im- Part to him its nutritive elemente— if it contains any. He is so miserably mg busy—doing nothing, as usual. it 18 a labor of love. claimed t leaves. when you've done? Thank you. here's Sysonby, G Picket—dear old Picket! pride! And here's ings." he girl, old Sis. Heels, Kentucky’s Remember But If we women ig) children, we must interest with in- year's record of the She was thumbin “I'd love to read it! over the May I Why, The Bis? The Carter Handicap"—— She broke off suddenly and turned to the sHent Garrison. much to the track up North?” was looking straight at him “[—1—that ia—-why, yes, he murmured vaguely, “ Tie took the book from he? unwill- “Did you rahe ing hand, A full-page photograph of Sis was confronting it long and carefully, him, He studied passing troubled hand nervously over bis forehead. “1-4 think I've seen her,” he said at length, looking up vacantly. “Some- how she seems familiar.” Again he fell to studying the thoroughbred, ful lines of the livious of his audience. “She was. Of course you all b race. ob- is a Southern horse,” com- mented Mrs. Calvert. “Rat poisoning? It never said whether she recovered. Was pol Do you know?’ lanced up quickly, and e Midge, and that she’ effect, now that you mention it.” His eyes were still vaacnt. “You look as if you had seen y ghost,” laughed Sue, her eyes on the = peoiie tree, “—- 1 ve been thinkin hed somewhat nervously. “Is the major going in for the Car- ter this year to Mra. Calvert Dixie? “L think #0. choice.” * asked the girl, turning “Who will be run— She ts the logical Mrs. Calvert was nervously prodding the gravel with her sun- shade. “Sometimes I wish he would give up all {dens of 1 “I think father is responsible Bard that, Since Rogue won Carter, father is horse-mad, infected all his neighbor: “Then it will friend, of cours again th! —— 1 ‘dont. think be. in New York. affectedly. laughed quiet, keen eyes were “Racing can be carried to excess, like everything,” woman, at length, laughed Mrs. Calvert. ty olonel will run Rogue 80." Mri ald the suppose be friend against The girl's “That is," she a dea spoiled him, Really, he ts nore than @ big chili Shi older the colonel will bring home with him this Me or” Waterbury you were speaking The girl nodded. There was silence, each member of the trio evidently en- grossed with thoughts that were of moment. Mrs. over the race: Calvert was rack annual, bse! & page torn out,” ake idly ved thumbing “Here ts it. Deust out of the seat occupied It himself, {uriongs’ in seven weeks, He never It was done so beauti was class, and never could be, did not try to take don't want to ride a cow, | want a Courtesy in the least. me that two-year-old SW happened.” " answered heard of that before somew! me see, Probably it got into ogre No, I cannot remembers * gone. I have forgotten. what did happen next?” “Why, father returned, saw Garrison raise his hat in answer t my thanks, and, thinking he had to. scrape an acquaintance wi threw him out of the seat. not recognize him.” “That must have been a lil tough on Garrison, eh?" rison idly. “Now. that it it seems as if T had heard tt Mr, Gafrivon. though 140 not ir. Garrison, him—he does not know me,’ mane at @ great rate. sor ae has gate at e it t mot” "Oh, very likely os fol hi peraae tae shifted the cud again to ‘his astonishment at Garrison's but her temper’s mu ride. nen ”*‘gaid Garrison shi ‘Have to wear blink: I.won't. Saddle rten the stirrup. There, that's right. Stand clear, Crimmins eyed Garrison narrowly as he mounted. He was quite pre- pared to run with a clothes-basket to pick up the remain. But Garrison was up like a feather, high on the filly’s neck, his shoulders hunched, The minute he felt the saddle between his knees he was at home again after a eee long absence. He had come ‘into is birthright. Mame filly quivered for a moment, laid back her e: id then was off. “Cripes!" ejaculated the veracious bout’ it Crimmins, as wide-eyed he watched cheerfully, filly fling gravel down the drive, She bit her lip and was ". seat like Billy G mn wonder,” she resumed, at ‘ he would like me to ‘ thank him"-—— She broke Lno- it risol ‘E can ride, that kid. Blimy it 'e di it Garrison weren't down an’ out I'd ing at bim shyly. be realy, to tyke my Alfred David it “Oh, well, you never met ro ‘is bloomin' self, An’ I thought again, did you?” asked Garrison. dub! or yuse—a what does it matter? Merely an —— of de fom pevicoi as appearances, Crimmine fortified him- jo & furl absolute sf self with another slab of oh pine. Again the cir was the Miss Deshi “It is queer,” she mo up on bay geld- ing with white stockin, waiting “how fate weaves our lives, along in threads, are in’ on the Logan Pike, the drive way of Calvert House swept into it. 4 time with others, dropped, and bo you know that you're riding interwoven And what a hard case?" tern they make! she said ironically, as they cantered “Meaning?” he asked off together, “I'll bet you're thrown. Is she the horse the major reserved of her little “That t thin ‘Ni said Garrison plaintively, ad ‘they picked me out a cow-—a nice, amiable co’ speedy as @ traction engine, and with as much action, This js a ttle bette: The girl was silent, eying him stead- fly through narrowed lids. “You've never ridden before ‘Um-m-m," said Garrison; “why, I suppose so. He laughed in “It feels so good,” he con- petNothing. ‘That's re samt it" 2 “| don’t understan P “No?” Umemem, of course It fo your secret, I am not caeying to to force — a SonBience, You your own — reasons for not risnin rr Me and aunt to know, ning. our lieved that Garrison threw the Gs Handicap, Never, never, never, ded. thought you could trust ‘me. You remind me of a pergon in & quis dream,” she after a little, stil ®!%; A ° watching him closely. "Nothing seems vf, don,t weld Clartison“reatieanile real to you--your past, T mean, You «What ix it all about?” j only think you have done this and "phe girl lavghed, shrugging that. shoulders. “Oh, nothing at all, He was allent, biting his lip. return of a prodigal. Suir | ‘a “Come on, I'l race you,” she cried good memory for faces, suddenly, “To that big poplar down changed, but not very wi he T there, See it? About two furlongs. had to see you ride to be certain. I'll give you twenty yards’ start. Don't | suspected from the start. You mit frankly that you ence fail off.” 1 “I gave, never took, handicaps.” my hero. There is only one Garrison.” yes, sudden Joy. ‘The words came involuntarily to Gar- rison'a sugprise. “Come on; even up. he added hurriedly. “Ready?” ‘Let her out.” The ‘big bay gelding was off first, with the long, heart-breaking stride that eats up the ground. The girl's laugh floated back tantalizingly over her shoulder, Garrison hunched tn the saddle, a smile on his lips, He knew the quality of the flesh under him, and that it would not be absent at the call. “Tote in behind, girlle. He got the jump on you, That's it, Nip his heels.” The seconds flew by like the trees; the apopiar rasbed. » “Now, (To Be Continued.) GOING AWAY FOR THE} SUMMER? Remember The Eve ning World prints each week a complete up-to-date novel -——@ week’s reading! Have The E re ning World sent be your sun |