The evening world. Newspaper, April 29, 1922, Page 13

Who's Who the story. (AWNING luxuriously, Miss Dorothy ‘Forrest swept the blanket beneath which she had spent the amazing night te,the floor, With the same vigorous @ffort she reared her slender figure #0 @ posture which enabled her to view the outer world through the window. “Kn April-scented breeze crooned through the elms. An invisible cow commented bitterly upon the fact that it.was past milking time. Opposite the window a sign conveyed to all amd sundry the fact that W. Niblack kept a high class bakery there. The total representation of all and sundry within range of Mies Forrest's dream- justrous eyes sat on a chair in the le of the street, presenting an pearance young, masculine, pleas- ing, thoughtful and well-browned on . doth sides. He was as incredible as the rest of the scene. In her surprise the girl began to think aloud that Which immediately suggested itself te her mind. “Buppore a car should come along.” Qu won't,” the young man on the ebair made answer promptly. “And do you always sit in the mid- @e of the road?” “No, This is merely ebeervation post."’ “I see. What are you observing?” “You."" { Just like a story. have you been doing it “Since about midnight “Really! Have you been sitting in that absurd chair all night?" *"No! Most of the time I've been sndozing in the High Class Bake! “Then perhaps you're W. Niblack."’ “@he shrewdly took stock of his elothes, which, thoug . obviously old, were gmart cut and good material "No; I believe you're not. You don’t Jgok as if you belonged to this funny Ute village at all.’ “I don't." "Then why sit there,” Np otra as if you owned it “do.” “You own the place?" “Bvery bit of it.”’ yoke This house I'm in?” “Yes.” Then I'm much obliged for your Respitality. But what time is it?” E drew out a pale and mass- ive gold watch which he consulted with anxious con- centration. “I think bout eight.” _ “Think? Don't you know? Doesn't Ghat queer-looking thing tell time?" Not exactly tell. It hints at it."" “Why don't you trade it for an In- a temporary How long then?’ she suggested dis- “My great-grandfather wouldn't Uke it. He left it to me.” “Where am 1?" -{¥ou're in Pasqueet, Maine.” "Please say it again, slowly and in gpoothing tone."” ve Pas-equeet. The A as in aberra- tion—mental, you know—and the ac- gent as in mosquito.” “Mental aberration; I see, I won- fer if it’s yours or mine. Or is it dust part of the story—like you and “Oh, we're real! But so ‘is the . That is, it’s going to be if you'll help by being yourself, “Tl help. I love stories. But I'd Mke the setting to be a little realer we go any further." “Amything I can do to help"—— “You might begin by telling me you found a Sterling- Wright funabout in a ditch somewhere within erawling distance.” did. It is real enough.” hen Iran that car into the ditc ®eld Miss Forrest, speaking very Slowly and distinctly, “it had just @kidded from a country road within twenty miles of New York City, 1 fun off @ road in Westchester County vapd wake up in a privately owned town in Maine, It isn't reasonable.” “Now, don't jet excited,” he soothed. mustn't let”. "If you tel me not to get excited fend ‘that [ mustn't do things, I'll bawl} That's what they say to you 4m the hospital after the accident. {Did anything happen to me? Like con- eussion of the brain or ether or get- ung nee and waking yp in another “Wot that 1 know of. You look yuite ““And I feel perfectly sane, But then, Whey often do, don't they? Think wane,I mean. I don't believe fane. But that's another symp- tam, Douppose. Oh, dear; do tell me aaa Me.,, is just some kind i . Any kind you like. Here ‘We are in Westchester Countyy—— ‘ \Fou're being comforting it's. In the Story DOROTHY FORREST, a New York society girl whose car skidded into a Westchester County ditch, and who awoke in ‘ Maine”—and to an odd adventure in romance.’ INY”—at least that was the only name Dorothy knew him by’ at first—owner and sole inhabitant of “Pasqueet” who borrowed a thousand ‘dollars from Dorothy, on his grandfather's watch, fell in love with her, and put the romance in this story. {fOM MARTINDALE—who enters the story only as the recipient of an engagement ring which Dorothy returned to him after “Sonny ‘ —whose parents had christened him Alanson Wyckoffi—but that's Pasqueet, aguin. And it’s no use, either,” wailed. “I know every town in county, and there’s no such pla this, There just isn't! Where arc the people?” jone, We're the only inhabitants. It's a deserted village.” “Then I can’t get anything to vat at the bakery?" she asked hollowly “I beg your pardon," erled ‘Very thoughtless of me. Would a cup of milk be of any use to you “It would heli “Then, if you'll excuse m minutes, I'll interview the cow.” ‘o sooner had he disappeared be- hnid an empty cobbler’s shop than she bethought herself of the freshening ef- as r two fect of cold water. Presumably the kitchen would be immediately behind the room she was in, which was abruptly cut by a queer-looking heavy oilcloth drapery extending breadthwise across, not six feet hack from her couch, She pushed aside a corner of this and almost fell) into the land scape. The house had no back FATING herselé on the couch Do-othy reviewed the situation S from the point where she could be certain of having been her sane and normal self in a sane and normal world. Certainly Tom Mar tindale’s proposal at the.Country Club: on the previous evening had not been illusion, It was far too commonplace and sensible for that. Lounging in u qulet corner of the porch he had said her with that slow, broad, to ee placent smile of his: ‘Dorrit, I expect you and I had better call it a deal and get married one of these days, hadn't we? And she had answered in the same tone of easy and accustomed fel- lowship: ‘I shouldn't wonder, old boy.” And he had _ continued: “Haven't got any .grouch emeralds, have you? ‘There’ of a ring at''——- Which she had in- really’ engaged, that is publicly, yet awhile," and he had agreed: “All right; say when, Dorrit." After the important colloquy she had slipped away, telling Elise Good- win that she had changed her mind and wasn't going home with her, had got out her car and started for home, heedless of the imminent storm. The torrent of rain had quite bewil- dered her, She must have taken a wrong turn, then several more. She recalled crossing a small bridge which should not ha been there at all, realized that she was lost, tried tu re- trace her corse, and slid gently but inextricably Into a ditch, When the rcin let up, the wind came, Carrying her little searculight, she crept from the car Into the wild blackness until she came up against @ hard obstacle, It proved to be one of a pair of old stone pillars, marking an entrance. A far flicker of light- ning revealed them flanked on ei.her side by a thicket of cedars and o° 2n- ing up between them the astounding vista of a fishing village with a surf- boat festooned with nets in the fore- ground. A fishing village ten miles from the nearest navigable water! THE EVENING WORLD, SATURDAY, APRIL 29, But at least it was shelter. She »-ade her way up the straight, ordered street and brought up in the lee of what appeared to be a country-town store. To her surprise the door was unlocked. She entered and called. Nobody replied. Neatly set about in the space were candy packets, chewing-gum cartonr, and boxes purporting to hold innocent amusements such as lotto and check- ers; all shams. It was the ghost of a shop! HE waif had let herseif out and tried the cottage next door. It also proved to be open, void and lifeless, But amidst the chill neatness of the little front room was one touch of comfort, a broad couch covéred With blankets, Utterly weary the girl sat down upon it. She sank back and drow the soft covering over her “Do I really look as bad as that?’’ “Not by ten years.’ he present fashion in hair he explained, “a girl who looks nineteen is usually somebody's grandmoth: “Well, I'm not. I'm twenty-three years old if you want to know, and I'm not married nor go”. Recol- I don’t care where I ata," Dorothy Forrest had declared valiantly and drowsily to herself. “I'm going to Which she had promptly done And now this awakening! She re called having wished that she had lived in an of roma more ° glamour, Perhaps she had been miraculously transported to a trial of her wish. “Mi-i-i-lk 1" He had come back, heedfully bear ing a tin cup, @ large one. She handed it to him, empty after three slow draughts, across the windowsill. “It's quite wonderful milk,"’ said « gratefully. ‘Thank you so much. “It ought to be,” he returned, ‘tr comes from a wonderful cow. Sh earns ten dollars a day." “That's a great deal, isn’t it?’ she queried politely “It's more than any other member of the family earns.” This appeared to be an opening Are there many of you in the fam- iy?" “Myself and the cow.” I trust you have many “How cozy! tastes in common. He checked off the roster on his fingers. ‘‘Well, we both like the country, And are of philosophic tem- perament. And have simple habits. And rise early, And do our best for ‘asual guests. And try—By the way won't your husband be worried? I could telephone him if you want me to."" “Could you? I couldn't,"* “Isn't he within telephoning dis- tance?" “Not that I know of you think I'm married?" “Why with your looks and at your age I don't quite see how you could ha ped this long. e? How old do you think I What makes thirty or s vens! What won't a night in the or do to one!" she laughed. lection, abrupt and disconcerting, checked her. “Who is it you're not going to be marrjed to? Or are you?” x ITH: mingled amusement astonishment and dismay \ J she perceived that his hand, which still rested on the sill holding the tin cup, was trembling and that he was controlling his vetce with an effort Dorothy heard herself state flatly, “Well, I'm not,” and immediately wondered why on carth she had said it, What possible afiair was It of his? At his next remark she fairly jumped, for he had read her thought and responded to it simply as if she had spoken it aloud. ‘Of course ft Isn't. But if you only knew how I have always hoped that you “Always?” she broke in in. bewil derment ‘ at does ‘always’ mean?’ “Five weary years. "Old stuff,” said Miss Forrest scornfully. “You're trying to make me think that we've met before “You haven't," he tonceded, “leave It at that, and have another cup of milk from the ten-dollar-a-cay cow.” “No, thank you. But does she really ten dollars’ worth every day?" the girl “Oh, she doesn't earn her money giving “How else can none demanded the 1 ane world?" "Who ever said this was « world?" “If it {s,"" asserted the visitor, lool log about her, “I don’t belong in And I'm sure you don't. You don't pretend to be sane, do you?" “What does it matter,” he chal- lenged, “in Pasqueet, Maine? “What does anything matter''—she answered the appeal of his smile with a ripple of laughter—'tin Pasqueet, Maine? [If you could only prove to me that it is Pasqueet? “Lean out of the window, O Maid of the Doubting Heart!" 1922, THE EVENING WORLD'S COMPLETE STORY. By Samuel Hopkins Adams She obeyed, and saw, at the end of the street on a tree-encircled rise, « simple, little steepled ~—_ building “What a duck of a church!" she eried “Can you read the placard on it?” She read oung Folks’ Social Circle of Pasqueet, To-night at 8 P.M." “Are you convinced?" HE turned her eyes, pathetic with puzzlement, to his. He bent and kissed her on the lips. She drew back a little, but with ranger nor alarm, What did you do that for? neitt asked ‘8 part of the story I don't believe the story would “No; happen that way. “Tt won't ag * he murmured “What will happen to it when I 0?" she queried. “It will stop, naturally, come back again.’* “Suppose I don't come back?"’ until you “Then it doesn't matter. Nothing matters,"’ “You are the most improbable human being I've ever met. What are you?” “An inyentor."* “What kind of things do you in- vent?! “Light,” “That isn't invention ation iat's cre- What kind of ight lectric, of course I've got a ne,"’ he started to explain eag- ly, “to magnify an ordinary are light for minating-—-No; I can't tell you that. The mystery would be dispelled and th “And then? paused. “You mightn't ever come back.” “You think curiosity will bring me back? Won't it?" he inquired anxiously, “It might When will your inven- tion be completed?” Gloom overspread bis features, “I don't know It's like all inven- she prompted as he tions; it eats up money. You haven't got a thousand dollars you want to loan me, have you?" “Not in my pocket."* “IT suppose not,'’ he said, and sighed You're not serious, are you?" she prnanded, taken aback, ILLUSTRATED BY W. B. JOHNSTONE “Certainly Iam, Bosides,"" he pur- sued, “I'd give good security."” “What? “My wateh,"* “A watch that won't keep time! “It's tired,’ he exclaimed. “The poor old thing has been working for my family for more than a hundred years. Ask any expert what it's “And you really want a thousand dollars?" “TM make a million out of it," sly. n if T loan it to you, we'll be ona strictly business basis from now he ‘A rather not have the money," he ® returned promptly E laughed aloud. You want to In two worlds at r mind, My uncle is a col ector of antiques and If he says . UM bring you the once thousand dollars.* He put the pale and massive timo- piece into her hands, “Be good to it," he pleaded. “It's never been out of the family before. It's used to sleeping under my pillow; but I dare say it'll get along all right with you. The key is on the chain. If it ticks too loud, shake It. It could tell you a lot about my history, but it won't “Now you're trying t p curiosity again, I'm going If she expected him to make demur, disappointed, “Your car | all “| got It out of the I'll take you to It. By the don't mind being blind- do you? “Of course I do! How ridiculou “It's part of the atory,"’ he pleaded to In such persuasive tones that she gave way. “Oh, very well.” Carefully binding his handkerohiet across her eyes he led her down the street of Pasqueet, Maine, into the outer world, helped her into the car, took the wheel himself, and removed the bandage only when, after three minutes’ ride, they had attained the recognized main road. The girl rubbed her eyes. “The enchantment sald regretfully. “Not for me," he controverted, “It’s really Westchester, though.” “Well—one can still dream in West- chest He jumped out. ‘Au re- volr,"" he murmured. “T don't even know your name." “I'm commonty called Sonny." “But [ can't make out a check to ny, can 12" is over,” she “Td rather have cash." CARRYING HER LITTLE SEARCHLIGHT, SHE CREPT FROM THE CAR INTO THE WILD BLACKNESS. ! “But I don’t know that I could find your bewitched village again,’* “Very likely not. It's pretty well concealed. And I don't want you to, unless I'm there to guide you."* “Then how am I''— ‘ll be at this corner at 9 o'clock in the evening.” “What evening?" Every evening until you come,’* might keep you waiting foreve: “You might, if you wished. I've waited five years already." “More mystery. But I won't make another five,” she promised odby, Sonny."* ““Goodby!— “Dorothy,” she supplied. She held out her hand. He togk it, stooped and kissed it. NCLE BILL,” said Miss 6 Dorothy Forrest, the morning after the Pas- qeet adventure, “you know everything, don't you “Absolutely,” said Mr, William Ridgway Forrest. “Then what does a house that’s all complete in front and hasn't any back mean?" ullding trades strike.” “And a store that’s wide open with nobody tending It and nothing tn it but empty boxes?” “Business depression.” “And a man sitting in a chair in the middie of a village street?” “Speed trap.” “And that earns ten dollars a day but not by giving milk?” “Delirium,” safd Mr, William Ridg- way Forrest positively. Dorothy whisked around the table a cow rub her cheek “Wrong!” she crowed, every time.” “What |e the right answer, then?” “I'm sure I don't know.” "In that case, why—What are you doing in my pocket, Dorrit?" “Making you @ present. against his. “You're wrong Tempo- t extracted the present and gazed at it with a kindling eye “Here at least is something I know about Is It another riddle?” “It's security—for a loan—of a thousand dollars. 5 “Whew! Well, you know our un- derstanding, Dorrit.” “I kiow, You take my vagaries on trust. That te all right. Uncle Bill. The question Is: Is the watch worth @ thousand?” “With the chain I should say off- hand that it ts." He opened the heavy hunting case. “Made by John Hare in —h'm! Here's the key letter—1802. ‘Mynderse Wyckoff to his son, Julian, Jan, ~ 1803. There's a local interest to this, Dorrit. Few estates dre older than the Wyckc ff place.” He brought out a magnifying mon- ocle with which he examined the In- ner casing of the chronome! “This seems to be a faise back, served, delicately working at it with his knife. ‘The Wyckoff manse isn’t far from here, an old, matched-stone house, shut off from view by the elm» on the Middle Sound Road. Beem vu cant for years."" “Aren't any of the family left?" she asked carelessly. “There's a descendant knockin: about the world somewhere, { believe His mother was a Russian. He wus in the Russian army, and then in our army, I understand. The family used Yo be called the Wandering Wyckoffs But they say that the blood alwayy comes back to the old stone house Here we are!"* A slab of gold slipped from under his Hingers and fell upon the table After it fluttered a circle of pape: exhibiting close lines of print upc) the side which landed upward. “Modern enough, this,"’ commento? Mr. Forrest, picking it up and turn ing it over, ‘Oh!"' cried Dorothy. Her own faci younger, more girlish, more misobiey ous, met her startled gaze. “I didn't know that was there.” “is this business or romance?” aske her uncle quizaically.. “It's business,” returned the gi irmly, “I'm going to town with yo his morting, Uncle Bill.” “Well, it's your own money, Do, it," he replied as he handed her t! vrint and the watch. “And the secu ty 1s good enough—of its kind.” T 9 o'clock that evening t A Wright - Sterling runabu: pulled up at the appointe: The proprietor Pasqueet, Me. rose from the grass at the side of the roadway. “So you've come,” was all he sali corner, o by way of greeting. But his volc was joyous. “Yes, Aren't we going to Par queet?” y not? Isn't it part of the st--y any more? she teased. “It wouldn't be. Not to-night.” Inyoluntarily he half turned t, Ic~. over his shoulder, She followed his glance. There was a livid glarw in th. sky where he was looking and sh thought to hear a dim tumult and ) furaway shouting. ‘Is that Ught your wonderful {0 vention?" she inquired. “Mine? No, that Isn't mine," “Then maybe Pasqueet is burniny down. “Heaven forbid!” It's really and truly there still she persisted a little wistfully, “I! hasn't vanished from the map as it has from the atlas?" He chuckled. ‘You've been lookin; it up?" “Oh, I'm a regular bloodhound when I get started on a trail. What do you think of this for a clue?’ In the ray of the car's searchlight she held out to him the tiny portrait of herself. “Ab!” he cried. “You don't know how I've missed it.” He scanned it “Thank you for bringing it “Where did you get it?” she asked. “‘In some small local magazine, The Suburbunite, or something of the sort I picked it up om the steamer when I was crossing to the war. The picture was one of a group in some silly ‘Guess Who's Who’ contest, so it had no name. I carried it all through the war as an amulet,” he pursued. “Against being killed?’ “Oh, no. One expects to be killed in the air service." hat?" she asked, he went on, “my fam- fly have mostly gone to the devil. If I hadn't had youl mean" He paused, then continued with an effect NEXT SATURDAY’S COMPLETE NOVELETTE THE WILD UN BY BERNICE BROWN A Love Story of Blue Blood and Red Blood—A Romance of the Northwest | Woods