THE MILLHEIM JOURNAL PUBLISHED EVERY THURSDAY BY R. A. BUMILLER. Office in the New Journal Building-, Penn St., near Hart ma it's foundry. SI.OO PER ANNUM, IN ADVANCE, OR $1.26 IF NOT PAID IN ADVANCE. Acceptable Corresponicßcc Solicited Address letters to MILLIIEIM JOURNAL. B USIXESS C A HJ) S. 11ARTER, Auctioneer, MILLIIEIM, PA. J B. STOVER, Auctioneer, Madisonburg, Pa. ILEEIFSNYDKK, Auctioneer, MILLIIEIM, PA. iy. JOHN F. IIARTER, Practical Dentist, Office opposite the Methodist Church. MAIN STREET, MILL IIEIM PA. D. H. MINGLE^ Physician & Surgeon Glfiice on Main Street. MILLHEIM, PA. GEO. L. LEE, Physician & Surgeon, MADISONBURG, PA. Office opposite the Public School House. \V. HAFER Surgeon & Dentist. Offiee on Penn Street, South of Luth. church MILLIIEIM, PA. J. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Havinq had many year's of experience. the public can expect the best icork and most modern accommodations. Shop 2 doors west Millheim Banking House. MAIN STR EET, MILLHEIM, PA. Q_EORGE L. SPRINGER, Fashionable Barber, Corner Main & North streets, 2nd floor, Millheim, Pa. Shaving, Haircutting, Sharapooning, Dying, &c. done in the most satisfac tory mauner. Jno.H. Orvis. C. M. Bower. Ellis L.Orvis. QRVIS, BOWER & ORVIS, Attorneys-at-Law. BELLEFONTE, PA., Office in Woodings Building. D. H. Hastings. W. F. Reeder TJASTINGS & BEEDER, Attorney s-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Allegheny Street, two doors east of the office ocnpied by the late firm of Yocum Hastings. J C. MEYER, Attorney-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. At the Office f Ex-Judge Hoy. C. HEINLE, Attorney-at-Law BELLEFONTE, PA. Practices in all the courts of .Centre county Special attention to Collections. Consultations in German or English. t, A.Beaver. J. W.Gephart. "g HAVER & GE I'll ART, ' Attorneys-at-Law, BELLEFONTE, PA. Office on Alleghany Street, North of HlghStree JGROCKEBHOFF HOUSE, ALLEGHENY ST., BELLEFONTE, PA. O, G. McMILLEN, PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Room on First Floor. Free Buss to and from all trains. Special rates to witnesses and jurors. QUMMINS HOUSE, BISHOP STREET, BELLEFONTE, PA., EMANUEL BROWN, PROPRIETOR. House newly refitted aud refurnished. Ev erything done to make guests comfortable. Rates moderate. Patrouage respectfully solici ted. M y gT. ELMO HOTEL, W'M. 317 & 319 ARCH ST., PHILADELPHIA. RATES REDUCED TO $2,00 PER DAY. The traveling public will still find at this Hotel the same liberal provision for their com fort. It is located in the immediate centres of business and places of amusement and the dif ferent Rail-Road depots, as well as all parts o t the city, are easily accessible by Street Cars constantly passing the doors. It odors special inducements to those visiting the city for busi ness or pleasure. Your patronage respectfully solicited. Jos. M. Feger. Proorietor. R. A. BUMILLER, Editor. VOL. 59. JTRVIN HOUSE, (Most Central Hotel In the city.) CORNER OF MAIN AND JAY STREETS, LOCK IIAVEN, FA. S.WOODS CALDWELL PROPRIETOR. Good Sample Rooms for Commercial Travel ers on flrst floor. pEABODY HOTEL, 9thSt. South of Chestnut, PHILADELPHIA. One Square South of the New Post Otliee, one half Squire from Walnut St. Theatre and in the very business centre of the city. On the American and European plans. Good rooms fiom 50et8 to S3.IH) per day. Remodel ed and newly furnished. W PAINE, M. D., 46-ly Owner & Proprietor. p H.MUSSER, ' JEWELER, Watches, Clocks, Jewelry, &c. All work neatly and promptly Exe cuted. Shop on Main Street, Millheim, Pa. JpENNSYLVANIA STATE COLLEGE. FAnL TERM BEGINS SEPTEMBER 10, IfSl Examinations for admission, Seutember 9. This institution is located in one of the most beautiful and healthful spots of the entire Alle gheny region. It is open to students of both sexes, and offers the following courses of study: 1. A Full Scientific Course of Four Years. 2. A Latin Scientific Course. 3. The following SPECIAL COURSES, of two years each following the first two years of the Scientific Course (a) AGRICULTURE ; (b) NATURAE HISTORY: (c) CHEMIS TRY AND PHYSICS; (d) CIVIL ENGIN EERING. , 4. A short SPECIAL COURSE in Agriculture. 5. A short SPECIAL COURSE in Chemistry. 6. A reorganized Course in Mechanicie Arts, combining shop-work with study. 7. A new Special Course (two years) in Litera ture and Science, for Young Laities. 8. A Carefully graded Preparatory Course. 9. SPECIAL COUSES are arranged to meet the wants of individual students. Military drill is required. Expenses for board and incidentals very low. Tuition free. y~ung ladies under charge of a competent lady 1 rinci- For Catalogues, or other information?dJress GEO. W. ATHEKTON.LL. D., PiUtsIDKNT lyr STATE COLLEGE. CENTRE CO., Pa. A T Mrs. Sarah A. Zeigler's BAKERY, on Penn street, south of race bridge, Mil lieim, Pa. Bread, Pies & Cakes of superior quality can be bought at any time and in any quantity. ICE CREAM AND FAN CY CAKES - or Weddings, Picnics and other soci A gatherings promptly made to order. Call at her place and get your sup plies at exceedingly low*prices. 34-3 m ABSOLUTELY! THE BEST STOKE! G. A. HARTER'S GROCERY Main St., opposite Bank, Millheim,Pa —* HBBreftH iIiMBII Finest Groceries in the market. Choice Confectioneries J F BESH OYSTERS ! Best Tobacco and Cigarsj COUNTRY PRODUCE TAKEN AT THE HIGHEST HOME MARKET PRICES! Call and get Low Prices! TERMS CASH I MILLHEIM, PA., THURSDAY, MARCH 26., 1885. JOHN'S DAUGHTER, "You will c.we for my child ? You will not let my little one suffer ?" My old friend and college chum, John Harmon said this as he wrung my hand hard. 1 repeated my promise that in my own homenest, where there was a nut set y full of little one'. Susie Har mon should hold a daughters place. We were standing upon the warf waiting for the signal that it was time for my friend to step aboard an out going California steamer. He had lost his wife within the year, and soon af ter was beggared by a lire that totally destroyed the cotton mills in which he had held the position of superinten dent for ten years. With his home desolate, his purse eranty, he resolved, as many a man had done betore him to seek his fortune in the modern El Dorado, and dig for gold in her mines. The only drawback to this scheme was the difficulty of taking his thtee year-old daughter, who had been in the care of hired nurses since her mother died. I, who shared every thought of John's mind, talked with my wife, and found her eagerly willing to take care of the little one. "I am sure I loved Mary as well ns vou loved John," she said, there is no one can have a stronger claim up on the child than we have." So,sure of her cordial welcome in our nursery, I made John the offer of a home for his little Dne, and it was ac cepted as lovingly as it was offered. This care removed, ray friend hastened his preparations for departure,and I ac companied him to New York and saw him off. The next morning I returned home to find Susie almost inconsolable, cry ing perpetually for "papa to come to Susie." My wife was distracted at the failure to comfort tins childish sorrow, and our own three children looked on won deringly at "Naughty Susie, who cried and pried, after mamma told her to be qui et," Fortunately, Susie was accustomed to see me, to snuggle in my arms when I talked with John, to associate me with her father, and she allowed me to comfort her. In time this viol mt grief wore away, and the child became very happy in our care. My business, that of a hardware merchant, being very prosperous, we did not feel the addi tional expense of the child's support a burden ; and a? the years wore by, she was as dear to us as our own little ones. But she understood always that she was not our child, but had a dear fath er who loved her fondly, and was away from her only to make a fortune for her. As soon as she was old enough she had her father's letter's read to her, and her first effort at penmanship where letters to "Papa." John wrote often for ten years, re counting his varying success, some times sending money to buy presents for Susie. He wa9 winning fortune slowly, not at the mines, where his health broke down, but in the employ of a San Francisco merchant, and some speculations in real estate. He was not a rich man, he wrote, after an absence of ten years, but pros pering, when he purposed paying us a visit. He wrote hopefully of seeing his child, perhaps of taking her home with him, setting no definite time, but lead ing us to expect soon to see him. Then his letteis ceased, and he did not come. I wrote again and again. Susie wrote. No answer came to either one or the other. We did not know the name of his employer, and after nearly two years more passed we sadly thought lie must be dead. It might have seemed to many un natural for Susie tJ grieve so deeply as she did for a father almost unknown to her in reality, but she was a girl of most sensitive feelings, with a tender, loving heart, and we had always kept her father's name beforo her, striving to win him a plaoe in her fondest af fection. That we had succeeded only too well was shown by her sorrow, when week after week passed, and there was no good news from Califor nia. When we had really lost all hope, it became Susie's great pleasure to sit be side me and ask me again and again for the stories I remembered of her fath er's boyhood and youth, his college life, our many excursions, and, above all, of his marriage and the gentle wife and mother so early called to heaven. She dearly loved those talks, and no memories were more precious than my description of her father's pain in part ing from her, and his desire to win money in California only for her. Time softened Susie's grief, and at eighteen she was one of the sweetest, most winning girls I ever saw. With out being a wonder of erudition she was well educated, had a fair musical A TAPER FOR TJSK HOME CIRCLE talent and a sweet,weU-cultivated voice She was tall and graceful, and when she was Introduced to society with Jo anna, my handsome, brunnette daugh ter, both be came popular. Albert and Will, my boys, were old er than the girls ; Albeit in business with me, and Will at college, the win ter when Joanna and Susie made their debut. It would take me quite too long to tell of the pleasure of the young folks during this winter, but Joanna was won from us bv a Cuban gentleman, and Susie became, if possible dearer than ever. Spring had come, when one evening Albert came into my library, where I was plodding over a book,haying work ed busily all day. He fnssod about the books in a nervous way, quite unlike his usuai quiet manner and finally said : ♦'Father, vou have often said Susie is as dear to you as oue of your own chil dren." I looked up amazed at this opening speech. "Well ?" I asked. "Will you make her your daughter in iact by giving her to me for a wife ?" Dear ! dear ! To think I bad been so blind. Susie bad in truth become so much one of our children that 1 was as much astouished as if Albert had fallen in love with Joanna. But I soon found, when Susie's blush ing face was hidden upon my breast, that she, too, had given away her heart, and I was only too well pleased that uo stranger bad won the precious gift. In September they were married, my son and the child of our adoption, and I gave them a house next our own for a home, having old-fashioned ideas about 9uch matters, and believing it is better for voung married people to live by themselves and assume housekeep ing cares. The new home was a gem of neat ness under Susie's dainty fingers, and the spirit of perfect love kept it ever bright. Having been brother and sis ter for so many years, Albert aud Susie thoroughly understood eacli other's dispositions and I have never known domestic happiness more perfect than theirs. Susie's first child, named for her father, John Harmon, was two years old, when the mail brought me a letter in an unknown band from Cincinnati. I opened it, and upon a large >heet of paper found written, in a scrawling, uneven hand, three lines : "DEAR SIR : Will you come to me H t 4S M streit without letting Susie know. JOHN HARMON." At first I believed it was a hoax, John had written a bold, clerk-like hand,clear as print. This was a scrawl, struggling all over the paper, uneven as the first penmanship of a little child. But the more I pondered over the matter the more I was inclined to obey the summons. So, pleading business, saying nothing of the letter to any one, I left home by the night train for Cin cinnati. No. 47 M street I found to be a boarding house for the poorest class es, and in a shabby room, half furnish ed, 1 found an aged worn man, per fectly blind, who rose to greet me, sob bing. "Fied, I knew you would come.". "Why, old friend," I said,when sur prise a"d emotion would let me speak, "how is tnis t We thought you were dead v "Does Susi M nk so ?" "Yes.. We all gave you up." "Do not nndeceive her, Fred. I meant to come home to her rich, able to gratify every desire of her girlish heart. Do not let her know that only a blind, sick wreck is left for her to call father. Tell me of her, Fred. Is she well V Is she happy ?" "She is both, John—a happy wife and mother." "Married 1 My little Susie ?" "Married to Albert, my son,of whom you may judge when I tell you folks say he is his father oyer again." '•I would ask no more for my child," said John. Then, in answer to my anxious ques tions, he told me the story of the years of silence. He was preparing to pay us his promised visit when a great fire bioke out in San Francisco, that ruin ed his employer for the time.and swept away a row of building uninsured, in which John had invested all his sav ings. Worst of all, in trying to save the books of the firm, John was injured on the head by a falling beam, and lay for months in a hospital. When he so far recovered as to be discharged, his mind was still impaired, a< d he could not perform the duties of clerk or su perintendent, while his health was too feeble for manual labor. "I struggled for daily bread alone, Fred," he told me, "and when I re ceived your loving letters, and dear Su sie's, I would not write, hoping to send better tidings if I waited for a turn of fortune's wheel. It never came, Fred. I left California three years ago, and came here, where I was promised tiie place of foreman in a great pork-packing house. I saved a little money and was hoping lor bet ter times when my health failed again, and this time with It ray eye-sight. I Imped against hope, spending my sav ings to have the best advice, and not until I was pronounced incurable would I write to you. I want you to take me to an asylum, Fred ; and, as I must be a pauper patient, I must go to my own town. You will take me, Fred ?" "I will take you to an asylum. John," I promised, "And Susie ? You will keep ray se cret. You will not disturb Susie's happiness ?" "I will not trouble Susie's happi ness," I said. Yet as hour later I was writing to Susie, and I delayed our departure from Cincinnati till an answer came. It was the answer I expected from the tender loving heart, but I said nothing of it to John. Caring tenderly for his comfort, I took him on his way homeward. It was evening when we reached the rail way depot of our own town, and as we had been long cramped in the car-seats, I proposed to walk home. "Is it not too far off ?" John asked. "I thought the asylum was a long way from here." "Oh, the whole place is changed from the little village you left !" I an swered ; "We have a great town here now, and your asylum is not very far from here." He let me lead him then, willingly enough, and we were not long in reach ing Susie's home. She was alone in the cheerful sitting-room as we entered, but obeyed my motion for silence, as I placed Johu in a great arm-chair, after removing his hat and coat. He looked wretchedly old and worn, and his clothes were shabby, yet Susie's soft eyes, misty with tears, had only love in their expression as she waited permis sion to speak. "John," I said to him, "if I had found you in a pleasant home, happy and prosperous, and I had known that Susie was poor, sick and blind, would it have Deen a kindly act for me to hide her misfortune from you, and passing by your home, to have placed her in the care of charitable strangers V" "Fred, you would never have done that 1" he said, much agitated. "Never !" 1 answered. "You are right. But you, John, ask me to take from Susie the happiness of knowing a father's love, the sweet duty of caring for a father's affliction." "No, no Fred, I only ask you to put no burden upon her young life, to throw no cloud over her happiness. I am old aud feeble ; I shall trouble no one long." "And when you die, vou would de prive your only child of the satisfact ion of ministering to your wants—take from her her father's blessing." He turned his sightless eyes toward me, his whole face working convulsive ly. ♦'Where is she, Fred ? You would not talk so if you did not know my child still loves her father." "I am here, father," Susie said ; and I stole softly away, as John clasped his child in his arms. Albert was in the dining-room with Johnnie, and I was chatting still with him, when I heard John calling : "Fred 1 Fred 1" I hurried to the room to find him struggling to rise, Susie vainly trying to calm him. "I want my child !" he cried, de liriously, "you promised me my child 1" I saw at a glance that the agitation of the evening had brought back the wandering mind, of which he had told me. Albert and I released Susie, who left us quickly. Some finer instinct than we posses sed guided her, for she returned with Johnnie, and whispering him to be very good and kiss grandpapa, she put him in her father's arms. In a second his excitement was gone, and he fondled the curly head, while Johnnie obedient ly pressed his lips upon the withered cheek. So, in a little time, thev fell 1 asleep, Johnnie nestled in the feeble arms, and the withered fac> drooping upon the golden curls. We watched them silently, till we saw a shadow pass over John's face, and a change settled there that comes but once in life. Gently Albert lifted the sleeping child, and canied him to the nursery, while Susie and I sat Uside the arm chair. "Uncle Fred," she whispered, "Al bert will go for a doctor. But may I waken him '< Let him speak to me once more 1" Even as she spoke John opened his eyes. All the wild look was gone from them as lie groped a moment till Susie put her bauds in his. Then a heaven ly smile came upon the wasted lips,and he said softly, tenderly : "Susie, my own little child, Susie." And with the name on his lips John's spirit went to seek an eternal asylum, iu which there will be no more poverty, pain or blindness. Terms, SI,OO per Year, in Advance. A Terrible Adventure. 4 1 have had such an adventure,' ex claimed Mrs. Badger as she flounced in to the sitting room, sank into an easy chair and gasped for breath. 1 What is the matter, my dear 9' in. quired Mr. Badger a* he laid down his newspaper to listen. 'That is a nice way to si>eak to a wo man after she lias just seen a sight, that curdled her blood Oh, my !' exclaim ed the worthy lady as she covered her pink face with her terra cotta gloves, totally oblivious for the moment of the fact that the two colors formed a very inharmonious contrast. 'I can see it before me now. I don't believe I will ever forget it, ever.' •Compose yourself, my dear, andftell me all about it.' 4 That is th* way with you men/ re sponded Mrs. Badger as she removed her hands from her face and began un buttoning her gloves. 'You have no feeling. You don't know what senti ment is. If you had passed through what I have to-day the first intimation I would have of it would be au unusual odor about your breath. You would go into a saloon just as if nothing had happened and talk the matter over with a friend, and by the time you got home you would forget all about it. Compose myself, indeed, I know I shan't recover from the shock for six weeks, if ever I will.' Here the excited matron paused to allow her husband an opportunity to interrupt her again, but that individu al wisely refrained advan tage of it. 'When I got through my work this noon—you know we had company for lunch ? Mrs. Simpson and her daught er were here. How I detest that wo man 1 I know she came here on pur pose to make mean remarks about our new silverware. By the way, Isaac, that silverware is wearing very badly. The plating has been rubbed off in three places on our coffee-pot already. That comes of bu/ing your table ware at a tea store. I always knew you were no judge of such things. The next time perhaps you will let me buy stuff for my own house. But you always think you know so much about some things. No one can teach you anything. If you would take your wife's advice once or twice a year, instead of that miserable Jim Wilson's, it would be better for you—and me, too. I suppose now you will go and tell that odious man just what I have said. That is the way you always do. You know you do. The last I told you tha truth about him you went right off and repeated it *o him like a little, leaky schoolboy. You needn't try and deny it, for Mrs. Wilson came over here the next day and made the most scandalous statements about you I ever heard, and I know she onlydid it to get even. Oh,if I was only a man I'd show you some things that you ought to know.' Here Mrs. Badger stopped for breath and glanced across the lire place at her unfortunate husband in away that would have chilled the marrow in the bones of a less experienced Benedict. 'Well, my dear,' suggested Mr. Bad ger, with a faint sigh, 'as you were a bout to say, Mrs. Simpson called.' 'That's right,' snapped Mrs. Badger, viciously. 'That's right. Since you were down town and saw the terrible sight, suppose you finish the story. That's right. Go ahead and tell me all about it. I'm impatient to hear.' 'I didn't intend to interrupt you, my dear,' responded Mr. Badger, wearily. 'Don't 'my dear' me,sir Please don't Well, since you don't know anything a bout it and are wil'ing to listen to me relate it I will continue. Mrs. Simp son and her freckled-face Miss Simpson came to lunch. We had pickled salmon, hot biscuits—you know what delicious biscuits Mary makes ? It is the only good thing about the baggage. She does everything else terribly. three saucers this morning while she was trying to listen to what I was say ing to you about Jennie Parsons while we were in the pantry. I thinkl shall discharge her. She is too careless for any use, but then she is cheap and i knows our ways, and Heaven knows i what I should do with a new girl, but I suppose you would be glad to have a change—you don't haveaoyof the work tojdo. You men are so selfish. I wish I was a man.' 'So do I, my dear,' observed Mr. Bad ger. 'Then I might possibly hear the end of this story some time this year.' 'That's right, Mr. Badger; when you can't treat me cruelly and neglect me, abuse me. That's the way with you men. 1 liaye a good mind not to tell the story at all now, just for spite.' At this moment Mr. Badger picked up his newspaper and resumed his read ing. 'As I was saying,' continued Mrs. Badger, after five minutes of silence, which seemed to her like a month, 'when Mrs. Simpson and Miss Simpson left the house I Dut on my cloak and hat and started down to buy some gro ceries that I asked you to order several days ago,but which you forgot as usual. You always forget such things until you sit down to the table to eat and NO. 12. ■rwwp—mmmm W— —^■ ■ 'tJT— JNBWBPAPER uwa n subscribers order the discontinuation of newspapers tin? publisher* inky continue to send than until all arresraces are paid. J f stitnertbeni refuse or tthptrei to take their newspapers front the offleeto-w liw-h they ape sent thhyare held responsible tnrtii they have settled Ute bills and ordered them discontinued. If subscriber* move-toother places without In forininx the publisher, and the newspapers are sent to the former place, they are responsible. ADV ERTDBDJO BATBS. 1 wk. 1 mo. 13 inoa. 6 inos. 1 yea 1 square *2 oo *4 00 *5 00 *0 00 f sort X " 700 1000 1500 30 00 40 00 1 " loyo 15 00 1 25 00 46 W 75 00 One inch makes a square. Admlrtlstratorsg and Executors' Notices *2.50. Transient adver tisements and locals 10 cent* uer line for ttrst insertion and 5 cents per line for each nddltion al^lnsertlon' then vou storm and raise a row because you don't find tbe articles all cooked and ready for you in silvercolored dish es. I got in a red car and started dawn town. The car didn't stop for me at first. I had to walk to the other side of the street and walk through a pool of water, but I don't suppose it would make any difference to you if I had drowned. After wading nearly up to my boot tops I| finally got into the car and there wasn't any seat for me. The car was crowded with men and wo men. There wasn't a gentleman there. It's a pity the street car oompanies don't run cattle cars for those brutes who sit down and pretend to read news papers while ladies stand TJiere was one putty-faced dude wno wasn't reading. He didn't dare look me in tbe face. He fumbled around in his pock ets and pulled out a newspaper, and when I looked at him he began reading it upside down. Some meift would do anything rather than stand up and let a lady sit down. Then tbe brute of a conductor asked me if I didn't have small change when I gave him a fiye dollar bill. Of course I had, but I wouldn't give it to him after he had in sulted me before the car fall of people, not that I cared for them, though. Then he looked at the bill suspiciously, and carried it out on the platform and asked the driver if it was good. He then went through the car and asked every man if he had change. None had any, of course.and he had to give it back to me. I hope he had to pay my fare himself, just because he was such a selfish brute. But he was like all you men. 'At Twenty-third street a woman got in the car with that lovely dress pat tern I saw on Broadway last fall and wanted you to buy for me, but yon said it was too expensive. She had it made over, and it was perfectly beautiful. I know it didn't cost her over SSO, and it was worth twice that much. You will see how much it costs when I get my new dress next month. Drese goods are twice as high now, but you always think you know so much about such things. 'I got out at Fourteenth street and was walking past that new building on Sixth avenue. You know which one I mean ? It has such lovely windows. They are plate glass and reach clear a* cross the store, and are filled with the greatest bargains I ever saw. I know some of the lace that they have marked down to 62i cents didn't cost one cent less than/JO cents. Well,right oyer the top of the building there is a scaffold and there were some men working on it. They had of bricks and a whole dry goods box full of mortar. I met Mr.Jones there—that pleasant-fac ed gentleman who comes here and talks so beautifully about Paris and the lat est fashions. He had his charming lit tle pug dog with him, and the momeat he saw me he bowed and that dear little doggie barked. You know the last" time he came here I gave him your slip pers to play with. He is such a cute little fellow. He nearly choked to death, you remember,on the heel ot one of th# slippers. But you can buy a new pair for $2, and you know I never liked£hat pair anj way. You bought them With out consulting me. He said he was coming up to see us to-night.' 'Who ?' interrupted Mr. Badger, as he started from his chair. 'Jones or his dog ?' 'Mr. Jones, of couise; you don't sup pose I would talk to a pug dog,do you?' 'Well, my dear,'continued Mr. Bad ger, as h buttoned up his coat,'/I shall have to be out this evening. I have a business meeting to attend to. lam sorry I can't stay at home to anjcy the the society of Mr. Jones and the Jones pug, but I can't neglect business, you know. I must go right off. 1 haven't a moment to spare.' 4 You needn't run away to avoid meet ing Mr. Jones. He won't be here.' 'But you just said he was coming.' 'So I did, but he wou't. While we were talking a whole bucketful of biicks fell off the scaffold and struck him on the hea