Aered, * started for the day. [= EDNA FERBER ILLUSTRATIONS BY CLARK AGNEW. f Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co. WNU Service, (Continued from last week.) SYNOPSIS J FEE ; of mouth. CHAPTER lL—Introducing “So Big” | (Dirk DeJong) in his infancy. And his mother, Selina DeJong, daughter of Simeon Peake, gambler and gentleman of fortune. Her life, to young woman- hood in Chicago in 1888, has been un- conventional, somewhat seamy, but generally enjoyable. At school her chum is Julie Hempel, daughter of August Hempel, butcher. Simeon is killed in a quarrel that is not his own, and Selina, nineteen years old and practically destitute, becomes a school- teacher. CHAPTER II—Selina secures a posi- tion as teacher at the High Prairie school, in the outskirts of Chicago, living at the home of a truck farmer, Klaas Pool. In Roelf, twelve years old, son of Klaas, Selina perceives a kindred spirit, a lover of beauty, like herself. Shivering and tempted though she was, Selina had set her will against it. “I won't go down,” she said to herself, shaking with the cold. “I won't come down to dressing behind the kitchen stove like a—like a peas- ant in one of those dreadful Russian novels. . . . That sounds stuck up and horrid. . . . The Pools are good and kind and decent.. . . But I won’t come down to huddling behind the stove with a bundle of underwear in my arms. Oh, dear, this corset’s like a casing of ice. “But I won't dress behind the kitch- en stove!” declared Selina, glaring meanwhile at that hollow pretense, the drum. She even stuck her tongue out at it (only nineteen, remember!). When she thought back, yeas later, on that period of her High Frairie experience, stoves seemed to figure with absurd prominence in her mem- ory. That might well he. A stove changed the whale course of her life. From the first, the schoolhouse stove was her bete noir. Out of the welter of that first year it stood, huge and menacing, a black tyrant. The High Prairie schoolhouse in which Se- lina taught was a little more than a mile up the road beyond the Pool farm. She came to know that road in all its moods—ice-locked, drifted with snow, wallowing in mud. School began at half-past eight. After her first week Selina had the mathematics of her early morning reduced to the least common denominator. Up at six. A plunge into the frigid gar- ments; breakfast of bread, cheese, sometimes bacon, always rye coffee without cream or sugar. On with the cloak, muffler, hood, mittens, galoshes. The lunch box in bad weather. Up the road to the schoolhouse, battling the prairie wind that whipped the tears into the eyes, plowing the drifts, slipping on the hard ruts and icy ridges in dry weather. Excellent at nineteen. As she flew down the road ~<dn gun or rain, in wind or snow, her mind's eye was fixed on the stove. The schoolhouse reached, her numbed fingers wrestled with the rusty lock. The door opened, there smote her the gchoolroom smell—a mingling of dead ashes, kerosene, unwashed bodies, gust, mice, chalk, stove-wood, lunch crumbs, mold, slate that has been ~~vashed with saliva. Into this Selina rushed, untying her muffler as she en- In the little vestibule there was a box piled with chunks of stove- wood and another heaped with dried corn-cobs. Alongside this a can of keroserie. The cobs served as Kin- &ling. A dozen or more of these you goaked with kerosene and stuffed into the maw of the rusty iron pot- bellied stove. A match, Up flared the corn-cobs. Now was the moment for a stall stick of wood; another to ‘keep it ¢ompany. Shut the door. Draughts. Dampers. Smoke. Sus- pense. A blaze, then a crackle. The wood has caught. In with a chunk now. A wait. Another chunk. Slam the door. The schoolhouse fire is As the room thawed gradually Selina removed lay- ers of outer garments. By the time the children arrived the room was livable. Selina had seen herself, dignified, yet gentle, instructing a roomful of Dutch cherubs in the simpler ele- ments of learning. But it is difficuit to be dignified and gracious when you are suffering from chilblains. Selina fell victim to this sordid discomfort, as did every chiid in the room. She sat at the battered pine desk or moved about, a little ice-wool shawl around her shoulders when the wind was wrong and the stove balky. Her white little face seemed whiter in contrast with the black folds of this somber garment. Her slim hands were rough and chapped. The oldest child in the room was thirteen, the youngest four and a half. - Barly in the winter Selina had had the unfortunate idea of opening the jce-locked windows at intervals end giving the children five minutes of exercise while the fresh cold air cleared brains and room at once. Arms waved wildly, heads wobbled, At the short legs worked vigorously. end of the week twenty High Prairie , parents sent protests by note or word Jan and Cornelius, Katrina and Aggfe went to school to learn reading and writing and numbers, not to stand with open windows in the winter. : On the Pool farm the winter wor had set in. Klaas drove into Chicago . with winter vegetables only once a week now. He and Jakob and Roelf were storing potatoes and cabbages underground ; repairing fences; pre- paring frames for the early spring planting; sorting seedlings. It had been Roelf who had taught Selina to build the schoolhouse fire. He had gone with her on that first morning, had started the fire, filled the water pail, initiated her in the rites of corn- cobs, kerosene, and dampers. A shy, dark, silent boy. She set out delib- erately to woo him to friendship. “Roelf, 1 have a book called ‘Ivan-- hoe.’ Would you like to read it?” “Well, I don’t get much time.” “you wouldn't have to hurry. Right there in the house. And there’s another called ‘The Three Musketeers.’ ” He was trying not to appear pleased; to appear stolid and Dutch, like the people from whom he had sprung. Some Dutch sailor ancestor, Selina thought, or fisherman, must have touched at an Italian port or Spanish and brought back a wife whose eyes and skin and feeling for beauty had skipped layer on layer of placid Neth- | erlands to crop out now in this wistful sensitive boy. ; : Selina had spoken to Pool about a shelf for her books and her photo- graphs. He had put up a rough bit of board, very crude and ugly, but it had served. She had come home one snowy afternoon to find this shelf gone and in its place .a smooth and polished one. with brackets intrieately carved. Roelf had cut, planed, polished, and carved it in many hours of work in the cold little shed off the kitchen. He had there a workshop of sorts, fitted with such tools and implements as he could devise. He did man’s work on the farm, yet often at might Selina could faintly hear- the rasp of his handsaw after she had gone to bed. This sort of thing was looked upon by Klaas Pool as foolishness. Roelf’s real work in the shed was the making and mend- ing of coldframes and hotbeds for the early spring plants. Whenever possible Roelf negiected this dull work for some fancy of his own. To this Klaas Pool objected as being “dumb.” “Roelf, stop that foolishness, get your ma once some wood. Carving on that box again instead of finishing them coldframes. Some day, by golly, 1 show you. 1 break every stick , « dumb as a Groningen . . .” Roelf did not sulk. He seerhed not to mind, particularly, but he came back to the carved box as scon as chance presented itself. He was reading her books with such hunger as to cause her to wonder if her stock would last him the winter. Sometimes, after sup- er, when he was hammering and saw- ng away ln the litfle shed Selina would snatch Maartje’s old shawl off the hook, and swathed In this against draughty chinks, she would read aloud to him while he carved, or talk to him above the noise of his tools. Selina was a gay and volatile person. She loved to make this boy laugh. His dark face would flash into. almost dazzling animation. Sometimes Maart- Je, hearing their young laughter, would She Would [Read ‘Aloud to "Him While . He Carved. come to'the shied door and stand there a moment, ‘hugging 'hér drs In her rolled apron dnd mulling dt them, un- comprehending but companionable. ‘You make fun, i'm?” “Come in, Mrs. Pool. Sit down on my box and make fun, too. Here, you may have half the shawl” “Og Heden! I got no time to sit down.” She was off. Roelf slid his plane slowly, more slowly, over the surface of satin-smooth oak board. He stopped, twined a curl of shaving about his finger. “When I am a man, and earning, I am going to buy my mother a silk dress like I saw in a store in Chicago and she should put it on every day, not only for Sun- day; and sit in a chair and make little fine stitches like Widow Paarlenberg.” “What else are you going to do when you grow up?’ She waited, certain that he would say something delight- ful. “Drive the team to town alone to | market.” “Oh, Roelf!” “Sure. Already I have gone five times —twice with Jakob and three times with Pop. Pretty soon, when I am seventeen or eighteen, I can go alone. At five in the afternoon you start and at nine you are in the Haymarket. There all night you sleep on the wagon. There are gas lights. The men play dice and cards. At four in the morn- ing you are ready when they come, the commission men and the peddlers and the grocery men. Oh, it's fine, I tell you!” = Roelf !” pointed. “Here. Look.” He rummaged around in a dusty box in a corner and, sud- denly shy again, laid before her a torn sheet of coarse brown paper on which he had sketched crudely, effectively, a melee of great-haunched horses; wa- gons piled high with garden truck; men in overalls and corduroys; flaring gas torches. He had drawn it with a stub of pencil exactly as it looked to him. The result was as startling as that achieved by the present-day disci- ple of the impressionistic school. Selina was enchanted. Once, early in December, She was bitterly disap- Selina went into tewn. The trip was born of , sudden revolt against her surround- ings and a great wave of nostalgia for the dirt and clamor and crowds of Chicago. Early Saturday morning Klaas drove her to the railway station five miles distant. She was to stay until Sunday. A letter had been writ- ten Julie Hempel ten days before, but there had been no answer. Once in town she went straight to the Hempel house. Mrs. Hempel, thin-lipped, met her in the hall and said that Julie was out of town. She was visiting her -friend' Miss Arnald, in Kansas City. Selina was not asked to stay to dinner. She was mot asked to sit down. When she left the house her great fine eyes seemed larger and more deep-set than ever, and her jaw-line was set hard against the invasion of tears. Sudden- ly she hated this Chicago that wanted none of her; that brushed past her, bumping her elbow and offering no apology; that clanged, and shrieked. and whistled, and roared in her ears ‘now grown accustomed to the prairie silence. She spent the time between one and three buying portable presents for the entire Pool household—including ba- nanas for Geertje and Jozina, for whom that farinaceous fruit had the fascination always held for the farm child. She caught a train at four thir- ty-five and actually trudged the five ‘miles from the station to the farm, arriving Lalf frozen, weary, with ach- ing arms and nipped toes, to & great welcome of the squeals, grunts, barks, and gutturals that formed the expres- sion of the Pool household. She was astonished to find how happy she was to return to the kitchen stove, to the smell of frying pork, t6 her own room with the walnut bed and the book shelf. Even the grim drum had taken on the dear and cumforting aspect of the accustomed. Chapter wv High Prairie swains failed to find Selina alluring. She was too small, too pale and fragile for their robust taste. Naturally, her coming had been an event in this isolated commu- nity. ‘With no visible means of com- munication news of her leaped from farm to farm as flame leaps the gaps in a forest fire. She would have been aghast to learn that High Prairie, inexplicably enough, knew all about her from the color of the ribbon that threaded her neat little white corset covers to the number of books on her shelf. She thought cabbage fields beautiful; she read books to that dumb-acting Roelf Pool; she was making over a dress for Maartje after the pattern of the stylish brown lady’s-cloth she wore (foolishly) to school. On her fifth Sunday in the district she accompanied the Pools to the morning service at the Dutch Re- formed church. Maartje seldom had the time for such frivolity. But on this morning Klaas hitched up the big farm wagon with the double seat and took the family compléte—Maartje, Selina, Roelf, and the pig-tails. Roelf had rebelled against going, had been cuffed for it, and had sat very still all through the service, gazing at the red and yellow glass church window. Selina’s appearance had made quite a stir, of which she was entirely un- aware. As the congregation entered by twos and threes she thought they resembled startlingly a woodcut in an old illustrated book she once had seen. The men’s Sunday trousers and coats had a square stiff angularity, as though chopped out of a block. The women, in shawls and bonnets of rusty black, were incredibly cut in the same pattern. ~The unmarried girls, though, were plump, red- cheeked, and not uncomely, with high round cheek-bones on which sat a spot of brick-red which imparted no glow to the face. Their foreheads were prominent and meaningless. In the midst of this drab assem- blage there entered late and rustling- ly a tall, slow-moving woman in a city- bought cloak and a bonnet quite un- like the vintage millinery of High Prairie. An ample woman, with a fine fair skin and a ripe red mouth; "a high firm bosom and great thighs ! that moved rhythmically, slowly. She | had thick, insolent eyelids. Her ; hands, as she turned the leaves of her hymn book, were smooth and white. ' Ag she entered there was a little " rustle throughout the congregation; a craning of necks. “Who's that?” whispered Selina to Maartje. “Widow Paarlenberg. like anything.” | “Yes?” Selina was fascinated. | “Look once how she makes eyes at him.” “At him? Who? Who?” “Pervus DeJong. By Gerrit Pon he is sitting with the blue shirt and sad looking so.” Selina craned, peered. “The—oh— he’s very good looking, isn’t he?” “Sure. Widow Paarlenberg is stuck on him. See how she—Sh-sh-sh!— Reverend Dekker looks at us. 1 tell you after.” - Selina decided she'd come to church oftener. The service went on, dull, heavy. [It was in English and Dutch. She heard scarcely a word of it. The Widow Paarlenberg and this Pervus DeJong occupied her thoughts. She decided, without malice, that the widow resembled one of the sleckest of the pink porkers rooting in Klaas Pool's barnyard, waiting to be cut into Christmas meat. The service ended, there was much talk of the weather, seedlings, stock, the approaching holiday season. Maartje, her Sunday dinner heavy on her mind, was elbowing her way up the aisle. Here and there she intro- duced Selina briefly friend. “Mrs. : school teacher.” “Aggie’s mother?” Selina would be- gin, primly, only to be swept along by Maartje on her way to the door. “Mrs. Von Mijncn, meet school teach- er. Is Mrs. Von Mijnen.” They re- garded her with a grim gaze. Se- lina would smile and nod rather nerv- ously, feeling young, frivolous, and somehow guilty. When, with Maartje, she reached the church porch Pervus DeJong was unhitching the dejected horse. that was harnessed to his battered and lop- sided cart. The animal stood with four feet bunched together in a droop- ing and pathetic attitude and seemed inevitably meant for mating with this decrepit vehicle. DeJong untied the She is rich Vander Sijde, meet Widow Paarlenberg sailed down the church steps with admirable speed for one so amply proportioned. She made straight for him, skirts billowing. flounces flying, plumes waving. Maartje clutched Selina’s arm. ‘Look how she makes! She asks him to eat Sunday dinner I bet you! See once how he makes with his head no.” Selina—and the whole congregation unashamedly watching—could indeed see how he made with his head no. His whole body seemed set in negation— the fine head, the broad patient shoul- ders, the muscular powerful legs in their ill-fitting Sunday blacks. He shook his head, gathered up the reins, and drove away, leaving the Widow Paarlenberg to carry off with such bravado as she could muster this pub- lic flouting in full sight of the Dutch Reformed congregation of High Pral- rie. I* must be said that she actually achieved this feat with a rather mag- pificent composure. Her round, pink face, as she turned away, was placid: her great cowlike eyes mild. She stepped agilely Into her own nea: phaeton with its sleek horse and was off down the hard snowless road, her head high, “Well!” exclaimed Selina, feeling as though she had witnessed the first act of an exciting play. And breathed deeply. So, too, did the watching con- gregation, so that the widow could be sald to have driven off in quite a gust. As they jogged home in the Pool farm wagon Maartje told her tale with a good deal of savor, Pervus DeJong had been left a wid- ower two years before. \ithin a month of that time Leendert Paarlen- berg had died, leaving to his widow the richest and most profitable farm in the whole community. Pervus De- Jong, on the contrary, through inheri- tance from his father, old Johannes, possessed a scant twenty-five acres of the worst lowland=—practically the only lowland—in all High Prairie. The acreage Was notoriously barren. [I'er- vus DeJong patiently planted, sowed, gathered crops, hauled them to mar- ket; seemed still never to get on in this thrifty Dutch commuuity where getting on was so common a trait as to be no longer thought a virtue. Luck and nature seemed to work against him. His seedlings proved unfertile; his stock was always ailing; his cab- bages were worm-infested; snout-bee- tle bored his rhubarb. When he planted largely of spinach, hoping for a wet spring, the season was dry. Did he turn the following year to sweet potatoes, all auguries pointing to a dry spring and summer, the summer his bad luck ‘would have called forth contemptuous ‘pity. But there was about him the 'lovableness and splen- dor of the stricken giant. It was on this Pervus DeJong, then, that the Widow Paarlenberg of the rich meres, the comfortable farmhouse, the gold neck chain, the silk gowns, the goft white hands and ‘the cooking tal- ents, had set her affections. She proved the wettest in a decade. Had | he been small, puny and insignificant | i ciability—was ‘ gathering. There was a small admis- | , sion charge. | boxes or baskets, these to be raffled ! off to the highest bidder whose priv- _ilege it then was to sup with the fair ! whose basket lhe had bought. voted to a woman | reins quickly, and was about to step . Into the sagging conveyance when the ! wooed him openly, notoriously, and with a Dutch vehemence that would have swept another man off his feet. It was known that she sent him a weekly baking of cakes, pies and bread. She tricked, cajoled, or nagged him into eating her ample meals. She even asked his advice—that subtlest form of flattery. She esked him about sub-soiling, humus, rotation—she whose rich land yielded, under her shrewd management, more profitably ‘to the single acre than to any ten of Pervus’, Feeling that the entire community was urging him toward this profitable match with the plump, rich, red-lipped widow, Pervus set his will like a stub- born steer and would have none of her. He was uncomfortable in his un- tidy house; he was lonely, he was un- happy. But he would have none of her. Vanity. pride, resentment were all mixed up in it. The very first time that Pervus De- Jong met Selina he had a chance to protect her. With such a start, the end was inevitable. Then, too, Selina had on the wine-colored cashmere and was trying hard to keep the tears | back in full view of the whole of igh Prairie. Urged by Maartje (and rath- er fancying the idea) Selina had at- tended the great meeting and dance | at Adm Ooms’ hali above the general | stor: + the High Prairie station. Far families for miles around were there. The new church organ —that time-hallowed pretext for so- the excuse for this Adam Ooms had given ! them the hall. The three musicians were playing without fee. The wom- en were to bring supper packed in Hot coffee could be had at so much the cup. All the proceeds were to be de- to the organ. Maartje had packed her own basket at noon and had driven off at four with Klaas and the children, She was to serve on one of those bustling committees whose duties ranged from coffee making to dish washing. Klaas and Roelf were | to be pressed into service. Jakob Hoogendunk would convey Selina to the festivities when his chores were done. Selina’s lunch basket was to be a separate and distinct affair, of- fered at auction with those of the Katrinas and Linas and Sophias of High Prairie. Not a little apprehen- sive, she was to pack this basket her- gelf. Maartje, departing, had left co- pious but disjointed instructions. Maartje's own basket was of gigantic : proportions and staggering content. Her sandwiches were cubic blocks; her pickles clubs of cucumber; her pies vast plateaus. The basket provided for Selina, | | while not quite so large, still was of | appalling size as Selina contempiated it. She decided, suddenly, that she | would have none of it. In her trunk she had a cardboard box such as shoes come in, Certainly this should hold enough lunch for two, she thought. | She was a little nervous about the whole thing; rather dreaded the pros- pect of eating her supper with a High Prairie swain unknown to her. Sup- pose ne one should bid for her box! She resolved to fill it after her own pattern, disregarding Maartje's heavy provender. She had the kitchen to herself. Jakob was In the fields or out-houses. The house was deliciously quier. Selina rummaged for the shoe box, lined it with a sheet of tissue paper rolled up her sleeves, got out mixing bowl, flour, pans. Cup cakes were ner ambition, She haked six of them. They came out a beautiful brown de somewhat leaden. Still, anything wai: better than a wedge of soggy pie, she told herself. She boiled eggs ver) hard, halved them, devilled their yolks filled the whites neatly with this mix ture and clapped the halves togethe: again, skewering them with a tooth pick. Then she rolled each egg sep arately in tissue paper twisted at the ends. Daintiness, she had decided should be the keynote of her suppe: box. The food neatly packed she wrapped the box in paper and tied It with a gay red ribbon yielded by he: trunk. At the last moment she whipped into the yard, twisted a brush of ever green from the tree at the side of the house, and tucked this into the knot of ribbon atop the box. She steppec back and thought the effect enchanting She was waiting in her red cashmere and her cioak and hood when Hoogen: dunk called for her. They were late arrivals. Selina, balancing her box carefully. opened the door that led to the wooden stairway. The hall was on the second floor. The clamor that struck her ears had the effect of a physical blow. She hesitated a moment, and if there had been any means of returning to the Pool farm, short of walking five miles in the snow, she would have taken it. Up the stairs and into the din. Evi dently the auctioning of supper baskets was even now in progress. The auc tioneer was Adam Ooms who himsell had once been the High Prairie school teacher. A fox-faced little man, bald, falsetto, the village clown with a solid foundation of shrewdness under his clowning and a tart layer of malice over it. High and shrill came his voice “What am I bid! What am T hid! Thirty cents! Thirty-five! you, gentlemen. What am Who'll make it forty!” Selina felt a little thrill of excite- fitent. She looked about for a place on which to lay her wraps, espied a box that appeared empty, rolled her cloak, muffler and hood into a neat bundle and, about to cast it into the box, saw, upturned to her from its depths, the Shame on | I bid! ' out of the crowd to be in it. ACNEVY, “What Am | Bid! Thirty Cents” Shame on You, Gentlemen!” round pink faces of the sleeping Kuy-- per twins, aged six months. Oh, dear!: , In desperation Selina placed her bun-- dle on the floor in a corner, smoothed’ down the red cashmere, snatched up her lunch box and made for the door- way with the childish eagerness of one She won- dered where Maartje and Klaas Pool were in this close-packed roomful ; and Roelf. In the doorway she found that broad black-coated backs shut off sight and ingress. She had written her: name neatly on her lunch box. Now she was at a loss to find a way to reach: Adam Ooms. She eyed the great-shoul-- dered expanse just ahead of her. In: desperation she decided to dig into it with a corner of her box. She dug, viciously. The back winced. Its owner turned. “Here! What—" Selina looked up into the wrathful: face of Pervus DeJong. - Pervus De- Jong looked down into the startled: eyes of Selina Peake. Large enough eyes at any time; enormous now in: her fright at what she had done. “I'm sorry! I'm—sorry. I thought if 1 could—there’s no way of getting: my lunch box up there—such a: crowd—" A slim, appealing, lovely little figure- in the wine-red cashmere, amidst all | those buxom bosoms, and over-heated! bodies, and flushed faces. His gaze- left her reluctantly, settled on the- lunch box, became, if possible, more be- wildered. “That? Lunch box?” “Yes. For the rafle, I'm the school teacher. Selina Peake.” He nodded. “I saw you in ehurch: Sunday.” “You did! I didn’t think you. . . .. Did you?” . “Wait here. I'll come back. Walt here.” : He took the shoe box. She waited. He plowed his way through the crowd: like a Juggernaut, reached Adam: Ooms’ platform and placed the box Inconspicuously next a colossal hamper- that was one of a dozen grouped await- ing Adam’s attention. When he had! made his way back to Selina he again: said, “Walt,” and plunged down the wooden stairway. Selina waited. She: had ceased to feel distressed at her: inability to find the Pools in the crowd,. a-tiptoe though she was. When pres- ently he came back he had in his hand an empty wooden soap box. This he up-ended in the doorway just behind: the crowd stationed there. Selina: ' mounted it; found her head a little : above the level of his. She could sur- vey the room from end to end. There were the Pools. She waved to- Maartje; smiled at Roelf. He made as- ; though to come toward her; did come part way, and was restrained by Maartje catching at his coat tail. Adam Ooms’ gavel (a wooden potato- masher) crashed for silence. “Ladies!” (Crash) “And gents!” (Crash)l “Gents! Look what basket we've got here!” Look indeed. A great hamper, grown so plethoric that it could no: longer wear its cover. Its contents: bellied into a mound smoothly cov- ered with a fine white cloth whose glistening surface proclaimed it dam- ask. A Himalaya among hampers. You knew that under that snowy crust lay gold that was fowl done crisply, succulently; emeralds in: the form of” gherkins; rubies that melted into: strawberry preserves; cakes frosted like diamonds; to say nothing of such semi-precious jewels as potato salad ;. cheeses; sour cream to be spread on rye bread and butter; coffee cakes; crullers. Crash! “The Widow Paarlenberg’s. basket, ladies—and gents; The Widow Paarlenberg! I don’t know what's in it. You don’t know what's in it. We don’t have to know what's in it. Who has eaten Widow Paarlenberg’s chicken once don’t have to know. Who has eaten Widow Pauarienberg's cake once don’t have to know. What am I bid va Widow Paarlenberg’s basket! What am I bid! WhatmIbidwhatmIbidwhat~ mlibid!” (Crash)! The widow herself, very handsome in black silk, her gold neck chain rising and falling richly with the little flurry . that now agitated her broad bosom, was seated in a chair against the wall not five feet from the auctioneer’s: stand. She bridled now, blushed, cast down her eyes, cast ap her eyes, suc- ceeded in looking as unconscious as & complaisant Turkish siave girl on the block. (Continued mext week.) e———— er ——— —Subscribe for the “Watchman.”
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