6
7b| A FOOL \Gk
FOR LOVE
By FRANCIS LYNDE
J Author of "The Grafters," Etc. L
(Cupyright, I'JOS, by J. I*. I.lpplncoit Co.)
CHAPTER ll.— Continued.
Mrs. Carteret was propped among
the cushions of a divan with a book.
Her daughter occupied the undivided
half of a tete-a-tete chair with a blonde
athlete in a clerical coat and a re
versed collar. Miss Virginia was sit
ting alone at a window, but she rose
*ud came to greet the visitor.
"How good of you to take pity on
us," i»he said, giving him her hand.
Then she put him at one with the
•others: "Aunt Martha you have met;
al;<o Cousin Bessie. Let me present
you to Mr. Calvert, Cousin Billy, this
Is Mr. Adams, who is responsible in
a way for many of my Boston-learned
gaucherles."
Aunt Martha closed the book on her
finger. "My dear Virginia!" she pro
tested in mild deprecation; and Adams
laughed and shook hands with Kev.
William Calvert and made Virginia's
peace all in the same breath.
"Don't apologize for Miss Virginia,
Mri. Carteret. We were very good
friends in Boston, chietly, I think, be
cause: I never objected when she want
ed to —er —to take a rise out of me."
Then to Virginia: "I hope I don't in
trude?"
"Not in the least. Didn't I just say
you wore good to come? Uncle Somer
ville tells us we are passing through
the famous Golden Belt, whatever that
maybband recommends an easy
chair and a window. But I haven't
seen anything but stubble-fields —dis-
mally wet stubble-fields at that. Won't
you sit down and help me watch them
80 by?"
Adams placed a chair for her, and
found one for himself.
"'Uncle Somerville'—am I to have
the pleasure of meeting Mr. Somer
ville Darrah?"
Miss Virginia's look was non-com
mittal.
"Quien sabe?" she queried, airing her
•one westernisin before she was fair
ly in the longitude of it. "Uncle Som
erville is a law unto himself. He had
a lot of telegrams and things at Kan
sas City, and he is locked in his den
■with Mr. -lastrow, dictating answers by
the dozen, 1 suppose."
"Oh, these industry colonels!" said
Adams. "Don't their toilings make
you acho in sheer sympathy some
times?"
"No, indeed," was the prompt re
joinder; "1 envy them. It must be
fine to have large things to do, and
to be able to do them."
"Degenerate scion of a noble race!"
jested Adams. "What ancient Carteret
of them all would have compromised
with the necessities by becoming a
captain of industry?"
She broke him with a mocking laugh.
♦ "You were born a good many cen
turies too late, Mr. Adams; you would
have fitted so beautifully into de
cadent Rome."
"No thanks. Twentieth-century
America, with the commercial frenzy
taken out of it, is good enough
for me. I was telling Winton a little
while ago—"
"Your friend of the Kansas City sta
tion platform?" she interrupted.
"Mightn't you introduce us a little less
informally?"
"Beg pardon, I'm sure—yours and
Jack's: Mr. John Winton, of New
York- and the world at large, familiarly
known to his intimates—and they
are precious few—as 'Jack W.' As 1
was about to say—"
But she seemed to find a malicious
satisfaction in breaking in upon him.
" 'Mr. John Winton;' it's a pretty
name, as names go, but it isn't as
strong as he is. He is an 'industry
colonel,' isn't he? He looks it."
The Bostonian avenged himself for
the interruption at Winton's expense.
"So much for your woman's intui
tion," he laughed. "Speaking of idlers,
there is your man to the dotting of the
'i;' a dilettante raised to the nth
power."
Miss Carteret's short upper lip
curled in undisguised scorn.
"I like men who do things," she as
serted, with pointed emphasis; where
upon the talk drifted eastward to Bos
ton, and Winton was ignored until
Virginia, having exhausted the rem
iniscent vein, said: "You are going on
through to Denver?"
"To Denver and beyond," was the
reply. "Winton has a notion of hi
bernating in the mountains —fancy it;
in dead of winter! —and he has
pervuaded me togo along. He sketches
a little, you know."
"Oh. so he is an krilst?" said Vir
gin -li, with interest newly aroused.
• No," said Adanu. gloomily, "he
isa't an artist —isn't, much of anything,
I'm sorry to say. Worse than all, he
doesn't know his grandfather's middle
name. Told me so himself."
"That is inexcusable—in a dilet
tante," said Miss Virginia, mockingly.
"Don't you think ao?"
"It is inexcusable in anyone," said
the tec.inologiar:, rising to tako his
leav-». Then, as i parting word:
the Koseniary sei iis own table? or do
you dine in the dining car?"
"In Ihe dining car, if we have one.
Uncle Somerville lets us dodge the
Jt . cuiu. y s cook whenever wc can,"
the answer; and with this bit ot
Information Adams went bis way to
the Denver sleeper.
Finding Winton in his section, por
ing over a bine-print map and mak
ing notes thereon after the manner of
a man hard at work, Adams turned
back to the smoking compartment.
Now for Mr. Morton P. Adams the
salt of life was a joke, harmless or
otherwise, as the tree might fall. So,
during the long afternoon which he
wore out in solitude there grew up in
him a keen desire to see what would
befall if these two whom he had so
protesquely misrepresented each to the
other should come together in the
pathway ot acquaintanceship.
But how to bring them together was
a problem which refused to be solved
until chance pointed the way. Since
the "Limited" had lost another hour
during the day, there was a rush for
the dining car as soon as the announce
ment of its taking on had gone through
the train. Adams and Winton were
of this rush, and so were the mem
bers of Mr. Somerville Darrah's party.
In the seating the party was sepa
rated, as room at the crowded tables
could be found; and Miss Virginia's
fate gave her the unoccupied seat at
one of the duet tables, opposite a
young man with steadfast gray eyes
and a Van Dyck beard.
Winton was equal to the emergency,
or thought he was. Adams was
still within call, and he beokoned him,
moaning to propose an exchange of
seats. But the Bostonian misunder
stood willfully.
"Most happy, I'm sure," he said,
coming instantly to the rescue. "Miss
Carteret, my friend signals his di
lemma. May I present him?"
Virginia smiled and gave the re
quired permission in a word. But for
Winton self-possession flew shrieking.
"Ah —er —I hope you know Mr.
Adams well enough to make allow
ances for his —for his —" He broke
down piteously and she had to come to
his assistance.
"For his imagination?" she suggest
ed. "I do, Indeed; we are quite old
friends."
Here was "well enough," but Wil
ton was a man and could not let It
alone.
"I should be very sorry to have you
jf-n r
WINTON FOUND MISS CARTERET HOLDING HIS OVERCOAT.
think for a moment that I woigd—er
—so far forget myself," he went on,
fatuously. "What I had in mind was
an exchange of seats with him. 1
thought it would be pleasanter for
you; that is, I mean, pleasanter for —"
He stopped short, seeing nothing but
a more hopeless involvement ahead;
also because he saw signs of distress
or of mirth flying in the brown eyes.
"Oh, please!" she protested, in mock
humility. "Do leave my vanity just
the tiniest little cranny to creep out
of, Mr. Winton. I'll promise to be
good and not bore you too desperately."
"But let's ignore Mr. Adams," she
went on, sweetly. "I am much more
interested in this," touching the bill
of-fare. "Will you order for me, please?
I like—"
When she hall finished the list 01
her likings, Winton was able to smile
at his lapse into the primitive, and
gave the dinner order for two with a
fair degree of coherence. After that
they got on better. Winton knew
Boston, and next to the weather Bos
ton was the safest and most fruitful
of the commonplaces. Nevertheless,
'twas not immortal; and Winton was
j'.i&c beginning to cast about for some
other safe riding road for the shallop
of small talk when Miss Carteret sent
it adrift with malice aforethought.
It was somewhere between the en
trees and the fruit, and the point of
departure was Bos Liu art.
"Speaking of art, Mr. Winton, will
you tell me how you came to think of
sketching in the mountains of Colo
rado at this time <jf year? I should
think the cold would be positively pro
hibitive of anything like that."
Winton stared—open mouthed, It is
to be feared.
"I —I beg youi - pardon," he stam
mered, with the inflection which takos
its pitch from blank bewilderment. (
CAMERON COUNTY PRESS, THURSDAY, CCTOEER 18, 19C6
MUss Virginia was happy. Dfltn'tai
he might be, and an unhumbled no
of tl* world as well; but. to use Re
erend Billy's phrase, she could ma;
him "sit up."
"I beg yours, I'm sure," she said, de
murely. "I didn't know U was a craft
sec-en."
Winton looked across the aisle to
the tabje where the technologlan was
sitting opposite a square-shouldered,
ruddy-faced gentleman with fiery eyes
and fierce white mustache, and shook
a figurative fist.
"I'd like to know what Adams has
been telling you," he said. "Sketch
ing in the mountains in midwinter!
that would be decidedly original, to
say the least of it. And I think I
have never done an original thing in
all my life."
For a single instant the brown eyes
looked their pity for him; generic pity
it was, of the kind that mounting
souls bestow upon the stagnant. But
the subconscious lover in Winton made
It personal to him, and it was the
lover who spoke when he went on.
"That is a damaging admission, is
it not? I am sorry to have to make it
—to have to confirm your poor opinion
of me."
"Did I say anything like that?" she
protested.
"Not in words; but your eyes said
it, and I know you have been think
ing it all along. Don't ask me how I
!-:::>w it; I couldn't explain it if I
: ::uuld try. But you have been pity
ing me, in a way—you know you
have."
The brown eyes were downcast.
Frank and free-hearted after her kind
as she was, Virginia Carteret was
finding it a new and singular experi
ence to have a man tell her baldly at
their first meeting that he had read her
inmost thought of him. Yet she would
not flinch or go back.
"There is so much to be done In the
"jorld, and so few to do the work,"
she pleaded in extenuation.
"And Adams has told you that I am
not one of the few? It Is true enough
to hurt."
She looked him fairly in the ejus.
"What is lacking, Mr. Winton —tfet
spur?"
"Possibly," he rejoined. "There is no
one near enough to care, or to sayj
'Well done!' "
"Hc.w can you tell?" she questioned,
musingly, "it is not always permitted
to us to hear the plaudits or tho
hisses—happily, 1 think. Yet there ara
always those standing by who ar«
ready to cry 'Io trlumphe!' and mean
it, when one approves himself a good
soldier."
Tiie coffee had been served, and
Winton sat thoughtfully stirring tho
lump of sugar in his cup. Miss Car
teret w.tii not having a monopoly of
the naw experiences. For instance,
it had never before happened to John
Winton to havfe a woman, young,
charming, and altogether lovable, read
him a lesson out of the book of the
overcomers.
He smiled inwardly and wondered
what she would say if she could know
to what battle-field the drumming
wheels of the "Limited" were speeding
him. Would she be loyal to her men
torship and tell him he must win, at
whatever the cost to Mr. Somerville
an.
Darrah and his business associates?
Or Trauld she, woman-like, be her
uncle's partisan and write one John
Winton down in her blackest book for
daring to oppose the Rajah?
He assured himself it would makb
no jot of difference if ho knew. 11a
had a thing to do, and he was pur
ltosed to do it strenuously, inflexibly.
Vet in the inmost chamber of his
heart, where the barbarous ego stands
unabashed and isolate and recklessly
contemptuous of tho moralities minor
and major he saw the birth of aa In
fluence which must henceforth be dea-\
perately reckoned with.
Given a name, this new-born factor
was love; love barely awakened, uj»<l
yet no more than a masterful desire
to stand well in the eye of one woa>
<TO BE CONTINUSPJ
Chandler's Joke on Conkling.
Roscoe Conkling was a capital boxer
and quite proud of his skill. One
evening after considerable banter he
induced Senator Chandler to"put on
the gloves" with him. He played with
Chandler for a few rounds, much to
the discomfiture of the downeaster.
The latter bided his time and some
time later quietly brought a profes
sional pugilist to dinner where Conk
ling was a guest. In the course of
the evening "Mr. Smith" was induced
to engage in a boxing bout with Mr.
Conkling. The professional danced
around the senator, landing when and
where he wished, playing with him as
he would with a punching bag. The
elegant New York senator was dazed,
overwhelmed, humiliated, crushed.
When he surrendered and called
enough, as he did at last, Senator
Chandler smiled blandly and presented
the pugilist in his true colors.
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Avery large line ot :FOR THE j "i-nS
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Art Squares and of fine books in a choice library
Rugs of all sizes and select the Ideal pattern of Globe- **
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M Dining Chairs, I CALE BV I
H Rockers and GEO. J. Laß*R, ■ £*
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