AUTHOR OF <= “PENROD " ETC. - COPYRIGHT 19/6" BY SYNOPSIS. fe Sheridan's attempt to make a business Bibhs going to On his re- the machine shop ends in a sanitarium, a nervous wreck turn Bibbs finds himself an in able and unconsidered figure in the “New House" of the Sheridans. The Vertrecses, old town family next door and impover- ished, call on the 8Sheridans, wewly-rich parents’ unspoken wish t one of the Sheridan boys. encourages Jim Sheridan's atte tells Mary Bibbs is not a t queer.” He proposes to Mary accepts him. Sheridan tells must go back to the machine soon as he Is strong enough, Bihhs' plea to be allowed to write Bibbs" sister, and Sibyl, Roscoe wife, quarrel ov goes to Mary for from marrying E: her in the room alor Bibbs has to bre to his father the news of Jim's death. All the rest of the famil in thelr grief, Bibbs becomes te master of the house. At the { meets Mary and rides home Bibbs purposely terrupts a between Edith ths ing love to SEE REE CIHR Bibbs Sheridan, the physical weakling, the “queer one,” and Mary Vertrees, the aristocrat, the husband-hunter, ac- quainted while hearing organ music. They exchange spiritual messages on the wings of mel. ody. Do you think this ac- quaintance will awaken in their breasts a mutual recognition of love's first symptoms? re CHAPTER XIV—Ccn and PTT MIF = SLA Pe Gb BG 31 “No.” not thinking vocal sounds ject of what littl sess, and I'd like don't know how to ma “You needn't change my account, Mr. Sheridan” “Not even if you yourself." him as his breath; he by the look she gave him glowing look, war derstanding, and, him, it was an e Bibbs was not ac like that. “l—you—I-—I1'm ard the faint color almost vivid. She she came into his thing tow “queer” many him; but he did Mary Vertrees: guaintly natural met. He really tall She turned her fa she and Bibb spoke was pathe was stil saw the 3 . ¥ about i walte don't even bere I am, man's solo! “No,” 1 play your accompanims “I'll stop and Jiste “Perhaps—" she beg but pausing thoughtfully she ma a ture with her muff, brick church which they proaching. “Do Mr. Sheridan?” “I suppose I could,” gimple truthfulness, at her “But I don't want to. 1 have a feel ing it’s where you're going, and where I'll be sent back.” She shook her head in cheery nega- tion. “Not m1 want to be. Would you like to come with me?” “Why—why id “Any- where!” And again it was apparent that he spoke in simuple truthfuiness. “Then come-—if you care for organ music. The organist is an old friend of mine, and sometimes he plays for me. He's a dear old man. That's he, waiting in He like Beethoven, doesn’t he? knows that, perhaps, and enjoys it a little. 1 hope " “Yes.” said Bibbs, as they reached the church steps. “I would like it, too to look like other people.” “1 haven't kept you? Mary said to the organist. “This is Mr Doctor Kraft. He has come to with me.” The organist bluntly suar- prised. “less that he exclaimed. “He iss musician himself, of course.” “No.” said Bibbs, as the three en tered the church together, “II played the—1 tried to play—" Fortunately he checked himself: he had been about to offer the information that he had falled oi he jews' harp in his boy- i 4 | 'm not a musician,” he pontented hig:self with saying “What? Doctor Kraft's surprise in. creased. “Young man, you are fortu- pate! 1 play for Miss comes always alone. You are the first. You are the tirst one ever!” They had reached the Lead of the central alsle, and as the organist fine ished speaking Bibbs siopped short, ehe in after ges indicating a were ap see that ob you he anawered in looking unless y yes,” he si 1 the doorway 30, listen looked #0?" THB turning to look at Mary Vertrees in a dazed way that was not of her percelv- ing; for, though she stopped as he did, her gaze followed the organist, who the front of the his white Beethovian “It's false pretenses Bibbs said. “You but I'm I'm well church, shaking mune roguishly. a0 my mean to be kind to not an invalld any I'm going back to I'd better before he begins to play, hadn't 1?” “No,” forward. “Not great musle.” fe followed her to a seat about the aisle the organ Handel!” he SO unless you don't half Kraft after- turned to while Doctor noon shout. Mary nodded sone “I don’t know ‘Largo.’ 1 d« music. I don’t to pretend I do. If preter d, I would” Mary, | except about " 254A Sail turned aw witl to fill sat inter and 15ely ill round about ther d sky made a rd un rhythm AI0D white he veered with tl thrusting, but » master of his g 48 he was SwWel singing unknown music in his it was ad brought and what made its mag It seemed to i he had ym Do to him a happy 3 chanted cave, was nee 1 v fr vy Ire seemed where Mary Vertree stening t« ivigible soldiers There wer a them, singing praise vet they were lible that t! not the boun 1 to remain 80 that there was a smoky where housen in evening papers fi He bh 1d} ition t could TABLA LA ‘ > A ~ “Young Man, You Are Fortunate,” “You hear this strain? You hear that strain? Youn know the dream that these sounds bring to me?” to him as though she answered con tinually: “I bear! 1 bear that strain, and I hear the new one that you are hearing now. these sounds bring to you. Yes, I hear it all! We hear—together!” And though the church grew so dim that all was mysterious shadow except the vague planes of the windows and the organist's light, with the white Lead moving bebeuth it, Bibbs bad no yoR, consciousness that the girl be glide him had grown shadowy; seemed to see her as plainly as ever in the darkness, though he did not look at her. And all the mighty chanting of the organ's multitudinous voices that afternoon seemed to Bibbs to cho- rusing of her and Interpreting her, | her thoughts and singing for him the world of humble gratitude that was in his heart because she was 50 kind to him. It all meant Mary But when him meant, on their homeward way, he was silent, They had paces from the church walking slowly. “I'll tell you what it meant she said, as did not reply. “Almost any music of Handel's always means one thing ers to makes sitting he be she asked what come a few without speakiog, he immediat above all oth- That's {it It RO me: CO cownrdice ourage’ or whining it makes most Heem little lives seen i “YY ps that hurrying to t straps in trolley to 0 they car And get yot peopie ywerpaid worship the i paia and ye trier tha COUrse, v ng its wage ferent.’ “Do yl and shed yf what think it nan that gen the mt ic mus leave it to you and the can mean to you except to himself and peo 1 suppose.” I'd like him, “I suppose that's true, though “I tmagine music pictu must make feel | the m paint res In nds “according to tt 1 Bg thelr own much as acconding to the itaelf." musician might compose some- you to think some people a prayer The the Holy Grail, and good they were themselves, and a boy might think of himself at the head of a solemn procession, carrying a banner and riding a white horse, And then, if these were some jubilant passages in the music, he'd think of a circus.” i They had reached ber gate, and she | set her band upon it, but did not open | }bbs felt that this was almost | be prompt in leaving him i “After all,” she sald, “you didn’t " “No. 1 didn't need to, “No, that's true, and I didn’t need I knew jut you sald yon | were trying to keep from telling me | what it did mean” | “I ean't keep from telling it any longer,” he sald. “The music meant to meant the kindness of-wof “Kindnesa? How?" “You thought 1 was a sort of lonely tramp—and sick" “No.” she sald, decidedly. “I thought perhaps you'd like to hear Doctor Kraft play. And you Hd” “1's curious: somethines it seem to ne that It was you who were play. Mary laughed. “I? [I strum! Plano. A little Chopin—Grieg--Chaminade, You wouldn't tibbs drew a frightened steady vol I'm the words sank “Oh, If 1" you. listen!” bre iin,” said, “I'm afraid you'll but—"" He paused murmur to | idly. It “I'm un- ith in deen hes an hink pushing, and ton want me for will yon ghe said “Yes, gl this afternoon. I play like a I'm to checked willing She stopped, glad when anyone's and if you by a sudden recollection, and laughed ruefully. “But my plano won't be here after tonight. I—I'm sending it away I'm afrald that like me to play to you you'd have to “You'll let me?’ he cried “Certainly, If you care to “If 1 could play he said, wist- in the church I could thank you.” “Ah, but you haven't heard me play. I know you liked this afternoon, but—" “Ye Bibbs “It was greatest happiness I've ever known It was too dark to see his face, but his voice held such plain honesty, and he with uncon the sald spoke such complete sciousness of saying significant, that sh 3 truth For a anything especial e knew it was the ent she Was non moi went “You'll come after dinner then?" “Yea” he sald, not moving mind if 1 stood here until ome in? hed the offering ind She an to | oor tramp had bet hat ia Take Humble's the word! he CHAPTER XV. That “mystery about pianos” which troubled Bibbs had been a mystery to Mr being ex- plained to hi about the time Bibha scribbled the to it in his notes Mary npstairs upon Bibbs’ departure at lock, and Mr. and Mrs. Ve until after midnight in the library talking “lhe needn't to have done that about her plano,” vapored Mr, Vertrees. “We could have managed somehow without it. At least she ought to have coasult- ed me. and if she insisted | could have arranged details with the-—the dealer.” “She thought that (t noying for you,” Mrs Vertrees it was eforeonce had gone ten 0'¢ trees sat + we might be—an- Vertrees not to know about it until they had re- but I decided to—to mention it. You see, she didu't even tell me about it un- til this morning I'm afraid “Well?” he Usit'g—" urged. as she found It “Her other idea is—that is, it was «1 think It can be avoided, of course It was about her furs” “No!™ he exclaimed, quickly. “I won't have it! You must see to that I'd rather not talk to her about it, but you mustn't let her.” “I' try not” course the piano will take care of some things like those for a while and" “1 don't like it. 1 gave her the piano to play on, not to=-" “You mustu't be distressed about it in one way,” she said, comfortingly. “Khe areanged with the with the pur chager that the men will come for it about half after five in the afternoon The days short now quite winter.” “Oh, yes" far as that neighbors are just now, though I mick In his office earls after the funeral Mrs, Vertrees commiseration was are no he agreed, “So | don’t moodily goes | suppose our i paying u attention hear Sheridan was | | morning i little sound of don't believe that wasn't suffering seemed made a “] because he Mary told he i “ me rr RE Bry] 1} 4 Sd E Have Done the Piano.” after only have an impre don't know-~that then went t how She paused, ot know jus jg] didn’t mention it to Mary I didn't The lady nciuding with a 4 nsx floundered piti- “So poor mumble the shock.” i fully, of after the soon after said Mr if 1 saw of him springing agitation “1 can’t no!” he gasped floor. “A half-witted epi a glimpse of him," Vertrees “1 wouldn't Know but 3 broke foot her io leptic!” “No, no!” she cried. right. We" “Oh, it's horrible! I can't—" He threw himself back into his chair again, sweeping his hands across his him our oft in oh pace impression in suddenly, to the “He may be all his sides, Mrs. Vertrees was tremulous. “You musn’'t give way so,” she sald, inspired for once almost to direct discourse. it wouldn't be on her own account; it would be on ours. But if we should our own account. It isn't because we “Oh God, no!” he groaned. "Not for us! Mary can’t be a stenographer!” obligueness., “Of course,” speculating about such things, but 14 had a queer sort of feeling that she | * bad almost said “in this one” but, checked herself. “In this young man | It's natural, of course; she Is always sastrong and well, and he ls-