A —————— BE n a Sn] we - - —— pun ow — — - Qo a — —- “BIG JACK!" #YNOPSIS.—On the banks of the Wabash stand Texle Colin and Jack Warhope, young and very much in love. Texle is the only daughter of old Pap Simon, rich man and money-lender. Jack {s the orphan bound boy of Pap Simon, who had foreclosed a mortgage on the Warhope estate. At first Texie and Jack talk sadly of Ken Colin, the girl's missing brother. Then Jack says that in ten days his servitude will be over, that he will ride out into the big world to seek his fortune Both know what that will mean to them. Texle and Jack talk of the red lock of “Red Colin” in- herited by Ken. And Jack says he's coming back as soon as he finds gold in California. Then arrives the new preacher, Rev, Caled Hopkins. CHAPTER I(I—Continued, —— “Mercy! but you're a hard man t' herd. Don't y'u know you're goin’ home with us t' supper?” “First 1 hear'd of it,” the woodsman drawled, shifting his shoulder against the post. The girl glanced at the preacher standing at the edge of the road, jerked her head ever so slightly toward him—a motion so elusive that it weuld have escaped anybody else but Jack Warhope—and lowered her voice to a whisper: She teft turned away. The the porch post, and the man fol lowed. hand for the letters. over, grunted, thrust them unopened into the pocket of his faded coat; mut- tered a word, drew them forth again, grimace, knocked together, half petulant bunch of letters up the road, The venerable widow, like the rest of the village, must have been on the lookout for the new preacher, for she was at the door to meet him as he came up the walk with the others. The old banker presented him. “So glad to have you come, Brother Hopkins. It has been so dreadfully lonesome since— I" The mild old eyes floated full tears. The preacher seemed not notice, “1 saw your husband's obituary in one of the church papers.” to a black-bordered handkerchief; preacher, in his hesitating, Jerky way, went on. “1 immediately wrote offering to come on a-—ah- cation trip and serve the congregation until the vacancy could be filled, 1 was the more attracted to the thought of coming because my health had given way under the dual strain of the Mr. sort of va- to (‘olin I had heard much about Buckeye and the Flatwoods from a—ab-—classmate of mine while a student in the college ifn which 1 now have the honor to hold a professorship.” The banker frowned thoughtfully; Texle glanced at Jack. thick in the corners of the room. The old man, becoming aware of them, widow, “Well, Sister Mason, If you mind, I'll jist show Brother Hopkins the study, and then you better g' "long over with us t' supper.” With the flpe courtesy of one trained to the parsonage, she ‘excused herself; the old banker went on: “1 b'lieve you said he was t' have the use of the study®” The Widow Mason was only too well nsed to the crisp curt ways of Simon Colin. She turned to the young preacher, “Brother Hopkins, 1 don’t want you to feel that you are to have merely the study. My home Is your home. Pleuse feel free to use all of it or any part of it.” The young preacher bowed very low, and turned to the banker, who led the way up the stairs with as much au- thority as If he owned the place which, In reality, he did, The study, with its writing desk and leather ensy chair, with its shelves and shelves of books, showed that its lute owner had been a man of studi. ous habits and apparently scholarly at- tainments. An immense apple-tree grew by the east window, thrusting Its stout branches so close as almost to brush the panes. Through Its opening blos- soms and half sprung leaves enough uf the day remained to entch a view of the old banker's two or three acres of park-like orchard that lay between the parsonage and the red-roofed cot- tage. . The young preacher stood st the window and gazed out over the or chard, aromatic with promise, green with its thick mat of bine-grass, white under the trees where the blossoms snowed down, The banker slapped him on the shoulder. He must have been deeply absorbed In the spell of the place, with its quiet and repose, for he started and Jaughed nervously. “1 must have been dreaming.” the window, By" DAVID ANDERSON Author of “The Blue Moon™ Copyright by The Bobbs-Merrill Co. “Not &' bad, Is it? “It is very beautiful.” . “1 Towed y'u'd like it.” The old man rubbed his long bony hands together in a sort of grim satisfaction. “My daughter fools away hours and hours in that seat yonder under the big maple by the spring. I low ther’ ain't a bird comes by she cayn't mock.” The preacher looked at him curl ously, half steruly. “I ean well belleve you” he sald. “A girl like your daughter, with her quite obvious gifts and possibilities, and so much a part of this wonderful profusion of wild nature about her, would naturally seek some such diver. sion to keep her life from starving in this out-of-the-way place.” The money-lender pondered these words and seemed on the point of re senting them: but only jerked his thumb toward the window again, “Took a right smart pile t' fix it up like that, Money wasted, [ tell er. We'll go across that way t' the house, if v'u like “It would please me greatly” The momentary sternness had left the eves belilnd the spectacles, the jerky precise voice bad resumed Its effusive drawl. When they came down, Texie and | Jack had already gone out into the | Mrs. Mason was standing in | the door, talking to them, The gray-haired gentlewoman turned | to the preacher, “Brother Hopkins, won't you please | run over for a few minutes after sup “Brother Hopkins, Won't You Please Run Over for a Few Minutes After Supper?” 1 have so longed to talk with a since" i “It is a minister's duty to go where | his people call him.” he said, in a volce | pitched to reach the ears of the others, as it might have seemed. “I shall be very pleased to come.” He bowed himself out and joined the half impatient banker on the door- per? “Come on” the old man called to the others down the walk, “we're goin’ peross the orchid. Brother Hopkins Towe he'd like to” There was no gate between the banker's park-like orchard and the parsonage yard. The fence had. to be climbed, When they reached It the preacher offered hfs hand to the girl, who, to the amazement of the woods man, toek it and allowed him to lift her down--a concession that meant much in the Flatwoods, At the bridge over Eagle run-. merely a huge foot log broad-axed flat along the top—the girl allowed the preacher to assist her again, and the woodsman was treated to his second surprise. He had seen her, hundreds of times, skip across that log as sure footed as a squirrel, , The path beyond led past the big maple with the rustic seat beneath the shelter of Its far-flung branches. At its roots a spring gushed up, lapping the white pebbles of the tiny gutter it had Worn for itself on its way to Eagle run. “Whispering spring,” sald Texle sim- ply, raising her eyes to the preacher. “Jack named it that. He can think of 8 many names f'r things. He's a poet, 1 guess.” The woodsman fidgeted. The preach er glanced toward him, but made no comment, “My bosther, Ken, use t’ tell me the fairies come down out of the cliffs at night t' dance around Whispering spring, and 1 b'lieved him—I Wlleved everything he told me them days—and 1 use’ t’ watch f'r the fairies.” ike looked up at the preacher; then back into the spring, “Do you blleve In fairies?” She asked the question as If she hoped he did believe In them. He glanced down at the reflected co In the water. “Yes; there's a peeping into the spring right ” The old banker grunted; the weods- man turned to the face behind the huge spectacles. It was the first thing i t . the preacher had sald that caught his interest. The girl was so entirely an un- spolled ‘creature of the woods that she let the preacher see how much the neat compliment pleased her. With the color tingling over her face, &he sprang over the gnarled roots of the great piaple and ran a few steps up the path to the edge of the yard, paused and then hurried on. The preacher looked after her in his peer. ing way, while the woodsman strode up the path and overtook her at the kitchen door. “I'll run over and do the chores, and then come back,” he sald, He walked on a little way and then came slowly back. The girl, just going into the kitchen, seemed to know that be had turned-—seemed to know that he would turn back. With her hand on the door casement she waited for him to speak. The man glanced out over the chard: up the side of the cliffs; along the timber line that bearded them; came back the eyes. The inquisl- tiveness had lessened; the rogulshness deepened “You tered, With an darted in or- fo let ‘Im Hft yu!” he mut odd, hard little laugh she at the kitchen door, CHAPTER Ill Three Candies, back along the orchard path to hiouse came the drone of the banker's broken oceasionally by preacher's precise, jerky sentences, Warhope listened for a moment money-lender was talking about a quarter-section that had fore closed on the day before. The woods man had heard many an hour of that talk. With & shrug of his shoulders he pushed the gate open and walked around to the kitchen door. With a step that the had made light as a falling leaf he slipped in and stood motionless, The portly, pudgy form of Mrs Curry, the house keeper, was bent over the cook volce, he woods busy with the supper, The flit of a shadow and the clink of dishes in the adjoining dining room told the grinning Intruder that Texle the table. For such an would be three candles instend of one The clink of the dishes ceased and the girl appeared in the doorway be tween the two rooms. Seeing Jack, she paused, tried to look but falled, “Now look at that!™ Mrs, straightened, claimed : “Big Jack! up on a body.” “Put ‘im t' work, Mis" Curry don't "low no loafers, do we?” The housekeeper in reply was Inter rupted by a misbehaving skillet and she turned back to the stove, Supper was on the table. The wopds man took his place with the others. The banker dropped his hands in his lap, nodding toward the preacner, and bowed his head. The traditions of the Flatwoods called for a lofig and sonorous grace a sort of sermonette—when the preach- er was a guest, but the new minister seemed never to have heard of any such tradition. The grace he sald was go short, so direct and concise, yet so beautiful In thought and diction that the banker looked at him in pleased surprise, Supper over. there fell a moment of silence-«the delicious breath of repose that almost always follows the evening men! in quiet country homes. money-lender sat marking on the table. cloth with his fork, as if mapping out the boundary lines of other quarter. sections that he hoped to have the chance to foreclose in a short time The girl seized the favorable mo- ment, and leaning forward, said: “Now, Mr. Hopkins, tell us about. my brother~Ken. I've be'n wishin’ all evening t' ask y'u.™ Her father stopped marking on the tablecloth and sat very still; the housekeeper crossed her knife and severe, Curry and ex Mercy, how you can slip We Moorish domination ; the woodsman let his thoughts revel In the faultiess pro. the subdued eagerness of one who dreaded the answer, napkin, He fumbled his — - “Pp, 8.Mr. Colin is dead. He died before he could quite fin. ish signing his name.” (TO BE CONTINUED) World's Coldest Place, The Province of Werchojanesk, In Oriental Siberia, Is the coldest Infiablit- ed place In the world. The daily mean temperature throughout the year Is 2.72 degrees below nero, Often Done, “Why don't you get a new hotel mm Plunkville? “It Is esster to chaoge the name of the old vnw. ~Loulsviue London Favors Fur and Rich Velvets Peltry and Heavy Fabrics Used in Interesting Combination. the fall models have thelr skirts ull plalted together In front with clussieal folds extending fan-shape to the hem, and the other half have every possible scrap of full- ness strained right sway from the front and bunched up at the back into what hans a startling resemblance to ao bustle, or at any rate a very full double-looped bow with long diagonally slashed ends which reach to the bot fom of the skirt or trail on the floor. ix last, of course, writes a London fushion correspopdent, applied only to evening dresses, But the bunchy back effect Is seen on heavy cloth street dresses made to be worn upder short, flaring, wide- sleeve coats of heavy embroidered or srocaded velours or fur. Fur is on everything, a foot band around the bottom of a velvet or brocade cloak, cut as stralght and slim us n dress, with a similiar stralght band of exactly the same width One-half of wide chemise | ward under the chin Lining for the new “liquid” metal fabric evening cloaks Is ermine or rab. bit, showing In the immensely wide turned-back cape collar, the outside of which Is upholstered In a*double bolster | effect with tiny Jeweled buttons fixing the padding at Intervals. Fur is used on all the new sults, as | a straight close fitting earate band of Russian sable around the neck of | irtle rosewood brown velours made with a straight hunting Jacket and skirt finely plaited across the front wreadth, but perfectly plain in the back. No other fur appears on this sult; the Sa : Black Satin Frock, Draped in Back With Bustle Sash of Black Woire Taffeta sleeves are close fitting and widen slightiy at the wrist, but are fitted with storm wristlets, just as hunting conte are. These are made of heavily embroidered chamols materinl and are the only touch of color, Fur in broad bands and in tiny rolls trims evening gowns of metai lace, puilleted crepe de chine and satin, A bertha of fluffy sliver fur, extending half way to the elbows, Is used on a ——————————— A wo —— | Arranging Things to Make Home Attractive Heaven's first law may be met if the placing of the furniture of a room hy keeping in mind the simple princl | ple that there must be a doipinant | note in this just as there Is 'n music ! All phases of interior decoration are | controlled by this principle. Without its application there is the worst kind of disorder, although we may become | s0 careless with ourselves and so | hardened In our sensibilities that we are totally unaware of the jargen we speak every day In our homes The piano or the fireplace ie nsnally the dominant note In the furnishing of the living-room. If you have both inh. a rectangular room the fireplace takes precedence over the plano. If there Ig hn alcove In your room the | piano may easily be given the promi. nence It deserves. With fireplace and | plano both In the room it is generally | best to place the plano opposite the | fireplace If possible. This makes a | good balance. In any event both i should not be on one side of the room | unless It Is the inward