{ A Romance of the Commonplace By Frances Parkinson Keyes WNU Service Copyright by Frances Parkinson Keyes CHAPTER I — — “I've swallowed,” said Philip Starr to himself, “about two bushels of dust. Don't they ever oll their roads in Ver mont, I wonder? I'm sure I can’t make Burlington tonight anyway—it must be somewhere over on the other side of the map.” He interrupted his own train of thought by laughing aloud, and brought his motor to a stop beside the powdery highway which he had been mentally condemning, “Irish, cropping out as usual” he said, grinning, as he locked the car, “or maybe I'm still dippy—typhoid bugs die hard. Anyway, I'm going to see If this brook doesn't wind far enough from the road somewhere soon for me to get Into it, without being arrested In the process.” He rolled under the barbed-wire fence, and scrambled Into the under- brush of the woods that skirted the road. He was right; the little brook, twist. ing and turning, wound farther and farther into the woods; it foamed into a tiny waterfall, widened to a small pool, ideal for a swim! jut, pulling off his coat and jerking at his collar, the man stopped short and stared ahead of him, wondering If he were suddenly losing his senses, On the edge of the pool, just be yond the waterfall, was a girl, her face turned from him, her white feet and ankles gleaming through the clear water of the brook, She had on a soft. short, close-fitting white garment, and her bare arms were raised above her head. half-covered with the masses of shining hair that fell about her like ft golden cloud. Philip had been whistling. He stopped abruptly. The girl shook her hair, dropped her arms, and turned around. Then after one startled sec ond, in which Philip saw that her eyes were as blue as the shining sky which dappled the woods with its light, she smiled with entire friendliness “How do you do? antly. “I'm very well—that is, I'm not well at all. I've just had typhoid Philip stammered Then, thinking what an asinine thing that was to say, he went on, realizing all the time that he was not becoming less “That's why [I'm better, you know.” al a ole she asked pleas fever,” asinine, here—trying to “1 see.” said the girl, with the same Did wherever serene pleasantness, you walk all sou came?” Philip laughed. “No, | motored. | left Boston early this but 1 got so tirad and so dirty and so hot that I—" “Left your motor by the side road, and followed the brook to take a swim. And mow I'm here first, inz it all. What a pity! I'll g “Oh, please don’t! 1 don’t think you're spoiling ar ng particularly.” Philip stammered again. “In fact ~you rather place I thought it was the pret had ever seen, anyway.” “I'm sorry the way fron morning, of the spoil " Ee agont you add—to the and est place i ‘The girl put ap her hands, and be- gan drying her hair again. “Won't you sit down?” she asked. “You must be pretty tired” Philip with this sugges tion, feeling it to be an agreeable one, and, utterly at a loss as to what to say or do next, waited for the girl to make the next move. At last, as she con tinued to dry her bair in silence, he burst out, “Is one apt to run across— persons—like you—beside Vermont brooks? Perhaps you're not a person at all? Perhaps you're a dryad—or a nymph-—or something like that?” “l wish 1 were,” she said, and the least shadow of discontent seemed to have crept into her voice, “1 don't re member much about dryads and nymphs. My cousin Mary knows all about them. She'd have her nose In a book half the time, If she didn’t have so much else to do. She and mother and Cousin Jane are all housecleaning today—that’'s why | ran away. I'd have had to help if I'd stayed at home, You'd never believe there was so much in a house, untill you got it all out in the front yard! And Paul is so lazy he never helps half as much as he might, and Mary has to stop right in the middle of everything and chase up the children, and Cousin Jane goes off to prayer meeting—and oh, it's all plenty bad enough to make anyone want to be a nymph and live In a brook, where life is just one perpetual bath, and there can't possibly be any- thing to houseclean!” “Well, if you're not a nymph, and you don't live in a brook, would you think I were awfully rude If | asked what your name Is and where you Hive?" “My name is Blanche Manning. 1 live on Lady Blanche farm.” “Lady Blanche farm!” echoed Philip. “What a pretty name!” “Yes-—there's quite a pretty story about it, too. Would you like to hear it?” “Very much.” “All right—my hair's dry now. Il go and dress and you can have your swim. [I've got some lunch with me where my clothes are—enough for two, 1 guess. [I'll come back.” It was more than half an hour later fr complied before he heard her returning. He had bathed and dressed hurriedly, and was sitting, greatly refreshed and tre mendously hungry, but growing ex tremely anxious to have her return. At last she called: “Hoo0-00-00." “Hoo-00," he answered, “What's your name?" “Philip Starr.” “Well, Mr. Philip Starr, is it all right for me to comely “Yes, I've been ready ages. Do hurry.” She reappeared, still all In white. She did not, he noticed quickly, look very different now than when in the white bathing suit—of course he had by this time realized that this was what the slip had been, She stopped on the bank, a forgotten difficulty sud. denly occurring to her, “We're on opposite slides. We'll have to walk up a little way. There's a Philip Had Been Whistling. He Stopped Abruptly. shallow place where | can get across on the stones.™ “l guess you've run away before. You seem to know the lay of the land pretty well" “Oh, yes, Cousin Jane thinks moth- er has let Paul and me both grow up awful shirkers,. Only he just loafs, and I run” “1 see. Well, ran this time, “Yes, He's as my cousin half engaged. I'm surely glad you Is Paul your brother?” twenty—the same Mary. They're sort of He's fond of her, but not nearly as fond of her as she is of He likes to have a time with other girls, too, and, for all Mary can see, there isn’t another boy in the world except Paul He's perfectly sure of her, and it makes him careless, I shouldn't that age good like to be engaged way.” “Don't worry, you old ure you?” won't be. How “Seventeen. age It's a nice “It certainly Is. Are be seventeen long?” “Almost a year.” Philip Starr could not he had laughed so across the took the box of lunch from you going remember often, He stones, and Blanche. “1 meant to come over on your side.” “Of course. when leapt stepping 3ut 1 meant to help you across.” “1 hadn't thought of that” “Well, 1 had,” said Philip abruptly. “I've been thinking of it for some min it's a very pleasant thought to dwell on.” She looked at him with the same slightly startled expression as when had first discovered him, but It faded again just as quickiy. She put out both her hands and he swung her lightly across, so easily that she could hardly believe she was over, For some minutes they ate In satis fied silence. “Do you mind If 1 smoke,” Phillp asked, when the last delicious crumb was gone, “while you tell me that story—about Lady Blanche farm, you know?” “Oh, yes—have you ever been in the Connecticut valley before?” “I'm sorry to say 1 haven't.” “Well, It was mostly settled— around Hamstead, anyway--by men who came up the river from Massa- chusetts, not long before the Revo's. tion. We all belong to the Daughters of the American Revolution,” she in terrupted herself with a touch of pride. “They nearly all had big farms, and built big houses, and pros pered ; then they married each other's children, and have kept on living here ever since—the descendants have, | mean, We're nearly all cousins—third or fourth or fifth-—in Hamstead, It would be pleasant If it werent so deadly dull, Once In 2 long time we have a plenic or a dance, or go to the movies In Wallacetown. That's about all, and always the same people—nice but tedious, That's why it's such a tremendous relief to meet someone | don't know at all” Philip laughed, aware that he was feeling strangely warm and comfort. able inside at the inference that she might be having {illusions or thrills about him, “Thank you--where does Blanche come In?" “Oh, she came in right after the Revolution, My great-great-grandfa- ther, Col. Moses Manning, was a friend of Lafayette's, He went back to France with Lafayette, to visit him, and be presented at court. Lady Blanche was a countess who lived on the next estate, She was very young and lovely and sweet, and he fell In love with her.” utes, she Lady THE CENTRE “Pecullar man, he?" mured Philip, “Do you think so? Oh, you're laugh- ing at me! You think I am awfully silly and countrified and—" “You precious kid!" exclaimed Philip, sitting bolt upright in alarm: and then, as the startled look came into the blue eyes again, he went on very quickly and gently, “Excuse me, 1 didn't mean to be rude—or fresh. But I've been pretty sick, and it's & long time since 1 have laughed, or felt able to laugh, Please go on about the little French countess, Did she fall In love with him, too?” “Oh, yes! Head over heels! At first sight, too! Just like a story!” “Such things do happen” “Yes, 1 suppose 80,” sald the present Blanche, a trifie hurriedly, “—once In a great while, and ever so long ago, of course. S80 they were married, al though her family wasn't very en thusiastic about her going across the gea to an unknown wilderness—but as all the rest of them were guillotined not long after, she was better off than they were, anyway. Of course Col onel Moses brought her to Hamstead to live. She had a fortune in her own right, and a wonderful trousseau— great boxes and chests of ilnen and lace and clothes and sliver and jewels and books, and she had furniture sent, from the chateau. And my great-great-grandfather built her a big brick house—the handsomest one anywhere around here—and-—" “It’s a lovely story, next ™ “The rest of It isn't so 3 It's rather sad. The other farmers’ wives in Hamstead didn't for Lady Blanche. 1 think they were a little jealous of her Nie much richer and more beautiful than they were, and she couldn't talk Eng lish well derstand cold, as they thought, but just as gen wasn't mur: too, What happened lovely, care becuse was 80 muke them un wasn't enough to that she tie and 'onely and anxious to be friend ly as she cold be. And time, she didn't have any children That was considered almost a di in those days, It seems!™ “What was the end of the story?” Philip asked, gently “When she had been married about five years, she had twins—a boy and a girl She wasn't like the ploneer women. She died for a long Sorace, sirong. most of “Moses Manning never got Blanche went on, after a long “He didn’t marry a way most of the settlers their wives died—son And he never “ his place anything but Lady Blanch farm. after that—it's never been calle When grew up over It’ pause second e of or four times! anything else, ever since Moses and Bl 1iit them each a the twins, inche he b house on his own place, and as the boy wanted to be a lawyer, he bullt a little office ennneet ed with the big brick b They arried other ploneers—an and inherited | both un never } d Paul and His in o brick Jane Manning who's never marrie n another, one-—t} OTe 14 {‘ousin Set! third divided up vers to n a good edu and 1 didn’t loves books, had to give u large any more, ake us comfortable, ition. if we w specially, and school boarding when she t most reads for college, Won and there was oleae to look after little boys All Hamstead have the Mannings are a littl the rest of wouldn't—all except she rather likes it—but there's Blanche in generation, There's a queer superst] tion about that" “What is it? “On, 1 can’t tell you! it was awfully we BP)" “1 wouldn't—please—" But the girl, laughing, head. and got to her feet any idea what time it Is? “No, 1 haven't. 1 time it is, mother died her fail $ kept of them they do! And always one ench You'd think conceited and shook “Have sou she asked. care what don’t And 1 won't you don't want to--that ls If you'll promise to tell me some other time You—you'll do that, won't you? The girl hesitated, and, for the first time, blushed. Then she smiled. “Where were you thinking of go to have a swim and left your motor beside the road?” “To Burlington, to visit some friends who have a big summer place near there. But 1 can't get there tonight, now, can 17" he asked, pleading In his voice, “1 don’t believe you can, very well | suppose you're not familiar with the roads?” “Familinr! I'm not even on speak ing terms with them! And there are hardly any gulde-posts to introduce us!” he smiled, and, as he did so, he could see the lovely rosy color spread ing over the girl's face again, “What's the name of the hotel in Hamstead?” he asked abruptly. “There isn’t any hotel. But prob ably-it's so late, and you've been ill and everything-=Mary would take you In" “1 don't want to intrude" “Mary wouldn't feel that you were intruding. She'll be only too thank ful to have the chance to make you comfortable, That is, that's the way 1 think she'll feel about it. At any rate, we better go down {here and see!” (TO BE CONTINUED.) OEDO SOO thing! This spring ashion is being chorused and clear center far = loud throughont every style and near. In g spring will important suit experienced for a dec about the most ade or more, The exciting is that the are to have capes hing about new they Net that suits are to go indeed! The dition to the iacketiess, no, real news is that in ad usual jacket, the smartest tailored sults include capes, short, long or medium ler selfsn gth mad the me material very of the newest even go so far ood men as to throw sure a full th coat of the idertical tweed eng matelasse or hions we you the direct it comes Oo Aa ch is a thie of bel with ward to what —for immediate with this wise wenr, the wool skirt its colorful blouse is to be topped with the full-length coat throwing the cape casually about one's shoulders as a sure protection from any Icy blasts which winter may have left in its trall milder days, then doff the long coat in favor of the jaunty hip-length jacket, still retaining the look of casual swank which this trio of jacket, skirt Come the cape. To appreciate b and cape achieves, we refer you to the outfit the right in the {llustration. The material for this stunning threeplece is flecked hardsome posed to tweed. When warmish spring days ar- 8 rive the skirt with the cape sans jack- el or coat will prove a perfect joy In the , wearing The skirt cos spring. invitation it iattering blouse to com the is one rio. Be sure to note hat which of the new high tops this costume it “hoxy” turbans of cos sack influence which Paris is launch ng for spring Another happy inspiration i# the new 1 and lovely sre sit done In Ihe model pastels is such. It is cheviot in a di buttons to ored of pal ue al weave, with match hat the with taffeta bag, which is a soft feit pped together, Is also and gner has stitched a derby hat gner bh bhiue ng brim of deeper biue ele 4 mp the colo armony. iy ein is about the smartest this season for millinery ries of all sorts Western Newspaper Union This is the time to size up the chil dren's wardrobe to decide what last year's dresses may be suitable for the new season by adding a new top, shortening sleeves, devising a hand kerchief-ligen guimpe to make the wool plaid seem spring-like, or a cape collar to give the wide shoulders to that wool crepe dress, writes Carolyn T Radnor-Lewis in Child Life Magazine. The picture offers a suggestion for transforming a simple little print dress into a dainty party frock, by adding as a shoulder trimming a wide ruche trimming made of pleated mousseline which gives the new effect which is so popular this season, Skirt Hems When putting a hem In a skirt be gure to take a few back stitches ever so often, starts to rip it cannot rip for any great length on account of these extra stitches, LATEST SHOES HIDE SIZE OF YOUR FOOT tell shoes Actually, us that women are a size 10 8 size and a half longer than they were a decade ago. jut the new shoes for spring are so artfully designed that they the foot look Inches shorter. The tendency toward a higher cut is more marked than ever in this new footgear, with many versions of the oxford and the monk's shoe In evi dence. ‘Toes are rounder, and heels cupped to give a shorter effect to the they wearing from make foot. Sports shoes are smartly sturdy, and gs. is promised more Importance than usual for spring wear with tweeds and tuckskin, and other suede-finished leathers, also promise to hold good for the coming season. shoes wonlens, Velvet Enters Field of Collar and Cuff Fashions take to the Iatest whim, are doing a their trimming steel and semi precious stones, bite of copper, relli manner, and copper dizks through which the ties protrude and fasten in a bow, are matched for purses and shoe trims Nothing is more satisfactory, how. ever, than the collar-and-cuff set of isinginss, colored ta contrast with the costume or left in its natural trans parent nature. [It soils but it's such a grand feeling to take a small brush or washrag and a little warm soap and water and wash ‘em clean as a whistle In less time than it takes to to itl How to Change Necklines of Last Season's Dress Women who have last senson's dresses with low necklines will want to change them If possible, se capelets with stand-up collars, starched linen plastrons deep and wide enough to hide a cutout V, knitted yokes and cuffs, are some of the items which sug. gest themselves for the purpose. LITTLE SPRUCE GUM USED As a gum-chewing nation, America has gone soft, boasts the only sur- vivor of what once was a leading in- dustry in Maine, the making of spruce gum. The Indians taught gettlers the value of the gum from the spruce tree, But moderns turned many years ago to flavored gums that chew with less exertion, The spruce gum crop in Maine used to total 150 tons yearly. This was worth $300,000, Now, however, the harvest amounts to four to six tons, Do this for Your Child in TWO WEEKS How to rid any boy or girl of sluggishness or constipation and build a big appetite, The trouble with children who will not eat is usual stasis, The symp- toms that's always coated, bad breath, poor color, dull eves that are often a bilious yellow, are a tongue No appetite, no ambition—even for ] Hard to get to sleep, hard to wake in the morning, There's an remedy 1 this condition. It gives list] youngsters the appetite and gles of a young animal! They eat! They gain! They keep welll It's not stomach, but the bowel condition that keeps children from eating. But the trouble is in the lower bowel—the colon. Cali- fornia syrup of figs is the only “medicine” that is needed to stimu- late the The next day, your child is eating ter and feeling better, Keep on with the absolute the colon muscles, very gyrup of figs a few da h you will gee amazing Improvement in appetite, color, weight and spirits, Any drug store has the real Call bottled, with never made a tastin fornia syrup of figs, all directions, Nature cer acting or nicer (It is ember 1 tive, n when sickness has clogged a WARNING: thing to give children, » stores will try to substitute, Bo be sure the bottle says CALIFORNIA of Figs. Syrup Interesting Part Hidden enera » ha f that helped rend han tipation™ and ad vised NR Tablets (Na ture's Remedy). They toned and strengthene the eutire climinative tract i her system i" Try this safe, depe ndable, 2 % W085 vegetable laxative and corrective tonight. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers