COPYRIGHT THAPTER XII—Continued we] Ge Don heard! Nora knew that he heard. His head turned a little. Something that tried valiantly to be a smile, flickered for one brave mo- ment across his face . . A gong sounded . . A voice: “This way, Bill. Room for another here . n The ambulance swallowed him while Leonora struggled to get near . swallowed him . . . bore him away . She reached out, trembling from head to foot. She touched the wet arm of a fireman. ‘Please, can you tell me—is—is he , . The man wheeled—faced her. “You mean that feller we just brought out, lady? He's hurt bad. Stayed under the balcony for hours tryin’ to free a child that was pinned down. Time and again he was told to quit—that any minute the balcony was due to fall—but he just stayed there—kept on workin’. And not five seconds after he passed the kid to safety the thing collapsed. Tough, ain’t it? It took three of us an hour to uncover him. Say! 1 take off my hat to a guy like him! 1 never saw—My God, lady! is—is he anything to you?” ‘““‘He—he is my husband,” said Nora proudly; and then, suddenly conscious of pain that rent and tore her, yet not forgetting the dear bur- den that she carried, sank gently down inte the drifted snow. On an October evening nearly three years later, James Lambert went slowly up the stairs to a room that Martha Berry called “my par- lor.” It was a pleasant room with crisp white ruffled curtains at the windows, and a scarlet square cov- ering its center table; a room as prim and orderly as Martha her- self, yet with a home-like quality about it too. It was here that bot} Ned Nora had brought their chi l1dhoot d troubles to De smoothed It was £0 (th ough he did Tot sus- pect the fact) that James Lambert, during the years of Nora's absence, had brought his. This was Martha's birthday. James never forgot the date, partly because it was Ned's birthday too, and years ago they had celebrated the event together; partly because it was his habit to remember the anniversaries which most men for- get. Martha was not quite well, and the fact troubled him. She had been the prop and stay of his household for so many years. She had moth- ered his children, and, James ad- mitted with a little smile, mothered himself as well. They must take care that nothing saddened this faithful woman as she grew old. The door to Martha's parlor stood wide open. She was expect- ing him. A fire burned in the small coal grate, and his accustomed chair was waiting by the hearth. Martha was waiting too. Her work basket and copies of a church week- ly which usually occupied the center table, had been put away to make room for a display of birthday gifts; a vase of roses from Corinne and Ned; a cake, her name in fancy pink frosting on the top; a gilt bas- ket filled with stuffed dates; gray knitted bedshoes; gloves; two books, and a lace-edged handker- chief, obviously yellowed from be- ing laid away. James, glancing at the table, knew that he was expected to ex- claim and admire. When it came to birthdays Martha was something of a child. Now, though she looked up with her customary smile of greeting, he saw the unmistakable trace of recent tears. It was a dis- tinct shock. Never before had Mar- tha’s clear gray eyes been cloud- ed. He said, despite his inner per- turbation: ‘Happy birthday, Mar- tha!” and producing a small, white package from his coat pocket, pre- sented it. Martha said, as she had said on every previous occasion of the same sort: “You shouldn’t have done it, Mr. Lambert,” and proceeded to untie the cord with the eager fingers of one who was very giad he had! Those fingers trembled as she held aloft the beautiful gold chain with its drop of flawless ametnyst which was James Lambert's gift. Save for a watch which Nora had given her years before, Martha had never owned so valuable an orna- ment. Regarding her closely, James saw that she was thrilled; though all she said was to repeat: “You shouldn’t have done it, Mr. Lam- bert. When can an old woman like me wear anything so fine?” “Every day,” he answered, pleased that the trinket had made her smile. “That's what it's for, Martha. And now what have we here?” He moved toward the ta- ble. ‘‘Haven't you fared even bet- ter than usual?” This was another stock remark, and Martha answered: “I have in- deed! My roses came early this morning, as they always do. They bring to mind the days when Mr. Ned was a little fellow and we had our cakes together, here in my par- lor. The books are from my nieces, and CHRISTINE Clara and Isabel. Now I've more time to myself I enjoy reading. Cook made the cake, as usual; and the other girls gave me the bed- shoes and that handsome basket of stuffed dates. Help yourself, Mr. Lambert. A stuffed date ought not to hurt anyone. The gloves came from my niece Clara's husband, and... Martha paused. James, bending above the table, had lifted the hand- kerchief. There followed a silence before the woman said, gently, her voice trembling a little: *“The hand- kerchief is from Miss Nora, Mr. Lambert. It came this morning.” If a bomb had exploded in Mar- tha's parlor, James Lambert wouldn't have been more startled. He wheeled about, exclaiming in astonishment: “Nora! You say this handkerchief came from Nora?” Martha nodded. “Sit down, Mr. Lambert. Though it may not be my place to speak of it, you're all of a tremble. Miss Nora has never forgotten old Mar- tha's birthday — bless her loyal heart!—though in other years, since “Haven't you fared even better than usual?” —since she went away, sir, I have not mentioned her gift for fear of hurting you." The woman arose, went into her small bedroom, and returning with a package wrapped carefully in tis- sue paper, sat down once more and resumed her narrative. “You see, sir, it happened this way: When Miss Nora was only a wee girl she asked what I would like her to give me for a birthday present. 1 said, ‘Get me a nice handkerchief, chi, one that's a bit fancy for all mine are plain and when I take tea at the minister's next week I must dress up.’ I said it in fun, you know-—as a sort of joke; but the child got one of my maids to take her to the five and ten cent store, Mr. Lambert, and she bought me a handkerchief —a fancy one as I believe you will agree. 1 have it here.” Martha had been slowly untying the tissue-wrapped package. It con- tained, James saw, a pile of neatly folded handkerchiefs. From the top she lifted one with a bright pink border. She spread it out. Some- thing supposed to be a pansy em- broidered in garish shades of red and purple, adorned each corner. James Lambert stared at it; but as he remained silent the woman said: “Her taste improved as she grew older.” “Which was indeed fortunate,” re- torted James, surprised, even in that tense moment, to find his long dormant sense of humor still alive. “So every year, Mr. Lambert, no matter how fine a gift Miss Nora gave me, there was always a birth- day handkerchief as well. To tell the truth, nice handkerchiefs are a sort of weakness with me, and I think she knew it. Nice handker- chiefs and nice aprons. 1 never could abide the sort of aprons that (if you'll excuse my saying so) Mrs. Ned's maids are content to wear. Except during the years of war, when such extravagance would have been shameless, my own were linen.” Martha was spreading out a blue- edged square. “This came when she was only ten, Mr. Lambert—the year she and Mr. Ned gave me the gold brooch. Notice the pretty border, sir, as re- fined as can be; though later she got them all white which was more suitable, except this lavender one she brought from Europe. Just look at the quality! It is sheer enough for a queen—so delicate that I have rever presumed to use it; but" “And you say,” broke in James Lambert as if rousing suddenly, “you tell me that Nora has con- tinued since her—her marriage, to remember you?” “Did you think she would forget?” It was the nearest to a reproof PARMENTER that the loyal woman had ever dealt him, James did not speak, and aft- er a moment she continued: “Yes, every year. No matter where she happened to be living, my birthday handkerchief has arrived on time. They have come from many coun- tries, Mr. Lambert—Italy, England, Germany, even South Africa, if you'll believe it! Beautiful pieces of linen, all of them: but never an address so I could write and thank her. Note that, please. It was as if she felt you would not like me to write, sir—that if you wished her to hear news of us all you would write yourself. That's loyalty, isn't it? That's little Miss Nora! But last year. . .M Martha paused so long that James Lambert stirred uneasily, and she said: ‘““Maybe you noticed that I'd been crying a bit ‘when you came in, sir? It was about Miss Nora. Something tells me that ill luck has befallen her and hers. It was a year ago that I began to worry. My handkerchief came, Mr. Lambert, but it was not a new one. It was one of a half dozen Mrs. Ned gave her one Christmas, and that I'd ad- mired. I remembered distinctly the butterflies embroidered in all four corners. It had been nicely laun- dered; but I could not help wonder- ing if Miss Nora was, maybe, too poor to buy one; and then 1 de- cided she might have been where she could not shop, so had sent one of her own. 1 tried to put the mat- ter out of my mind, and now, you see, 1 wish that I had not.” Martha lifted Nora's birthday re- membrance that had arrived that day, shook out its delicate folds and spread it across her lap. “Do you see, Mr. Lambert, is another that she had saved, cause it was so handsome, I pose. There near the tiny place which And that's not all yellow from Ce lored. She this be- sup- is a mended. center has been 3. RR being laid away-—dis- had' no time even to bleach it! That i I was crying a little, Mr. Lambert. Don't you see, Miss Nora would never have sent old Martha a mended hand- kerchief if she could have bought a new one. And not to launder it! She may be sick, Mr. Lambert. 1 feel in my bones that things are wrong with her; while I, who would give my life for the poor lamb, and you, the only father she ever knew, are warm and comfortable, sur- rounded with every luxury.” There was a silence before the old woman continued, her voice trem- bling: “That is not right, Mr. Lam- bert. It is not Christian. Do not tell me that I am forgetting my place to say so. I know it. I have been your servant for more than half my life, sir; but 1 have been your friend as well; and you, the good sLords knows, have beeh a friend to me. There is no man in the world that I admire as I ad- mire you, sir; but that does not blind me to your faults. Why should it? I have seen you show forgive- ness that was almost heavenly; but 1s quile : why those that love you. “lI do not know what passed be- tween you and Miss Nora before she went away. I do not know what bit- ter things you may both have said. I do not want to know. But we are getting old, Mr. Lambert, you and I; and old age is a lonely time, a sad time, unless one can look back over the years and say: ‘I have done my best.” If you will remember, all Miss Nora asked was to marry the man she loved; and— There!" broke off Martha in con- fusion, “I did not intend to preach a sermon, to you of all people! But these things have lain heavy on my heart for years, Mr. Lambert, and I had to speak. If 1 have of- WXNU SERVICE fended, I can only beg your par- don.” James Lambert arose slowly. He did not smile, but rested a gentle hand upon her shoulder for a mo- ment. “You are a good friend, Martha. You could not offend me if you tried. You have merely shown me the truth that, down underneath, I have known for a long time.” He glaneed at his watch. ‘“Ned will be here to see you in a few moments, but—but I must be going down. There are things to — to think about . . ." CHAPTER XIII James was still deep in thought when, an hour later, his son came down from the birthday visit with old Martha. In fact, Ned found his father so noncommittal that he, too, lapsed into silence and took up a book. But he did not read. Not only had he something on his mind, but he was observing with genuine con- cern those lines of care and worry in the older man's familiar visage. Ten years, and troubles with a growing son had made Ned Lam- bert more tolerant of others. Now, coming to a decision, he asked abruptly: ‘Dad, do you hear from Nora these days?” James Started, because Ned seemed to have read his thoughts. “Not a line for nearly three years, son.” “You're His father nodded. “1 can't help wondering if they're in difficulties; and tonight Mar- tha-"" He ther; and worried?” stopped, not wishing to go fur- Ned moved to a window, looking into the dark night as if uncertain about something. It was James who spoke. “Look here, ought « Son. you , Which goes tc you, ti divided evenly, as it There are bequests to serv- of course; and to the men y've been with us longest at the ice, besides something for Nora's boys; but the bulk of the prop- erty goes to you and-—and your sis- ter. When she left home I was too upset to think Later 1 let the mat ter dri ft. well, if you feel that to you and yours—"' “Why should 1?” Ned turned— sat down beside his father on the davenport. “It's your money, Dad Do as you please with it. I've got enough of my own-—enough to have pretty nearly ruined my own boy, as you know. We'll both be happi- er, you and I, if we feel that Nora is provided for." “You mean that?” James, a trifle puzzled. Ned smiled. “Of course I mean it! Why in the world shouldn't I? I'll admit that 1 used to be jealpus of Nora when I was a kid; and after I understood about things 1 was sometimes cad enough to feel ashamed of her. 1 think she knew it, and despised me a little. But I realize now that you seemed every bit as near to her as you did to me, and I shouldn't want you to hurt her in any way. Where was she, Father, when you last heard?” James cleared his throat, not in anger as he used to do in the old days, but because of a sudden rush of feeling. Ned's words had brought him immeasurable relief, “They were in Chicago, on their way West. a: it's unjust questioned like those he did about South Africa. You read 'em, didn't you?" (TO BE CONTINUED) Few North Americans realize that there are more than 75,000,000 in- habitants in South America; That Brazil is 200,000 square miles larger than the United States; That Argentina is as large as all the states east of the Mississippi; That Rio de Janeiro is among the most beautiful cities in the world; That the Parana river discharges double the quantity of water of the Mississippi; That gold and diamonds abound in Brazil; That the Chaco forest is worth $10,000,000,000. That the Amazon and its tributa- ries constitute the greatest water system on earth; That ocean steamships sail 2,000 miles into the country; That Hold cascade of Herval has 2 sheer drop of 400 feet; That the ruins of the Incas ante- date those of Babylon; That the nuts of the tagua palm supply buttons for the universe; That the Iguazu falls are higher and wider than Niagara; That a million square miles of of the explorer. everything is on a huge and lavish plan and but a fraction of the nat. ural wealth has been developed. stellation of the Southern hemis- phere, the Southern Cross, extolled for centuries in poetry and prose, and beloved by all sailors who ride tion of the South pole. The Southern Cross is situated above the Antarctic circle, and for this reason is never visible in north. ern latitudes. It consists of four bright stars, to which fancy, aided by Christian associations, gives the cruciform shape. 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