CHAPTER X-—Continued
ee] Bee
Adelaide sat motionless, eyes on
her plate. When she spoke again it
was of other things. ‘Did you hear
that Delafield is coming back?”
“Who told you?’ asked Frederick.
“Eloise Harper. Benny's sister
saw Del at Miami. She is sure he
is expecting to marry the other
girl.”
“Bad taste, I call it.”
“Everybody is crazy to know who
she is.”
“Have they any idea?”
“No. Benny's sister said he talked
quite frankly about getting married.
But he wouldn't say a word about
the woman.”
“I hardly think he will find Edith
heart-broken.” Towne glanced
across the table. Edith was not
wearing the willow. No shadow
marred her lovely countenance. Her
eyes were clear and shining pools
of sweet content.
Her uncle was proud of that high-
held head. He and Edith might not
always hit it off. But, by Jove, he
was proud of her.
‘No, she's not heart-broken,” Ad-
elaide’s cool tone disturbed his re-
flections, ‘‘she is getting her heart
mended.”
“What do you mean?”
“They are an attractive pair, lit-
tle Jane and her brother. And the
boy has lost his head.”
“Over Edith? Oh, well, she plays
around with him; there's nothing se-
cious in it.”
“Don't be
ested.”
“What makes you insist on that?"
irritably.
“1 know the signs, dear man,’ the
cat seemed to purr, but she had
claws.
And it was Adelaide who was
right. Edith had come to the knowl-
edge that night of what Baldy meant
to her.
As she had entered the ballroom
men had crowded around her.
“Why,” they demanded, ‘do you
wear mistletoe, if you don't want
to pay the forfeit?”
Backed up against one of the mar-
ble pillars, she held them off. “I
do want to pay it, but not to any of
you.”
Her frankness diverted
“Who is the lucky man?”
“He is here. But he doesn’t know
he is lucky.”
They thought she was joking. But
she was not. And on the other side
of the marble pillar a page in scar-
let listened, with joy and fear in his
heart. ‘How fast we are going.
How fast."
There was dancing until midnight,
then the curtains at the end of the
room were drawn back, and the
tree was revealed. It towered to
the ceiling, a glittering, gorgeous
thing. It was weighted with gifts
for everybody, fantastic toys most
of them, expensive, meaningless.
Evans, standing back of
crowd, was aware of the emptiness
of it all. Oh, what had there been
throughout the evening to make men
think of the Babe who had been born
at Bethlehem?
The gifts of the Wise Men? Per-
haps. Gold and frankincense and
myrrh? One must not judge too
narrowly. It was hard to keep sim-
plicities in these opulent days.
Yet he was heavy-hearted, and
when Eloise Harper charged up to
him, dressed somewhat scantily as
a dryad, and handed him a foolish
monkey on a stick, she seemed to
suggest a heathen saturnalia rather
than anything Christian and civi-
lized.
“A monkey for a monk,” said
Eloise. “Mr. Follette, your cassock
is frightfully becoming. But you
know you are a whited sepulchre.”
“Am 17"
“Of course.
your prayers.”
She danced away, unconscious
that her words had pierced him.
What reason had she to think that
any of this meant more to him than
it did to her? Had he borne witness
to the faith that was within him?
And was it within him? And if not,
why?
He stood there with his foolish
monkey on his stick, while around
him whirled a laughing, shrieking
crowd. Why, the thing was a carni-
val, not a sacred celebration. Was
there no way in which he might bear
witness?
Edith had asked him to sing the
old ballads, ‘Dame, get up and
bake your pies,’ and ‘I saw three
ships a-sailing.” Evans was in no
mood for the dame who baked her
pies on Christmas day in the morn-
ing, or the pretty girls who whistled
and sang-—on Christmas day in the
morning.
When all the gifts had been dis-
tributed the lights in the room were
turned out. The only illumination
$i the golden effulgence which en-
too sure. She's inter-
them.
I'll bet you never say
ircled the tree.
In his menk's robe, within that
circle of light, Evans seemed a mys-
tical figure. He seemed, too, appro-
priately ascetic, with his gray hair,
the weary lines of his old-young
face.
But his veiee was fresh and clear.
And the song he sang hushed the
great room into silence.
“0 little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie,
Above thy deep and dreamless
sleep,
silent stars go by;
in thy dark streets shineth,
everlasting light,
hopes and fears of all the
years
met in thee tonight.”
The
Yet
The
The
Are
He sang as if he were alone in
some vast arched space, beneath
spires that reached towards Heaven,
behind some grille that separated
him from the world,
And now it seemed to him that he
sang not to that crowd of upturned
faces, not to those men and women
in shining silks and satins, not to
Jane who was far away, but to those
others who pressed close—his com-
rades across the Great Divide!
So he had sung to them in the
hospital, sitting up in his narrow
“And-—1 told him he must not,
Miss Towne.”
bed—and most of the men who had
listened were—gone.
As the last words rang out his
audience seemed to wake with a
sigh.
Then the lights went up. But the
monk had vanished!
Evans left word with Baldy that
he would go home on the trolley. “I
am not quite up to the supper and
all that. Will you look after Moth-
er?”
“Of course. Say, Evans, that song
was top notch. Edith wants you to
“Will you tell her I can't? I'm
But the last time 1 sang
that was for the fellows—in France.
And it—got me-—""
“It got me, too,” Baldy confided;
“made all this seem—silly."”
It was just before New Year's
that Lucy Logan brought a letter
for Frederick Towne to sign, and
when he had finished she said, "Mr.
Towne, I'm sorry, but I'm not going
to work any more. So will you
please accept my resignation?”
He showed his surprise. “What's
the matter? Aren't we good enough
for you?"
“It isn’t that.” She stopped and
went on, “I'm going to be mar-
ried, Mr. Towne.”
“Married?’ He was at once con-
gratulatory. “That's a pleasant
thing for you, and I mustn't spoil it
by telling you how hard it is going
to be to find someone to take your
place.”
“I think if you will have Miss
Dale? She's really very good.”
Frederick was curious. What kind
of lover had won this quiet Lucy?
Probably some clerk or salesman.
“What about the man? Nice fellow,
I hope—""
“Very nice, Mr. Towne,” she
flushed, and her manner seemed to
forbid further questioning. She went
away, and he gave orders to the
cashier to see that she had an in-
crease in the amount of her final
check. ‘‘She will need some pretty
things. And when we learn the date
we can give her a present.”
So on Saturday night Lucy left,
and on the following Monday a card
was brought up to Edith Towne,
She read it. ‘Lucy Logan? 1
don't believe 1 know her,’”” she said
to the maid.
“She says she is from Mr.
Towne's office, and that it is im-
portant.”
“Miss Towne," Lucy said as Edith
approached her, “I have resigned
from your uncle's office. Did he
tell you?"
“No. Uncle Fred rarely speaks
about business.”
With characteristic straightfor.
wardness Lucy came at once to the
point. “I have something I must
talk over with you, I don't know
whether I am doing the wise thing.
Rut it is the only honest thing."
“I can't imagine what you can
have to say.”
““No you can’t. It's this—'"" she
hesitated, then spoke with an ef-
fort. “I am the girl Mr. Simms is
in love with. He wants to come
back and marry me."
Edith’s fingers caught at the arm
of the chair. *‘Do you mean that it
was because of you—that he didn’t
marry me?"
“Yes. He used to come to the of-
fice when he was in Washington and
dictate letters. And we got in the
way of talking to each other. He
seemed to enjoy it, and he wasn’t
like some men—who are just—silly.
And 1 began to think about him a
lot. But I didn’t let him see it. And—
he told me afterward, he was al-
ways thinking of me. And the morn-
ing of your wedding day he came
down to the office—to say ‘Good-by.’
He said he—just had to. And—well,
he let it out that he loved me, and
didn't want to marry you. But he
said he would have to go on with it.
And—and I told him he must not,
Miss Towne."
Edith stared at her. “Do you
mean that what he did was your
fault?"
“Yes,” Lucy's face was white, “if
you want to put it that way. 1 told
him he hadn't any right to marry
you if he loved me.’’ She hesitated,
then lifted her eves to Edith’'s with
a glance of appeal. ‘Miss Towne,
I wonder if you are big enough to
believe that it was just because I
cared so much—and not because of
his money?"
“You think you love him?" she
demanded.
“Il know I do. And you don't. You
never have. And he didn't love you.
Why—if he should lose every cent
tomorrow, and I had to tramp the
road with him, I'd do it gladly.
And you wouldn't. You wouldn't
want him unless he could give you
everything you have now, would
you? Would you, Miss Towne?"
Edith's sense of justice dictated
her answer. ‘No,’ she found her-
self unexpectedly admitting. "If 1
had to tramp the roads with him, |
I'd be bored to death."
“l think he knew that, Miss
Towne. He told me that if he didn't
marry you, your heart wouldn't be
broken. That it would just hurt
your pride.”
Edith had a moment of hysterical
How they had talked her
Her lover—and her uncle's
What a tragedy it
She leaned forward a little, lock-
ing her fingers about her knees. *I
wish you'd tell me all about it."
So Lucy told the simple story.
aware of an increasing respect for
the woman who had taken her place
in the heart of her lover. She per-
her duty. “I thought it would be
easier for you if you knew it be-
fore other people did."
Edith’'s forehead was knitted in a
slight frown. ‘The whole thing has
been most unpleasant,” she said. |
“When are you going to marry |
him?"
“1 told him on St. Valentine's |
day. It seemed-—-romantic.”
Romance and Del! Edith had a
sudden illumination. Why, this was
what he had wanted, and she had
given him none of it! She had |
laughed at him-—been his good com- |
rade. Little Lucy adored him—and |
had set St. Valentine's day for the
wedding!
There was nothing small about
Edith Towne. She knew fineness
when she saw it, and she had a feel:
ing of humility in the presence of
little Lucy. “I think it was my
fault as much as Del's,” she stated.
“I should never have said ‘Yes.’
People haven't any right to marry
who feel as we did.”
“Oh,” Lucy said rapturously,
Towne, I always knew you were—
big.
so beautiful.’”’ Tears wet her cheeks,
“You're just — marvellous,”
said, wiping them away.
“No, I'm not.” Edith's eyes were
on the fire. “Normally, I am rath-
er proud and—hateful. If you had
come a week ago" Her voice fell
away into silence as she still stared
at the fire.
Lucy looked at her curiously.
week ago?”
Edith nodded. “Do you like fairy
tales? Well, once there was a prin-
cess. And a page came and sang—
under her window.’’ The fire purred
and crackled. “And the princess—
liked the song—"'
“Oh,” said Lucy,
breath.
She stood up. "I can’t tell you
how thankful I am that I came.”
“You're not going to run away
yet,’ Edith told her. ‘I want you
tairs.
under her
*1 haven't many. And
GT 't to stay.”
ois not? want
don’t say no.
So up they went, with the per-
turbed parlor maid
u tube
1 really
you. Please
the
» says, and plen-
le Lucy had never seen such
a room as the one to which Edith
led her. The whole house
deed, a dream palace.
the atmosphere with h her lov-
er would her. She
had a feeling almost of panic. What
would she do with a maid like Alice,
who was helping Josephin
the folding-table, spread th
cloth, bring in the hot silver dis
As if Edith divined her thou
said when the maids
was, in-
Yet it was
whic
soon surround
©
had le
“Of course, Miss Towne
“Don’t try to be-—like the rest of
us. Like Del's own crowd, 1 mean.
He fell in love with you because
He will want
“But
learn.”
Edith was impatient. “What must
you learn? Externals? Let them
alone. Be yourself. You have dig-
nity—and strength. It was the
strength in you that won Del. You
and he can have a life together that
will mean a great deal, if you will
make him go your way. But you
must not go his"
Lucy considered that
that the crowd he is with weakens
him?"
“1 mean just that. They're so-
phisticated beyond words. You're
what they would call—provincial
be provincial, Lucy. Don’t be
afraid. But don't adopt their ways.
1 shall have so much to
your prayers? Believe that God's in
His world?"
Lucy's fair cheeks were flushed.
“Why, of course I do.”
“Well, we don't—not many of us,”
“The thing you have
thing.
a success of it.”
“But he lives in New York.”
“Of course he does. But he can
live anywhere. He's so rich that he
doesn’t have to earn anything, and
his office is just a fiction. You must
make him work. Go in for a fad;
blooded horses, cows, black Berk-
shires.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Alaskan bears have the benefit of
protection on three types of sanctu-
aries—refuges established by execu-
tive orders, closed areas under
game law regulations and national
parks and monuments.
Mount McKinley National park
and Katmai and Glacier Bay Nation-
al monuments, where all wild life is
protected, provide the bears with
more than 5,800,000 acres of safe
range-1,039,493 acres on Mount Mc-
Kinley, 2,607,500 on Katmai and
1,164,800 on Glacier bay.
The Aleutian islands bird refuge
includes the 998,0600-acre Unimak is-
land where bears occur and share
the protection given all wild life.
Through an executive order, bears
share with elk the protection af-
forded by the 448,000 acres of Afog-
nak island,
Regulations under the Alaska
game law prevent bear hunting on
eight additional areas, totaling more
than 1,340,000 acres. An area of
over 1,222,000 acres contiguous to
Glacier Bay National monument and
two areas on Admiralty with a com-
bined acreage of nearly 52,000 acres
have been closed to bear hunting.
The Admiralty island areas, Thay-
er mountain and Pack creek, in-
spectively. Five other areas, with
and their acreage are as follows:
10,240.
Regulations under
parts of the territory where hunt
ing is of any consequence. No hunt
ing is permitted anywhere through-
out the summer season, and during
about five months of the open hunt-
ing season the bears are hibernat-
ing. The bag limit for large brown
and grizzly bears is two a year, ex-
cept on Admiralty island where a
limit of one has been made to in-
duce nonresident hunters to visit
other areas. Sale of bear hides is
prohibited, a regulation that is con-
sidered as one outstanding factor
which has permitted an increase in
the large brown and grizzly bears.
Since this restriction was placed
in effect, when the original Alaska
game law was passed in 1925, there
has been a perceptible change for
the better in the brown and grizzly
bear population.
CONFIDENCE
Child Would Love
These Dutch Dolls
“I am going to take off
end fly around the courtyard a lit-
tle bit,” he remarked.
Leaping from the window sill, he
buried his nose in the cement three
floors below. The next day his friend
went to the hospital to see him.
“1 certainly made a fool of my-
self yesterday,” said the patient.
“Why didn’t you stop me?”
“Well, shucks,” said his friend,
‘maybe I should have, but I really
hought you could do it.”
JUST WASTING TIME
Sah
Ida—You'd never get me to waste
hours sitting on a sofa with any
man!
Irene—1 suppose it is just waist-
ing-time.
That Umbrella
They were discussing he excur-
sions erature of famous
statesmen.
“Has Mr. Chamberlain ever writ-
ten a book?" asked the teacher.
“Yes, sir,” piped the bright boy
of the class. * ‘Mein Gamp'l"™
No Help at All
“Could you let me have—er—a
banker's reference, sir?" said the
house-agent, negotiating a sale
“Just a formality, you know.”
“1 could,” replied the client, “but
it would only distress you."
. is
into at
Polite Suggestion
Diner—1 say, waiter, I have only
one quarter. What would you sug-
gest?
Waiter—Another restaurant, sir!
Miss Singleton—Doesn’t your hus
band help you get the children ready
for school?
Mrs. Multikids—I can’t trust him.
What does a man know about how
much rouge and lipstick to use on
the little girls?
Almost Worn Out
The doctor was visiting Rastus’
wife, who had just had her twelfth
child. In the road outside the house
opened the door he inquired:
“That ain't no duck, boss,” said
“That's the stork with its
legs worn down.”
Free Wheeling Cycle
Sandy entered the shop where he
had recently purchased a bicycle.
said.
“Hasn't it arrived yet?” said the
“It has,” said Sandy, “but where's
that free wheel you spoke about?"
Soaring Prices
Ardent Reader--I wender what
became of the dime novel?
for $3 now.
General Utility
Mose—I'm sho’ glad my wife's
built long and thin like a shoe-
string.
Rastus—Why fo'?
Mose-—Well, she doesn’t shade the
corn when she's hoein’ it like a fat
woman would!
Very Rough
Tom--Was her father rough with
you when you told him you had se-
cretly married his daughter?
Dick—I'll say. He nearly shook
my arm off,
Pattern 6475
Dolls are
wh } ow x br 110% BE _- 1
When they work up as qui
always fun
these (they're two
band to round
want to keep or
Pattern 6475
and directions for making
dolls and their clothes; materials
needed.
To obtain
cents in coins
cle, Household A
rie or
ATS i
dh 4 N or
14th wih. AYEW
the
cont: a patt
r
this pattern
to The S
York,
Jag Was Positively
Golfer's Last Chance
INDIGESTION
Sensational Relief from Indigestion
and One Dose Proves It
Tf the Brit dose of this pleasant tasting Mite
Black tablet dosen't bring you the fastest snd most
pumplets relief you have experienced send bottle
back to ue and get DOUBLE MONEY BACK. This
Beli-ans tadiel belds the stomach digest food,
takes the ezvess stomach fulds bermiess snd Jets
su esl the nourishing foods you need For heart
rn, sick hesdacrhe and upsels so often csused by
excess stomach Solids making you fesl sow snd
sek all over—JUET ONE DOSE of Bell-ans proves
poely relief. Z5¢ ev
Spontaneous Humor
Humor is a one ought not
to be conscic -it ought to be
just there, ready to n over—it
oughtn’t to be cultivated
NERVOUS, SLEEPLESS?
Frederick, Md. — Mrs.
Bertha Stash, 422 N.
Bentz St, says: "A few
thing
Wing
int sieep
and bousewor
gen ¢ me
Pierce's Favorit
toe
serves seemed better.”
vorite Prescription in 1
your druggist today.
Reward for Efforts
It never will rain roses; when
must plant more trees.—George
MERCHANTS
Advertising
Dollar
buys something more than
space and circulation in
the columns of this news-
paper. It buys space and
circulation plus the favor-
able consideration of our
readers for this newspaper
and its advertising patrons,