CHAPTER XIV—Continued 7 a “My dear child,” Mrs. Follette said, ‘have lunch with me. Mary has baked fresh bread, and we'll have it with your berries, and some Dutch cheese and cream.” “I'd love it,”’ Jane said; ‘I hoped you'd ask me. We are going at four to Delafield Simms for the week- end. I shall have to be fashionable for forty-eight hours, and 1 hate it.” Mrs. Follette smiled indulgently. “Of course, you don’t mean it. And don’t try to be fashionable. Just be yourself. It is only people who have never been anybody who try to make themselves like others.” “Well,” said Jane, ‘I'm afraid I've never been anybody, Mrs. Fol- lette. I'm just little Jane Barnes.” Her air was dejected. “What's the matter with you, Jane?” Mrs. Follette demanded. Jane clasped her hands together. “Oh, 1 want my mother. 1 want my mother.” Her voice was low, but there was a poignant note in it. Old Mary came out with the tray, and when she had gone, Mrs. Follette said, ‘Now tell me what's troubling you?” “I'm afraid.” “Of what?” “Oh, of Mr. Towne's big house, and—I think I'm a little bit afraid of him, too, Mrs. Follette.” “Why should you he afraid?” “Of the things he'll expect of me. The things I'll expect of myself. 1 can’t explain it. I just—feel it.” Mrs. Follette, pouring ice-cold milk from a silver pitcher, said, “It is a case of nerves, my dear. You don’t know how lucky you are.” “Am I lucky?” wistfully. “Of course you are lucky. But all girls feel as you do, Jane, when the wedding day isn’t far off. They wonder and wonder. It's the new- ness—the—"" * ‘Laying flesh and spirit . . . in his hands . J" Jane quoted, with quick-drawn breath. “I shouldn't put it quite like that,” Mrs. Follette said with some se- verity; ‘“‘we didn't talk like that when I was a girl.” “Didn't you?’ Jane asked. Well, I know you were a darling, Mrs. Follette. And you were pretty. There's that portrait of you in the library in pink.” “1 looked well in pink,” said Mrs. Follette, thoughtfully, “but the best picture that was ever done of me is a miniature that Evans has.” She buttered another slice of bread. She had no fear of growing fat. She was fat, but she was also stately and one neutralized the other. To think of Mrs. Follette as thin would have been to rob her of her duchess role. Jane had not seen the miniature. She asked if she might. “I'll get it,”’ said Mrs. Follette, and rose. Jane protested, “Can't I do it?" “No, my dear. I know right where to put my hand on it.” She went into the cool and shad- owy hall and started up the stairs, and it was from the shadows that Jane heard her call There was something faint and ag- itated in the cry, and Jane flew on winged feet. Mrs. Follette was holding on to the stair-rail, swaying a little. “I can't go any higher,” she panted; “I'll sit here, my dear, while you get my medicine. It's in my room on the dresser.” Jane passed her on the stairs, and was back again in a moment with the medicine, a spoon, and a glass of water. With her arm around the elder woman she held her until the color returned to her cheeks. “How foolish,” said Mrs. Follette at last, sitting up. “I almost faint- ed. I was afraid of falling down the stairs.” “Let me help you to your room,” Jane said, “and you can lie on the couch—and be quiet—"' “I don’t want to be quiet, but I'll lie on the couch—if you'll sit there and talk to me)” So with Jane supporting her, Mrs. Follette went up the rest of the flight, and across the hall—and was made comfortable on a couch at the foot of her bed. Jane loved the up-stairs rooms at Castle Manor. Especially in sum- mer. Mrs. Follette followed the southern fashion of taking up win- ter rugs and winter curtains and substituting sheer muslins and leav- ing a delightful bareness of waxed floor. “Perhaps 1 can tell you where to find the miniature,” Mrs. Follette Evans’ desk set back under the row of pigeonholes. You can’t miss it, and 1 want to see it.” Jane crossed the hall ww Evans’ room. It faced south and was big and square. It had the same stud- jed bareness that made the rest of the house beautiful. There was a mahogany bed and dresser, many books, deep window-geats with faded velvet cushions. Evans’ desk was in an alcove by the east window which overlooked Sherwood. It was a mahogany desk of the secretary type, and there was nothing about it to drain the color from Jane's cheeks, to send her hand to her heart. Above the desk, however, where his eyes could rest upon it whenever he raised them from his writing, was an old lantern! Jane knew it at once. It was an ancient ship's lantern that she and Baldy had used through all the years, a heritage from some sea-going ancestor. It was the lantern she had carried that night she had found Evans in the fog! Since her return from Chicago she had not been able to find it. Baldy had complained, ‘Sophy must have taken it home with her." But Sophy had not taken it. It was here. And Jane knew, with a certainty that swept away all doubts, why. “You are a lantern, Jane, high . " She found the miniature and car- ried it back to Mrs. Follette. “I told you you were pretty and you have never gotten over it.” She had regained her radiance. Mrs, Follette reflected complacent- held “I hope it won't rain,” Edith said. ly that girls were like that. Moods of the moment. Even in her own day. She spoke of it to Evans that night. “Jane had lunch with me. She was very tired and depressed. I told her not to worry. It's natural she should feel the responsibility of the future. Marriage is a serious obligation." “Marriage Mother.” “What do you mean?” “Oh, it's a great adventure. The greatest adventure. If a woman loved me, I'd want her to fly to me —On Wings. the future if Jane loved Towne.” “But she does love him. She wouldn't marry him for his money." ‘““No, she wouldn't,” with a touch of weariness. ‘It is one of the things I can’t make clear to myself. And I think I'd rather not talk about it, Mother.” They were in Mrs. Follette's room. She had told her son about her heart attack, and he had been anxious. But she had been quite herself after and had made light of it. ‘I shall have Hallam over in the morning,”’ he had insisted, and she had acquiesced. “I don’t need him, but if it will make you feel better.” is more than that, CHAPTER XV Lucy was still to Eloise Harper the stenographer of Frederick Towne. Out of place, of course, in this fine country house, with its for- mal gardens, its great stables, its retinue of servants. “What do you do with your- selves?’ she asked her hostess, as she came down, ready for dinner, in revealing apricot draperies and found Lucy crisp in white organdie with a band of black velvet around her throat. “Do?” Lucy's smile was ingenu- ous. “We are very busy, Del and 1. We feed the pigs.” “Pigs?” Eloise stared. She had assumed that a girl of Lucy's type would affect an elaborate attitude of leisure. And here she was, instead, fashionably energetic, They fed the pigs, it seemed, ac- tually. © Of course not the big ones. But the little ones have their bot- ties, There are ten and their moth- er died. You should see Del snd me, He carries the bottle in a met. al holder—round,” —Lucy’s hand de- scribed the shape,—‘‘and when they see him coming they all squeal, and it's adorable.” Lucy's air was demure. She was very happy. She was a woman of strong spirit. Already she had in- terested her weak husband beyond anything he had ever known in his drifting days of bachelorhood. “‘Aft- er dinner,” she told Eloise, “I'll show you Del's roses. They are quite marvellous. I think his col- lection will be beyond anything in this part of the country.” Delafield, coming up, said, “They are Lucy's roses, but she says I am to do the work.” “But why not have a gardener?” Eloise demanded. “Oh, we have. But I should hate to have our garden a mere mat- ter of—mechanics. .Del has some splendid ideas. We are going to work for the flower shows. Prizes and all that.” Delafield purred like a pussy-cat. “1 shall name my first rose the ‘Little Lucy Logan.” ” Edith, locking arms with Jane, a little later, as they strolled under a wisteria-hung trellis towards the fountain, said, ‘‘Lucy’s making a man of him because she loves him. And I would have laughed at him. We would have bored each other to death.” “They will never be bored,” Jane decided, ‘with their roses and their little pigs.” They had reached the fountain. It was an old-fashioned one, with thin streams of water spouting up from the bill of a bronzed crane. There were goldfish in the pool, and a big green frog leaped from a lily pad. Beyond the fountain the wisteria roofed a path of pale light. A pea- cock walked slowly towards them, its long tail sweeping the ground in burnished beauty. “Think of this,” said Jane, “and Lucy's days at the office.” “And yet,” Edith pondered, "she told me if he had not had a penny she would have been happy with him." “1 believe it. pig, and a rose-bush, they would find bliss. It is like that with them.” The two women sat down on the marble coping of the fountain. The peacock trailed by them, its jewels all ablaze under the sun. Adelaide, tall, was swinging along beneath the trel- lis. The peacock had turned and walked beside her. ‘‘What a pic- ture Baldy could make of that," Edith said, ** ‘The Proud Lady." " “Do you know," Jane's voice was also lowered, ‘when I look at her, I feel that it is she who should marry your uncle.” Edith was frank. “I should hate her. And so would he in a month. She's artificial, and you are so adorably natural, Jane." Adelaide had reached the circle of light that surrounded the foun- tain. “The men have come and have gone up to dress,” she said. “All except your uncle, Edith. He telephoned that he can't get here until after dinner. He has an im- portant conference.” “He said he might be late. came, of course?” “Yes, and Eloise is happy. He had brought her all the town gossip. I hate gossip.” that pose. No one Benny Edith knew Adelaide of her neighbor's affairs. But she did it, subtly, with an ef- fect of charity. “I am very fond of her,” was her way of prefacing a ruthless revelation. “1 thought your brother would be down,” Adelaide looked at Jane, poised on the rim of the fountain, like a blue butterfly, —~"but he wasn’t with the rest.” “Baldy can’t be here until tomor- row noon. He had to be in the of- fice.” “What are you going to do with yourself in the meantime, Edith?” Adelaide was in a mood to make people uncomfortable. She was un- comfortable herself. Jane, in bil- lowing heavenly blue with rose rib- bons floating at her girdle, was youth incarnate. And it was her youth that had attracted Towne. The three women walked towards the house together. As they came out from under the arbor, they were aware of black clouds' stretched across the horizon. *‘I hope it won't rain,” Edith said, “Lucy is planning to serve dinner on the terrace.” Adelaide was irritable, “I wish she wouldn't. There'll be bugs and things." Jane liked the idea of an out-of- door dinner. he thought that the maids in their pink linen were like rose-leaves blown across the lawn. There was a great umbrella over the table, rose-striped. ‘How gay it is,”” she said: ‘1 hope the rain won't spoil it.” When they reached the wide-pil- lared piazza, no one was there, The wind was blowing steadily from the bank of clouds. Edith went in to get a scarf. And so Jane left alone. Adelaide sat in a big chair with a back like a spreading fan; she was statuesque, and knew it, but she would have exchanged at the mo- ment every classic line for the ef- fect that Jane gave of unpremedi- tated grace and beauty. The child had flung a cushion on the marble step, and had dropped down upon it. The wind caught up her ruffles, so that she seemed to float in a cloud. She laughed, and tucked her whirl- ing draperies about her. "I love the wind, don't you?” Adelaide did not love the wind. It rumpled her hair. She felt spite- fully ready to hurt Jane. “It is a pity,” said, pause, ‘‘that Ricky can’t us.” Jane agreed. “Mr. Towne always seems to be a very busy person.” Adelaide carried a little gauze fan with gold-lacquered sticks. When and Adelaide were she after a dine with “Do you always call him ‘Mr. Towne?" “Of course.” “But not when you're alone.” Jane flushed. “Yes, I do. Why not?" “But, my dear, it is so very for- mal. And you are going to marry him." “He said that he had told you." “Ricky tells me everything. We are very old friends, you know." Jane said nothing. There was, indeed, nothing to say. She was not in the least jealous of Adelaide. She wondered, of course, why Towne should have overlooked this lovely lady to choose a shabby child. But he had chosen the child, and that settled it as far as Mrs. Laramore was concerned. But it did not settle it for Ade- laide. *‘I think it is distinctly amus- ing for you to call him ‘Mr. Towne.’ Poor Ricky! You mustn't hold him at arms’ length.” “Why not?” “Well, none of the rest of us have,’”’ said Adelaide, deliberately. Jane looked up at her. ‘‘The rest of you? What do you mean, Mrs. Laramore?” “Oh, the women that Ricky has loved,” lightly. Jane's frock, fluttered her ruffies. The peacock on the lawn uttered a Adelaide and the burnished bird. She spoke of the peacock. “What a disagreeable voice he has.” Adelaide stared. “Who?” “The peacock,” said Jane. (TO BE CONTINUED) Boulder, Colorado town, claims it is the “only city in America—and perhaps in the world—tha! owns a glacier for its water supply.” Boulder, home of the University of Colorado, 30 miles northwest of Denver, and one of the ‘‘gateways’ to the northern Colorado Rockies, holds the unique position of having an unmeasurable and unlimited sup- ply of water for public use, stored up in one of nature's best refrigera- tors—the Arapahoe glacier and five smaller companions. By an act of congress in 1919, the city of Boulder was given full title to the glacier, and since that time has built up ene of the most elabo- rate and productive water sys- tems of any city its size in the United States. Thirty miles west of Boulder, nestled in the valley between the North and South Arapahoe peaks, lies the Boulder watershed--a strip of land taken from the Roosevelt National forest, and guarded by heavy fences—comprising an area of 6,020 acres of virgin land. Within this section lies the Arapahoe Gla- cier and five smaller bodies of ice, draining into nine large mountain lakes, at an altitude of from 11,000 to 13,000 feet. The lakes have a lons of nearly pure drinking water in storage for use in the fu. ture by Boulder residents, Four 12-inch pipes carry water to the two reservoirs overlooking the city, passing through settling sta tions at several points on the 18. be reduced. exerts enough pressure to a stream of water over some of the the use of fire-fighting force pumps. Coming as it does from high alti- tude lakes, the water is virtually germ free and needs little treat- ment. Arapahoe glacier is said by geol- ogists to be moving at a rate of from 12 to 27 feet a year. First Named Rio Bravo Rio Bravo, the wild and turbu- lent river, is the name that was originally given to the Rio Grande by the first Spanish explorers, in the Sixteenth century, and is still used by the inhabitants of Mexico. "OnceOver by Hl.Phillips We got one great break in this Christmas business . . . there was no dispute about the right date. *. & » Well, there's just an outside chance that in a day or two Junior from popper’'s possession, » * * It would seem to some observers . a * “To have interned the Graf Spee deteriorated Dispatch. Blowing her to bits keeps her in fine shape, you understand. * * * “Mr. Selznick “Gone With the Wind" took about four hours, but would not be cut.” -News item. Wanna bet? * dd » MORE ABOUT THOSE HATS How to tell whether the snood is part of the hat or the hat part of the snood is a major difficulty. In either case it gives a woman the appear- ance of having become tangled in some mosquito netting while putting on her bonnet, * - . Still, the snood isn’t entirely to blame for the comic angle in 1939 millinery. It's the hats themselves, They have gone babyish. They look like those little things that used to be used as ornaments on birthday cakes. " ¥ » The idea seems to be to get an adult into a hat designed for kinder- garten wear. ® *® ® We have seen old fashioned pen wipers that would make ideal bonnets for misses’ and ladies’ wear this sea son. * * * Anything goes as long as it is four sizes too small and good for a laugh. O0T MON/ —~— H ATS IWOUTE 3% TO PROP 1H ’ » AT LIN(H TIME A Zz : 1 i Scotland is becoming peeved because the German bombers arrive so often during lunch hour. Those Germans seem to have no idea whatever of eti- quette, * » * The Dionne quints have five type- writers. Just wait until Doc Dafoe is asked to change the ribbons. » - . Germany is now weakening pilsener beer in its economy drive. Careful now: there's a limit to ev erything, Adolf! .—a PROPHECY of course Sooner or later will end in divorce. Edna G. Groskin * * . DISTRICT ATTORNEY DEWEY of New York is out for the presi- dency. It's going to mean plenty of trouble if he finds out politics is a racket, - - * OBSERVATIONS ON THE OPERA The conduct of Carmen Was truly alarmen— She deserved what she got When put on the spot. The Barber of Seville Has unusual skill In arranging affairs For people in pairs. But I've often suspected His own business was neglected. Rebecca Richmond - . » . » » PSYCHOPATHIC WARD CASES Case No. 1 Middle-aged stranger who can't condition. Constantly cries, his head demands that he be allowed Has numerous Case No. II. Pfaff, Mr. and Mrs. Felix E,, about 23 years of age; were brought to psychopathic ward together in Can get nothing from them except the words, ‘Never again!” Diagno- Junior a drum. - » . Case No, HI. Unidentified man, white, 81, says he is one of the Van Sweringen Brothers: covered with adhesive ages; talks incessantly and unintel- ligibly about “crossovers,” "yards," “freight depots,” and “main lines.” And from time to time demands tell you there was a big wreck?” Diagnosis: Obviously has been play- ing with Junior's electric train set ever since 5 a. m. Christmas morn- ing. Easy Afghan Smart Done in Two Shades An afghan for a beginner! In two shades of a color, it's worked in single crochet, with rib ing a herringbone Pattern 6505 contains for making afghan; it and stitches: materials ju i: color of section of glitch design schen afghan. pattern send 15 coins to The Sewing Cir- Arts Dept., 2580 W. es Nour Yel y New York, N. Y. graph To obtain this cents In Chinese Boy Thought One Letup Deserved Another In a Shanghai bungalow shared ¥ and polishec The taking pot shots at were this target with paper pellets or gi it a pat as they passed by. To al of which the Chinese sai ! 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers