CHAPTER XVI-—Continued — It was on the way home that Jane had said to Baldy: “I feel like a selfish pig.” “Why, my dear?” “To take your precious prize be- fore it is cold. It doesn’t seem right.” “It isn't a question of right or wrong. If things turn out with these new people as I hope, I'll be paint- ing like mad for the next two months. And you'll have your work cut out for you as my model. They like you, Jane. They said so.” He had driven on steadily for a time, and had then said, ‘1 never wanted you to marry him.” “Why not, Baldy?" He turned his lighted-up eyes upon her. “Janey—I wanted you to have your—dreams—"' She had laid her hand on his arm in a swift caress. ‘You're a dar- ling—'" and after a while, “Nothing can take us from each other, ever, Baldy.” Never had they drawn closer in spirit than at this moment. But they said very little about it. When they came to the house, Baldy went at once to the garage. ‘I'll answer that letter, and put in a good after- noon looking over my sketches.” He did not tell her how gray the day stretched ahead of him—that golden day which had started with high hopes. Jane changed to a loose straight frock of orange cotton, and without a hat, feeling actual physical freedom in the breaking of her bonds, she swung along the path to the little grove. It was aromatic with the warm scent of the pines, and there was a cool shade in the heart of it. Jane had brought a bag of stock- ings to mend, and sat down to her homely task, smiling a little as she thought of the contrast between this afternoon and yesterday, when she had sat on the rim of the fountain and watched Adelaide and the pea- cock. She had no feeling of rancor against Adelaide. She was aware only of a great thankfulness, She was, indeed, at the moment, steeped in divine content. Here was the place where she belonged. She had a sense of blissful escape. Merrymaid came down the path, her tail a plume. lowed. A bronze butterfly floated across their vision, and they leaped for it—but it went above them—joy- sky. The two cats gazed after it, then composed themselves careful- ly like a pair of miniature lions— their paws in front of them, or for Jane's busy thread. And it was thus that Towne found her. Convinced that the house was empty, he had started towards Baldy’'s studio. Then down the vis- He had followed it. She laid down her work and looked up at him. come.” “My dear child, why not? Jane, you are making wountains of molehills.” “I'm not." He sat down beside her. The little cats drew away, doubtful. “It was natural that you should have resent- ed it. And a thing like that isn’t easy for a man to explain. Without seeming a—cad—"' “There isn't anything to explain.” “But there is. I have made you unhappy, and I'm sorry." She shook her head, thoughtfully. color. and spoke “1 think I am-—happy. Mr. Towne, your world isn't my world. 1 like simple things and pleasant things, and honest things. And I like a One-Woman man, Mr. Towne." He tried to laugh. ous.” “No,” she said, quietly, *'it isn’t that, although men like you think it is. A woman who has self-re- spect must know her husband has her respect. Her heart must rest in him.” He spoke slowly. “I'll admit that I've philandered a lot. But I've nev- er wanted to marry anyone but you. I can promise you my future.” “I'm sorry. But even if last night had never been—I think I should have—given you up. 1 had begun to feel that I didn’t love you. That out there in Chicago you swept me off my feet. Mr. Towne, I am sor- ry. And 1 am grateful. For all your kindness—"' She flushed and went on, “You know, of course, that 1 shan’t be happy until—I don't owe you anything . . .” He laid his hand on hers. you wouldn't speak of it. nothing.” “It was a great deal.” He looked down at her, slender and young and infinitely desirable. “You needn't think I am going to let you go,” he said. “I'm afraid-—-you must-—"' He flamed suddenly. “I'm more of a One-Woman man than you think. If you won't marry me, 1 won't have anyone else. I'll go on alone. As for Adelaide—A woman like that doesn’t expect much mare than 1 gave. That's all I can say “You are jeal- “1 wish It was about her. She means nothing to me, seriously, and never will. She plays the game, and so do I, but it's only a game." He looked tired and old. abroad tomorrow. back, perhaps you'll change your mind.” “1 shall never change said, “never.” He stood up. ‘‘Jane, I could make you happy.” He held her hand as she stood beside him. She looked at him and knew that he could not. Her dreams had come back to her—of Galahad—of Robin Hood the world of romance had again flung wide its gates . . “I'll go it," she After Towne had gone she sat for a long time thinking it over. She blamed herself. She had broken her promise. Yet, he, too, had bro- ken a promise. She finished mending the stock- ings, and rolled them into compact balls. The little cats were asleep— the shadows were stretched out and the sun slanted through the pines. She had dinner to get, for her re- turn had been unexpected, and So- phy had not been notified. She might have brought to the thought of her tasks some faint feel- ing of regret. But she had none. She was glad to go in—to make an omelette—and cream the potatoes— and have hot biscuits and berries— and honey. Planning thus, competently, she raised her eyes—to see coming along the path the two boys who had of late been Evans’ close com- panions. She spoke to them as they reached her. “Can't you stay a minute? I'll make you some lem- onade.”’ They stopped and looked at her in a way that startled her. “We can't,” Arthur said; ‘we're going over to the Follettes. We thought we might help.” She starea at them. do you mean?” Sandy gasped. ‘Oh, know? Mrs. Follette died this morn- ing n “Help? What Evans had of her bed. rest a bit before lunch. had called her, and she had not answered. So Evans had entered portance. her. She but the been ne would had not neighbors ighborly all come they would miss her, because she had added to the community some measure of stateliness, which they the telephone, but could not. Jane He would call up at long distance later, was no reason why he should spoil for them this day of days. So he had done the things that had to be done in the shadowed house. Dr. Hallam came, and oth- ers. Evans saw them and they went away. He moved in a dream. He had no one to share intimately his sorrow—-no sister, no brother, no one, except his little dog, who trailed after him, wistful-eyed, limping steps. The full force of the thing that had happened did not come to him at once. He had a feeling that at any moment his mother might sweep in from the out-of-doors, in her white linen and flat black hat, and sit at the head of the table, and tell him the news of the morning. He had had no lunch, so old Mary fixed a tray for him. He did not eat, but drank some milk. Then he and Rusty took up their restless wandering through the silent rooms. Old Mary, true to tradition, had drawn all the blinds and shut many of the windows, so that the house was filled with a sort of golden gloom. Evans went into his moth- er's little office on the first floor, and sat down at her desk. It was in perfect order, and laid out on the blotter was the writing paper with the golden crest, and the box of golden seals. And he had laughed at her! He remembered with a pang that they would never again laugh together. He was alone. He wondered why such things hap- pened. Was all of life as sinister as this? Must one always find trag- edy at every turn of the road? He had lost hiz youth, had lost Jane. And now his mother. Was every- thing to be taken away? Would there be nothing left but strength to en- dure? Well, God helping him, he would endure to the end . . . He closed the desk gently and went out into the darkened hall. As he followed its length, a door opened at the end. Black against the brightness beyond, he saw the two lads. They came forward with some hesitation, but when they saw his tired face, they forget self- consciousness. “We just heard, And we want to help.” Sandy was spokesman, Ar- thur was speechless. But he caught hold of Evans’ sleeve and looked up at him. His eyes said what his voice refused. Evans, with his arms across their shoulders, drew the boys to him. “It was good of you to come.” ‘Miss Barnes said,’”’ again it was Sandy who spoke, ‘that perhaps we might get some pine from the little grove. That your mother liked it.” *“‘Miss Barnes? Is she back? Does she know?" “We told her. over." Baldy drove Jane in his little car. As she entered she seemed to bring the light in with her. She illumined the house like a torch. She walked swiftly towards Ev- ans, and held out her hand. “My dear, I am so sorry.” “I thought you were at Grass Hills.” “We came back unexpectedly.” “1 am so glad—you came.” He was having a bad time with his voice. He could not goon . . . Jane spoke to the boys. ‘Did you ask him about the pine branches? Just those, and roses from the gar- den, Evans.” “You always think of things—" “Baldy will take the boys to the grove, and do any errands you may have for him.” She was her calm and competent self-—letting him get control of his emotion while she di- rected others. Baldy, coming in, wrung Evans’ hand. “The boys and I will get the pine, and Edith Towne is coming out to help. I called her up to tell her—"' Baldy stopped at that. He could not speak here of the glory that encompassed him. He had said, “If death should come to us, Edith? Does anything else count?” And she had said, “Nothing.” And now she was coming and they would pick roses together in the garden. And love and life would minister to a greater mystery . . She is coming right When Baldy and the boys had gone, Jane and Evans opened the windows and pulled up the shades. The house was filled with clear light, and was cool in the breeze. When they had finished, Jane said, “That's all, I think. We can rest a bit. And presently it will be time for dinner.” “I don't want any dinner.” They were in the library. Out- side was an amethyst twilight, with a young moon low in the sky. Evans and Jane stood by the window, look- ing out, and Jane asked in a hushed voice, “You don't want any dinner because she won't be at the other end of the table?” “Yes.” His face was turned from her. His hands were clinched. His throat was dry. For a moment he wished he were alone that he might weep for his mother. And then Jane said, “Let me sit at the other end of your table.” He turned back to her, and saw her eyes, and what he saw made him reach out blindly for her hand— sympathy, tenderness—a womanly brooding tenderness. “Oh, Evans, Evans,” she said, “1 am not going to marry Frederick Towne." “Why not?" thickly. “1 don’t love him.” “Do you love me, Jane?" She nodded and could not speak. They clung together. He wept and was not ashamed of it. with hi 8 head against her breast, Jane knew that she had found the best. Marriage was not a thing of luxury and soft living, of flaming moments of wild emotion. It was a thing of hard- ness shared, of spirit meeting spirit, of dream matching dream. Jane, that afternoon, had caught her breath as she had come into the darkened hall, and had seen Evans standirig between those slender lads. So some day, perhaps, in this old house-—his sons! THE And standing there, END. Ancient man was a ‘‘doodler’ de idle scribblings . perplex many cliff walls still lay- Dr. Julian H. Steward of the in- f the motives of the prehistoric In- dians were not sometimes equally about carvings and paintings on Various lay and scientific theories gs are part of a Indian language, fragments of the European America by pre-Columbian Steward, after extensive study petroglyphs, reported that many of the crude pictures and designs were fraudulent. He said an even larger portion of represent ‘“‘idle scratching, Supporting his “idle scribbling,” theory, Steward said: “In view of the great trouble which white men frequently take to deface rocks and trees with names and initials, especially where other persons have done so before them, safe guess of petroglyphs duced by persons amu selves during dull He said other drawing esen religious objects, portray events, or give directions, not to buried treas- however, scause ‘‘North aboriginals attached no value whatsoever to our conception of ‘treasure.’ “It is easy imagination.” Ae { tect forms o SUrop } in hs. e “It is a hours y a little , "to de- D able if there such coinci- dences. “On the whole, however, the sub- ject is worthy comprehensive study. I urge persons running across such rock drawings to photograph What is without meaning now may fit into a com- prehensive pattern later.” were not of Causes Eyes to Shine at Night The iris of cats and some other animals has an area called the tapetum around the optic nerve. This area causes the eye to shine at night. “The Name Is Familiar= BY FELIX B. STREYCKMANS and ELMO SCOTT WATSON July and August months July sars, Julius sand Augustus. wanted themselves so honored—and those boys were used to getting what they wanted. But this trick was easy. They didn’t even have to have influence with anybody to get this job done—it was Julius and Au- + gustus who made the calendars. When Julius Caesar conquered Egypt, he not on- ly took over the government but the calendar as well, He made a new one with a year of 365% days divided into 12 months, the even months with : _—. 30 and the Julius Caesar odd with 31. Then he figured he had done such a mag- nificent job that he honored himself by changing the name of Quintilis, a 31-day month, to Julius. Julius Caesar and in the course of time 3 neph- ew, Augustus Cae- sar, became em- peror Augustus decided to do some calen- dar tinkering too. Sextilis, the month following seemed to 1 Jgical one davs was assassinated of Rome Augustus Caesar it 31 he persuaded the Roman senate to give and rename it Augustus. And that, my dear children, is why, during the two hottest months of the year, we mop our brows and say, “Great Caesar, isn't it hot?" . * * days Raglan Coat ITZROY James Henry Somer- set, who was Baron taglan, should be remembered as { of the British forces nean war because it ve the order which re- amous “Charge of the ' But it's more likely for his CoOm- remembered thia L1i8 the Water- way: At Jattle loo, ¥ set, who had been secretary to the British embassy at Paris and was now aide-de-cam ilitary sec- retary to the duke of Wellington was so seriously wounded in ; a of ung Somer- the that it ampu- right arm had to be tated. Because of the loss of his arm, he needed a coat that was easy to put on. His tailor designed a garment that was loose, had roomy sleeves and hung over his shoulders like a cape. In 1818, he again became military secretary to the duke of Wellington and re- him until the duke's Baron Raglan Lord Raglan. Meanwhile British sportsmen had begun using the style of coat Lord Raglan always wore, because of its comfort, and from that time to this it has been a raglan. Strangely enough, if the coat you are wearing today hasn't raglan sleeves, it isn't the “latest style.” * - - Cardigan Jacket warm, comfortable garment to wear but the man for whom it was named was neither warm-hearted nor a comfortable person to have around. James Thomas Brudenell, seventh earl of Cardigan, was born in 1797, entered the British army as a youth and eventually became lieu- tenant-colonel of the Fifteenth Hus- sars. As such he was overbearing and quarrelsome and, despite the fact that there were only 350 men in the regi- ment, within the space of two years he had more than 700 of his men arrested for one thing or another and held ¥ los courts mar. . o.g Cardigan He was also a duelist and in one of these encounters he wounded a brother officer so seriously that he was tried by the house of lords but “whitewashed” and acquitted. Un- pleasant a person though he may have been, he was also a brave sol- dier. After that return he was heard to remark, “These Cossack lances are deuced blunt. They tickle one's ribs"! (Released by Western Newspaper Union.) CLASSIFIED DEPARTMENT PLANTING GUIDE Roses, Shrubs, Evergreens, Fruit and Ornamental Trees, Illustrated in Color. Write Today CALL’'S NURSERIES Perry, Ohio Established 1877 RAZOR BLADES USE THE OUTSTANDING BLADE VALUE KENT Frases 1 Oe 7 Single Edge Biasdes or CUPPLES COMPANY, ST. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers