vox. XXXI
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UTTTLER. PA., THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 20, 1894.
•CHAPTER VII.
"Craig." said Dr. John, sitting down
on a nail-keg, "why did you come
here?"
"Because you sent for a lawyer and
for Misa Patten. I connected the mys
tery with the young lady I had assisted
to run away, whose fate has been a
good deal of trouble to me ever since.
I wanted to help her, if need be. Is
she very ill?"
"Getting better fast. It was mad
folly to start on a journey sick as she
was. I don't blame you, Craig, for
that long ride and the risk you ran;
she is very winning, this troublesome
little lady, and brave too. It is a won
der what a woman can endure, a
slight frail creature whose hand you
could crush in your fingers."
"But she had," said Oliver, uneasily,
"plenty of money, had she not?"
"She was traveling in the day
coach, and has, I think, about five
dollars in a shabby little purse. Miss
Patten was right when she said we
should not see Mrs. Minny until the
money you gave her was all gone.
Where has she been all these long
months? By her finding the dog, Miss
Patten probably knows now."
"Yes, and it was as I thought—
something entirely original. Near
Boston Mrs. de Restaud got acquaint
ted with an elderly female who ran
some sort of a retreat for aged pets,
Invalid dogs and cats. The idea was
so novel Mrs. Minny decided to stop
over and see the place. Finding Mrs.
Blinn agreeable, and Syke contented
in the society of his kind at the re
treat, she remained. She met a sailor
from Newcastle in the street one day,
and he told her Miss Patten had not
been home for a long time. So she
decided not to write anyone, but to
remain hidden. One day a few weeks
ago she came home from the village
much upset, and acted oddly; she had
either seen some one or read some
thing in a newspaper, for the village
storekeeper saw her poring over one,
looking much upset. Two days later,
leaving a note containing board for
her dog, she disappeared. This Mrs.
Blinn, who seems to be a good sort of
a person, worried a great deal, looking
for her everywhere, and in her search
wrote to the postmaster at Newcastle,
for she had heard Mrs. Minny speak of
having been there. Through that let
ter Miss Patten found Skye, and then
started for Denver."
"She may have seen De Restaud, or
that servant of his," mused the doc
tor. "Well, now you are here—though
I'd much i-ather a stranger had come—
I want you to draw up a paper setting
forth the facts in this case in proper
legal phraseology."
"I fail to comprehend just what you
mean."
"You see," explained the doctor,
"the French people are particular
about documents; and between the
property of De Restaud's father and
this child of Mrs. Minny's there is only
a feeble child."
"Mrs. Minny's child?" repeated
Oliver.
"Why, of course. Perhaps I had not
mentioned it. A nice boy—healthy, I
think, and bound to outlive his cousin
across the sea. The little chap born
in that poor place, that switchman's
hovel, may be the heir of millions. So
there must be no flaw in his title or
the record of his birth."
"A child, and she here friendless,
almost alone." Oliver's face saddened.
"Poor little thing!" he muttered,
"what a hard world it has been for
her!"
"She is sensible about it, too," went
on Dr. John. "She wanted me to
write,for a lawyer and have everything
straight."
"Did she suggest sending fdr me?"
asked Oliver, oddly.
The doctor hesitated. "No: she has
forgotten you, old boy. Women are
not particularly grateful. Then it has
been a long time since she saw or
heard of you. Your vanity may be
hurt, but is it not better that shfe has
forgotten?"
"Undoubtedly," Oliver said, <joldly.
He went toward the house hurriedly,
"A freight train passes here in a half
hour; I will go on that; so get your
papers ready and have the people here
sign their statements. Miss Pattefl
should also get that Mrs. Blinn to give
an account of Mrs. de Restaud's stay
at her house."
Mrs. Macon cleared the kitchen
table and brought pens and ink- Oliver
wrote swiftly, comparing his notes
with the doctor's remembrance apd
Mrs. Macon's assertions. Finally she
and her husband signed their bt»te
ments, tbe doctor his, and then Oliver
looked at the clock. How hard that
writing had beffft to him no one ev<*
krrew. From the closed doof came
tbe murmur of voices— one that thriliea
every nerve and set his
ffist beating. A feeble cry now and
then sounded strangely —thb little life
that had come in this far-off place fend
that might mean so much in the fu
ture. Outside, 'he white-headed chil
dren played in the sunshine. sUye,
liberated from his hideous basketj
which he ajways regarded with terror
and plaintive whines, rollicked with
then, glad of his freedom. Bow in
finitely painful to record those faots
before him, and to thiitk of her as he
had seen her first, that child womfcn In
h«- clinging yellow gown petafled lilrt
a nbwer with its wide ruffle, her glow
ing hair, her beautiful pathetic eveSl
She had gone so far from those days
In bitter experience and suffering.
Was she changed, grown saddened and
old, care-worn with thought?— ft calcu
lating woman, forced to be for the
child's sake? Odd, in his mental pic
lure of her he could find no place for
the child. He could remember her
with the little Skye terrier aUd that
childish manner, but as a woman, 1
mother, never.
111, friendless, homeless, no waif of
the streets was ever moYfc desolate
than she when she stepped off the train
at this barren spot, foroed to aopept
the charity of strangers, iter dead
father would have risen from his grave
could he have known. His every
thought, his sister said, had been for
little Minny. Well it is the dead do
not know.
''How fortunate you were on that
train!" Oliver said, Suddenly.
Dr. John started. ''Me? Yes, it
was, and that I should have found our
little runaway. I own up I looked for
her all the time I Was away."
The door opened and Miss Patten
came softly in.
"She is asleep, poor dear," she said,
gently. "I guess my eyes is red. i
was upset, and she don't to think
she done any harm In not letting me
kuow where she was, she was so dei
pjit and scared-llke."
"When you return to Boston," sajd
Oliver, "have Mrs. Blinn mako a state
ment of Mrs. de Restaud's stay in her
house. I must caution you also to
very careful of the marriage certificate
and all other papers you may have
Oflkgrpipg yvat Rises,"
"You can trust me." said Miss Pat
ten, grimly. "I took 'em away from
that farm of theirs when I was a-visit
ing there, and 1 mean Minnie's baby
shall have his rights, for he's part Pat
ten, anyway, and would 'a' been my
brother Sam's grandson. Sorry I be
he ain't alive to see him. Minny says
she saw a Hosting paper that offered a
rewurd for her whereabouts or any in
formation concerning her. giving her
name right out in the paper, and that
was what made her go away from Mrs.
Blinn's, who was a kind, good woman,
if she is in a foolish business; but I
don't know why dogs and cats shouldn't
be took care of. and folks in Bosting is
always running to some new freak.
Minny evidently thought Mrs. Blinn
would tell on her and get the reward;
but Mrs. Blinn said she'd 'a' done by
Minny as her own child."
"Was that what made her come
west?" asked Dr. John.
"The poor little soul thought it her
duty to go to her husband, brute as he
is," said Miss Patten, brokenly. "And
to think that I said she was frivolous
and hadn't no stability! As muoh grit
as I've got, I wouldn't dare go to that
wolf's den on the Troublesome and to
be in that man's power. I always
thought he wa'n't right in his mind.
Minny cal'lated on account of the baby
he'd be more kind, and for the baby's
sake she ought to make up with him."
Oliver drummed idly on the window
silL Dr. John walked up and down
" WIMMEN bOK'T GET NOCREDIT FOR BK
in' brave."
the worn, that had grown so still one
eoula hear the ticking of the clock.
''Wimmen," said the switchman,
slowly, "dem't git no credit for bein'
brave and goin' through things 'count
of what they thinks is their dooty. My
wife thinks it's hern to live here 'count
of me, when she left a good home baclf
east. That little woman in there U
lamin' the woman natur' of endurln'
for a man; but where my wife 'ud livs
and make comfort outer it, she'd jest
fie down an' die a-frettin'."
"You've read her right," said Miss
Patten, solemnly, "an' I'm goin' to
tftke her home with me. She ain't goin*
no further west, nor to no lone farms
in mountain valleys, Which wm nearly
the death of her afore."
Oliver glanced at the clock, then ab
ruptly said good-by. He left no mes
sage for Mrs. de Restaud, nor did Miss
Patten ask him for one. She was
rigid in her ideas of what was proper,
And_ he respected her for it.
"PV'a,ps," she hesitated, "you'd like
to see the baby. I could fetch him out
without waking him."
' l &0," Oliver spiiled; "a city bach
elor, as yrfu called me once, Miss pas
tes, has no interest in infants. I—l
tiunk I should be rather afraid of
nifli.
He and the doctor walked up and
down beside the track, waiting for the
train. "The latter had his big pipe but
not his flowered dressing-gown. His
9©Droidered cap was at the retreat for
jnvalld pets. Skye had not chewed it,
Jars. Minny asserted, for she meant to
keep it forever, especially now, as he
wag such & dear man.
''Sne—she—likes the baby?" Oliver
asked, awkwardly, as he lit a cigar.
'T am sorry to Bay she does not man
ifest any rapture at all. I think she
2 as more delighted to see her dog. I
ways haVe the idea when 1 see her
with young Francois that she is a lit
tle girl playing with her doll. She is
afraid of him If he cries, and moans be
cause he has black eyes and looks like
the Frenchman."
''Well," said Oliver, smiling sadly,
"the chapter is ended. I have turned
a page in my life's story. She will be
safe and sheltered now, and I delegate
to you my position as adviser. In the
next elopement Mrs. Minny makes you
must be the assistant. There is my
train; and so good-by."
Oliver thought the whole affair
Would pass from his mind, especially
ts Dr. John on his return said they
ad gone to Maine and Mrs. Minny
had never mentioned him; but one day
a month from that time at the
switchman's house a letter came to
Oliver. He looked at the scrawly
superscription, the post-mark New
castle, and he knew well Hannah Pat
ten did not attempt an Italian hand.
He smiled with pleasure: it was good
to be remembered after the long
silence, and he had braved many
dangers for that ungrateful young
woman, the worst an encounter with
her frenzied husband.
"Dear Mr Ouvbb: To think you were so
near and I could not see you! I cried when
they told me. I am not going to pay your money
back yet until I get my own from Mr. de
Restaud. We have put our case In the hands
of an old lawyer here who was a college matfe
of my dear dead father, and he thinks I ought
to get a divorce, and has written to Mr. de
Restaud so We watch the baby closely, for
fear Henri will try to steal him. I have never
thaulted you for helping me run away. How
good yoy wore! I think of you often: but Aunt
Hannah will never speak of you, and folks here
think it is dreadful to be divorced. They say I
am she that married a Frenchman—l suppose
they think he is from Canada—and Is going
into the courts to get a separation from him.
For no fault of mine I must be disgraced. Even
Aunt Hannah admits I never ought to go back
to him: It would not be safe.
"I hod a nice time at that dogs' home;
tt was a funny place, with the nicest old dogs
and cats. Sky" had a grand time. One dog
was fifteen years old and had to be fed <#n
grueL Still, I think taking care of poor ani
mals Is better than theosopliy and those fads,
and Boston does have some real good freaks.
I expect some day they will build an old malda'
home. You never saw so many old maids as
there are there. Mrs. DUnn has seven sisters
In one of those Newton towns—thcro's Mi end
less chain of them—and not one of them—tne
sluU-rs, hot the towns—ever had a beau.
"Please do not dislike me, or at the mention
of my name put on your haughty look, as you
did when 1 said things offending your nice
sense of what a woman's conversation should
be; and write me one little letter to say you
are still my good friend. I shall never ask you
to help me agtin; Ido not noed It: so you will
be safe In continuing our acquaintance. Aunt
Hannah does not know I have written you I
get too many moral lectures anyway from ker,
for she says I must educate myself so my son
will have a high opinion of me. He does ndt
bother about me, but divides his attention
principally In blinking at her and the lamp,
with a leaning towards the light. That last la
naughty, Is It not'
"Always your friend fas the doctor calls me).
THE TROUBLBSOMB LADY."
The wound was not healed, Oliver
thought bitterly. Why of all women
must he care for this one anil
be so haunted by her memory?
Every look of hers, her words, her
gestures, the little yellow gown,
tvere as plain to him after a year
as if he had seen her but yesterday.
He had striven hard to forget, to do
his duty. Yet was there harm in writ
ing just a few lines? The narrow path
was terribly lonely in life—not a path
that had been his in the past; and yet
and yet she was a child. That stern
honest old woman believed in liun and j
trusted to his honor.
While he mused, the shock-headed
boy knocked and thrust in his freck
led face. "Gent ter see yer," he said, ;
hoarser than u£ual, for there had been
a baseball match the day before, and
he hid Deen excused from duty, because 1
his "mudder was sick."
"Show him in," said Oliver, locking
the letter in his desk. The last man
he expected to see entered the room,
shut the door behind him, took a chair,
then, with almost a threatening ges- ,
ture, moved it close to the desk. Henri
de Restaud!
CHAPTER VIII.
Oliver wondered if the Frenchman I
had come to kill him. There was no
time to cry out or to move in self-de
fense. If De Restaud came to murder, |
he was prepared to do it quickly; up in
the valley of the Troublesome he had
been called a good shot. A vagrant
ray of sunshine filtered in between
the slats of the cWsed blind, resting
on a faded spot on the carpet. Oliver
idly watched it, while thoughts of his
past, the present, the woman who had
just written him, went through his
mind swifter than ever electricity car
ried a message.
A lamp lit and bright, a flash, a
crash and darkness. Oliver's fingers
tightened on the arm of his chair. His
lips quivered. He seemed to be gazing
down the unfathomable depths of
eternity. The sins of his past came
and leered at him; the awful, unan
swered question of the centuries, of all
recorded time, haunted him. "And
afterwards?"
He had heard that madmen quailed
at bravery, were deterred from evil
purpose by quiet common sense. So
he looked steadily at his visitor. What
a dreadful creature he had become!
Nor was it liquor alone that had
crazed his brain. There is a drug so
easy of purchase, so pleasing of effect
at first, that insensibly it steals away
reason, caution, decency. On the hairy
hand of the Frenchman were tiny red
dots; and similar dots tattooed all his
body. He had not learned to take
morphine in the convenient capsules,
and his dissipation was attended by a
tiny pain like the prick of conscience.
He was terribly pale, with the glazed
pallor of a corpse, his eyes weirdly
bright, his hair, a few months ago un
touched by time, streaked with gray.
Of all sad drift on the shores of time a
human wreck like this is the most
dreadful.
"You are surprised to see me," De
Restaud said, calmly, but his long
thin fingers trembled, showing the ag
itation he strove to repress.
"I should be glad to assist you in
any way," Oliver answered, his voice
strangely hoarse, the words coming
with difficulty.
"I think you can," said the other,
slowly, "for you seem to have influence
with her and that old she-dragon, her
aunt. I know all about that night,
your visit down the railroad. 1 know
I have a son, and for his sake I want
you to help me."
"What can I do? Surely you must
have a lawyer of your own. I would
not undertake your case for any con
sideration."
"Do not be too hasty, Mr. Oliver. I
do not require your services in any
legal capacity-, but, as you say in this
country in your labor difficulties, as an
arbitrator. My nephew in France is
dead, and my father writes me to cofne
home and bring my wife and child."
'•She will never consent," Oliver said,
hastily. "Her aunt would not let her
ffo."
"I think a husband has some rights,
Mr. Oliver. You see lam very temper
"TOU ARK SURPRISED TO SEE HI," 1)1
RESTAUD SAID.
ate In the matter, though I have cause
for anger. Now, my son has a future;
my father will make him his heir, for
my brother is rich, and, besides, none
of us are long-lived. I shall not last
long; you see I have failed very fast.
I want to go back to my own country
and live the few days left, and I—I —
want you to help me." He broke down
then in a womanish way and took out
his handkerchief. Oliver had felt con
tempt before; it turned to pity now for
the shambling creature so wretched in
his mental degradation. "I am willing
to forgive her the disgrace she has
brought upon me," he sobbed, "even
that application for divorce. My fa
ther will overlook the fact that I mar
ried out of my station —beneath me;
though never before would he notice
my marriage. The child has made all
the difference in the world, and I
haven't even been allowed to se« him.
It is a crime to treat a father so. Even
an American court must recognize my
rights."
"I have no confidence that you would
treat your wife decently if she came
back. It would be an unwise experi
ment," Oliver said, coldly.
"But I give you my word I will. She
can have that awful aunt with her al
ways. I will not say three words to
either of them. She can have her own
house in Paris, or live with my father:
only I ask that my child shall be
brought back to me and my father
shall be his guardian. You can see
yourself I am fair and generous in the
matter. There Is a great difference
between the heir of the De Restaud
millions, one of tho finest names in
France (I know I am not a worthy
representative of the family, mon
sieur), and the child of a divorced
woman in that frightful Maine town,
where they go to sewing societies for
one pleasure and to prayer meetings
all the week. You know my wife is
not fit to bring up a child. How did
she act with you? Was that right and
proper even in an American young
lady, eh?"
"I fall to see anything in the con
duct of Mrs. de Restaud that would
not stand the most searching investi
gation," said Oliver. "Your own case
would not be so clear; and I warn you
an American jury is always on the side
of a woman if she is good and has been
wronged."
"You are on a very high horse, Mr.
Oliver. Perhaps I can assist you to
dismount. My wife's lawyer writes me
she will sue for a divorce. Very well,
so shall 1 myself."
"Really, Mr. de R-staud, this is none
of my affair," cried Oliver, impatient
ly. "I refuse to listen to you any
longer."
"Yon will, monsieur, because it shall
be your atTair."
"How?"
"1 shall name you the co-respon
dent. Your drive .vith my wife that
night will hare no romance for a jury
of sober-minded citizens. Do not be too
hasty. - I have listened to conversation
at a club political here, and I have
heard you desire office sonje time, to
be governor of the state. The scandal
which you cannot silence will hurt
youf chances, eh? I find the world
eager to hear such things—the news
papers of the opposition most anxious
to publish ugly stories of an opponent.
!
" YOU ARE AX IXKKRXAL SCOUNDREL,"
SAID OLIVER.
You have made many enemies in your
profession; this will be their oppor
tunity."
"You are an infernal scoundrel!"
said Oliver, white to the lips. "If you
were anything but a morphine wreck I
would throw you out of my office."
"I do not desire to quarrel. I am a
sick man—much weaker than I
thought." De Restaud paused and
wiped his wet forehead, breathing
heavily. "This has been a task. You
know the consequence; you persuade
my wife to come back to me, with the
aunt if she desire, but my child, and
go to France, or I bring suit for di
vorce and the custody of my chili and
tell all the facts."
"It is utter folly," cried Oliver.
"What can I do? I have no influence
oter your wife; I hardly know her;
and the aunt will never permit her to
return."
"The old lady is strict; she is proud,
too; and a young woman who has been
through a divorce trial seldom comes
out With a good name—not without
reproach. Consider it well, and write
Miss fatten what I say. Truly I
think mj wife has a great fancy for
you."
Oliver rose and opened the door.
"Mr. de Restaud, I will write you my
decision. I really must ask you not to
prolong this interview. There is a
limit to my forbearance."
De Restaud bowed, mockingly. "I
shall look for your answer soon. Per
haps the doctor also could influence
Mrs. de Restaud. I esteem the doctor;
he Is an honest man, and has been
good to my son."
With a polite bow the Frenchman
disappeared, aud Oliver went back to
his desk. What should he do? What
could he do? De Restaud would carry
out his threat, there was no doubt of
that. And, after all, would it not be
better for his wife to return? If the
family in France would care for her
and the child they would be safe, and
most women would look forward to
such n bright future. If she refused
to come, a trial, the publicity of a
courtroom, the newspapers, a lifelong
something to be whispered about her
by some one who had heard. How ex
plain that daring ride across country?
Viewed in tho cold light of reason it
was a foolish thing; and he, Craiff Oli
ver, must go on the witness-stand and
be questioned. A lawyer is a poor wit
ness. and he would be. A man of his
age doing such a romantic silly action.
Then that story to the conductor. The
other side would find him, of course,
and perhaps a passenger who had seen
Minny's farewell. The whole thing
Was unexplainable. Then his own past
—the life of a wifeless man of the
world—how would the jury of hard
working men view that? They had
families and no tempt; 1 ' ions, and he
was rich and had enemies. It was so
cial and political death to him, and he
knew it as he sat there, yet he did not
write.
A week later Dr. John came in.
There was no need of telling him. lie
had met De Restaud, and had come to
see what Oliver would do.
"I have not written her," said Oliver,
awkwardly, "except a little not-e
thanking her for her letter. I shall
not write what he wanted."
"I have, though," said Dr. John;
"both to Mrs. Minny and her aunt The
Frenchman cannot trouble them long,
and after a year or so Mrs. Minny will
be a Parisian. All I know of Paris
and life there is from novels. Gad. I
think if they are true Mrs. Minny will
be quite at home in France. She likes
things different, you know."
"I should be a coward to advise her
in this matter," cried Oliver. "I shall
have nothing to do with it."
However, after an hour's talk with
his sensible old friend he changed his
mind and wrote a severely formal Ist*
ter to Mrs. de Restaud, advising he* to
return to her husband. Her answer
was a piteous appeal. What did he
mean? After all that had happened,
did he think she should trust herself
with a man who everyone said was
crazy. Dr. John read and shook his
head. "She won't come," he said;
"but you keep on Writing, for th|
Frenchman means what he says. X
see him often as he comes to my office.
She need not say three words to him,
and her aunt can be with her alway#
until she is safe at his father's."
This was duly written, but the an
swers both from Miss Patten and her
niece were unsatisfactory until a
days before the time set by De Restaud.
.Oliver, maddened by her disregard of
his warning, for he learned De
Restaud had his lawyer engaged alia
the case would be presented, tele
fraphed her; "Arc you coming or not?
beg you will come at once. We can
not face the consequences." He felt
like a coward, but what else could he
do? Fight with a madman in a court
room? It was horrible. The answer
came promptly from Mrs. do Restaud;
she would start at once.
Oliver took the telegram and went to
find De Restaud. The suit for dfvorco
must be stopped. He had done his
part, and there was no need for further
anxiety. He drove to Dr. John's of
fice, but the doctor was up in the
mountains attending a case, and would
not be back for a day or two. He knew
where De Restaud lived—a furnished
house he had hired for a few months—
and he drove there. After some delay,
Annette, more .corpulent than eve*,
opened the door in response to his
ring. She seemed worried and timor
ous in her manner, aud looked at him
blankly as he asked her in English if
monsieur was at home. Then Oliver
remembered, and tried in imperfect
French. She brightened up.
O "No, monsieur," she said, eagerly;
"he is seldom here; and Louis is al
ways away. I like the farm better. I
am alone always, always. Monsieur is
so bad, too—oh, dreadful! even Louis
is afraid of him."
Oliver hesitated. The poor soul was
even friendly, she was so lonely. Per
haps she was not bad-bcartcd.
"Do you think it would be safe for
madame to return?" he asked, slow
ly, recalling each word from an im
perfect memory. He repeated it, as she
comprehend; then her manner
"Oh, monsieur." she cried, in horror,
"never, never! He has said he will
kill her, Ue walks all night, some
times, and raves about her, aud looks
so dreadful. Louis said he did not like
madame, but for the general's wake,
she must keep away from monsieur.
There would be a crime; and y*e De
Restauds are so proud. I think mon
sieur is quite inad now; aud be is so
thin; he ats nothinjr. and some nights
there are two men to hold him, he
sees such things. I did nq> like
madame, she was not a French lady,
but I wish my worst enemy no such
fate as to l>e here."
"You know," said Oliver, '"there was
a baljy, a little boy?"
"Yes, monsieur, and I am thankful.
Madame may have a good heart< she
laved the little dog. I think she would
do right to go to France—to the p<jperal;
he is a grand man. and now there is
no one of the name; little Alphonse in
Paris is dead, and his beautiful pother
is dying of grief, they write us."
Oliver slipped a dollar in the wom
an's fat hand. "You are a good soul,"
he said, kindly. "I trust some day you
will be back in France and hare a
farm of your own."
"Thanks, monsieur—and the beauti
ful poultry I had such comfort with in
the mountains; it was better there."
He heard the bolts rattle behind him
as he went to the waiting carriage.
The poor soul was almost a prisoner
from her fears. What should he do?
Mrs. Minny had started, ajid he could
not reach her by telegraph, lie told
the driver to go to the different gam
bling houses, and at each one he got
out and searched for the Frenchman.
He was not gambling, the dealeqp told
him, all knowing De Restaud only too
well, for the mad Frenchman had been
a familiar figure in the night world of
Denver for years. At the police sta
tion Oliver could learn nothing; De
Restaud had evidently bought immuni
ty from arrest. Sick at heart, Oliver
gave a description of the object of his
6earch to a detective and went home.
In the early morning the man came to
his house. He had not found De Restaud,
but had learned and told such a story
of depravity and vice that Oliver's hall
formed purpose became an instant de
cision.
''You see," the detective said, cooUy,
"when a gent gits down he's apt to w
a sight lower than jest a borned tough;
tuid, as I can learn, this pertikler one
has set out to see jest how quick he
kin fling away what little life he's got
left in him, an' how low he kin git
a-doin' it; an' this ain't harf Iv«
learned."
"It is enough," Oliver said, briefly,
as he paid and dismissed him. Then
he hastily ate breakfast, left direction!
for his clerks, and took the train fot
the east He had written Mrs. d«
Restaud what road to come to Chicago,
for he might wish to telegraph hei
there, and he reckoned there waa yel
time to meet her before she took the
train for Denver. He would tell Misi
Patten the whole story and send heir
and her niece back. He would advise
them to go direct to Paris. Annette's
advice was good. He was careless
never to have thought of it before.
Oliver shuddered at the prospect of
the case in court He would have to
endure it if De Restaud would not
listen to reason. Perhaps he could
keep it out of the papers. But ho
knew in his heart not; he was well
hated. "All for the Troublesome little
lady," lie sighed. "A pretty mess I got
myself into, assisting distressed dam
sels. And yet what man situated as I
was that night would have done other
wise?"
In the depot in Chicago a pretty
young woman was frantically search
ing for a particular baggageman. She
had on a neat blue a seal-skin
jacket, and a jaunty hat set over her
curls. She wis so sweetly pretty that
several iron-hearted train-employes
were moved to interest and sympathy.
"He was quite short and fat," she
said, anxiously, "and Skye really
seemed to like him, and he said he
would take the very best care of him."
"What is the matter, Mrs. Minny?"
said a voice just behind her.
"Oh, Mr. Oliver!" she cried, de
lightedly, giving him both her hands.
"How glad lam to see you! L have
" WHAT IS TIIK MATTER, MIIB. lUMNT?"
been so worried! I hate traveling! I
can't find the man who has my dog.
Oh, there he is!"
A fat baggageman came along the
platform at that moment, dragging a
disconsolate mass of wool tied by a
disproportionately large rope.
"Oh, thank you ever so much!"
Minny beamed on him, hugging the
dog in her arms. "Isn't he nice? He
knows everything."
"A sight," said the man, pleasantly,
"and wasn't no particular trouble."
"Here is my trunk check," Minny
Said, giving it to Oliver, "and mj
satchel is somewhere: in that corner I
set it down; it's a wonder I did not
lose it. Oh, what a time I've had!
Now where shall we go?"'
"To find Miss Patten," smiled Oliver'
taking the satchel and umbrella, while
she followed carrying the dog, and the
small audience of train men looked
after her in open approval.
"To find Miss Patten, of course."
"Oh, goodness! I wish we could!"
giggled Mrs. Minny.
"What?" cried Oliver.
"It's her turn, Mr. Oliver. She has
run away."
"Not with you? You are not alone?"
"Why, of course. Who was there? I
think It is mean of you to look cross,
when I came to keep your name out of
my troubles, because the doctor wrote
it would ruin all your political pros
pects. k'ou helped me once, a,nd lam
coi&lng back to a man I—l hate —yes, I
do —and am afraid of, so no one will
say a word about you." She looked at
him with triumphant virtue so satis
fled and sweet he hung his head, the
words of reproach dying on his lips.
"Well, there's the baby and rlurse
firirl." he said, hopefully.
"Why, no," she laughed. "Didn't I
tell you? Aunt Hannah stole the baby.
She ran away herself this time. Oh,
do hire one of those cunning cabs, and
we'll go for a drive, and I'll tell you all
about It"
"The hansoms would be too cold,
Mrs. Mlnny. We will take this car
riage," he said, calling one; and she,
very well pleased, got in with the dog
while he deposited her luggage on the
iront scat.
"You see," she said, leaning back an
the cushioned seat as the carriage left
the noisy stone pavement and talking
was possible, "Aunt Hannah got it
Ipto her head that I did not love
Francois the baby enough. He
jreajly did seem to fuss the moment 1
took him; and Aunt Hannah knowß so
for brin^x^^^p^cht^dn^
No. 37
Old maids do. you know. Then he got
to look more like Hen —M. de Restaud
—every day; and that was a trial.
Aunt Hannah said he was just fretty,
but 1 thought hitn de Restaudy. I sup
pose I am awfully wicked, but I was
glad Aunt Hannah wanted him. Then
there was—" Mrs. Minny hesitated
and looked away; a faint blush colored
her round cheek—"a red-headed young
man who took me riding—horseback
riding. lam sure there is no harm in
that. A homely young man," she
added, seeing the shadow on Oliver's
face, "not nice at all; but one must
have some friends. And then one
morning when she was making the bed
Aunt Hannah found your letter under
the pillow—your first one, not the ugiy
one telling me it was my duty to cotnfe
back to my husband. Funny business
letters those, not like you or that
lovoly ride we had. I was desperate
at having to come back; so maybe t
was mean to Aunt Hannah. One day
she and the baby and its clothes disap
peared, and she left a note telling me
that I was not to search for her, for
she waa going to put Frankie —that's
what she calls him—in safe keeping."
"I am sure there was no harm in
that letter," he said, stiffly.
"Oh, she wouldn't read it; I couldn't
get her to; and, just to tease because
she said my behavior was scandalous,
I kissed the letter and hid it away."
"Well, this is a nice affair," said
Oliver, smiling a little because Mra.
MioHj was so gayly happy. "I doih'i
dee what we arc going to do. I thought
your fi'int would be with you, so I hur
ried on to prevent your coming. It
wonld not be safe. Your —Mr. de
Restaud has grown worse—l think is
losing his mind. I came to send you to
France, to the old general, where
probably Miss Patten has gone. Now
you are alone. De Restaud has a spy
following me, I am sure; he had in
Denver, and —" Oliver could not say
his worst suspicions.
[ro 3B cowrarcKP.}
Ska Would Think or Him.
"What would you think of a man,
Who kissed you the very first time yoit
met him?"
"I don't know what I'd think, but I'd,
think of him a great deal."—N. Y.
World.
Bard.
Wild Man of Borneo—Phwat are ye*
cryin' about. Miss Sims?
Circassian Beauty—l have just coma
from the death bed of the ossified mtfn,
and, oh, the poor fellow died so terribly
hard!— Life.
Never Idle.
Baseball Crank—Why, doctor! What
are you doing out here?
Doctor—Oh, just killing time!
Baseball Crank Great Scott! I
,should think you would leave ypu£
business at home when you come to 8|
place of this kindl —Puck.
He Could Do It.
Clerk—l really cannot read this letter,
sir; the writing is too bad.
Principal (impatiently) Nonsense 1'
The writing is good enough—any aw
could read it. Hand it to me!— Truth.
Town and Country.
She does not heed the cable-car
Which goes with speed Intense;
She cares not for the trolley wire
Whoso vtrttage Is Immense.
The old excursion steamer brings
No terror to her brow,
But when she's In the country she wIU r\in
across acres of ground and climb hard
wire fences to escape the affable though
Inquisitive gaze
I Of an aged, docile cow.
—Washington Star.
MERELY A MATTER O* TIME.
Fanny—Who is that handsome fel4
low?
Maude —My Intended.
Fanny—Why, I didn't know you werd
engaged.
Maude—Neither am I. —Truth.
On* for the Complexion.
Mildred (very literary)— Let us sub*
scribe for a magazine between us.
Muriel—All right.
Mildred —What oue do you suggest?
Muriel (ironically, with a glance a«
feir friend) —Let's get a powder magmr
Wne.— vogue.
Certain orTt.
| "I've got a cola or something in styj
■©*4,'' was the simple
ohapple Mid. The summer girl, with
jfoguishnesß deinure, replied: "Oh, it
must pe a Cold, I'm sure."-»N. Yi*
tfhy flte I-aughed.
Pl-pttossor (to student)—miat are you
laughing fctf
Student—At your appearance-
Professor—Do you laugh aver every
Utile tribing absurdity thatyouchafl<&
to see?— Ale* Sweet, in Texas Siftings.
to fliov His Ability,
H#*—t have been quite a traveler all
oho (yawning) —Won't you please
Show me how you do it.—Town Topics.
The Bore Tost.
"flow do you know he's a real pr<4-
fessional humorist?"
''Because he oan never see anything
funny in anybody else's humor." —Chi-
cago Record.
A Good Reason.
Hunter —I suppose the game is pret
ty Well killed off by now?
farmer —Oh, Lord, 6o! Yersee, ther
iaia't ben no one huntin' up here but
fellers like you from the city.—Judge.
Reputation Hard to Make.
Rpbby —How did the sphinx get the
credit of being so wise, papa?
Mr. Morris —By keeping his mouth
abut for three thousahd years.—Tid-
Bito. ___
bid Exception!
Artist (with enthusiasm)— The line*
of \>eauty are always curves.
Little Girl (amazed)—l guess you
never saw a man on a bicycle, did you?
-•■ Good News.
What D!<f She M+an T
Olara—Papa gives me t?*o hundred
dollars every birthday.
May—Ugh; you ntust have quite a
mm of money- —Arltansaw Traveler.
Various Airs.
There's mountain sir and sea air
lad foreign sir, 11'poii.
Hut one must ft millionaire
To fill hi* lungs with those
—Detroit Free Press.
An >frt?maiivi,
Plaintiff (to his oouhsel) —If I had
known that tt waa such a difficult Scat
ter to get a dlvoroa fa soonfcfr have re
mained single.— I lYnth.
To He CocirrattxUte^
Teacher—For whnt were tne ancient