V BY GEORGE ROHLFING. ' T was the night of Mrs bad night, too, for a M heavy rain had begun to fall at dusk, and Wry now at 9 o'clock the f kfcf earth was deluged, j 'he trees dripping • and the fall continu- V a*" ing without cessation. :Vi;*B. Munn had ar ranged her house very prettily, it was not a large aouse. but it was new and well furnished." and as this was the first time she had ever entertained on r arge scale great, pains had been taken w!"'i the decorations and appurtenances. In the kitchen a caterer was busy among the edibles getting them ready to serve. And in the parlor Mrs. Munn was receiving her guests as they came downstairs after having dives'ed themselves of their wraps. Mrs. Munn was a small woman with a slender, girlish figure. SCe wore a new lace gown, and her hair. Just a little gray, was carefully fold ed and puffed aucbcrimped. Her heels were very high fend her collar very correct. She looked uncoml'rrtable and wor ried behind her polite smile, which never once left her lips as siie stood uttering over and over again, her formal little phrase of greeting. Yet all the time her mind was running in 20 different directions. Would the ice come in well mold ed? Would the cake cut nicely? Would Mrs. Weeks think to keep the rat out of the kitchen? Hew dread fully unfortunate that this rain had come on! it was the rain, she knew, and not sick headache that had made Maud Merril send a note at the last moment saying that she would, after all. be unable to appear. And she had so counted on Maud's voice! The lack of it was likely to spoil it all. .lust tha one omission had made a big hoi-' in her carefully arranged program. However, peo ple were good to conie on such a bad day. True, they had not worn their BY WALTER GREGORY. —. HE man looked at his companion wonder 4lj iugly. "So." he sai:l I joke to you!" jSjijeje' I For answer she I smiled at him a l.t --| I le uncertainly, but V. p\/ still with a touch of -* " the triumphant as surance which had first attracted him. High up on the slope of the foot hills they sat under the shelter of some scrub cedars. Below them, over a ties ending vista of 80 miles of pale greens and lavenders and blues of the land undet the California sun, the ocean shimmered in the distance. It was very still about them, for the bor dered path behind led to a fountain in ruins, and beyond that a deserted mansion faded under the sunlight, desolate. They had climbed there because he had wanted to show her the view, one of the finest in that part of the state. She had come with her mother among the swarms of winter visitors flocking to the southern coast, and when he had first seen her. Dr. Duval had stepped inside a magic circle from which there was no escape. He was used to the winter visitors, inured to the sparkling, pretty girls from the east, always healthy, un emotionally amused by their girlish flirtations, their guile.ess smiles at him. one of the few bachelors at the hotel. He could not exolain why. when he had met Gertrude Whitcomb that, first night, he had been so immediately en- BY EDNA EGAX. OBER T MARSHALL stood in the doorway °' ''' p farmhouse 88S I reading the letter the rural route carrier had just delivered "My dear son." the §P$ letter ran, "I am so Rlad I came to the Jr funeral, and that I didn't listen to all your talk about our being remote and poor relations. Cousin Walter had lost all his monev 'n speculation just before he died. nd his poor. dear, little girl is left penniless. And when poverty came in at the window their friends (?) must have gone cur at the door. I am hring'ng the poor child hack with mo, and our home shall be hers. We will be there on the afternoon train Wednesday. Meet us. Your affec tionate mother." This was Wednesday. The letter had been delayed. Robert harnessed the two-seated bugs}' Rn rt drove to Elmwood. four miles distant, in a state of turmcil. He wca so absorbed in his thoughts that he forgot that the expre.s did not stop at Elmwood until he saw it Whizzing past. He made all speed to Elk River, where it was scheduled to stop, ex pecting to find his passengers there. B*(E or mmr STOOB good clothes. Mrs. Holt looked as if i she had made a quick change to that ' old foulard and Anna Marks certainly j did not have on her best skirt. The | hostess shuddered at the amount of] wet and grime that was being tracked | across her new rugs, for of course ev- ; erybody couldn't come in cabs. And the lawn would look all cut up tomor row. for they had driven right across It to the front door. Dear! Dear! But at least there was Prof. Dix; he had promised to play two solos be sides accompanying Harry Morse, the violinist, and Aline Carver, the con tralto. With these they must do. But it was a shame that Maud Merrill should have failed her. Poor little Mrs. Munn was des perately eager for this, her first real sot ial venture, to be a success, for upon it depended her future in West more. And not "vly her future, but Dick's which was of VMtly more im- I portance to her. j She had been a poor. .'lain, un [ known girl when she nian ed Dick Munn. who also had been poor and plain and unknown. In that first year of their married life she had dctie a great deal of serious thinking. She saw other men with no more ability than Dick go ahead in the business struggle because their wives helped them socially. It seemed to her that she was the custodian of Dick's financial well being- if he ffas ever to do anything or be anybody she must help him. She took stock of her assets. Cer tainly she should be able to accom plish as much socially as Mrs. Clark, who had not half her wit, though. In deed. far more means. Yet brains should be worth as much as money— they must be in her case. For 15 years she had struggled and planned and schemed and toiled. What she lacked in monev np made up in resourcefulness. She was not extrav agant : sh» made every penny count. Dicu looked on amused, scarcely understanding, and gave her her head. But after a time he began to understand. Me was succeeding slowly; he stood on a passable foot ing with men he had always envied. He was earning more money, too. People seemed to be forgetting that thralled. She had regarded him dis interestedly, rather cooly, until he had exerted himself IO bring forth a smile of interest—and when Pr. Du val chose to talk one listened. He had watched the faint blush rise to the pale oval of her face and seen her great eyes darken and soften; he had brought a ripple of laughter to her lips—and her laugh was music. From that evening i was much in her company, and she permitted it in dolently. gracious and amused. So they had drifted through the weeks and the winter was nearing its close. She regarded him a little specula tively, as though surprised at the feeling in his voice. "I had no idea," she S4id. slowly, "that you really cared. I thought it was just " "You do not think at all!" Dr. Du val interrupted her brusquely. "It never entered your head to wonder whether.l were falling in love with you—whether it meant anything serious to me. Ycu are so used to ad miration that one man more or less means little to you and. beside, you did not care for me. if you had —tell, me. Gertrude, haven't you ever met any one you cared about?" The girl's face grew serious and she looked out over the valley. "No," she said, carelessly. "I'm afraid not. 1 don't want to—life is too full of In teresting things:" She turned and laughed at him again, and he noticed for the first time that her smile was unfeeling. Then she sprang to her feet lightly. "Conje. let's walk on." she ordered. "And we won't talk of this again." "No." said Dr. Duval bitterly, "never again;" All the way down the winding trail Gertrude was a-sparkle with laughter | but he saw no one save the station j master, who was locking up the wait- ! | ing room. ! "Your folks rode home with .Tim ' • I AM YOUR COUSIN, 1 HAVE COME TO TAKE YOU HOME." Poole. He had his two-seated rig here." called out the baggage master. His error and his useless long ride did not tend to temper his frame of mind; neither did his mother's wel coming kiss. Kit was old Dill Armstrong's girl and that his own name had hitheto been of no acccunt in the community. He was noticed in church, at society j meetings, and he had been asked to Join tile Business Men's club. After | all, these things meant a good deal. HER HEART FELL AS SHE READ THE NOTE. Kach year he held his head higher and looked tne world more confidently in the face. And each year he re garded more reverently and loved with deeper love the brave little wom an who was ever at his side, encour aging. cheering, upholding him. It had been a long fight, and how hard only Kitty Munn herself could have told. And she told no one. Not even her husband. She smiled and smiled, and women who do not smile HKIB8& FOR CARLOTTA and fun, but the man did not hear her. At one turn he had a glimpse, far In fhe distance below, of a ram bling structure buried in vines and flowers and again his conscience re proached him. The rambling cottage had seen little of him this winter and Dr. Duval was not a man to desert old friends for new. I Ever since he was a boy the Mor gan place had been a second home to him and Mr. Morgan and Carlotia, his chums, advisers and confidents. He could see Carlctta's rapt lit«ls fare. pale, yet glowing like a white flower under her tawny hair, and her odd brown eves with the light, in them like sunlight through water as she sat listening to his tale of a base | ball game, on his entry into the med ical college, of his first real case, of most things which had never hap ■ peued to him. And now in the turmoil of this tragedy which ne t'eit had come to I him he had a sudden desiae for the | long, cool living room down there. | with Mrs. Morgan placidly sewing by j the open window and t'arlotta lean -1 ing forward in the old mahogany j divan listening intent'v to whatever j he had to say, her face reflecting her j interest. | For a grown man Dr. Duval was j very boyishly homesick and heart • «ick. Gertrude Whitcomb parte 1 j front him at the hotel with some irri tation. The trip had been dull. She I had exerted herself for a man so ab stracted that he had scarcely an swered. Still, she comforted herself, it was because of his disappointment. She really did not imagine he had been so desperately devoted to her. It was rather pleasing, on the whole. And "T forgot that the train did not stop at Elmwood." lie explained, "and i I went 011 to Elk River." "That was too bac!. Lillian is up- I stairs resting. The child Is so for lorn. You will feel sorry for her when you see her." The smothered forces moved. "Mother. It's you I'm sorry for. or would be, if X were not so angry with because they lack her grit envied her for her seeming happiness. Then Dick built a house for her. and they moved into it from the one they had always rented. They bought furniture. Kitty guided her buying by quality, not quantity. I And now the time had come for her to make her final great endeavor; she would give an entertainment and in vite all the best people, in return for which all the best people must invite her. And because all the really best people were interested in music and literature, more or less, she decided to give a- musicale. It seemed that, all things had con spired on: thpn because of it Maud Merill had failed to keep her engage in a very satisfied frame of mind she turned to the question of what gown she should wear down to dinner for the delectation of the other guesls. { Dr. Duval at the same time was on a car speeding out toward the rambling cottage. It was almost like old times to he so welcomed and fussed over and graciously foreign for his winter's desertion. "You are so ousy with your work, we understood, - ' Mrs. Morgan had said as she got out his favorite pre serves. And Carlotta, the wistful ness of whose face was hidden from him by its joy in his presence, was like some graceful white wraith in the shadows of the big room. •'1 had forgotten." ho told 1 er with the privi!ege -of life-long acquaint ance. "how wonderfully pretty you you. To think of you. after your life of overwork, when you have just be gun to take things easy and comfor table. to hnve to lake up this burden upon yourself!" "We have plenty, Robert." said she In surprise. "Her living will cost us notning, and the lawyer says she will have a small income when it is set tled." ment; the whole thing was thrown "out of mesh," as Dick would say of a piece of machinery. Yet with Prof. Dix the day might still be saved. There was really a large percentage of people present for the number of invitations she had sent out. That was very encouraging. Her spirits had sung pretty low after she had read Maud Merrill's note of regret, but they lifted again as she looked over her well-filled parlors. Then her heart stopped beating, for the girl who answered the bell was bringing her another note. She took it and tore it open with trembling fingers. In spite of the fact that a good many eyes were upon her she felt her self-cotnmand slipping from were, Oarlotta! What have jou been j doing with yourself? You'seem to shine." j "Don't talk about me." begged the! girl nervously. A great fear v.as hers' lest this stupid, blundering man j should discover it was her happiness ' in seeing him again that had trans-' formed her. "Tell me of yourself, of . what has happened to you this win ter.." He had come to tell them—selfish ly to demand ccmfort for his wounds —yet he held his tongue. A dim sense that he had no right to appro priate this sweet understanding and ready sympathy so ruthlessly w;ts struggling to consciousness, a reali zation brought to light by absence that Carlotta was a personality, not merely a haven of refuge. "It isn't the money," he said;, "as you say, we have plenty, but it's the care, the responsibility. 1 won't al low it." "She is sleeping a very long while," said his mother. "I will run up and peep in her room." She returned pale and anxious. "O, Robert, she has gone!" "Gone!" he echoed. "Yes. she heard all you said. Here, read her note. What must she think after all the praises I have sung of you." He read the note written in a styl ish feminine hand: "Dear Cousin Hannah—l couldn't sleep, and when your son came in and I heard you speak of me. T—forgive me-—did not try to keep from listen ing. He was right. I would be a burden to you, and I have no claim upon you. I have been so selfish in my grief that I took all your kindness as a matter of course. 1 came with you because I have learned to love you in these last awful days when you were so dear to me. But T see that. I should not have taken advan tage of your generous offer. 1 think it.better to slip away before I see you again, because you would try to make me stay, and I eould never feel right about it after what your son said. Thanking you so much for all your kindness, I am, as ever, "LILLIAN." "P. S. —I will write as soon as I her like a mantle from her shoul- | ders. \ Prof. Dix. Westmore's greatest mu sical asset, had written to say that his sister was 111 in New Ycrk and that he had been telegraphed for: therefore he would not be able. etc. lie was very sorry, but he was sure she would understand. Yes. she understood. she under stood that after all her efforts she had failed, through 110 fault of her own. She stood there looking straight ahead, still holding bravely to her little smile, but thinking over and over with deadly reiteration that her musicale was a farce and that She would rather be in her grave than hear the things that would be said about her tomorrow. Then the doorbell rang again sharply and the girl came toward her again. "Mrs. Munn, can you come here a minute?" What had happened now? Dazedly she obe>ed the summons. In the ves tibule stood a young man in a motor coat and cap. "I beg your pardon," he said. "1 see you have a party here and I am sorry 10 disturb you. but you see our car has broken down right before your door and my sister is in it. Will you let her come in while 1 try to repair the damage? This Is a terrible storm." "It is a terrible storm," Mrs Munn said, waking up a little. "Yes. do bring your sister in and come In your self. You can run the machine into our barn till the storm lets up." He thanked her and went back to the car. In a moment he returned, accompanied bv a tall young woman swathed in damp chiffon and rubber lined silk. "I'm sorry to give you all this trou ; hie," she said, "but the car positively j wou't move another inch. Carl thinks j lie can fix it, though. You are having 1 a party here?" "A musicale without any music," j Mrs. Munn laughed, her eyes full of I forlorn tears. "You see all the per formers have disappointed me." The girl started. She seemed to be I thinking rapidly. Then with an 1 adorable smile she laid her hand on He stayed late at the Morgans' and when he left oddly contented and at peace for a man whose heart had only that afternoon been broken. He was surprised when next he saw Miss Whitcomb that he felt nonp of the bitter resentment which had at first been his at her refusal In some strange way that fever had burned itself nut as though a cool hand had banished it utterly. HP simply did not care. She was just as beautiful and fascinating as ever, but his romance had crashed that aft ernoon In the foothills and he had no desire to pick up the broken pieces. She was too glittering for comfort, and she had hurt his pride by her carelessness. Nothing cures a man's devotion as does a stab at his pride. 1 Beside, Carlotta's smile stayed in his > get. home." ! When Robert looked up and his ■ mother saw his expression of sname and remorse, she couldn't utter a ; word of condemnation. "I will go and bring her back," he said, going out the door. "Robert." she called after him. "She won't come. For all she looks so small and delicate, she is strong willed and proud." "She shall eonie." he declared, squaring his broad shoulders. Never had he harnessed so quickly, and never had the surprised ntare re ceived such reminders to keep up the speed. Robert, groaned as lie looked ! at the hot. dusty highway over which she must have walked. He drove through the town to Elk , River, scanning the hotel entrance j and shops in vain. He went on to | the station and hitched his mare back i of the waiting room, which was. he noted still locked. He went on to the baggage room. On a bench, outside, in the hot sun sat a girl, delicate, beautiful, grief stricken. "3e here," he said, towering above her, "I am your cousin Robert Mar shall. I have come to take you back home." • She siailed faintly. ' "It's in you, and I know cous •in Hannah sent you, but ". "I didn't give her time to send me. t 1 came as fast as my horse would Mrs Mann's arm. A inusicalo without music! Vow that mustn't he. You must let Carl, and nie help you out. I am a concert, singe-i- and he my accompanist from New York, you know. We are motor ing to our bungalow in the moun tains. And we have a lot of music with us. If you like we will enter tain vour guests, you poor little Sa marlta n." Mrs. Munn could not answer, butt the soh of joy and relief she permitted l herself said more than words. Fifteen minutes later she stood with beaming lace among her guests while her husband proudly introduced to them by a name which set them gasping, their entertainers. For these young people had been heard of in Weatmore, had once even refused to appear upon the ]e lure course pro gram, and now, |o and behold this amazing little Kitty Munn had them at her musicale! That evening was a triumph—such a triumph as Mrs. Munn never even dared to dream of. Such singing, such p.aying. had never before been heard in West more. And. besides, the presence of these two young people was enjoyed almost as much as their music. They were gay and sociable and very charming. They entered heart and soul into the pleasant task of making their hos | tee s' musicals the greatest social sue. cess of years. The company broke up at a late hour. Afterward Mrs. Munn told her husband and the two young people who still remained, everything, she cried a little as she talked, an.l the girl, at least understood. They went away next morning un der blue skies, leaving many good wishes, many kind farewells. They had been housed from the storm and had enjoyed themselves thoroughly As for little Mrs. Munn. since thaft day she has been the social leader in Westmore, the one woman to whom every other woman looks up. And her husband is he-> coming one of its most successful business men. But to this day they keep the so rrel of that musicale to themselves. memory. It was not. as he argued to him self some weeks later in a sort of hor rified dismay, that he was flickle and a man of unstable affections-—it was simply that he had been under a spell, luckily now broken, and had gone back to where he belonged. Having once found his welcome in the rambling cottage, he found him self drawn there irresistibly oftener than in the years before. It was ab sence. he told himself. that hart awakened him and shown him Carloi tu's real loveliness, her sweetness and womanly sympathy. And when, hair tearfully, before the summer was over and when Gertrude Whitcomb was only a vague memory, Dr. Duval toltt Carlotta Morgan he loved her, he; realized he had always loved her and; always should. "I don't deserve anything so won-, derful," he told her, "as that yotij care about me, Carlotta! I've been stupid in many ways—but I'm in my right mind now!" "I've always cared," she told him, simply. For a moment she hesitated. The previous winter, when he hart deserted the cottage, often troubled her. But with all her sweetness Carlotta Morgan had clever instincts. That winter was past, and here lie was now for always, and she was the rare woman who knows when not to question. ' The night fragrance of roses float ed in through the open windows as they talked of the future in serene happiness. In the man's heart was a thankful and wondering content that things were as they were, and in Carlotta's nothing except that sha loved him. bring me as toon as 1 read your note. ! You must conie with me." "No." she said with sweet .and firm t resolution. "You were right in what you said." "But I want you - as much, if not more, than my mother does." "You are hospitable like her, and i you are trying to make amends. It is useless to change ray purpose." "Look here," lie cried impetuously, "if you don't come, 1 shall pick you up in lriy arms and carry you away in spite of yourself." She lost her lily look. "But you will come." he continued confidently, "when I show you the let ter I got from my mother." He thrust it into her hand. When she had read it. she looked up ques tion ingl.v. i "Don't you see." he said wit;, a half groan. "I thought from that let ter that you were a child of fi or thereabouts. | never dreamed of your being grown up. and when I thought of my mother at her age undertaking the care and responsibility of a child, J couldn't bear the thought. But. now. it's different. Ycu can give her just what the house needs, and what we pine for. the presence of a young woman. The favor will be on your side, if you will come." "Really and truly?" she said en treatingly, looking up into the dark earnest eyes. "Really and truly. Comt,"
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