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,"