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HomeMy WebLinkAboutZurich Herald, 1915-10-08, Page 6fHt GOLDE3N KED Or "The 6t drtentures of Ledgard." By the Author of "What He Cost Her." rI CHAPTER XVI. . l ed down the rows of desks until she Ernestine Wendermatt travelled reached the door at the further end back to London in much discomfort,. marked "Sub -Editor!' She knocked being the eleventh occupant of a third- ; and was admitted at once. class carriage in a particularly un- A thin, dark young man, wearing a Punctual and dilator train. Arrived,.pincenez and smoking a cigarette, at Waterloo, she shook out her skirts i looked up from his writing as she en- with a little gesture of relief and tered: He waved her to a seat, but started off to , walk to the Strand. { hiss pen never stopped for a second. Half -way across the bridge she came { Back, Miss Wendermott Very face to face with a tall, good-looking = goodd. What did you get?" young man who was hrrying in the Interview and sketch of the house," opposite direction. He stopped short ae he recognized her, dropped his eyeglass, and uttered a little exclama- tion of pleasure. "Ernestine, by all that's delightful! I am in luck to -day!" She smiled slightly and gave him her hand, but it was evident that this meeting was not wholly agreeable to she responded briskly. "Interview by Jove! That's good! Was he very difficult?" "Ridiculously easy! Told me every- thing I asked and a lot more. If I could have got it all down in his own language it would have been positive- ly thrilling." The sub -editor scribbled in silence for a moment or two. He had reach - her. ed an important point in his own "I don't see where the luck 'comes work. His pen went slower, hesitated in," she answered. "I have no time for a moment, and then dashed on to waste talking to you now. I am with renewed vigor. in a hurry." "You will allow me," he said hope- , fully, "to walk a little way with you?" "I am not able to prevent it—if you think it worth while," she answered. "Read the first few sentences of what you've got," he remarked. Ernestine obeyed. To all appear- ance the man was engrossed in his Ile looked down =he was by her own work, but when she paused he side now—in good-humoredprotest. nodded hislieead aid. "Don't try "It'll do!"he said. try to "Come Ernestine," he said, "you polish it. Give it down, and see that mustn't bear malice against me. Per- the proofs are submitted to me. haps I was a little hasty when I spoke Where's the sketch?" so strongly about your work. I don't She held it out to him. For a mo - like your doing it and never shall like ment he looked away from his own it, but I've said all I want to. You won't let it divide us altogether, will you." "For the present," she answered, "it occupies the whole of my time, a and the whole of my thoughts." "To the utter exclusion, I suppose," he remarked, "of me?!...' She laughed gaily. "My dear Cecil! when have I ever led you to suppose for a moment that r I have ever wasted any time thinking of you?" He was determined not to be annoy- made her wa to the side of the first work, and took the opportunity to him. If he had reappeared he could light a fresh cigarette. Then he nod- not have shown his face in Pall Mall, ded, hastily scrawled some dimer or on the racecourse, and every mo- sions on the margin of the little draw-. meat of his life would be full of hu- ing and settled down again to work. I 'It'll do," he said. "Give it to miliations and bitterness. Virtually Smith. Come back at eight to look then, for such a man as he was, life in at our proofs after I've done with England was over. Then there was them. Good interview! Good sketch! you. You were a pretty child, and the You'll do, Miss Wendermott" Earl had no children. If your father She went out laughing softly. This was dead the story would be forgot- ten, you would marry brilliantly, and was quite the longest conversation she had ever had with the chief. She an ugly page in the family history would be blotted out. That was how ed, and he ignored both the speech and disengaged y ist and sittingin an they looked at it—it was how they put the laugh. easy ir ga a down her coy, here, it wee your father." and there addinga little, but leaving He consented . it mainly in throughShe knew "Yes, he consented! He saw the whose hand, with a few vigorous wisdom of it for your sake, for the touches, would bring the whole thing sake of the family, even for his own into the form which the readers of sake. The Earl settled an income the Hour delighted in, and she was upon him and he left England secretly quite content to have it so. The work on the morning of his release. We was interesting, and more than an had the news of his death only a week hour had passed before she rose and or two ago." . put on her gloves. 1 She stood up, her eyes blazing, her "I am coming back at eight," she hands , clenched together. said, "but the proofs are to go in to I thank God,""that said, I Mr. Darrel! Nothing come in for me, have found the courage to break away I suppose?" , from those people and take a little of The girl shook her head, so Ernest- my life into my own hands. You can ine walked out into the street. Then tell them this if you will, Cecil—my she remembered Cecil Davenant and uncle Lord Davenant, your mother, his strange manner—the story which and whoever had a say in this miser - he was even now waiting to tell her. able affair. Tell them from me that 1 She looked at her watch and after a know the truth and that they are a moment's hesitation called a handsom. pack of cowardly, unnatural old wo- 81 Cupole Street, she told him. men. Tell them that so Iong as I live "This is a little extravagant," she I will never willingly speak to one of "Listen," he said, !`I must tell you some things which you know in order to explain others which you do not. know. Your father was a younger son of extravagant parents, virtually penniless and without the least cepa,- city for earning money. 1 don't blame him—who could? I .couldn't earn money myself. If I hadn't got it I daresay that I should go to the bad as be did," The girl's lips tightened, and she drew a little breath through her teeth. Davenant hesitated. "You know all about that company affair. Of course they made your father the butt of the whole thing, although he was little more than a tool. He was sent to prison for seven years. You were only a child then and your mother was dead. Well, when the seven years were up, your relations and mine too, Ernestine, concocted what I have always con- sidered an ill -begotten and miserably selfish plot. Your father unfortun- ately, yielded to them, for your sake. You were told that he had died in prison. He did not. He lived through his seven years there, and when he came out he did so in another name and went abroad on the morning of the day of his liberation." "Good Heavens!" she cried. "And now!" "He is dead," Davenant answered hastily, "but only just lately. Wait a minute. You are going to be furious- ly angry. I know it, and I don't blame you. Only listen for a moment. The scheme was hatched up between my father and your two uncles. I have always hated it and always protested against it. Remember that and be fair to me. This is how they reason- ed. Your father's health, they said, was ruined, and if he lives the seven years what is there left for him when he comes out? He was a man, as you know, of aristocratic and fastidious tastes. He would have the best of everything—society, clubs, sport. Now all these were barred against ' "May I' inquire how you are get- ting on ?" "I ant getting on," she answered, "very well indeed. The editor is be- ginning to say very nice things to tae, and already the men treat me just as though I were a comrade! It z so nice of them!" "Is it?" he muttered doubtfully. "T' have just finished,"she con- • }inued, "the most important piece of vork they have trusted me with yet, end I have been awfully lucky. I have leen to interview a millionaire!" "A man!" She nodded. "Of course!" "rt isn't fit work for you," he ex- .aaixned hastily. "You will forgive me if I consider myself the best judge of that," she answered coldly. "I am a journalist, and so long as it is honest work my sex doesn't count. If every one whom I have to see is as courteous to me as said to herself as the man wheeled them again. Mr. Trent has been, I shall consider his horse round, "but to -day I think "I ��was afraid you'd take it like that I have earned it." that, he said dolefu11 y. "Take it like that!"she repeated in CHAPTER XVII. fierce scorn. "How else could a wo- man hear such news? How else do °myself very Iucky indeed." "As who ?" he cried. She looked up at him in surprise. They were at the corner of the Strand nit as though in utter forgetfulness "Ernestine," he said gravely, "I am you suppose she could feel to be told >f their whereabouts, he had suddenly goi g, to speak to you about your fa- that she had been hoodwinked, and ;topped short and gripped her tight- She looked upat him in swift sur- kept from her duty and a man's y by the arm. She shook herself free heart very likely broken, to save vith a little gesture of annoyance. Prise. '„ the respectability of a worn-out old matter with you Is it "Whatever necessary. is the ma er y "I think so " he answered. "You lecil?` Don't gape at me like that,, rid come along at once, unless you t won'tou!You'll think like what I am going ba tell rant to'be left behind. Yes, we are you'vey ery short-handed and the chief let me treated. So you have! T pledged my ; word, in a weak hour, with the others. o down to see Mr. Trent. He didn't xpect for a moment that I should To=day�I m going to break it. I think it best. et him to talk to me, but I did, and«::Well?" e let me sketch the house. I am aw- I "You've been deceived! You were told always that your father had died in prison. He didn't." "What!" p at him casually as they crossed the + . Her sharp cry rang out strangely treet, and something in his face sur- 'into the little room. Already he could traed her. I see signs of the corning storm, and ris"Why, Cecil, what on earth is +>7arnore hateful than ever. the task which lay before hixn seemed tatter with you?" she exclaimed. ully pleased with myself I can tell ou." The young man walked by her side or a moment in silence. She looked He looked down at her with a new'—'" :riousness. "I was thinking," he said, "how odd- ' things turn out. So you have been own to interview Mr. Scarlett Trent it a newspaper, and he was civil to out" "Well, 1 don't see anything odd bout that," she exclaimed impatient - e. "Don't be so enigmatical. If you've nything to say, say it! Don't look at ee like an owl!" "I have a good deal to say to you," ie answered gravely. "How long shall Tie be at the office ?" "About an hour -perhaps longer." "X will wait for you!"<",'s� "I'd rather you didn't. I don't yvants` ;hem to think that I go trailing about ;vith an escort." "Then may I come down to your flat? I have something really im- portant to say to you, Ernestine. It does not concern myself' at all. It is wholly about you. It is something which you ought to know." "You are trading upon my curios- ity, for the sake of a tea," she laughed. "Very well, about five o'eleck." Fre bowed and walked back west- w, rds witha graver look than usual men his boyish face, for he had a task hea • h'rt which was very little to 1 ' ''l 'arnestine swung open the ne t the Hour, and pass - family. Oh, how could they have dar- ed to do it? How could they have dared to do it'?" "It was a beastly mistake," he ad- mitted. A whirlwind of scorn seemed to sweep over her. She could' keep still no longer. She walked up and down the little room. Her hands were clenched, her eyes flashing. "To tell me that he was dead to let him live out the rest of his poor life in exile and alone! ' Did they think that I didn't care, Cecil?" she exclaimed, suddenly turning and fac- ing him. "I have always loved my father! You may think that I was too young to remember him—I SPARTAN MOTHER. WOULD GIVE ALL HER SONS TO THE EMPIRE . :. Jib.... ,. ...,. U ti n 11S1b y s..� ��5.�.xi1•G�:1kL. It: 'l4 xl:., a 'ep :i aixte1iit; r. Hamelin Aylmer, Quebec, and two of his sons, all above ate air. Xi. y � three of whom are with the eolors. There are four other sons and ono of these bas enlisted. The mother writes that she evfshes all tie were able to go and fight for Ulna and country. "What's In Name"? op ,O;;' Well, if the name is ;.eatee tarsiee .t means frreproachabl quality and value. Foods for Growing Poultry. One of the most important things demanding the special attention of the poultry raiser at this season - of the year is' the matter of developing the young stock and of securing rapid, healthy growth. There are several items of care and management which affect the growth of the young chicks but none is more important than in- telligent feeding, and while this is true, it is well to remember that food alone will not accomplish the desired result. Our remarks at this time under any and all conditions. What will be confined to the question of has been said thus far applies to the feeding, but we cannot refrain from food question in general, regardless of whether the object be to obtain in because readers of poultry literature have no doubt found certain combin- ations described and recommended as being the most satisfactory and pro- ductive of greatest results. They are therefore Confused in Their Ideas and do not know what course to fol- low. For the benefit of all, such breeders and those who have not yet learned the facts, we wish to state that there is no one . •formula which can be said to be positively the best calling attention to the fact that feed- ing is not the sole factor, as many people suppose, and who consequent- ly do not get results because of lack of attention to other details. The list of poultry foods is long and is very generally known. Briefly, it consists of all kinds of grain, whole and ground, including small grains, such as buckwheat, millet, kaffir corn, etc. In addition to the various grains, there is green food, such as grass, clover, alfalfa and all kinds of growing vegetation and all root vegetables. Animal foods form an- other important group, and under chicks intended for broilers or fries this head may be included all forms may be confined and pushed to the of insect life which is usally acces- limit with corn and other fattening aible to fowls that have free range rations, but much handling fits them and the meat foods in the form of only for table poultry, and they are ruined for other purposes. The young stock should be given as much range as possible, and the poultry ` raiser should start his plans with that There are also various rneat meals, thought in mind. A plentiful supply beef scraps and concentrated meat of green food should be within reach, foods on the market that are of value and if it is not growing in the runs if procured and fed in a fresh condi- seed meal, etc., are valuable only as or yards, it should be supplied from tion. Oil meal, linseed meal, cotton- the list of articles previously men- tioned. occasional additions to the rations, Good General Formula. and they serve principally as bowel Readers who prefer to have a regu- regulators. Condiments and similar lar formula and who do not wish to be prepared foods are not necessary bothered with trying' to provide a and frequently are harmful in- their changing variety will find the follow - effects. Skimmed milk, buttermilk, ing a most excellent combination: and other milk products are of value. Cracked wheat, 25 parts; pinhead The beginner in poultry raising is oatmeal, 15 parts; millet seed, 10 bewildered when he starts to investi- parts; granulated charcoal, 5 parts; gate the feeding auestion and is con- chick size grit, 10 parts; buckwheat, fronted with the long list of avail- 5 parts; rape seed, 5 parts; broken able foodstuffs. He is apt to become rice, 5 parts; cracked peas, 5 parts, discouraged if he gains the impres- and ground beef scraps or other meat sion that he must have everything in meal, 5 parts. Some of the above the list, which is, of course, impos- articles are not easily obtainable in sible and undesirable. Each section all localities, and the mixture should of the country has its own local con- be made with the ingredients at hand ditions, and no matter where the poultry raiser is located, he can find sufficient variety in the foods at hand to serve his needs. He should not be misled into thinking that there is a set formula comprising a few special feeds, which is better than any other combination that can be secured. We make that statement young stock or for any other special purpose. - Feeding for growth requires differ- ent rations than would be the case if the object was to fatten fowls or to encourage egg production. The mis- take which most people make is to assume that flesh -producing foods, or rather fattening foods, are more'de- sirable for growth than any others. They overlook the fact that growth means the development of bone and muscle quite as much as it does addi- tional flesh and especially fat. Young fresh Meat, scraps, which many poul- try xalien :can procure' at a reason- able cost. Bowel Regulators. and considering cost. A dry mash consisting of ground whoat, corn and oats may be kept in hoppers where the chick can go to it at will. A little granulated charcoal and cottonseed mealmake a desirable addition to the dry mash; the- former sweetens the crop and aids digestion and the lat- ter is a good regulator. wasn't, I loved him always. When I grew up and they told me of his dis- grace I was bitterly sorry, for 1 lov- ed his memory—but it made no differ- ence. And all the time it was a weak, silly lie! They let him_ come out, poor father, without a friend to speak to him, and they hustled him out of the country. And I, whose place was there with him, never knew." "You were only a child, Ernestine. It was twelve years ago." "Child! I may have been only a child, but I should have been old enough to know where my place was. Thank God I have done with these people and their disgusting shibbo- leth of respectability." "You are a httle violent," he re- marked. "Pshaw!" She flashed a look of, scorn upon him. "You don't under- stand! How should you, you are of their kidney—you're only half a the truth this afternoon? man. Thank God my mother was of "Because," he answered, "you told the people! I'd have died to have gone nee that you had just been to see Scar- smirking through life with a brick lett' Trent!" for a heart and milk and water in my "And what on earth had that to do veins! Of all the stupid pieces of with it?" brutality I ever heard of, this is the ",Because Scarlett Trent was with. most callous and the most heart- your father when he died. They were breaking." on an excursion somewhere up in the "It was a great mistake," he said, bush—the very excursion that laid "but I believe they did it for the the fotindation of Trent's fortune." best." "Go on,"she cried."Tell me all know! this is wonderful!" little gesture that you She sat down with a of despair. (To be continued.) "1 really think you'd better go away, Cecil," she said. "You exas- perate me too horribly. I shall strike you or throw something at you soon. Did it for the best! What a miser- able whine! Poor dear old dad, to think that they should have done this thing." She buried her face in her handker- chief and sobbed for the second time since her childhood. Davenant was wise enough to attempt no sort of consolation. He leaned a little for- ward and hid his own face with the palm, of his hand. When at last she looked up her face had cleared and her tone was less bitter. It would have gone hard with the Earl of East- chester, however, if he had called to see his niece just then, "Well, she said, "I want to know now why, after keeping silent all this time, you thought it best to tell me rash iora Hest Ruffles and Fluffles. Many of the velour coats for chil- dren of 10 'or 12 years of age are made with considerable fullness, the skirt portion being cut circular, with a straight thread in front and the back seam cut on a true bias. For juvenile wear, the broad belt remains good style. A stunning coat of two -toned pl-ush in brown has its skirt part extremely full, the sleeves are set in at the arm seye, and a standing collar. of (itch comes up straight and snug' about the throat like a bandage. Another coat is beaver trimmed upon a foundation of Joffre blue broadcloth. The belt is novel, as it is very wide under the arms, and narrows front and back. Flat,, smoked pearl buttons are used. Wide -wale corduroy, trimmed with black skunk, is employed extensively. It wears well and looks well, and what more can mortal woman ask? Velvet will predominate this winter and faille will be strong. Short hooped petticoats are attach- ed to some of the abbreviated dancing frocks that have come from Bulloz. They produce a flaring silhouette that is very dancy and quaint. •Tulle continues the best material for dancing gowns and designers have found that it is particularly beauti- ful when draped over metallic tissues. The new evening frocks are elaborate- ly trimmed with paillettes, and un- usual laces and embroideries. A petticoat, which is gorgeous enough to be a frock itself, is made up of peachblow silk, veiled in spang- led tulle. The effect of iridescent fish scale spangles, rosy -hued silk and white tulle is flowerlike and beauti- ful. Another fancy petticoat is made of jetted net over black pussy willow taffeta. The flounce is outlined in close quilling. A charming costume in Nile green taffeta has the base of the skirt caught 'up with ovals of pink roses and leaves, giving a scalloped effect to the hem. The short -waisted bodice. is decorated with rosebuds—white straps of crystal beads go over the shoulder and end in tassels at front and, back. There are very short sleeves of Nile green tulle arai a large butterfly bow with sash ends of tulle extends from the centre -back closing. An afternoon dress of black crepe has 'a princess effect obtained by straight folds hanging from the bust nearly to the hem of the skirt, the fullness being held by a dull gilt girdle. A cuirass of taffeta is shrouded in crepe and headed by .bands of dull. gilt. Festooned crepe gives extra full- ness to the skirt. A simple semi -mourning dress on princess lines is of black crepe de chine with collar and cuffs of white organdie embroidered in black. A dress of striped poplin, brown and black, has an overdress effect shorter at the back than at the front. The sleeves and vestee are of crepe de chine. A model in white striped taffeta, brown and black, is cut with a very deep yoke empiecement front and back, but shortened very materially on the hips. A full, circular skirt, joins the yoke and follows its line with two rows of piping on the hem to accentuate the fullness and short- ness of the skirt. The chiffon drop sleeves have oversleeves of the silk. There are two styles of fur coats this year, the coat that fits and the coat that doesn't. Both ripple in godet folds below the waist. As for furs, two kinds are in vogue, caracul and Hudson seal, but this is only the first style feature of a fur coat, for they are to be trimmed with a contrasting fur this winter. The collar, which is a big, soft, high chok- er, into which one can sink the chin; the cuffs, which are wide bands about the long sleeves, and the bottom edge. of the fur coat are made of a con- trasting fur. This contrasting fur on a Hudson seal coat is generally beaver, otter or nutria. An attractive boudoir in very pale blue crepe de chine has wide, deep armholes, edged with fringe. The ficllu shawl collar is also edged with fringe, which follows down one side of the front opening. On the upper front, over the shoulders, and across the back there is a decorative design in rope silk embroidery of the same color. A man isn't known so well by the company he keeps as by the line of talk he hands the next door neigh- bors. Every year over five million beds and eight million meals are provided by the shelters and homes' of the Sal- vation Army in Britain.