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HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Huron Expositor, 1931-11-13, Page 74,7 I�{ 5% R101Prms.spoommor l upt>uret Irarlepeele, Yalricese Velaa;`, Aibdamilial Weakness', ,Spinal Defers * ity'y 'i;ollaulta on free. Call ox write. ' a. O. SMITH, British. A: -` aside Specialists, 15 Downie' St:, Strut. Lord, Ont. 8202-52. LEGAL Phone No. 91 JOHN J. HUGGARD ' Barrister, Solicitor, Notary Public,Eta. Beattie Block - - Seaforth, Ont. 1 R. S. RAYS Barrister, Solicitor, Conveyancer and ,Notary Public. Solicitor for the Dominion ,; Sank. Office in rear of the Dominion Bank; Seaforth, Money to loan. BEST & BEST Barristers, Solicitors, Conveyan- ears and Notaries Public, Etc. Office in the Edge Building,. opposite The Expositor Office. VETERINARY " JOHN GRIEVE, V.S. Honor graduate of Ontario Veterin- ary College. All diseases of demestic animals treated. Calls promptly at- tended to and charges moderate. Vet- erinary Dentistrya speciality. Office and residence on Goderich Street, one door east of Dr. Mackay's office, Sea - forth. A. R. CAMPBELL, Y.S. Graduate of Ontario Veterinary College, University of Toronto. All diseases of domestic animals treated by the most modern principles. Charges reasonable. Day or night Balls promptly attended to. Office on Main Street, Hensall, opposite Town Hall. Phone 116. MEDICAL - Dr. E. J. • R. FOtISTER Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Graduate in Medicine, University of Toronto. Late assistant New York Ophthal- mei and Aural Institute, Moprefield's Eye and Golden Square Throat Hos- pitals, London, Eng. At Commercial Hotel, Seaforth, third Monday in each month, ,from 11 a.m. to 3 p.m. 58 Waterloo Street, South, Stratford. DR. W. C. SPROAT Graduate of Faculty of Medicine, University of Western Ontario, Lon.; don. Member of College • of Physic- ians and Surgeons of Ontario. Office in Aberhart's Drug Store, Main St., Seaforth. Phone 90. DR. A. NEWTON-BRADY Graduate Dublin University, Ire# land. Late Extern Assistant Master Rotunda Hospital for Women and Children, Dublin. Office at residence lately occupied by Mrs. Parsons, Hours: 9 to 10 a.m., 6 to 7 p.m., Sundays, 1 to 2 p.m. 2866-25 DR. F. J. BURROWS • Office'and residence Goderich Street, east of, the United Church, Sea - forth. Phone 46. Coroner for the County of Huron. DR. C. MACKAY C, Mackay, honor graduate of Trin- ity University, and gold medalist of Trinity Medical College; member of the .College of Physicians and Sur- geons of Ontario. DR. H. HUGH ROSS Graduate of Unilv'ersity of Toronto Faculty of Medicine, member of Col- lege of Physicians and Surgeons of Ontario; pass graduate courses in Chicago Clinical School • of Chicago ; Royal 0phthalmis Hospital, London, England; University Hospital, Lon- don, England. Office -!Back of Do. minion Bank, Seaforth. Phone No. 5, Night calls answered from residence, Victoria Street, Seaforth. DR. J. A. MUNN Graduate of Northwestern Univers- ity, Chicago, I11. Licentiate Royal College of Dental Surgeons, Toronto. Office over Sills' Hardware, Main St., Seaforth` Phone 151. DR. F. J. BECHELY Graduate Royal College of Dental Surgeons, Toronto. . Office over W. R. Smith's Grocery, Main Street, Sea - forth. Phones: Office, 185 W; resi- dence, 185J. CONSULTING ENGINEER S. W. Archibald; B•A:Sc., (Toronto), O.L.S., Registered Professional En- gineer and Land Surveyor. Victor Building, 2881/2 Dundas Street, Lon- don, Ontario. Telephone: Metcalf 2801W. AUCTIONEERS THOMAS BROWN Licensed auctioneer for the counties of Huron and Perth. Correspondence arrangements for hale dates can be made by calling The Expositor Office, Seaforth. Charges Moderate, a n a satisfaction guaranteed. Phone '802. OSCAR KLOPP Honor Graduate Carey Jones' Na- tional School for Auctioneering, Chi- cago. Special course takers in Pure Bred Live Stock, Real Estate, Mer- ehandise and Farm Sales. Rates in keeping with prevailing markets. Sat- isfaction assuted. or wire. Zurich, Write Oscar Klopp, Phone . 13-93. IL T. LUKER Licensed auctioneer for the County bf Huron. Sales attended to in all parts of the county. Sevenyears' ex- perience in Manitoba and Saskatche- wan. T1, Exeter, reasonable. alfa P. 0., R.R N17o 111Orders left at The Huron Ex- positor Office, Seaforth, promptly at - aided to. By Joseph C. Lincol n {Continued from last week. ' It •Oas not until he had gone per- haps fifty yards further that he found them. The marks of a feminine foot and leading straight out across the flat. The water was but a few inches deep here, and it was plain to see why she had crossed at this point. She must have thought this the end - or nearly the end -of the tideway. But it was not. The other and deeper channel was beyond, barring Her way. If she attempted to cross that - He splashed through, • following the footprints. On the hard -packed, wet sand at the further edge they were clearly defined, but even now the ris- ing tide was 'filling the impressions. It rippled against his rubber boots as he ran. Again he called. ,'Norma! Norma! Where are you ? " This time the answer came. Faint, and some distance to the left. "Here I am! Here!" she cried. The driving sleet prevented his seeing her, but he kept on shouting and listening for her replies. When, at last, he did sight .her, she was standing in what appeared to be the middle of /a shoreless sea. The cur- rent was over her shoe tops. He came splashing to her aside. "Are you -are you all right?" he gasped. She was shivering, but she manag- ed to smile. "Of course," she said. "I am cold, that is all. And completely turned a- round. I hadn't the least idea which way to go. It all looks alike, doesn't it?" He did not answer. All his resolu- tion was needed to keep from saying things which must not be said. "I was glad enough when I heard you call," she went on. "I was sure you would come pretty soon. . . , What are you doing? You mustn't try to carry me, I am too heavy." Still he did not reply. Instead he picked 'her up in his arms and warded out into the rapidly deepening cur- rent. She protested. "You can't; you mustn't," she ex- claimed. "You can never do it. Grac= ious, how deep it is getting! Put me down, please. I can wade just as well as you can. And I can't be any wetter than I am this minute." The partial falsity of this state- ment was proven before the following minute ended. . The tide was pouring past Calvin's knees, and with every step it deepened. He was midway of the channel, and almost waist deep, when a bit of wreckage, washed from its grave in the sand of the beach, was dashed against his shins with sudden violence. It caught him una- wares in the middle of a stride, and threw him off his balance. Norma, also very much surprised, uttered a startled exclamation and struggled in- voluntarily in his arms. Her strug- gle was the final straw. He tottered, tried to.keep his feet, and then went over with a tremendous splash. He had no time to think and his hold up- on his passenger loosened. When, af- ter a choking instant beneath the icy water, his head and shoulders emerg- ed, his arms were empty. Norma had disappeared. Her disappearance was but mom- entary. 'He saw her a few yards from him, stumbling and trying to stand, only to stumble and fall again. He wallowed after her, seized her with a grip that nothing short of dynamite could have loosened, and ploughed madly on, through the deepest part, up the shelvingshore of the cut, to the dune, to the highest point of that dune. There he stopped, still holding. her in his arms. Save for that first startled,r`,Oh!" when he stumbled, she had not spoken a word, nor had she screamed once. He stood there, his arms about her. Her eyes were closed. The fear that ,he had `been hurt crossed his mind. "Norms!" he cried anxiously. "Nor- ma!" She opened her eyes. "I am all right," she panted. "I shall be -in just a minute. . My breath -I haven't any. . ' . You can put me down. . . . I am all right." But he did not put her down. Her head was on his shoulder and her face was close to his. A disinterested per- son, noticing the tableau, might have found it rather funny. Both were dripping water from every thread of their garments, from their hair, from their boots, from their fingers. And still he held her close. Fortunately there were no disinteres""ted persons ,present. She looked up at him and, perhaps seeing the look in his eyes, tried to escape. "Put me down -please," she gasp- ed. Instead he kissed her -kissed her again and again, murmuring all sorts of things, mad things. Myra Fuller was quite forgotten. But, even if he had remembered her, he could not have prevented himself from saying those things now. For this was real, this was different, this was -he could not have told what it was, nor wished to; it was, and that was quite enough. As a matter of fact, he remembered nothing; 'honour and brave resolu- tions had been swept completely from his thoughts, and he had fallen, head over heels, helplessly -just as he had gone down when the bit of wreckage struck against his legs out there in the • channel. That drifting wreckage was responsible for both upsets -[but this was by far the more serious. .She had reddened at his first kiss; then she had turned pale. And now, at the first opportunity, she spoke. Was it the very first? Well,' perhaps not. "Calvin," she begged. "Please! 'Put me down." He obeyed, but he seized her hand, and she did not take it away. He begat to stammer something, an in- coherent jumble of somethings. 7rf"{'c"it,nr«•�;lC4tfi"�'df.'r". mY?.r.�.J.4. "Norma," he cried, breathlessly. "I -I don't know why I-41 didn't mean to. . Oh, yes, I did! I did!' I couldn't help it! Norma, I know I must be crazy to -to think you could -a girl like you -and --and a no -ac- count fellow like me -it' is-" She interrupted. "Don't Calvin," she said. "Bud it is true, you know it is. I am no -account, and you are so won- derful. But I' ---I am crazy about you. I haven't thought of anything 'but you for for ever, I guess." A remarkably short for ever, ami a remarkably short memory; but he be- lieved he was speaking the truth - then. "I didn't mean to tell you -ever," he declared. "I said to myself I must not --I wouldn't. But now -just now -when I thought you might be hurt, and -and it was my fault -I -I-4.-" Again she interrupted. '"Don't, Cal- vin," she urged. "Because-,--" "Why, because you mustn't say that. It wasn't your fault and, be- sides, I-4- Yes, I am very glad you did say the -the other things. I --I wanted you to." He stared, incredulous.' "You wanted me to?" he gasped. She smiled. A tremulous smile, but with a trace of mischief in it. "Why, yes. You, see, I was afraid you -you weren't going to." "Norma! You don't -you can't mean.. you reaIIy love me? Love me?" The smile was still there. "Of course," she said. "I don't know, why you didn't see it. I • was sure every- one else must." There followed another tableau. And in the midst of it, out of the sleet streaked dimness came a hail, a series of yells. "Hello . . . ! Hello . . ! Norma . ! Norma . . ! Calvin . . . ! Hello!" The tableau .dissolved. Norma turn- ed in the direction of the shouts. "Who is it?" she asked, in a start- led whisper. "Somebody hunting for us. Seleucus, I guess. Your father must have got worried and sent him out to Iook for you. . . . And you're soaking wet and you must be half frozen. And I have kept you here. . " She put out her hand. "Did you think I didn't want to be kept?" she whispered. "But rmust go now. An- swer him." So Calvin shouted in reply. A mom- ent later the bulky form of Mr. Gam. mon loomed up through the sleet, a sea elephant in wet and shiny oil- skins. "Here you be, eh?" he grunted. "I have been bellowin' my head off for ye, The old man's scart to death. He thinks you've drownded or somethin'. Crimus, you look as if you was drownded! What's the trouble; been in swinrmin', have ye?" Norma answered. "I tried to cross the flats here," she explained, "and got into trouble. Mr. Homer pulled me out and got in himtelf. That is all." "That's all, eh? Well, I'd say 'twas enough too -in the middle of winter! Aain't you froze stiff?" This was not all exaggeration; their wet garments were beginning to freeze. Norma shivered. "I didn't realize it," she declared, with a quick glance at her fellow ad- venturer, "but I do believe I am." "Yes, and you will be a whole lot more if we don't get you home in a hurry. Come on no'w, both of ye. Move! Run -if you can." They could and they did. There was no more breath wasted in con- versation during the rush, to the sta- tion. CHAPTER XIII He did not see her again for an hour, and after that only when others were present. She had changed her wet clothes for dry ones, had packed her bag, and was ready to leave for Orham before she came out of her room. Captain Bartlett, the shadow of her departure already heavy upon hi'rn, did not leave her side, and dur- ing the eleven -o'clock dinner the other men were there and any chance of a private interview was precluded. Frank Hammond, the livery stable keeper, arrived just before the meal and ate with them. He reported the weather mean enough, but the "go- ing" not so very hard, and that the drive up along the inside -the bay side -of the beach was perfectly feas- ible and presented no great difficul- ties. He and his passenger climbed into the buggy, and the curtain and "boot" were tightly fastened about them. She shook hands with every- one. When it was Calvin's turn he ventured a whisper. "You will write?" he begged. "Off course. And you will?" the village all right, do you?" he asked anxiously. 'Gammon shook his head. "No, no," he said. "This don't amount to noth- in' now. Be more flurries like this, and sleet, and the like of that, 'but nothin' to hurt nobody, as I judge it. What I'm tryin' to say is, that I shouldn't wonder if we had some real winter from now on." Ed, Bloomer grunted. "You've been sayin' those very words ever since Thanksgivin'," he declared. "And the more you talk the finer the weather is."; Calvin was happy-niadly, radiant happy. It seemed impossible that such happiness could be his, that Nor- ma Bartlett reallyloved him. But she did --she did -she had said so. And there was ,no shadow of a doubt as to his lave for her. His regard for Myra Fuller had been merely a fancy, a delusion born of passion and im- pulse. 'From that first evening when, after leaving her, he had walked to the,,wharf to his meeting with Benoni Bartlett, he had felt --when he per- mitted himself to think honestly -like a mouse in a trap. Their next inter- view, that in which they had come so near to a separation, had strengthen- ed this feeling. She did not see mat- ters as he did. She was ambitious, and to further her ambitions, she ex- pected him to do things he could nev- er have done. He must see Myra and ask her to release him from their engagement, and at the first possible moment. There was no faltering in his mind, but he dreaded the ordeal. And, aI- though he, knew it to be the only thing to do, the only honourable thing, his unreasonable conscience troubled him. He did not love Myra. Did she love him? 'She had said so. There had been times when he doubted if her love was strong enolgh to embrace the slightest element of self-sacrifice. He felt guilty, and disloyal -almost wicked -as he thought of her, but to hesitate or equivocate would be a thousand times more wicked. He was troubled to think that Norma did not know. He would have told her if he had had an opportunity, but she and he had not been alone together since Seleucus interrupted them there on the {beach. He would tell her at once, would write her the whole story; but first he would see 'Myra and tell her. That "liberty day,' which Bartlett had been reluctant to grant him, must not be longer postponed. He spoke concerning it to the keep- er that {very afternoon. Bartlett was very much overcast. His face was solemn, almost haggard. He listened absently to his subordinate's plea, and Cyalvin noticed that the little Bible was once more upon the table. He had remained in his room ever since his daughter's departure. "I can't spare you now, said. "By and by I can maybe, but not just now. around here." "But, Cap'n, I really must go. I shouldn't ask if it wasn't important. It is -very." "Um -hum. Well, you while, a few days or so. first of next week." "Cap'n Bartlett, really I don't see how I can wait as long as that." !"Can't you? Why not? What is it that's so important it can't be put off when I say I need you here ?" Calvin hesitated. "Why," he said, "it is -well, it is a personal matter that -that -r-" "It ain't your turn for liberty, is it?" "No, but. I can arrange that with Rogers. It is his turn this week and I can fix it with him, I'm sure." "I'll do the fixin' of those things myself. I'm head of this station, I guess, although some of you fellows seem to think I ain't." "I don't know what you mean by that." "Don't you ? No, I don't know's you do, boy. I haven't got any fault to find with you. You're all right; even though you do put your trust in things of this world more'n I wish you did. I used to nryself'afore-a- fore His great,light was sent to my soul. I was just readin' the Psalm where it tells-" Homer broke in. "Cay'n," "lie in- sisted, "I hate to keep saying it, but I wish you would let me have my day off. Perhaps half a day would be enough." "All right, all right," testily. "You are goin' to have it, ain't you? Wait till the first of next week and then I'll see. . . . Run along now; 1 want to read a spell longer." Calvin found it hard to restrain his anger. There was no earthly reason why he could not be spared. Bartlett spoke again. "Boy," he said with a sigh, "I don't want you to think I'm mean, or any- thing like that. 'I just feel as if -as if somethin' was goin' to happen to me, and I want you to be on hand. That's how I feel." Hlere was a new freak, br fancy. There had been enough before. Cal- vin did his best to seem interested, !rut it was hard work. "Going to happen?" he repeated wearily. "What?" "I don't know what. :I just feel so, that's all. As if somethin' was goin' to- happen---somethin' bad. I wonder if," relapsing into a sort of gloomy retrospection, "I've done anything the Lord dorlf't like. Don't seem as if 1 had, I can't recollect anything, but why should He lay His hands as heavy on me, if 'twan't for some rea- sons like that? .I feelI feel as if there was a kind of -of a great black cloud settlin' all around me. That's strange, ain't it?" Homer," he arrange it, I need you wait a little Perhaps the "Yes."' "Don't tell him about -about us. It will be better for me to tell him by and by.". "Of course." That was all, because Benoni, jeal- ous 'of every last moment, crowded by/ to say a final farewell, and to caution Hammond about taking no chances in his driving. Norma was to stay. at the Ocean House in Orham that night and to take the six -o'clock train for Boston the next morning. She would arrive in Fairborough the following afternoon. The sleet had turned to a light; fine snow, and, as the 'buggy disappeared into the dimness, Seleucus uttered a prophecy. F'cSettin' in for a reg'lar stretch of it," he declared. "We ain't had much snow so fur this winter, but we gen- erally get our alloiance sooner or later." - Bartlett, who had been gazing after the vehicle, turned. "You don't flgger it'll snow bard enough to bother her about gettin' to r• V - R %39g her 'w'oul' iter they eyatbwal'dly. ire I7Ie score he wrote Y to terthe story of his unto rt ai ,4 ; tanglement, Break that eritangt est' tit rd to '6n1 'first and then write the whole _ut'h co arxilige 1uu e,, to Norma. She would understapfd,, he shore antd. 41144 • ~�- dared to hope, and forgive him for :of to hear in they hQr, being such a fool as to dream he the torts he clgeepid, including .you, and the end ti_.sS.Pt�. P could ever have; loved anyone but her, Ire wrote her that very, night, but in his letter he did not mention Myra's' name. It was a long letter too -,-a very long letter. And when it was sealed his cans fence still troubled sum, and he was t mpted to write an- other,' telling the whole story and begging for understanding and par- don. Yet she Might not understand. No, he must see Myra first. It was the . same- decision he had made before; yet he unmade and re- made it again and again before morn- ing came. And the next day he once more sought the skipper and asked the latter for a few hours of liberty. Bartlett's answer was still the same. Wait a little while; he could not be spared now. Calvin gave it up in dis- gust. Be determined to write Myra. Writing might or might not be cow- ardly; but, in 'any event. it was not as meanly impossible as further post- ponement. So that evening, after supper, when the skipper was in his room, and the men off duty playing seven up in the mess room, he sat down at the little table in the sleeping quarters -the only, place where he could be alone - and wrote the fateful letter. It was quite the hardest task of composition he had• ever tackled, and he tore up and rewrote many pages. He tried to be absolutely frank, to be straight- forward and honest. He explained how the sense of their unfitness for each other had grown upon him, had, in fact, been increasingly with him ever since the eyening of their be- trothal. She and he did not think a- like, their ideas and aspirations were quite dissimilar. It was another sort of man entirely whom she should mar- ry, a cleverer, more ambitious man. "And, most of all, 'Myra [he wrote] is the thing that is so hard to say, but must be said because it is true. I thought at the very first that I loved you the way a fellow should love the girl he means to marry. I know now that li don't, and never did, love you like that. I ought to, of course. I realize that you , are a hundred times more clever than I am, and that ev- erybodywould think, and probably be right in thinking, I was not half good enough for you. I shouldn't wonder if you really felt that way yourself, even though you haven't said so. If we were married I should be disappointing you all the time and you would be disgusted with me. If I really cared for you the way I ought to, perhaps these other things would not count, and I should marry you, anyhow, and take the risk. I don't -that is the truth -not enough for that. And, to be honest, I don't think you care for me in that way. I am almost sure you don't. It is better to end it now, like this, than to go on pretending, and be sorry by and by. Of ,course you will hate me when you read this letter and I think I am everything that is mean and sneak- ing. But I hope that, some day, when you have thought it over, you will agree that we never were fitted for each other, and that you are well out of it. Then, maybe, you will forgive me. I hope so. I meant to see you and tell you all this, but I couldn't get the leave I asked for, and so I had to write. It was the only decent thing I could do." He put the letter in the envelope, addressed and sealed it. Then, after a struggle with his conscience, he tore it open and added a postscript. "I wasn't going to tell you now [he wrote], but I think I ought to. And you will have guessed it, anyway. There is someone else. Not that she makes the least difference in my de- ciding that I am not the right fellow for you to marry. My piind has been made up to that for a long time, and I should have told you so when I saw you. But there is someone, that is the truth." This time the envelope remained sealed. He took it downstairs and put it in the bag with the other let- ters, those which were to go to Or - ham whenever someone from Setuckit could take them, Peleg Myrick, as it happened, was that someone. The hermit, in the Wild Duck, came to the station the next forenoon. He had just come from Or - ham, and was going back there, and he brought a pact et of letters and papers in exchange for the one he took away. Calvin was out while he was there, and did not arrive until he had departed. There were two letters bearing H'omer's name upon the mess- room table. One was from Norma. He read that first. It was short, but very satisfactory. He read it over and over again. She loved him. It seemed impossible, but there it was, in black and white. The letter was mailed in Boston -she had written it on the train. He was to take good care of her father and especially good care of himself. She had two people there at Setuckit now, so she said, to think about and dream about, and which was the more precious she wasn't going to permit herself to consider. He must write every day and tell her everything -everything. She would write again just as soon as she reached Fairborough. The handwriting upon the other en- velope was familiar, and he opened it with a twinge of conscience. T h e twinge disappeared as he read. It was from Myra Fuller, and the young woman was in anything but a good humour.,She had wasted no space in tellinhim that she loved him. "That's easy, Cap'n. You're lone- some, that's all. Your daughter has been here. Now she has gone and you're lonesome." !Galvin surrendered for the time, but he determined to try again, and with - was that Bartlett la PO1e.pRP' x e f Now why? Thai as vita,r wa*t tc know from you. Tou i new perfectly: well 'that he was on thevery edge of being discharged, that be ought tri Abe,; the cowardly old 'thing, and that you, by just saying a word, just the bare truth, could have had him put oat of the service. Why didn't you say it? You knew there was your chance, our chance, and that I would count on your taking it. And you 'didn't take it. I hear, and it came straight from old Kellogg, that you were in favour ai klegerex aA .�/�>,� may,, •� '.'.#s>� s n. ,y Clinton t . s... Al 'AO 4,44t 1110440$11);r0. , r R,,, , e # R1yfh; , 3elgrt. Wingham. ..... -of giving Bartlett anothef chance, just as the rest of the idiots there were. i0h,•-I am so mad 1 can hardly write. Mid I shan't write any more. It is up to you now. I have been working and planning and contriving for us,. and all for your sake, of course, and when our chance comes you do the very thing you knoW 1 wouldn't want you to do. If you have any excuse -day, reasonable one ain willing to hear one ---4T it But I am not the kind of girl, I'll have you know, who has to coax and beg a fellow to do what she wants him ,to do. I am distinctly not that kind. Arad I should advise you to seek me very soon -very soon. It is high time we bad a plain talk and a complete understanding." Whew! This was a different kind of Myra altogether, and a different kind •of letter from the sweetly af- fectionate epistles she had written be- fore. Calvin was surprised when he read it, but, if Myra had seen him when the reading was ended, she might have been even more so. He smiled, drew a • long 'breath, a breath of relief, tore the letter into frag- ments and put them in the stove. His conscience was sufficiently salved now. He need not have worried concerning Myra's grief when she received his statement, of feeling towards her. Apparently he had sent it just in time. Well, he was glad he had sent it be- fore her letter carne. She would, at least, know that her fiery ultimatum had not influenced him in writing as he did. It was all over. It was •set- tled. He was out of the trap. And, best of all, the escape would be eq- ually satisfactory to both parties. He began another letter to Norma that very evening, but he did not fin- ish it. He was in the midst of his confession, writing her the whole foolish story of Myra Fuller, and his own insane, and very brief, delirium of fancied regard for the young per- son, when he was interrupted. He put the unfinished letter in the draw- er of his chest, and there it stayed. Many things were to happen before he saw it again. At five o'clock that afternoon, the afternoon of the third day following Norma's departure, it had begun to blow. By nine that evening a gale had developed which,' for velocity and general wickedness, had been, so far that winter, rivalled only by the No- vember no'th-easter during whicn Calvin, because of Captain Myrick's leaving, was in temporary command at Setuckit. It was Bartlett who in- terrupted Homer at his letter -writ- ing. The skipper was extremely sier- vous. As Phinney said, the only man he talked to was himself. With the coming of the great storm, and as it hourly increased, his -eccentricities in- creased with it. •He prowled about the station and, finding Calvin in the sleeping quarters, led him away to in- spect the boat and gear, a perfectly unnecessary procedure. The wind continued to blow, and with it came thick snow. It stopped snowing at daybreak, but cold succeed- ed, a cold which forced the mercury down to the zero mark, with the gale as strong as ever. The weather bur- eau's warnings. sent out the day be- fore, had cleared the ship channel of the majority of vessels; their skip- pers had decided to remain in port or had anchored their craft in shelt- ered and safe localities. As always, however, there were a few reckless adventurers who scorned such warn- ings. Their ivessels were out there, in the thick of it, fighting the wind and tide, trying to .claw away from the dangerous coast. And it was for these that the Setuckit keeper was ordered by telephone from the Orhain Station -the message relayed from Superintendent Kellogg at Province - town --to keep a sharp look -out. Bartlett was up and about all night. His nerves were more jumpy than Calvin had known them to be, which was saying much. He paced the floor of the mess -room, went to his room again and again, only to emerge a few minutes later and climb the stairs to the tower, read the barometer, peer from the windows into the snow - streaked blackness, and conte down to question the men when ,they came in from patrol. Homer urged him to turn in and sleep, but the suggestion was gruffly, almost savagely, dis- missed. By morning he was in a wretched condition, a condition which all hands noticed and commented up- on. "If what people up here are say- ing is true [she wrote!, and I guess there is no doubt,that it is, 1 am,pret- ty *ell disgusted with you. I have been waiting for you to conte and see me. I expected you to come, I wrote you that it was very important you should come. But you didn't. Tell- ing, me that you couldn't get away from the station is a pretty poor ex- cuse. Other men get away on leave and if you wanted to ,very much, I imagine you could. But never mind that now. It is too late, anyway, and I am beginning not to care a great deal whether you ever come or not If you don't care to see me, there are others who do, and who would come often enough if I would let �f. C. N, R. East. a.m. p.m. Goderieh 6.35 Holmesville 6.50 32.56 Clinton ... 6.58 3A,5 Seaforth 7.12 3.21 St. Columban 7.18 3127 Dublin .. 7.23 2.82 West Dublin 11.24 947 St. Columban 11.29 Seaforth 11.40 6.80 Clinton 11.55 9.44. Holmesville 12.05 9.53' Goderich 12.20 0.10 C. R. R., TIME TABLE East. Goderich ,. Menset McGaw ,auburn Blyth Walton McNaught Toronto West. a.m. 5.50 5.55 6.04 6.11 6.25 6.40 6.52 10.25 a.m. Toronto' 7.40 McNaught 11.48 Walton . 12.01 Blyth 12.12 Auburn . 12.23 McGaw 12.34 Meneset . 12.41 Goderich 12.46 he had done right in expressing so confidently to the superintendent his belief that Bartlett should be given another chance. It might have been better had the skipper been diplomat- ically forced. into resigning, on the scorl: of ill health. For, when that other chance came, who knew how he might meet it? "Something infin- itely worse might happen. Yes,even for Norma's sake, a resignation' then might have 'been better. He dreaded the developments the day might bring. • (Continued next week.) The local church was making a drive for funds, and two colored sis- ters were bearing down hard on Uncle Rastus. "I can't give nothin'," exclaimed the old -negro. "I owes nearly everybody in this here old town already." "But," said one of the collectors, "don't you think you owes de Lawd somethin' too ?" "I does, sister, indeed," said the old man, "'but He ain't pushin' me like my other creditors is."-Psychol- .ogy. * * * Well-dressed man, cigar in hand, is falling through the air from an air- plane: "Gad! That wasn't the wash- room after all!" -Cartoon in Life. * * * Charles Schwab, known all over the world as the "steel master," tells a story of a neighbor who wanted to sell him a cow. "I've got a cow I want to sell you, Charlie," the neighbor said. "Yes? Would"'she fit into my Guernsey herd?" "No, I dunno as she would." "Has she got anything to recom- mend her?" "Well, I dunno as she has." "Does she give lots of milk?" "No, I can't say as she gives lots of milk, but Charlie, I can tell you ;this. She's a kind, gentle, good-na- tured old cow and if she's got any milk she'll give it to you." -Farmer's Wife. Galvin wds thoroughly alarmed. He, too, had been awake practically all night, for he was far too apprehens- ive concerning his superior to sleep. Remembering the so recent happening when the skipper refused to heed the call of the Rose Cahoon until forced into action by the whaleboat crew, he dreaded what might take place should another call come. As\he lay there on his cot, he was forced to admit that he could remember no instance where Bartlett had .been eager to or- der out the .boat, or even prompt to do so. Never had he shown that keen energy, amounting almost to grim joy, with which Oswald Myrick had been wont to leap down the stairs from the tower, ordering his men in- to action. Benoni had shown some- thing like it when driving the boat in pursuit of Crocker's volunteers, but that was sheer desperation. He was obliged to be desperate then or be dis- missed for cowardice. And his mut- tered confession, made afterwards to Calvin, that •ire remembered very lit- tle of what he had done, was not a comforting reassurance for the fu- tulre. There were times that night when Calvin was far from certain that pix A SONG FOR NOVEMBER .By Molly Bevan The Blue Bell Poetess Rain on the roof ! Waking old woes that long have lain, Beating a dirge in a minor strain, No escaping remorse and•pain With rain on the roof. Wind in the eaves! A wind that's lost the joy of the wild, Softly sobs like a tear -weary child, A wind that's 'rimmed, plaintive, mild The wine{ in the eaves. Fire on the hearth! Hammer away! relentless rain, Whimpering wmd you cry in vain,, Light and laughter return again With fire on the hearth.