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Home My WebLink AboutThe Huron Expositor, 1931-12-18, Page 7i4 iSy DECEMBER.1.8., 193L RUPTIJ '•E SPECIAL):{I1'f Rupture, Varicocele, Varicose Veins, Abdominal Weakness, Spinal Deform- ity Consultation free. Call or write. J. G. SMITH, British Appli- ance Specialists, 15 Downie St., Strat, ford, Ont. , 3202-25. LEGAL Phone No. 91 JOHN J. HUGGARD Barrister, Solicitor, ,0 Notary Public, Etc. Beattie Block - Seaforth, Ont. R. 8. IIAYS Barrister, Solicitor, Conveyancer and Notary Public. Solicitor for the Dominion Bank. Office in rear of the Dominion Bank, Seaforth. Money to loan. BEST & BEST Barristers, Solicitors, Conveyan- cers 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 domestic animals treated. Calls promptly at- tended to and charges moderate. Vet- erinary Dentistry a specialty. Office and residence on Goderich Street, one door east of Dr. Mackay's office, Sea - forth. A. R. CAMPBELL, V.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 calls promptly attended to. Office on Main Street, Hensall, opposite Town Hfall. Phone 116. MEDICAL DR. E. J. R. FORSTER Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Graduate in Medicine, University of Toronto. Late assistant New York Opthal- mei and Aural •Institute, Moorefield'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. 2866-26 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. I3. HUGH ROSS Graduate of University 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 Ophthallnie 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. S. R. COLLYER Graduate Faculty of Medicine, Uni- versity of Western Ontario. Member College of Physicians and Surgeons of Ortai in. Post graduate work at New York City Hospital and Victoria hos- pital, London. Phone: Hensall, 56. Office, King Street, Hensall. DR,4 .A .MUNN Graduate 6f Northwestern Univers- ity Chicago, Ill. 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, 185 J. 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 28491W. AUCTIONEERS THOMAS BROWN Licensed auctioneer for the counties of Huron and Perth. Correspondence arrangements for sale dates can be made by calling The Expositor Office, Seaforth. Charges moderate, a n d satisfaction guaranteed. Phone 302. OSCAR KLOPP Honor Graduate Carey Jones' Na- tional School for Auctioneering, Chi- cago. ' 'Special course taken in Pure Bred Live Stock, Real Estate, Mer- chandise and Farm Sales. Rates in keeping with prevailing markets. Sat- isfaction assured. Write or wire, Oscar Hopp, Zurich, Ont. Phone : 13-93. 2866-52 By Joseph C. Lincoln Continued from last week. She was in that room all the re- mainder of the afternoon. They call- ed her and Bartlett to support, but neither heeded the call. When Calvin knocked she told him that they were not hungry and that, if they should be later on, she would prepare the food herself. Her tone and manner then were just as coolly impersonal, and she offered no explanation nor ex- cuse. Hammond had driven back to Or - ham immediately after leaving his passenger. Homer tried to talk with him, thinking that perhaps she might have told him something concerning herself, might have offered some rea- son, ill -health or anxiety --anything which might help to account for her strange behaviour. But the hotel pro- prietor's manner also was cold. Ordin- arily a cheerful, garrulous man, he was now almost taciturn. He seemed eager to get away and did He at the first opportunity. It was, for 'Calvin Homer, a wretch- ed afternoon and evening. All his joyful relief at seeing her had gone and the disappointment and gloom which succeeded were crushing. Also, with them came a heavy sense of im- pending trouble. He had had care and anxiety sufficient of late, but these he could face, and had. Through them he had clung to the thought of her, of her faith in him, of their love and its wonderful happiness. Her coming had been a burst of sunlight breaking through the clouds. Now the clouds were thicker than ever. iSomething had happened, some- thing was wrong -something -what- ever it might be -had come between them. ,Her first thought would be for her father -yes, he could well under- stand that. But why was she so cold towards him? why had she reNsed his hand and turned to take Phin- ney's? Why had she looked at him -Calvin -so strangely? There had been little of trust or love in that look. He tried to think of possible ex- planations. She could not believe that he had been a traitor to her father. He had written her the plain, unorn- amented truth about.lhat. She must believe his story and therefore believe in his honesty and loyalty; she would she was so honest herself. Could it be that she had not received his let- ter? He had sent it early enough. She should have received it day, be- fore. But perhaps she had not. She might think he had neglected her and that would explain her attitude -par- tially explain it, at least. Yes; yes, that must he the explanation, it must be. His conscience was clear in that re- spect, but in another it was not. He had not told her of his affair with Myra. The letter in which he had be- gun his confession still remained, un- finished, in his chest in the sleeping - quarters. He would have finished ;at had it not been for her telegram say- ing she was coming to Setuckit. To tell her, rather than to write, seemed so much more satisfactory. He had planned to tell her the moment that he and she were alone. His determ- ination to do so was unshaken. But her strange behaviour towards him made the telling appear more difficult! than ever. Nevertheless he must do it -and would. That she could have heard the story already, from an- other, did not enter his mind. At ten the men, the patrolmen on duty excepted; went aloft to turn in. Bartlett, Who had given up his own room to his daughter, had already gone to his bunk in the spare quar- ters. Homer lingered in the mess- room, still hopeful of seeing Norma. Apparently she, too, had been waiting for that opportunity, for a few mom- ents later she cane out and joined him. He rose to meet her and stepped forward, his hands outstretched. But she did not respond to his greeting, and his eager utterance of her name she met only with a steady look of grave scrutiny. "Norma!" he exclaimed. "Norma! What is it?" He would have taken her in his arms, but she eluded him and, moving to the other side of the table, stood there, still regarding him, unsmiling and aloof. "Norma!" he cried again. She mo- tioned to a chair. "Please sit down," she said. "I want to talk! with you. I have been waiting to do it." He took the chair she indicated. She took another, but on the opposite side of the table. Then, with her chin upon her hands, she looked at him fixedly. "Norma," he replied. "what is the matter? Why do you treat ore like this,' What-----" She interrupted. • "Don't," she said hastily. "I am going to ask you some questions. Will you answer them -plainly and hon- estly?" "Of course. Why do you say that? Did you think I would answer them in any other way?" She did not reply, nor did she ap- pear to heed the surprised resent- ment in his tone. "First of all," she went on, "I want you to tell me the exact truth about what has happened here since I went away. . . . Oh, yes, father has told me, and so have others, but I Want to hear it from you." "But you did hear it from me. I wrote you all about it in my letter." This statement diel have an effect. She raised her head. R. T. LUKER Licensed auctioneer for the County of Huron. Sales attended to in all parts of the county. Seven years' ex- perience in Manitoba and Saskatche- wan. Terms reasonable. Phone No. 178 r 11. Exeter, Centralia P. 0., R.R. No. 1. Orders left at The Huron Ex- positor Office, Seaforth, promptly at- tended to. "When did you write me?" she ask- ed slowly: A4 "The dayifter we got back from the Flyaway. 'I wrote you a long letter, telling everything just as it happened, and I sent the letter to the office by way of the Orham Station. Do you mean that you didn't get that rin 11,1 114,4 1 letter?" She shook her head, "I have not heard a word from you since it hap- pened," she said. So his surmise was correct. Those careless idiots at the Orham Station were responsible. This was the rea- son for her coldness; she believed he had neglected her. "That is too bad," he declared an- grily. "Confound those fellows! I sent word that the Metter must go right away. It is a shan e, Norma dear. I'm awfully se.rry. No won- der ycu thought-.-" Again she interrupted. "Never mind," she said. "Tell me the story now." He had expected this and was ready. He told her everything, as briefly as he could, omitting nothing of importance, offering no excuses for his own action in disobeying Bartlett's orders, but giving the reasons which had seemed imperative at the time. "SI hated to do it, Norma," he declar- ed. "I can't tell you how I hated to, but it was that or letting that schoon- er drift on the shoals and drown every man on 'board. Your father wasn't well; you see how he is now. He was worse -then. What else could I do?" She seemed to ponder. "And you wrote me all this?" she asked. 'You are sure?" "Sure! !Why, I told you I did. Don't •you believe-�-" "Hush, please! I don't know what I believe -now. But I must know. Are you keeper here at Setuckit?" He hesitated. "I am a sort of keeper, I suppose," he admitted.."Sup- erintendent Kellogg put me in charge temporarily. He came down here to investigate -that is his duty, . you know -and -L---" "Yes; yes, I know all that. But father says that he -the superintend- ent -offered him the choice of resign- ing or being discharged. Is that true?" Again he hesitated; but she had demanded the truth and he must tell it. "Why -yes," he admitted. "I'm afraid it is. Cap'n Kellogg told me that was what he had done." "And has 'he offered ou the ap- pointment as keeper?" "Yes. Of cotirse it doesn't rest al- together with him. The matter would have to be referred to Washington, and perhaps-" "Oh, don't beat about the bush. You accepted the appointment." "No, I didn't." "You did not . . . ! Why?" "Yost ought to know why." Her sharp, almost contemptuous, tone and manner were having their effect, and he was finding' it hard to be patient. "You ought to know why, Norma," he repeated. "Is it likely I could see your father lose his place and then take it myself ? Your father! I told Kellogg I wouldn't consider the ap- pointment for a minute." Her manner changed then. The look in her eyes softened just a little. He , pressed his advantage. "I said I would take charge here until a regular keeper was appointed," he went on. "Cap'n Kellogg asked ore to. and the' men seethed to want me. I didn't like to do it. I would a lot rather have resigned myself. But someone had to do it, someone that had experience. And your father isn't --well, I am afraid he isn't sane al- together. He certainly wasn't sane that day. I hate to say it. You must know how I hate to say it to you, of all people?, But: it is true. . . And I wrote you all this, all except my being put in charge here for the tinge -that I didn't know then." The scornful contempt was no long- er in evidence. Her eyes had lost their hardness. Now they filled with tears. "Poor father!" she sighed, "I -I don't know what to say -or think - about him. He was in a dreadful con- dition when I came. He had been trying to write ole and -and -oh, the way he spoke and acted frightened me. I must get him away from here. That is certain, no matter what else may be; I must take him somewhere where I can be with him, and look after him. He is better now, and quieter. 'He has told me the story himself. And he says -yes, he in- sists that you were the leader against hint. If it hadn't been for you, he declares, the men would have obeyed his orders." "But suppose they had? We sav- ed that schooner, with all hands. If we had obeyed •Cap'n Bartlett's or- ders the vessel and her crew would have gone to the bottom, And your father,, Norma -did he tell you why he wouldn't order out the boat? Did he tell you about God's coming to his roost there, and talking to hint -and all the rest of it?" She nodded. "He told me that," she admitted. "I'm afraid he isn't - right. Oh, it is dreadful! But, ex- cept for that, except for his religious mania -that is what it is -he talks quite rationally. And he says he knows now that you have been work- ing against him all the time. That you were only waiting for the chance to get him into trouble, so that you might have his place. And, so he says, when that chance came you took it." Be stared at her. "You don't 'be- lieve that!" he cried. "Norma,' do you believe that of ire?" She shook her head. "I don't want to believe it," she said. "No, no, I don't believe it. It would be too con- temptible. But I have heard it from others!' "What others?" "Well, I received a letter, a Ietter written from this station the very day when yours --when you say yours was written. It seems odd ithat that letter reached me and yours did not, then nor since." The doubt, or the hint of doubt, had come back to her voice. Calvin notic- ed it. '"What letter was that?" he de- manded. "Who wrote it? Not your father?" "No. 'Father has been in no condi- tion to write, I am afraid." "Then who did write? Eh? Good Lord! was it Wallie Oaks?" iShe coloured slightly and was con- fused. "Why yes it was," she admitted. "But of course -1--" "Wallie Oaks! You didn't believe that pup ? ^' "Of course I didn't. But his letter came. He wrote me." "And 'I wrote you. I told you so. I'm not lying. Oh, Norma dear, how can you speak like this to me?' What has changed you so?" She was looking at him again, look- ing him through and through. "Have you been absolutely truthful to me?" she asked, slowly. "Have you been loyal, in every way, to my father ?" "Yes, indeed I have." "And to me? You have told me everything --everything ? " "Yes." "AIways?" "Certainly." "Then why have you never told me about Myra Fuller?" He did not answer. He tried to do so, but he' could not. The words he wanted were not at his command then. The suddenness of her question, the knowledge that she had learned the secret from other lips than his, the overwhelming realization of what her learning it in that way might mean - all this confounded him, made speech impossible at the moment. He red- dened, stammered, and stared at her aghast. In her eyes he was a picture of guilt discovered. He knew that he must be, and the thought merely ren- dered more acute the general paralys- sis of his faculties. She was watching him intently, waiting for his reply. It did not come. "Well?" she said, after a moment. He caught his breath. He knew tha4 he must say something, must ex- plain -or attempt an explanation. It was now. or never. "Norma.," he stammered, "I -I - Oh, I don't know what to say to you about that. ,I -I didn't know you knew. I-" She broke in. "I can well imagine that," she observed crisply. "But I do know -a little. And I think you had better tell me the rest. Is it true that you were engaged to marry that girl?'" He nodded, overwhelmed. "Yes," he confessed. "I was, but, oh, Nor- ma-----" "Wait. When did you and she be- come engaged?" "A good while ago. months ago. But I never really meant to, be. I don't know how it happened. Oh, I know that sounds foolish. Of course you wouldn't believe it, or understand bot it is the truth. I was sorry the minute afterwards. I would have giv- en anything to have been out of it. Oh. but what is the use! What can I say to make you under- stand? She shook her head. "I don't know, she said. "I don't understand, I con- fess. "Of course you don't. But it is true. I never did love her really. She -she-" He broke off. the hopelessness of his attempt at justification heavy up- on him. In the letter he had begun but never finished -yes, and a hun- dred times before and since -he had rehearsed the plea he meant to make to her. But now, when she sat there opposite him, looking at him, search- ing him through and through with that look, demanding the explanation which it was her right to demand - now, the confession of the whole truth, plain, absolute and without excuse - the confession which he had determin- ed to make -seemed as hopelessly impossible of belief as the most transparent lie. 1-Iow could a girl like Norma Bartlett ever believe that he, Calvin Homer, could have been attracted, even temporarily and light - 1;:, by a girl like Myra Fuller? Nevertheless, in his desperation, he tried again. "Norma," he pleaded, "please try to believe ole. I never did care for her, really, at all. I didn't. I never cared for anyone 'liut you. It wasn't until I saw you that I began to understand what it meant to -to really care. I had read about it, in stories, and all that, but 3 thought it was all book nonsense. I never believed anyone could -could love anyone as I love you. You see; 1-1-" She broke in again. "Did you say these things to -Miss Fuller?" she inquired. The chilling sarcasm of the question was like a phmge into ice water. But the plunge had the effect of restoring a little of his self-control. "Of course I didn't," he retorted. "I tell you i didn't caro for her -never did. And when I saw you I realized it." "Yet you were engaged to her." "1 was -yes. But I had made up my mind to break it off. And I have done it." "When did you do it?" "A little while ago; about a week ago, I think it was. I wrote her a letter telling her 1 couldn't marry her, that I had found I didn't care for her in that way, and that the whole thing had been a mistake." "That was only a week ago. And when--" she paused an instant; then, with a lift of her head, contin- ued: "And when you spoke to me there on the beach, when you told me .-what you did tell me -then, at that very time, you were engaged to an- other girl. Then -when you said those things to me." He sighed. "Yes,' he admitted, "I was. And I didn't intend to say them to you, Norma. I didn't, that ,is the rdtl aiterwa hen en, ever,: • xavea.olata,g " a dp q tr l rxl t seem possibl P,011.t Mer hut: ' -hat I kn...., rn . et find out whether xAu did or Tot; I ad to." . But IOU did. --say them then•" "Yes. `When 1sa'w you there in the ce'hannel and was afraid you that yon were drowning or --or hurt -ti. well, 1 said them. But I hardly knew I did. The words just came of themselves. They did." °I see. They ju-'• "-pend, I sup- pose. As your engagement to Myra Fuller just happened. You seem to have had a. number of such happen- ings." "Norma!" indignantly. "How can you say that? 'How can you," "Oh, don't! Why didn't you tell me then about her? If you had, perhaps I --but never mind; you didn't." ' "I couldi#'t. ,Seleucus came and you and I didn't have a word in private together 'before you went back to Fairfborough." "Yes. Yes, this is true. But you have written me since. I received a letter from you -not the one you say you wrote, and which I didn't receive, but another. There was no word of your other love affair -or one of those affairs -in that letter. Why wasn't there?" He shook his head. The hopeless- ness of the tangle in which fate had wound him was always more and more apparent. "There wasn't," he said, "because I didn't feel that I ought to write you until I had written her or seen her. At first I meant to go and see her and tell her. It seemed to me the squarer thing to do, to tell her how I felt instead of writing it. But your father kept putting me off when I asked for liberty and so, at last, I did write. Then came the Flyaway business, and the trouble here at the station -and I was so busy that-" "That you could not write me any- thing as important as that. Or pos- sibly you thought your 'being engaged to another girl while you were mak- ing love to me was a mere trifle in which I wouldn't be interested. I should have been, I assure you. I am not as experienced and blase in such affairs as you seem to be." "Norma!'" "Tell me this, then; In this second letter, the one which I never got, did you tell me of -of this Myra Fuller in that?" "No . . . no, I didn"t. You had telegraphed me you were coming here and I thought I would wait until you carne and then tell you. I meant to do it, would have done it (before now if you had let me speak to you alone, if you had given. me a chance. But I did begin a letter to you, tell- ing you the whole story. I began it the afternoon before the big storm. The storm came, and all the rest of the trouble here, and afterwards you telegraphed. So the letter wasn't finished. It is upstairs now in my trunk. 'May I get it and show it to you?" She shook her head. "No," she said slowly, "it is rather late now, it seems to me. That is all you have to say?" "Why, yes . . . except that I am very sorry you found this out be- fore I could tell you myself. I should have told you in my first letter per- haps. I wish now I had. But wait- ing to break off with -with her be- fore I told you seemed the square, honest thing to do and - She sprang to her feet, her eyes ablaze. "Oh, don't -don't!" she cried. "Don't speak of honour any more. Your ideas of honour and loyalty don't seen to be mine at all, Mr. Horner. And, I may as well say this: I am be- ginning to doubt your loyalty' to father. The stories I have heard a- bout your pretending to he loyal to hint and working against hint behind his back don't seen) as impossible to me as they did. I ani by no means sure they aren't true. He had risen also. His face was white. "Those stories are lies," he said firmly. "And you know they are lies -or will know it when you think them over by and by." "Perhaps. And you consider that you have been loyal to me?" "Yes. I'nr sorry I didn't write you right off, after you left. But I ex- plained why I didn't. I thought I ought to see Myra and tell her first." "And do you think that you were loyal to -to her?" "Yes. I tried to ie.'" "Then. as I said, your ideas of loy- alty and honour are very different from mine. Good -night." She turned towards the door of. the skipper's room -hers, as always dur- ing her stay. He spoke her name. "Norma," he said quietly. "I sup- pose this means the end of -of every- thing between you and me, doesn't it?" She did' not reply, but entered the little room and closed the door. He turned wearily away. He had had his answer. Two days later she and her father left •Setuckit. Hammond, who had been telephoned for, cane for them with a two -horse vehicle, and drove them to Orham. Meanwhile Superin- 'I ndent Kellogg had made another vis- it and the Bartietts' departure was the result of it, The district super- intendent's errand was to receive from Bartlett the resignation asked for, or, failing the receipt of that, to notify hint of his discharge to take effect at once. The Washington authorities had not deemed it necessary to make further investigation. The testimony forwarded by Kellogg seemed con- clusi,ve and they had left the matter in his hands. The superintendent and Horher had only a brief interview. Ho again ask- ed Homer to take the appointment as keeper, but once more the offer was declined. The refusal was so curt that Kellogg was surprised; however, he still vowed not to e.ccept it as fin- al. "I'm going to wait a little spell longer, Cal," he said, "and let you think it over. The service needs. you here, and, by holy, 1 need you. You'll he doing me a tremendous favor by taking the job. I've been, and am yet, a pretty gond friend of yours. You can think that over too, if you have a mind to." The most Calvin would concede was as I,artnc e say;* •�ilho>I dating the'tiya dug' made Ita a p'ooni lo hae, wars becau.*e het th;at even the, eight 4.0 her, ',She., and herr tatthet Ate Tat'ter's r'do , tot °;she ifft'hzm er xew, ly at alb. slept in; the r3p4e f0ex upstairs, and ahs in the room, iel'o11p•, but she tiptoed up to Peep in at" hills very often during the night, and 'hey own sleep must have been ti d and': scanty. He was in the tower, looking down through the window where he could see without being seen, when Nbrma and her father came out to board the Hammond two-seater. Benoni was quiet, and docile enough. He seemed to be in a sort of daze, and to realize little of the 'circumstances attending his departure. Norma was outwardly calm, but she was pale and looked very tired. She shook hands with each of the men in turn and Hammond helped her up to the' back seat of the carriage. It was a rather cold, dis- agreeable day, and the curtains of the vehicle were buttoned down. Just be- fore she closed the door she glanced up at the tower. Calvin had, with- out realizing it, moved close to the window and she saw him. Their eyes met. She made no sign nor did he. Hammond picked up the reins and spoke to the horses. A moment later and the carriage moved away. She had gone -gone --and to Calvin it seemed that everything which made life, desirable, even endurable, had gone with her. He tried to lose himself in the re- sponsibilities of the station routine, but these were but ordinary just now; the weather continued fair and clear, and there were no wrecks or calls to action. Each day was like the day before, a dull monotonous round of drill and minor duties; there was no excitement, nothing to help him for get, even temporarily. Peleg Myrick came to Setuckit with reports which the life-savers found in- teresting. 'Benoni Bartlett had col- lapsed entirely during the drive to Or - ham. He had had to be helped from the carriage into a room at the Ocean House, and he was there now, his daughter with him. There were rum- ours that he flatly refused to go with her to Fairiborough; that he insisted the Almighty had commanded him to remain in charge of the coast, and any hint that those orders should be disobeyed threw him into a. frenzy which endangered his reason, even his life, and caused the doctor to counsel pretended agreement and longer de- lay. In fact, Peleg heard that Nor- ma had resigned her position as lib- rarian, and was contemplating taking rooms, or even a small house, in Or - ham and living there with her father. "You see," confided Myrick, "the yarn is that the old man is quiet and peaceable as anybody'd ask for so long as he's let stay down here. Frank Hammond says he's pretty nigh sens- ible so long as they don't drop no hints about carryin' hint off. The doc- tor thinks that his health -yes, and his mind too -is liable to stay fairly good if they let him have his wayy. But if they don't -if they start any mutiny against the Lord A'mighty's orders -then he's apt to fly out to wind'ard and flap himself to pieces like a loose jib. So Norma's goin' to give up all her own plans and stick by him so long as he holds together. That's what they say, and the story is that she's been lookin' over that little five -room house of Obed Ryder's down on the hill at the lower end of the village, the fust one you sight on your port how when you're drivin' up overland from the print here. . . 011, and say, I forgot to tell you, there's a whole lot of talk about Ezra Blodgett's keepin' steady company nowadays with Myra. Fuller. Course Myra's had so many beaus that all hands are a little mite doubtful -you remember there was one spell when folks cal'lated she had a line over the side for Cal Homer -hut now it does look as if 'twas old Ezra that had ,.wallowed the hook. Well, if she lands him she'll get money, but not much else except skin and hones and a red necktie. You remember the yarns they used to tell about Ez? Why, one time he-" There was much more, as there al- ways was when the Myrick tongue, as Josh Phinney described it. "got under way with a gale astern." The rumours, of course. reached Homer's ears, but he asked no questions con- cerning them. Those dealing with Miss Fuller and Mr. Blodgett inter- ested him not in the least. The others did, far too much for his peace of mind. During the night r?ollowing Peleg's visit he again made up his mind to resign from, the service and go somewhere -anywhere -where for- getting was more of a possibility than he was finding it at Setuckit. But the day after that came a south east rain accompanied by high winds, and that night a call to a. coal barge which had broken from its towline and grounded on the Hog's Back. There were three 0100 aboard. and trotting to them in time to save their lives 's an adventure and a risk which carne as a blessed distraction to Calvin. 'Isis reckless daring that night caused even the old-timers like Gammon and Phinney to grin and shake their heads. Homer was tired, actually so tired that he believed he could sleep a lit- tle. 'Sleep, with no dreams, and a few hours from the torture of bitter self -disgust and unavailing regrets, were worth all the fatigue they had cost. From the time the boat was launched until it had landed on the beach he had been too busy to think of Norma Bartlett. There were some compensations, other than the extra ten dollars a month pay, in the keep- er's job at Setuekit. (Continued next week.) LONDON ATD WIN South. Wingham ... Belgrave Blyth Londesboro Clinton Brucefield .. , .. • 346•. Kippen i ' 3.33' Hensall 3.39) Exeter 3.53 pn 2,05 222';" 2f3a 2.40i 3.08 • North. Exeter Hensall Kippen Brucefield , Clinton Londesboro Blyth Belgrave Wingham C. N. R. East. na 10.59 11.I 11.15 11.21' 11.5g 12.10 12.2 12.33 112:4'' a.m. plat.. Goderich 6.35 2.40' Holmesville 6.50 2.56 Clinton 6.58 3.05 Seaforth 7.12 3,21 St. Columban 7.18 3.27 Dublin 7.23 3.32' West Dublin 11.24 9.12' St. Columban 11.29 Seaforth 11 9.2: Clinton 11 9.39 Holmesville 12:0 9.53 Goderich 12.20 10.05• Opera by radio can be made to sound much like' the real thing if the family will cough at the right inter- vals. --•Kingston Whig -Standard. ?Cv4R.N�bSfJ iy+: C. P. R. TIME East. Goderich Menset McGaw Auburn Blyth Walton McNaught Toronto Toronto McNaught Walton Blyth Auburn McGaw Menset Goderich TABLE West • a.m_ 5.50 5.55 6.04 6.11 6.25 6.40 6.52 10.25 a.m. 'x.40 11.48. 12.01 12.12 12.23 12.34 12.41 12.46• Children Left Alone In a little house in a back street two children are awaiting Mother's and Dad's. return. They are being helped by@i,a friendly organization but there gan be no home for them until thefIrparents come back. Where are the parents? For many months they have been Struggling for lost health and strength in the- Tnrontn Hospital for Consumptives. They have benefited greatly, as so many hundreds do• from the quiet- ness, fresh air. kindly nursing and medical attention. "Able to walk to the dining -room for two meals a day now" is the - proud boast of the, husband and fnther. L'ut a short time ago he could not he moved from his bed. A few months from now, ,rho• knows, he mny he back again tak- ing up the harden of the hone. Such work as this has great econ- omic value to the community as well as opening the only way from misery and r1.5pnir to hundreds of the consumptive poor. The hospital greatly needs your help. Will you please send a gift to Mr. A. E. Ames, 223 College St., Toronto. ( 'CHRISTMAS MEMORIES By Molly Bevan The Blue Bell Poetess i Fr The "Bells of Yule" -the merry bells - Are chiming through the snow,• The very words are silver strains So tunefully they go; And as each carol clear ascends To haunt the wintry sky, Its echo wakens memories Of Christmases gone by. Old scenes that faded long ago The passing pageant brings, While half -remembered faces smile And gay ghost -laughter rings; Once more are former feasts re - spread That well -loved friends may dine,. And all across the treasured years Re -kindled hearthfires shine. So lovely, so intangible, And than all gifts more sw, These precious memories that flock. Our Christmastide to greet; 0 "Bells of Yule" -ye golden bells? Chime from your frosty towers A joyous Christmas canticle For.unforgotten hours. L. z a '�i