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The Huron Expositor, 1921-11-11, Page 7. NOVEMBER 11, nil. Tembarom. By Fiances Hodgson 'Burnett Toronto• -=William • Briggs. (Continued from last week), "Yee, sir. As blue as a baby's, sir, and as clear; though she's past eighty. And they tell me :the're'e a quiet, steady Look in it that ill -doers down- right fo s asif she was ri ht quail bese It a kinof judge that sentenced them without speaking. They can't stand it. Oh, sir! you can depend upon old • Mrs, Hutchinson as to Who's been here, and even What they've thought about it. The village just flocks to her to toll her the news and get ad- vice about things. She'd know." It was as a result of this that on his return from Stone Hover he dis- missed the gates a at the and walked through them to make a visit in the village. Old Mrs. Hutchinson sittingknittingin her chair behind the normally flourishing fuchsias, geraniums, and campanula carpaticas in her cottage window, looked between the banked -up flower pots to see that Mr. Temple Barholm had opened her wicked -gate and was walking up the clean bricked' path tb her front door. When he knocked she called out in the broad Lapcashire she had always spoken, "Coom in!" When he enter- ed he took off his hat and looked at', her, friendly but hesitant, and with the expression of a young man who has not quite made up his mind as to what he is about to encounter. "I'm Temple Barholm, Mrs. Huteb- inson;" he announced. "I know that," she answered. "Not that tha looks loike th' Temple Bar- hol'me, but I've been watchin' thee walk an' drive past here ever since tha room to th' place." She watched him steadily with an astonishingly limpid pair of old eyes. They were old and young at the same time; old because bhey held deeps of wisdom, young because they were so alive and full of question. "I don't know whether I ought to have come to see you or not," he said. "Well, that's coon," she replied, going on with her knitting. "Sit thee dour and have a bit of a chat." "Say!" he broke out. "Ain't you going to •hake hands with me?" He held his ms! out impetuously. He knew he s, as all right if she'd shake hands. "Theer's nowt agen that surely," she answered, with a shrewd bib of a smile. She ease him her hand. "If I was na ;.::IT in my legs, it's my place to get op an' mak' thee a curt- sey, but th' rheumatics has no respect even for th' lord o' th' manor." "If you got up and made me a curtsey," Tembarom said, "I should throw a fit. Say, Mrs. Hutchinson, I bet you know that as well as I do." The shrewd bit of a smile lighted her eyes as well as twinkled about her mouth. "Sit thee doun," she said again. So he sat dawn and looked at her as straight as she looked at him. "The'd give a good bit," she said presently, over her flashing needles, "to know how - much Little Ann's tow'd me about thee." •"I'd give a let to know how much it'd be square to ask you to tell me about her," he gave back to her, hesitating yet eager. "What does tha mean by square?" she demanded. "I mean 'fair.' Can I talk to you about her at all? I promised I'd stick it out here and do as she said. She told me she wasn't going to write to me or let her father write. I've promised, and I'm not going go- ing to fall down when I've said a thing." So tha room to see her grand- mother?" He reddened, but held his head. up. "I'm not going to ask her grand- mother a thing she doesn't want me to be told. But I've been up against it pretty hard lately. I read some things in the New York papers -about her farther and hie invention, and about her travelling around with him and helping hint with his business:" "In Gernilany they our," she put in, forgetting herself, "They're havin' big doin's over th' invention. What Joe 'u'd do wi'out th' lass I canna tell. She's d'oin' every bit o' the' ntanaginie an' contrivin' wi' them fur- riners—+but he'll never know it. She's got a chap to travel wi' him as can talk aw th' languages under th' sun." -Her face flushed and she stopped herself sharply. HORSE AILMENTS of many kinds quickly remedied with DOUGLAS' EGYPTIAN LINIMENT STOPS BLEEDING INSTANTLY. PREVENTS BLOOD POISONING. CURES TIIRUSn, FISTULA. SPRAINS AND BRUISES.' The bet ell'around Liniment for the table as well as for household sea. KEEP IT BANDY. At all Dealers and Dilatable. Manufactured only by DOUGLAS f CO. NAPANNIL Oat. «1"m tfilldn' *bent her to nisei" lite said. "I would no ha' believed o' m'ysam :" He gat up from his chair. I gQues'n 1 oughtn't to 'have come," he said, reticently. "But you haven't told me more than I got here and there les the Tellers. That was what "farted me. It was like watching' her. I could hear het talking and see the way pphe was doing. things tin it drove me Ralf crazy: All of a sudden, I just got wild and made up my mind Pd come here. I've wanted to do it many a time, but I've kept away." "Tha showed sense i' dein' that," remarked Mrs.. Hutchinson. "She'd not ha' thowt well o' thee if that'd room runnin' bo her grandmother every day or so, What she likes about thee is as She -thinks tha's got s strong backbone on ack o' thy own." She looked up et him over her knit- ting. looked straight into his eyes, and there was that In her own which made him redden and feel his pulse' quicken. It was actually something which even remotely suggested that she was net -in the deeps of her etrong old mind—as wholly unswery iitg as her words might imply. It was something more subtle than wards.She was not keeping a him whellY n itheda when she said z•Ic "What she likes about thee." If Ann said things like that to her, he was pretty well off. "Happen a look at a lass's grand. moths hen tha tonna' et eM th' r--twt g lass hersen—is a' bit o'cemfort," she added. "But don't the go welkin' by here to to in at th' window too of- ak+ of- ten. She weeldna think well o' that either." "Say! There's one thing I'm going to get off my chest before I go," he announced, "just one thing, She can go where she likes and do what she likes, but I'm going to marry her when she's done it --'unless something knocks me on the head and finishes me. I'm going to marry her." !"Tha art, art the?" laconically; but ,her eyes were still on his, and the something in their depths by no means diminished. "I'm keeping up my end here, and it's no slouch of a job, but I'm not forgetting what she promised for one minute! And I'm not forgetting what her promise means," he said obstin- ately, "Tha'd like me to tell her that?" she acid. "If she doesn't know it, you telling her wouldn't cut any ice," was his reply. "I'm saying it because I want you to know it, and because it does me good to say it out loud. I'm go- ing to marry her." "That's for her and thee to settle," she commented, impersonally. "It is settled," he answered. "There's no way out of it. Will you shake hands with rune again before I go?" "Aye," she consented, "I will." When she took his hand she held it a minute. Her own was warm, and there was no limpness about it. The secret which had seemed to conceal itself behind her eyes had some dif- ficulty in keeping itself wholly in the background. "She knows aw tha' does," she said coolly, as if she were not suddenly revealing immensities. 'She knowe who comes an' who goes, an' what they think o' thee, an' bow tha gets on wi' 'em. Now get gree gone, lad, an' dunnot tha room back till her or me sends for thee." Within an hour of this time the af- ternoon pont brought to Lady Mal- lowe a letter which she read with an expression in which her daughter recognized relief. It was in fact a letter for which she had waited with anxiety, and the invitation it con - taloa" was a tribute to her social skill at its highest watermark. In her less heroic noome.nbs, she had felt doubts of receiving it, which had caused slhuddees to run the entire length of her spine. "I'm going to Broome Haughton," she announced to Joan. "When?" Joan inquired. "At the end of the week. I am invited for a fortnight.".. "Am I going?" Joan asked. "No. You will go to London to meet some friends who are coming over from Paris." Joan knew that comment was un- necessary. Both she and her mother wero on intimate terms with these hypothetical friends who so frequent- ly turned up from -Paris or elsewhere when it was neceseaTy that she should suddenly go back to London and live in squalid' seclusion in the unopened house, with a charwoman to provide her with underdone or burnt chops, and eggs at eighteen a shilling, while the shutters of the front rooms were closed, and dusty desolation reigned. She knew every detail of the melan- choly squalor of . it, the dragging hours, the nights of lying awake lis- tening to the occasional passing of belated' cabs, or the squeaks and nib- bling of mice in the old walls. "If you had conducted yoursOf sensibly you need not have gone," continued her mother. "I could have made an excuse and Left you here. You would at least have been sure of good food and decent comforts." "After your visit. are we'to return here?" was Lady •Joan'Is sole reply. "Don't look at me like that," said Lady M'allowe. "I thought the coun- try would freshen your color at least; but you are going off more every day. You look like the Witch of Ender sometimes." Jean smiled fainbly. This was the brandishing of an old weapon, and she understood all its significance. It meant that the time for opportunities was slipping past her like the waters of a rapid river. "I do not know what will happen when I leave Broome H'aughtan, " her mother added, a note of rasped un- certainty in her voice. "We may be obliged to come here for a short time, or we may go abroad." "If I refuse to come, would .yon let me starve to death in Piers Street?" Joan inquired. Lady Manatee leaked her over, feel- ing a sort of frenzy et the sight of her. In truth; the future was a hideous thing to contemplate if no rescue at all was in sight. It ,would be .worse for ler than for Joan, be- cause Joan did not care what happen- ed or did net happen, and she oared 1 -Need for fres- eIv ns fullsortie- leers: ! 7 P,ynrnrnidatneu eke. i 1151 ' 1 ar'agL'Fits— 'PJV henna trey i dear. i f '. NA9 vP owes e T 0014,dala5ro u;l{.ut!i f rt ':r:t dtant.r,t •s 4tMlrcti no S ✓auu t.,r�....,tt+Antis uiWIC g'Qtuatu. tared" desperately. She had indeed arrived at a Maddening moment. "Yes," she snapped, fiercely. And when Joan faintly smiled a- gain she understood why women of the hewerorders beat one another un- bil policemen interfere. She knew• perfectly well that the girl bad some- how found out that. Sir Moses Mon- aldini was to' be at Broome Haughton, and that when he of there he was a left going abroad. She knew also that she had not been able to conceal that his indifference had of late given her some ghastly hours, and that her play for this lagging invitation had been a frantically bold one. That the most ingenious efforts and devices had ended in success only after such de- lay made it all the more, necessary that no straw must remain unseized on. I can wear some of yourthings, then a , with a little alteration," she said. "Rose will do it for me. Hats and gloves and ornaments do net require altering. 'I shall need things you will not need in London. Where areYo ur keys?" Lady Joan rose and got them for her. She even flushed slightly. They were often obliged to borrow each other's possessions, but for a moment she felt herself moiled by a sort of `hard pity. We are like rats in a trap," she remarked. "I hope you will get out." "If I do, you will be left inside. Get out yourself! Get out yourself!" said Lady Mallowe in a fierce whis- per. Her regrets at the necessity of their leaving Temple Barholm were expressed !with fluent touchingness' at the dinner table. The visit had been so delightful- Mr. Temple Barholm and Miss Alicia had been so kind. The loveliness of the whole dear place had so embraced them that they felt as if they were leaving a home instead of ending a delightful visit. It was extraor•d'inare what an effect the house had on one. et was as if one had lived in it always and always would. So few places gave one the same feeling. They should both look forward—greedy as it seemed—to be- ing allowed some time to come again. She had decided from the first that was not necessary to go to any extreme of caution or subtlety with her host and Miss Alicia. Her meth- od of paving the way for future vis- its was perhaps more than a ehade too elaborate. She felt, however, that it sufficed. For the most part, Lady Joan sat with lids dropped over her burning eyes. She tried to force herself not to listen. This was the kind of thing which made her sick with humiliation. Howsoever rudi- mentary these people were. they could not fail to comprehend that a foot- hold in the house was being bid for. They should at least see that she did not join in the bidding. Her own vis- it had been filled with feelings' at near with one another. There had been hours too many in which she would have been glad—even with the dingy horrors of the closed town house before her—to have flown from the hundred things which called out to her on every side. In the long -past three months of 'happiness, Jem had described them all to her --the rooms, gardens, pleached walks, pictures, the very furniture itself. She could en- ter no room, walk in no soot she did not seem to know, and passionately love in spite of herself. She loved them so much that there were times when she yearned to stay in the place at any cost, and others when she could not endure the misery it woke in her—the pure Misery. Now it was over for the time being, and she was facing something new. There were endless varieties of wretchedness. She had been watching . her mother for some months, and had understood her varying moods of temporary elation or prolonged anxiety. Each one had meant some phase of the episode of Sir Moses Monaldini. The people who lived at Broome Haughton were enormously rich Hebrews, who were related to him. They •had taken the beautiful old country -seat and were filling it with huge parties of their friends. The party which Lady Mal- lowo was to join would no doubt of- fer opportunities of the most desir- able kind. Aiming this special class of people she was a great success. Her amazingly achieved toilettes, her ripe good looks, her air of belonging to the great world, impressed them- selves immensely. T. Tembarom thought he never had seen Lady Joan leek as handsome as 'she looked to -night. The color on her cheek burned, her eyes tad a driven loneliness in them. She ad a wonderfully beautiful mouth, an its curve drooped in a new way. He wished Ann could get her in a corner and sit down and talk sense to her. He remembered what he had said to the duke. Perhaps this was the time. If she was going away, and her mo- ther meant to drag her back again when she was ready, it would make it easier for her to leave the place knowing she need not hate to come back. But the duke wasn't malting any miss. hit when he said it wouldn't be easy. She was not like Ann, who would feel some pity for the biggest fool on earth if she had to throw him down hard. Lady Joan would feel neither compunctions nor relentings. Ile knew the way she could look at a fellow. If he couldn't make her un- derstand what he was aiming at, they would both be worse off than they would be if he left things as they %were. Burr -the hard line showed it- IIp/NEYou Cannot Bay New Eyes Det you can Promote e WIUR E_YtWpleea Melina Eve Renxdr,.�HealthyConditka Night and Morning." Keep year ay.. age, Clear sed Baalap. Write for Free Ere Caro Book. ■stag rreRau & ca..e Last Okla Met. Meta rim HURON EXOS :F ,R '>Ieelf about his th—he waiti't 4o- 4ng•to leave.thl es they were.' de that t'ou'gh tl e, )$II atter dine Lady B allows glanced st a sid eon°1n'"filch lay sofa's let- ters .arrived by the late Rat. An ins poring anvele;e weeon that,_ of the 'Pert,k H , Joan aaW )ler !tee tooup "I think WS/ is front hooses Naughton;" she ;said. "If you will excuse me, 1 wil!<,go into the library and read IL ft may require answer- ing at once." She turned hot, and Hold, poor wo- man, and went away, so that she might be free trent the disaster of an Audience if anything had gone wrong. I It would be better to be a- lone even' if things had gone right. The letter was from Sir Moses Mon: aldini. Grotesque and ignoble as it naturally strikers the uninitiated ae seeming, the situation had its touch of hideoush pathos. She had fought for her own hand for years; she could not dig, and to bei she was not as.ramed; but a time had come when even the most *davit begging began to bore people. They saw through it and then there resulted strained rela- tions, aright rtiffnese of manner, even in the most useful and amiable per- sons, lack of d to estbe hospitable, 1'es table P or even condescendingly generous. Cold shoulders were turned, there were ominous threatenings of icy beets presenting themselves. The very tradesmen had found this out, and could not be persuaded that the advertisement furnished by the fact that two beautiful women of fashion ate, drank, and wore the articles which formed the items i in their unpaid bills, was sufficient return for the outlay of capital required. F.ven' Mrs. Mel- lish, when graciously approached by the "relative of.Mis's Temple Barholm whose perfect wardrobe you supplied," had listened to all seductions with a civil eye fixed un'movedly and had re- ferred to the "rules of the establish- ment." !Nearer and nearer the edge of the abyss the years had pushed then., and now if something did not happen—something—s" mething—.even the increasingly a+hahby small house' in town would become a thing of the past. And what then? Could any one wonder she said to herself that she could have beaten Joan furiously. It would not matter to any one else if they dropped out of the world into :squalid oblivion—oh, she knew that— she knew that with bitter certainty! —but oh, how it would matter to them!—at least to herself. It was all very well for bindle's to pour forth streams of sentimental novels preach- ing the horrors of girls marrying for money, but whet wore you to do— what in heaven's name were you to do? So, feeling terrified em)ugh ac- tually to offer up a prayer, she took the imposingly addressed letter into the library. The men hied come into the draw- ing -room when she returned. As she entered, Joan did not glance up from the book she was reading, but at the first soup of her voice she knew what had esecurred. "I was obliged to dash off a note to Broome Haughton so that it would bc ready for the early post," Lady Mallowe said. She WAS at her best. Palliser s'aw that some years had slip- ped from her shoidld rs. The moment which relieves or even promises to relieve fears does astonishing things. Tembarom wondered whether she had hail good news, and Miss Alicia thought that her evening dress was more becoming than any she had ever seen her wear before. Her brilliant fir of social ease returned to her, and she began to talk fluently of what was being done in London, and to touch lightly upon the possibility of taking part in great functions. Pal- liser had known that the future had seemed to be closing in upon her, and leaving her staring at a high blank wall. Persons whose fortunate names •find ceased to fall entirely front her lips appeared again upon the horizon. Miss Alicia was impressed anew with the feeling that she had known every brilliant or important personage in the big world of n sial London; that, she had taken part in every dazzling event. Tembarom somehow realized that she had been afraid of some- thing or other, and was for aurae IiI reason not afraid any more. Such a change, whatsoever the reason for it, ought to have had some effect on her her luck, if luck had come to her. But Lady Joan sat apart and kept her eyes upon her book. This was one of the things she often chose to do, in spite of her !mother's indignant protest. "I cisme here because you brought me,' she would answer. "I did not come to be entertaining or polite." She was reading this evening. She heard every word of Lady Mallowe's' agreeable and slightly excited con- versetion. She did not know exactly what had happened; but •she knew that it was something which had buoy- ed her up with a hopefulness which exhilarated her almost too much—as an extra glom of wine might have done. Once or twice she even lost her head a little and was a trifle swaggering. T. 'I'emlbarom would not recognize the slip, but Joan saw FaIliser's faint smile without looking up from! her honk. Ile observed shades in taste and bearing. Before her own future Joan naw the blank wall of stone building itself higher and higher. If Sir Moses had cap- itulate -et she would be counted out. With what degree of boldness could a mother cast her penniless daughtdr on the world? What unendurable provision make for her? Dare they offer a pound a week and send her to five in the slums until see chose to marry some Hebrew friend of her stepfather's? That she knew would be the final alternative. A cruel lit- tle smile touched her lips, as she re- viewed the number of things she could not do to earn her living. She could not take in sewing or washing, and there was nothing she could teach. Starvation or marriage. The wall built itself higher and yet higher. What a hideous thing it was for a penniless girl to be brought up mere- ly to be a beauty, and in consequence supposably a great lady. And yet if she was born to a certain rank and had height and figure, a 'lovely mouth, a delicate nose, unusual eyes and lashes, to train her to be a dreee- • maker or a housemaid would be a stupid investment of capital. If nothing tragic interfered and the right man wanted such a girl, she had been trained to lease him. But tragic things had happened, and be- fore her grew the wall while she pre- tended to read her book. T. Tembarom was coming toward her. She had heard Palliser suggest a game of billiards. "Will you come and play billiards with us?" Tembarom asked. "Pal- liser says you play splendidly." "She plays Itril'liantly," put in Lady Mallowe. "Come, Joan." 5'No, thank you," she answered. "Let me stay here and read." Lady Mallowe protested. She tried an air of playful maternal reproach because she was in good spirits. Joan saw Palliser smiling quietly, and there was that in his smile, which suggested to her that he was think ing her an obstinate fool. •'Yfbu had better show Temple Bar - holm what you can do," he remarked. "This will be your last chance, as you leave so soon. You ought never let a last chance slip by. I never do." Tembarom stood still and looked down at her from his good height. He did not know what Palliser's speech meant, but an instinct made him feel that it somehow held an ugiy, quiet taunt. "What I would like to do," was the unspoken crudity which passed through his mind, 'Swould be to swat him on the mouth. He's getting at her just when she ought to be let alone." "Would you like it better to stay here and read?" he inquired. "Much better, if you !please," was her reply. "Then that goes," he answered, and left her. He swept the others out of the room with a good-naltured promptness which put an end to argument. When he said of anything "Then that goes," it usually dad so. CHPATER XXXI When she was alone Joan sat and gazed not at her wall but at the pic- tures that came back to her out of a pare of her life which seemed to have been lived centuries ago. They were the pictures that came back contin- ually without being called, the clear- ness of which allways startled her a- fresh. Sometimes she thought they sprang up to ,add to her torment, but sometimes it seemed as if they came to save her from herself—her mead, wicked self. After all, there were moments when to know that she had been the girl whose eighteen year old heart had leaped so when she turned and met Jem'a eyes, as he stood gaz- ing at her under ,he beech -tree, was something to cling to. She had been that girl ami Jem had been—Jem. And she had been the girl who had joined him in that young, ardent vow that they would say the same prayers at the same hour each night together. Ah! how young it had been—how young! Her throat strained itself be- cause sibs rose in it, and her eyes were hot with the swell of tears. She could hear voices and laughter and the click of balls from the bil- liard room. Her mother and Palliser laughed the most, but she knew the sound of her mother's voice would cease noon, because she would come back to her. She knew she would not leave her long, and she knew the kind of scene they would pass through 'together when she returned. The old , things would be said, the old argu- ments used, but a new one would be added. It was a pleasant thing to wait here, knowing that it was com- ing, and that for all her fierce pride and fierce spirit she had no' defense. It was at once horrible and ridiculous that she must sit and listen—lend stare at bhe growing wall. It was as she caught her breath against the choking swell of tears that she heard Lady Mallowe returning. She came • in with an aetual sweep across the room. Her society air had fled, and. she was unadornedly furious when she stopped before Joan's chair. For a few seconds she actually glared; then she broke forth, in a suppressed undertone: "Come into the billiard room. I command it!" Joan lifted her eyes from her book. Her voice was as low as her mother's, but steadier. "No," she answered "Is this conduct to continue? L . it?" Lady Mallowe panted. "Yes," said Joan,'and laid her book. on the table near her. There was nothing else to say. Words mlade things worse. Lady Mallow° had lost her bead, but she still spoke in the suppressed. voice. "You shall behave yourself!" she cried, under her breath, and actually made a passionate half -start toward. her. "You violent natured virago! The very look on your face is enough to drive one mad'!" "I know I am violent natured,' said Joan. "But don't you think it wise to remember that you cannot make the kind of scene here that you can in your own house? We are a bad-temrpered pair, and we behave rather like fishwives when we are in el rage. But when we are guests in other people's housed--" Lady Mallowe's temper was as ele- 'menta'l as any Billingsgate could pro- vide. Continued next week. I CA RIA �O Y k Gild 2'OD. the EN Yen Ha» Ways fit. 9s n rise �aatnse uS :� 111 10111111111111111111111111111111 CD NALD'S C '*� OW N CHEWING TOBACCO w/i goi-e° 154t 2 FOR 254 111111III111111IIIIIIIIII1111Mhfn 51 ..t- r7y'=iI • _ „, ,i% �/ p r) If tl Al I —:•7111IT'11-: ask reale9... PRloyment when you fill the fine Mason There is way to in the big tt.x; PI.VG err r Ep��,ya ): 'i, ?.'A.. $sN'1©Kp fe: f ISe }'�.1: 1 NQ oictoei es . ! sb rl Y��'. q„ ' f,. r•/+e rrfli111'1 i - C' I�I, r •s< 5TQ' •. ,ir�i" / e / ...../ !`, i404.)13�(!�,'S j+/1U J{1,at 4 '.,;((''''"att.--4t • , Y , 1 R ''.\ '''.‘..: OU Y Because the Master pipefuL economical than I iii, 1, // ' up with flavor that plug, no better, buy high-grade plug t � _ � AMIPse r • \., ,..::-- ..... ,,.., -.a , .`, into your pipe": Master Mason. is packed into HOLDS to the last handier. or more tobacco, of Master Mason. a gg911�e /������1�1�I;I f + Ss ,w se --,,, ,I. i rl l maker or a housemaid would be a stupid investment of capital. If nothing tragic interfered and the right man wanted such a girl, she had been trained to lease him. But tragic things had happened, and be- fore her grew the wall while she pre- tended to read her book. T. Tembarom was coming toward her. She had heard Palliser suggest a game of billiards. "Will you come and play billiards with us?" Tembarom asked. "Pal- liser says you play splendidly." "She plays Itril'liantly," put in Lady Mallowe. "Come, Joan." 5'No, thank you," she answered. "Let me stay here and read." Lady Mallowe protested. She tried an air of playful maternal reproach because she was in good spirits. Joan saw Palliser smiling quietly, and there was that in his smile, which suggested to her that he was think ing her an obstinate fool. •'Yfbu had better show Temple Bar - holm what you can do," he remarked. "This will be your last chance, as you leave so soon. You ought never let a last chance slip by. I never do." Tembarom stood still and looked down at her from his good height. He did not know what Palliser's speech meant, but an instinct made him feel that it somehow held an ugiy, quiet taunt. "What I would like to do," was the unspoken crudity which passed through his mind, 'Swould be to swat him on the mouth. He's getting at her just when she ought to be let alone." "Would you like it better to stay here and read?" he inquired. "Much better, if you !please," was her reply. "Then that goes," he answered, and left her. He swept the others out of the room with a good-naltured promptness which put an end to argument. When he said of anything "Then that goes," it usually dad so. CHPATER XXXI When she was alone Joan sat and gazed not at her wall but at the pic- tures that came back to her out of a pare of her life which seemed to have been lived centuries ago. They were the pictures that came back contin- ually without being called, the clear- ness of which allways startled her a- fresh. Sometimes she thought they sprang up to ,add to her torment, but sometimes it seemed as if they came to save her from herself—her mead, wicked self. After all, there were moments when to know that she had been the girl whose eighteen year old heart had leaped so when she turned and met Jem'a eyes, as he stood gaz- ing at her under ,he beech -tree, was something to cling to. She had been that girl ami Jem had been—Jem. And she had been the girl who had joined him in that young, ardent vow that they would say the same prayers at the same hour each night together. Ah! how young it had been—how young! Her throat strained itself be- cause sibs rose in it, and her eyes were hot with the swell of tears. She could hear voices and laughter and the click of balls from the bil- liard room. Her mother and Palliser laughed the most, but she knew the sound of her mother's voice would cease noon, because she would come back to her. She knew she would not leave her long, and she knew the kind of scene they would pass through 'together when she returned. The old , things would be said, the old argu- ments used, but a new one would be added. It was a pleasant thing to wait here, knowing that it was com- ing, and that for all her fierce pride and fierce spirit she had no' defense. It was at once horrible and ridiculous that she must sit and listen—lend stare at bhe growing wall. It was as she caught her breath against the choking swell of tears that she heard Lady Mallowe returning. She came • in with an aetual sweep across the room. Her society air had fled, and. she was unadornedly furious when she stopped before Joan's chair. For a few seconds she actually glared; then she broke forth, in a suppressed undertone: "Come into the billiard room. I command it!" Joan lifted her eyes from her book. Her voice was as low as her mother's, but steadier. "No," she answered "Is this conduct to continue? L . it?" Lady Mallowe panted. "Yes," said Joan,'and laid her book. on the table near her. There was nothing else to say. Words mlade things worse. Lady Mallow° had lost her bead, but she still spoke in the suppressed. voice. "You shall behave yourself!" she cried, under her breath, and actually made a passionate half -start toward. her. "You violent natured virago! The very look on your face is enough to drive one mad'!" "I know I am violent natured,' said Joan. "But don't you think it wise to remember that you cannot make the kind of scene here that you can in your own house? We are a bad-temrpered pair, and we behave rather like fishwives when we are in el rage. But when we are guests in other people's housed--" Lady Mallowe's temper was as ele- 'menta'l as any Billingsgate could pro- vide. Continued next week. I CA RIA �O Y k Gild 2'OD. the EN Yen Ha» Ways fit. 9s n rise �aatnse uS :� 111 10111111111111111111111111111111 CD NALD'S C '*� OW N CHEWING TOBACCO w/i goi-e° 154t 2 FOR 254 111111III111111IIIIIIIIII1111Mhfn 51 ..t-