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l wâ€" .x. , 3. fien 3:3 Were I Deceive rs Ever "re-Ma‘M.zo~z-+-s<+~z«+-z~;-2e++e++~z«+ In one of the coolest, shadiest nooks of Kensington Gardens, Maisie Brooks sat one summer afternoon. grateful, after her long morning’s work, for the peaceful resting-place, for the scent of the flowers, the sparkle of the sun upon the water. She made a pretty picture, despite the short serge skirt which much Wear and many Wettings had caused to shrink most woefully, the mendâ€" ed boots, and the general air of shabâ€" biness which pervaded her attire. For her small head was daintin set upon her shoulders, and the wealth of soft, fair hair would have made even a plain face charming. For the rest-â€" a somewhat pathetic mouth, big, grave eyes, a straight nose, and a creamy skin, faintly tinged with rose. Pity that so fair a face should wear so sad, so weary an expression. From under her heavy white lids, fringed with curling lashes, the girl gazed at the loiterersâ€"young girls, charmingly dressed, smart Society women, nursemaids with picturesqueâ€" looking babies, depressed governesses bearing the burden of unruly childâ€" ren. Gradually, however, the pasâ€" sersâ€"by grew fewer, and at last the place seemed deserted save for herâ€" self and a tall, distinguished, albeit slightly shabby individual, who was evidently making his way towards her seat. Maisie felt a sudden interest in the new arrival. Had he been resplendfi ent in patent boots. the latest thing in ties, and of a fashionable “getâ€"up” generally, the girl would not have vouchsafed another glance, but there was something about the tired droop of the head, the patient weariness in the large, dark eyes that touched her, familiar as she was with the heart-sickness of hope deferred. “Out of a berth, poor fellow," she murmured and sighed sympatheticalâ€" ly. She know so Well all that the phrase implies. The daily answering of innumerable advertisements de- manding impossible qualifications, for a wholly inadequate salary; the journeys to all parts of London only to learn that the coveted position has been obtained by a more fortu- nate individual and the.everâ€"growing fear that the small store of money and credit will be exhausted and still find an anxious one in the great army of the “out of works.” Her cogitations, however, were brought to an abrupt close, for the stranger had grown very white, and with a moan fell back against the seat. ‘ How it all came about Maisie could not tell, but in an incredibly short space of time she had found a keeper, dispatched him for a glass of Water, and having revived the strang- er was listening to his history with rapt attention. Born in Australia, Robert Everett has passed the first twenty years of his existence in a lonely station far up the country. His mother Was dead, his father a reserved, taciturn sort of man, had never given him any information as to his standing or position in England. After the old man’s death, however, Robert discovered among his papers certain letters which showed that he was distantly relatedâ€"if not more nearâ€" ly connectedâ€"with a noble family. Seized with a desire to find out who and what he really was, Robert sold his farm and came to England. 011% in London he unearthed What seemed to him to be irrefutable proofs that he was the rightful claim- ant not only to "large estates, but to a title. His father had disappeared from England, 0Wing, it was believed, to some love affair, and in the interval which had elapsed between his leav- ing the country and his death, acci- dent had removed the three nearest in succession to the baronetcy. The present holder of the title, Sir Lion- el Everett, belonged to a younger branch of the family, and Robert’s claim was undoubtedly a strong one. But money and possession are all- powerful, and after two years of fruitless effort and interminable law proceedings young Everett found his money exhausted, and the suit as far from being settled as at first. “It sounds absurd, doesn’t it?" he asked, with a weary laugh. "How can I expect you to credit such a story when I can neither. show you proofs, nor mention anyone who knows me? At this present moment I have not a friendâ€"the solicitors who took up the case have abandonâ€" ed it now that my money‘s gone, and I am, so to speak, laughed out of court. It is useless to hope that you will believe me." "Indeed. I do believe you," said Maisie softly, convinced despite her- self that his tale was true. “Thank you," he said quietly, and stretched out his hand. A moment’s hesitation, and then she slid her soft white fingers into his, and somehow each felt they had sealed a compact. “What are you going to do?” ask- ed the girl presently. "I mean until the case is settled."- _ - He looked up wearily. ‘ Get work. of some sort, I hope; if notâ€"~ si‘arve." ' ‘ ' "Bubâ€"bu? m". ".1 have some sort of shelter," he '4. 1.44.4.3..gn..;..g.4..z..;..z..gfiz»z.Hussy answered, reading her thought. “I'm living in an attic in Bloomsburyâ€" fortunately I paid the rent a month or so in advance, so I shan’t have to sleep on the Embankment at presâ€" ent." Maisie fumbled in her pocket, and weekyâ€"ifâ€"’ ’with a. “she'll have me. I've enough put by to start housekeeping, and the case," he sighed regretfully, “must go by the board. She’s worth more than a thousand titles." He decided to call for Maisie dir- with a shamefaced blush emptied the l ectly he left the office on the morrOW- contents of her purse into his hand. “Late again, Miss Brooks. This is the fourth time within the last “ ’Tis little enough, only a few shillings, ’ ' she said pleadingly. “surely you won’t refuse it? I think poor people should always help each other, and a little while ago I was as hard up, every bit as you." He looked at her inquiringly, and for the first time he realized that, though pretty, she was hardly fashâ€" ionably attired. “Like you, I am an orphan," she said, “and have to make my own way in the world. I am a typine in one of the large shops in West-bourne Grove, and I live at Notting Hill.” “Poor little girl,” he thought, and involuntarily a look of pity, mixed with admiration, flashed into his eyes. “I won’t refuse your help,” he said at last, “at any rate for the present; and now"â€"as her luncheon hour over she rose to goâ€""when may I see you again?" For a moment the girl hesitated. Was it prudent to see this good- looking stranger any more? Con- ventionality said "No." Inclination "Yes." ' “I have a holiday on Saturday af- ternoon,” she answered. "And you will be here?". “Yes.” “Thank you a thousand times." They parted at the gate; she re- turned to the emporium where, for the princely salary of eighteen shil- lings a week, she sat in a small of- fice and typed for all she was worth from nine o’clock in the morning till seven at night; he, to find his way to the nearest coffee-house and enjoy the first square meal he had eaten for days. if * * fl- * 9(- month. Such unpunctualityâ€"in this establishment at all eventsâ€"cannot be tolerated. If it occurs again I shall be obliged to dispense with your s-crviCes.” It was evident something had ocâ€" curred to ruffle the serenity of the head of the counting-house, for, as a rule, Miss Brooks was something of a faVorite with the powors that .be. Maisie faltered an excuse to the effect that she had not been well, but it was received with stony sil- ence; and, with a sinking heart, the girl realized that for some unknown reason Mr. Hilton was determined, sooner or later, to dismiss her. “He wants your place for his niece,” whispered a fellow clerk; “she’s just up from the country and is mad to get into an office." “But why does he choose me?” asked poor Maisie. “You don’t stand up to him, my dear. Any of us others would an- swer him back, or speak to old tBrown”â€"the owner of the emporium â€"â€"â€"“but you take things quietly, and you get sat upon. Take my advice and be more cheeky.” But “cheekiness” and Maisie were as far asunder as the Poles. It was positive anguish to her even to con- template a war of words, and rather than complain to “old Brown" she would have gone at a moment's no- tice. Her forebodings were only too quickly realizedâ€"within a fortnight she had left the emporium, and the manager’s niece typed in her stead. It was some six months since her first meeting with Robert Everett, and during that time their friendâ€" ship had steadily increased. She had brought him luck, so he declared, for within a Week of their acquaintanceâ€" ship he had obtained an appointment through the influence of some Aus- tralian friends, and was now doing very fairly well. They did not talk quite so much nowâ€"aâ€"days of the “case.” Maisie was inclined to think that it would be better were he to abandon it once and for‘ all, and settle down to a more peaceful if more monotonous existence. The young fellow, how- ever, was obstinato; every penny he could save from his salary he put by, determined, as soon as he had raised the sinews of war, to return to the attack. But when he heard Maisie's news he faltered for the first time in his resolution. "I’m not quick at figures, she sobbed, “nor at typing either, and fearfully slow at shorthand. I was a long time before I got employment at Brown’s, and I_can’t go to Aunt Lucy’s again; they’re none too well off themselves.” “Why do you depreciate yourself so dreadfully, Maisie‘?” he asked a trifle crossly. “'I assure you it doesn't pay, in this world, at all events. Cheer up, little woman,’.'_ he added more kindly, “you'll get a. crib sooner or later. I’ll speak to every- one I know. Before long you’re sure to hear of something. Cheer up." But in Spite of his admonition, Maisie felt a curious sense of desolaâ€" tion as she watched the tall, straight figure out of sight. She did not know what she had expected, but she felt that had he been in trouble, somehow or other‘ she would have I! Wilfred apparently arrived at the same conclusion, judging by his soli- loquy over- a midnight pipe. “She’s the sweetest little woman in the ~w0r1d,", he declared, “and I'm an ungrateful ass to have _hes‘i; tated a moment. She didn’t beat about the bush when I was down on my luck. We'll get married next acted differently. . 1 They would go to the theatre, and he would be very kind and very lov- ing to make up for his coldness of toâ€"day. But he was unexpectedly deâ€" tained in town, and the following morning found him laid up with an attack of the influenza fiend, too ill to move, even to scribble a note. She would be sure to write, he argu- ed; she would be sure something was wrong. But he had not taken the girl’s ex« treme sensitiveness into considera- tion. -She had expected him, as usuâ€" al, the previous afternoon, and a dull pain had crept into her heart as the hours went on and never brought him. By the next morning she was wrought up to a pitch of grief and excitement painful to witness. She had been mistaken in him; now that he was getting on, he despised the poor little girl who had so rejoiced in his friendship. “I shall die," shall die." Why should she not write and ask the reason for his treatment? Her pride revolted at the idea. She would wait in silenceâ€"even if it killed her. And the second evening passed away, and the next morning found her wildâ€"eyed and despairing, waiting once again for the letter that never came. And so, the victims of mischance, these two fond hearts drifted apart, as suddenly and strangely as they met. Maisie received the offer of a situation in an ofli'ce in Manchester at a much larger salary than she had ever dreamt of getting, and which she dared not refuse; and yet, how she moaned, “I could she go to a strange place among strange faces, without a word, a sign of leave-taking, from Robert? At last she dispatched a timid litâ€" tle note, telling him she was leaving London, and begging for an answer by return. I’oor Robert was de- lirious when it arrived, and so, all forlorn and with a pain at her heart almost too great to bear, the girl set out. Some three weeks later Robert, pale as a ghost and singularly gaunt, drove up in a hansom to the house where lliaisie had lodged. Only that morning he had been given his cor- respondence, and, contrary to doc- tor's orders, and in defiance of evâ€" erything and everybody had driven off to answer, if not too late, Maisie’s farewell note. He found the place deserted and empty. The landlady had moved, so the neighbors said, shortly after the young lady left. And, notwithstanding all his ef- forts, no trace could he discover either of the landlady or Maisie. The tide of life had swept past him, leaving him stranded on the beachâ€" alone. * * i * it it A year since Maisie had left Lon- don, and already Time, the universal healer, had worked wonders. True, she still occasionally experienced a faint tremor at the postman's knock, and sometimes indulged in dayâ€"dreams of a happy reunion with Robert. But such wistful longings did not affect her materially, and gradually she grew more contented than she had ever been. Her em- ployment was congenialâ€"she was secretary to one of the heads of the firmâ€"and, free from the fear of con- stant faultâ€"finding. She was the only woman in the building, and inasmuch as'she was extremely pretty and singularly swoet-mannercd, it is not surprising that all the employees, from the seniâ€" or clerk to the smallest office boy, were her sincere admirers. More than one had shown an inclination to develop into something nearer and dearer, but she felt chary of ever again embarking on the troublous sea of love; besides, she could never care for any man save one. Sometimes the thought flashed across her that perhaps her letter had miscarriedâ€"such things had hapâ€" pened. Once, when the longing to see or hear from himâ€"it was Christ- mas time, and she was terribly lone~ lyâ€"mastercd her, she penned a note couched in stiff, not to say stiltcd, language, giving her address, and saying “she would be glad to know how lie-was." A sudden rush of .tenderness made her add a postscript which caused her, after it has gone, tears of mortification and distress. "I can never forget you,” she wrote; “you are all I have.” And answer there was none. Fate had once more intervened. Robert had gone to Australia for some important documents necessary to prove his identity, and the letter was sent after him, only to reach Australia the day after he had Sailed for home. _ . . After that Maisie .steeled her heart. There were others. Accordingly, one of her most de- voted admirers, a good-looking young giant of the name of Ernest Arnold, was suddenly raised to the Seventh heaven of delight.‘ Once she even deigned .to accompany his sisâ€" ters,“under his care, to a fancy ball given in aid of some charity. But the young fellow’s hopes of a delightful evening were crushed by the uneXpected line his lady fair took up. :Maisie~wore_a unask and doma 1110-." . ‘ ,uN ’ its way she asked of her partner. “Sisters-inâ€"law," he corrected. “The tall one is Lady Lionel Everettâ€"she is chaperoning the other, Miss Daisy Everett. ’ ’ “Is Sir Lionel Everett here?" ask- ed Maisie, a. sudden desire to see Robert’s rival possessing her. ' “Yes, that chap over there, dressed as a Crusader. “Byâ€"the-bye," he went on, "it’s rumored that Sir Lionel is about to lose his. title. Some colonial or other has turned up, and it’s been suggested that he should marry Miss Everett and so keep the money in the family." Maisie looked eagerly towards the group. Daisy, fair as a lily, dressed as Elaine, a tall, splendidly-dressed Toreador bending over her, while Lady Everett chatted to a Monk. Something about the Spanish Cavâ€" alier seemed curiously familiar to Maisie, and she longed to hear his voice. i ‘ - A desperate determination possession of the girl. She dropped her fan at the Toreador's feet. He stooped and picked it up, hazâ€" arding a. flowery speech in a grandiâ€" loquent style. ' Maise’s heart beat fast. , “You should suit your compliments to your costume, or vice versa," she said softly. “Is my tongue so very rough and ready?” he asked. “Not always," she anSWered. Sometimes it is subtle. Sweet. then cruel, wounding when most it caresses.” He started forward, but with a lit- tle mocking laugh ’she glided away. For the rest of the evening the Toreador sought for the yellow dom- ino in every corner, until at the stroke of twelve everyone unmasked. He was standing in an anteâ€"room with Daisy Everett, facing a mirror. As he removed his mask, smiling adâ€" miringly enough at the fair Elaine beside him, the heavy draperies at the door were parted, and a figure in yellow domino glided to the glass. “Maisic!” he called. A voice answered “Robert!” And then, regardless of Miss Evâ€" erett's horrified amazement, he held her to his heart, fastening kises on her' lips, her hair,‘ her eyes. “But why had he disregarded her letterâ€"her appealsâ€"” “My dear,” he said, “if ever a man paid for his folly I have done so. I never had your letter till too late. I was very ill, my own, and when I came to you, you’d flown." And so it came to pass that, after all, Robert Everett married Maisie Brooks before the title and position he so longed for came to him even as she ha‘d desired.~Pearson’s Weekly. ._4,._.__.__ SALT FROM ENGLAND. Shipped Over in Bags and Shipped A Back in Meat. One thousand sacks of English salt passed through the customs office in Kansas City the other morning. It is a fine quality used in packing meats for export and comes from Liverpool, says the Kansas City Star. A peculiar thing about this same salt is that it must travel back to Liverpool again, though in a differ- ent form. Here it is used in pack- ing meat which will ultimately find to John Bull's breakfast table. John Bull believes in reci- procity, as proved by the salt reâ€" ceived.‘ He uses our meat only on condition that we use his salt in packing it. This arrangement suits Kansas City packers and causes them little inconvenience. When the salt is received they pay a duty of 12 cents per hundred pounds. ,When it is returned with beef and pork an export duty of the same amount is charged. Uncle Sam collects. 1 per cent for handling these products through the customs office. The exporter and consignee get to- gether and are not, in tl:e_-en‘d, out very much. Tons of salt are received in Kan- sas City for use in the packing houses in the west bottoms. It comes in sacks weighing about 225 pounds each. It is mined in the south of England, and is of a much finervquality, say the packers, "than they could possibly secure in this country. 'So the arrangement suits both parties to the contract and salt comes over in sacks and returns in packed meats. ....__._ +â€"___._. “am NATIONALITY NO DIFFERENCE. They are laughing in Washington over a rebuke that a sentry of one of the departments administered reâ€" cently to the Russian Ambassador's coachman. The coaclmian, it appears, wished to drive his master’s carriage along a roadway that for some reason was barred. I‘Vhen the sentry refused to let the carriage pass the Coachman remonstra’ted. “I drive," Minister." "I can't sentry. _ “Let me 't’roug'n',” iersis'ted 'th'e coaclmian. “My master is 20 Count Cassani, ze Ambassador Extraordin- ary and Minister Plenipotentiary of ze Czar of All ze Russias." “Frenchy,” said the sentry, "I wouldn’t let you through even if your master was a. free-born Ameri- can citizen”, - _______+_._._.._. Curiosity is looking over other he said, "'ze Russian help it,” returned the “What’s the name of that-tall 'girl people's “affairs and overlooking ' . in crimSOn. the one with that pretty ‘ (J IV n . took‘ W sudden doubt, little fair thing? Are they sisters?" THE BEST lePUSlTlUilSi WHY IIARRIED PEOPLE AREr THE BEST NATURED. ._.â€"_ Society of French Sociologists, Say That There Are Excepâ€" tions to Every Rule. That matiimony exercises a very distinct influence on the temper of men anti women has been admitted as the result of an unusual and in- teresting investigation by a society} of French saciologists. This ver- dict was based on reports concerns; ing the temper, amiabilsity and gen-l er-al disposition of men and women, both married and single, and in some instances of people before and after marriage. It was found that marriage has a‘ soothing 'CITCICt; there is something about matrimony which brings a feeling of peace {and contentment in most cases, although not in all. The. society decided that there are ex-‘ coptti-o-n-s to every rule. Talking the woman's point of view,: it was easy to see how her temper ! | has improved by matrimony. .. which she im-trries she has, it was assumed, attained the ambition of, her life; she has got -a husband and a. h-Omeof her own; she looks forâ€" ward to a happy life; in fact, th'o‘ future is as bright as future could look. THIS IS DOUIND TO TELL. . Panhaps before manniage she was inclined to pecvishnnss; she might even have had a dread of becoming an old maid; she might have a disâ€"I contented family circle to deal W‘itlh, and so on. These things are all brushed away when she marries. She enters a condition wfhich enables her 'to see a rcsea'te hue on the most ordinary tiliiinags of life, and where happiness prevails, or ought 'to prov-ail. . If this does not improve her tem~ per, even supposing it to have been 4 good enough before, nothing can. I . Then the society takes up the men’s point of view. He is, after, miau'riage, well attended to; he has love waiting on him at all timeisf; his slippers are by the fire, nice and cosy, when he $0113.08 home tired of are looked after. . Now, a nuazn living with his moth? er and sisters may be well enough; attended to, yet there is always 3.} certain lack of interest; but it deosi nut do for a wife to be uninterested . wizere her husband’s welfaire is conâ€" cerned; llCl‘ happiness, her futureâ€"â€" everything depends being well looked aften. All this tenths to soften ltiis tem- per, which benefits his health. hiis temper benefits again. Moreover, there is a pleasant} comfortable feeling engendered byi the knowledge that you possess a; home of your own. You look; a.rou.n»dâ€"Jthat is your piano, your: sideboard, your this, that, or the! other thing; arJd there comes a nice glow of pleasure. You may light, your pipe here, just as you please ' NO ONE WILL COMPLAIN. ! 'Bef'ore marriage you had to Slinfoko in a stuffy litile harlor, or else go3 out of doors 'to enjoy your dinner pipe. and : i after- W-iat' a difference, to be sure ! Well, very nahira-lly, this gives you satisfaction, and I trapper is sweetened. Pdrhaps before marriage a man or wo:mn.-n is very inrpalicnri; everything must be rushed through with, any- thing to get done. 'But if you are very ii'ni'paition-t' the temper suffers; it .makes a man or woman 'very short and grumpy. After marriageâ€"or at any rate af- ter yo;ung ones arriveâ€"what a ch‘angc ! Illonv patient the knzost impatient man or woman becomes! That blessed, though much anatheâ€" matlized, condition known as “teethâ€" ing” does a vast amount of good in this world. A teething baby ‘itas been the salvation of many a short- tcmpered, impatient man and wom- an. ’l‘he young one simply won’t be put down; no amount of coaxing does any good. One has-to grin and bear it; but w,l".'ilst bearing with' the screaming you receive valuable tuition; you are taught to be par-L tic-nit, and once the lesson is learni'ti it never leaves you. Besides, these soft baby fingers have an extraordinary effect on the fairg‘ie'r of either man or woman. ’l‘l‘e pat Cif a baby’s lnarfd can drive the darkest scowl from the face, and one look from the innocent eyos of a baby can drive the bit-fciredt tilicn'sgh’is from the mind. Let a l‘rus‘banfd and wife lose their tennipe-rsf. your an evening; a change of clothes -' awaits him if he comes home soakâ€" * ed, and his many other little want-s over any little thirstâ€"m. baby’s crow-' " ing will make Matter-Is all again . right4 ..._.___ .+_..._._.‘_. “RETURN AT ONCE. ’ ' , Merchantâ€"“Did you deliver my message to Mr. Smith?” 5 Boyâ€"“No, sir; he was out, and the, office was locked up." 3 Merchantâ€""Well, why didn't youl Wait for him, as I told you?" ? Boyâ€"~“Therc was a notice on the, door saying ‘Roturn at-oncc,’ so I came back as quick as I could." ____.__+â€"._.___. The Maid-Servantâ€""Profcssor, ma-E dam has just returned from her jourâ€"i ney.” Professorâ€"“Remind me by- andâ€"by to give her a kiss," The Marquis of Londonderry, own-' or of the- famous collieries, possesses photographs of all interior parts of the mines, as well as 'elabor.ci;e maps ._ u. ‘f the workings. He takes the great- interest in the mines. on his health I. i ..g -~,.V,\~, ._ '- aura-a. 1,5,5 ‘vm‘c, .. «. v (y (y