The following text may have been generated by Optical Character Recognition, with varying degrees of accuracy. Reader beware!

absurdly i; It! EEEEEEEEE U: €95.33 é EH 2 3; [:33 .:'1. ((3%)) 5,: 3 3 rm=< E. WEEWEEEE. 33‘3""...‘3:"23‘..." .33 “an... 3:"... a} .1? Honâ€"m , '1. "-'- ‘. Copyright, 1899, by Jeannette H. Walworth. 1.- H": ‘ ‘ ’ ;- L. ‘v‘vLyyv-v 0n the subject of what was or what was not best for Tom the small moni- tor assumed large airs of gravity and decorum which tempted one to smile into her dimpled face. Not that she would have countenanced such levity for an instant. She took herself in her relation as semiguardian to the last of the Broxtons quite seriously. Ever since that dismal day on which they had laid the dear colonel to rest under the weeping willows of the Mandeville churchyard and brought Tom to stay temporarily at the Matthews cottage while “arrangements for his future” were perfecting she had come to look upon him as in some sense her personal charge. That had been four years ago. The years have healing properties for the young which they lose in later years. A correspondence had been one of the inevitable consequences of Ollie’s self elected guardianship and Tom’s crav- ing for friendship. His 11 months of seniority, which counted for little on the calendar. were entirely reversed in their social rela- tions. quite 11 years her junior. forgot his birthday. It was always re- membered by a gift chosen with a view to a man’s ever recurring demand for neckties, gloves or the like and al- ways sent accompanied by a neat lit- tle homily on the approaching years of responsibility, prettily indited on her best society stationery. In their letters he figured as She never Fresh from the perusal of an effusive letter of thanks for the latest donation of gloves and advice, Olivia sagely wrinkled her brows and looked across the breakfast table at her father. “Just to think, papa, the dear boy is 18 years old! I suppose he will be put- ting on all the airs of a grown man when he gets back. I can hear the beating of restless wings in each letter more distinctly. That is as it should be. If I were a man, I know I should strain at the leash violently long before I the college doors closed upon me.” Her mataphors were somewhat mixed, but as she was preparing her father’s second cup of coffee with just so much sugar plus so much cream metaphor had to look out for itself. The lawyer. deep in his own mail matter, glanced up quickly, showing a dark, unsmiling face. “Who is straining at the leash, my dear?” “Oh, that was just a figure of speech! I was talking about Tom. I’ve got :31 grateful letter from him. thanking the for his gloves. If I had sent a shoestring, he would have wax- ed just as eloquent over it. Tom is a wee bit sophomoric, I must admit, but time will tone all that down.” She was conscious of a very abstract- ed auditor. Her father’s head had been lifted just so long as his hand had been ex- tended for the cup of coffee. He was once more poring over his morning’s, mail with knitted brows. Her maltese cat. always discreetly observant of the progress of the meal. gently reminded her by a velvet pawed caress that he was waiting to be served. Her canary bird. swinging in its gilded cage in the sunny bow window, shrilly moneys». lined the realm of sound. Her father’s absorption in letters which properly belonged to his oflice work was an infringement of her most cherished household regulation. She in. terfered despotically. “Papa. you know I regard the break. fast hour as my exclusive property. You are breaking my rules.” The dark face opposite her was lift- ed. The light of a mighty love illumin- ed its gloomy eyes. Lawyer Matthews pushed his letters from him in a heap and smiled. "You are right, my queen of hearts. as you always are. I beg your pardon for my rude inattention. I am all yours. You were saying”â€" ‘ "Nothing very profound.” She smiled with restored good humor. “1 have been wondering what we are going to do with Tom Broxton when he comes .0...3‘..O'..‘3.00.3‘..00o3 . 3 o..-"..,.-‘v'0....'.---'.'.'..0.'.l..o"'--."'.‘oo’. but about atom.“ “What about Thomas?” Her caress- ing failed of soothing. He drew her hands down with almost a petulant gesture. “What are you going to do with him when he leaves college and comes home to live? You know .we must plan for it." “There is no immediate call for agi- tating thathoint, my love. Thomas is to go abroad for two years after leaving college.” “Does he‘want to go?” “I‘want him to go.” “Of course, papa, as his guardian you may advise him to go, and 1 think every boy ought to travel. But has Tom expressed any wishes of his own on the subject?" “I have not broached it to him as yet. I anticipate no objections on his part. His father was a great traveler in his day. Indeed, I may say he was passionately fond of it.” “Then you have not consulted him about it yet?” The lawyer rose from the table with his hands full of letters. A slight frown contracted his forehead, bringing his bushy gray brows almost into con- tact with eaeh other. He loved this breakfast hour above all the hours of the day. It was full of peace and pleasantness. It was pleasant to look across the table into his child’s beauti- ful. spirited face, a face which always brimmed over with intelligence and with love for him; it was pleasant to look beyond her. out through the vine encircled bay window into the tangle of beauty and perfume which Ollie called her garden; it was pleasant to contemplate the fact that this dear child had but to express a wish and he was able to gratify it. Things had gone well with him the last four years. Men said he was waxing rich as no lawyer of Mandeville ever had before him. It was pleasant to prolong this communion time. Presently he would go off to his of- fice, and the sweet music of his dar- ling's voice would be swallowed up in the harsher tones of angry men chaf- fering for their rights. But just now Olivia was growing a trifle inquisito~ rial, and it was that which sent him away from the table somewhat abrupt- ly. “No,” he said, standing on the hearth rug; “I have not written to him yet. 1 don’t want the pleasant anticipation of travel to get between him and the clos- ing exercises of his college. I am some- what apprehensive that Thomas may be lacking in energy.” “I don’t know why you say that, papa. His reports from the very be- ginning have been just splendid. stands first in all of his classes and”â€" “Oh, as a student Thomas has made a fair record. but I should prefer more fire, more vim, more fervor of antici- “You stupid apa-to want a. fretful, puny baby a ways under your wing!” pation for the future. in so young a man. He shows no signs of restless- ness. That is a bad sign.” Olivia championed the absent with warmth and decision. “I think you are altogether mistak- back to Mandeville for good. He can‘t 3 en. father, and inclined to underrate live alone in that great barn of a a Tom. His letters to you. I suppose, are house. He would meet a ghost at more restrained and formal. I see every turn. And he could not live here abundant evidence of ambition and of with us. the poor boy ‘3” Twice during her remarks her fa- ther had taken 03 his glasses, wiped them abstractedly and replaced them on his nose with nervous energy. In- Stead of the direct answer her direct question invited, he looked straight over her head through the vine clothed how window, frowning incidentally at the shrilling canary. “Is there no way of silencing that noise?” “Dick’s yodeling? Certainly. not know it annoyed you.” ‘ She left the table long enough to'in- sort a lump of sugar between the bars of the birdcage. Returning, she perch- ed on the arm of her father’s chair, re- taining her precarious vantage ground by clutching his coat lapels firmly with one hand. "Father. you must be working too ldld hard. You are horribly nervous of late. 1 shall have to take you in hand.” She passed a caressing hand oVer the lawyer’s troubled forehead. "l‘here are at least a. dozen new worry lines here. This will never. never do. Every old woman’s tongue in Mandeville would chorus ‘improp- cr.’ What on earth can we do with purpose. Tom is essentially well bal. 'anced. l have seen plentiful signs of restlessness.” “I hope I have molded him fittingly," said the lawyer, with pious self gratu- lation. “Yes. 1 think he may be called essentially well balanced.” “He is just what I fancy Colonel Broxton was at his age,” Ollie resum~ ed. with unconscious point. “He is not one of those tiresome boys who bore you to distraction with wordy vapor- lngs about what they are'going to do and be, winding up by doing and being nothing. Moreover, the fact of his be- ing so rich would incline him to delib- eration. The spur of necessity is not pricking him to select a career in wild haste. Tom is very rich indeed, is not he, papa '2” Some of his letters slipped from the lawyer’s grasp. He stooped to recover them. His sallow face was deeply flushed when he straightened himself almost defiantly. He did not look at Olivia as he answered curtly: "By no manner of means. That :8 one of the current local fallacies, a great mistake. Thomas’ personal ex- penses have been heavy, and some of his dear father’s investments turned He 3 . THE WATCHMAN-WARDER: LINDSAY. ONT. our very Badly." Ollie soared superior. “1 am rather glad to hear that. Rich young menare so apt to wax conceit~ ed and worthless on the strength of their father’s hoarding. ‘They lose the incentive to personal endeavor.” Her father rewarded this flight with a somewhat acid smile. 3“Your Worldly Wisdom becomes star- tling, my love. I think 1 shall have to get you a new doll to dress.” “Doll, indeed!” She mimicked his gravity. “Your capacity for insulting a helpless female becomes startling, my love. I think I shall have to get you a new pair of eyes the better to see. my dear.” She came toward him, a riant. sparkling creature, and stood before him with crest uplifted. “Observe the length of my gown, if you please, and the Psyche knot which tops my mature and classic head." * Her father drew her to him almost roughly. “Olivia, you startle me in earnest. You are a young lady. The fact has burst upon me in a second. You are no longer my loving, trusting. unquestioning little darling. You will be measuring your strength with mine. demanding your place at my side rath- er than under my wing. It frightens me.” She laughed musically up into the furrowed face. “And it delights me. You stupid papaâ€"to want a fretful, puny baby al- ways under your wing in place of a wise young woman by your side! And, you naughty papa. to let my eighteenth birthday almost dawn without a breath touching appropriate celebra- tions!” “Celebrations?” word perplexedly. “Don’t you even know. father. that a girl comes of age when she is 18? She doesn’t come into a vote and all that sort of nonsense, but she comes out. and I propose to do that appro- priately.” “Appropriately! Why, bless my soul. yes, of course! What shall we do. Ollie?" “I should like a fete champetre.” said Ollie grandly, “such a fete as the people of the country shall date back to and from for generations to come. I shan’t come of age but once in my lifetime, you know. papa.” Her father looked overhead out of the bay window into her garden and upon the grassy terraces intervening between it and the cobblestone street. The Matthews cottage, perched upon its well kept terraces, was one of the show places of Mandeville. but its di- mensions were by no means imposing. In land it was conspicuously cramped. “A garden party, my love? I believe that is your idea done in English. Do you think our modest little yard"â€" She interrupted him with a gay laugh. “Oh, no, papa! That would be absurd, ridiculously so. Over at Tom‘s house is where I mean to hold my fete. We could give a lovely garden party among the grand old trees on Broxton lawn and such a delicious dance in the long, yellow parlor.” “But the people?” “The Westovers are expected back from Europe on Monday. I should es- pecially like them to see that one does not have to go abroad to know what to do on occasion. Oh. I want it to be very grand indeed, papa! Miss Malvina Spillman will help me to make it just perfectly lovely. She can act chaperon too. I can make out quite a splendid list of guests." A strange hesitation seemed to bind her father’s tongue. He, who was gen- erally eager in his readiness to gratify her slightest wish, stood mute and frowning in face of her very dearest one. “You have a guardian’s right to use the house, papa, haven’t you?" “Yes. Oh, yes, of course!” “And I know Tom would be only too glad. I shall write for his permission." Still that unfriendly silence. “My heart is quite set upon it, papa.” Her father’s surrender was sudden, but complete. ,“Then so is mine." he said almost violently, lifting her sweet face near enough to kiss her on both cheeks. “So it is settled. We will have our garden party over at Broxton Hall, and I will stop there this evening as I drive home from Roseclifl to give or- ders about having the house opened and properly aired. A good deal of weed chopping will be needed.” “Oh. I forgot court was in session! You truant papa! You ought to have been in Rosecliff half an hour ago. I am going to send Reuben over with the ponies for Miss Mally. I am dying to talk with her all about the affair.” And she dismissed him with a shower of kisses and the injunction: “Don‘t be late in getting back, papa. There is so much to see about." The day held more than its full quo- ta of trials for the ironnerved man who never, yielded a point to anything living but the soft dimpled child who held his very heartstrings in her care- less grasp. ‘ ' " Night had fallen before he mounted his horse and turned its head home- ward. Seven lonely miles stretched be- tween him and Mandeville. He gladly would have foregone the stop at Brox- ton Hall on his way home, but he had promised Olivia, and that was enough. When he reached the outer gate to the gloomy old mansion, he dismounted and, flinging his bridle rein over the horse rack, made his way on foot up the crumbling brick walk, slimy now from the dense shading of the untrim- med cedars. ' There would be much to do in order to make Ollle’s birthday fete a success. but it should be done. The cedars must be trimmed up tomorrow and the brick walls all scraped clean. Reaching the house, he made a cir- cuit around it. In a remote corner of the large back yard he knew he should find the care taker and his wife. He would givethem general directions foropening the house. sunning the rooms and clip- ping the cedars. That must do for to- . night, just by ' way of keeping his He repeated the w... W promise to Uitv1a. 3 He was tired, harassed. unhappy; but, whatever befell, the shadows that sometimes crowded thick and fast about his own resolute head should not infold her. To make Olivia happy was the law of his life, the mainspring of his every action, his one earthly de- sire. The care taker and his wife had closed their cottage for the night and were preparing to retire when his knock startled them. He heard them draw the bolt with reluctant caution to answer his summons. “What! Not abed thus early, Si- mon?” “Not just abed. sir, but since the master’s been gone Jess and me are jus’ as willin as not to lock up early and shut things out. It be awful lone.- some and gloomsome here now. Mr. Matthews, and unless things brighten up when Mr. Tom gets through school- in I doubt if Jess and me can hold on at this gait.” And then Mr. Matthews told Simon how he was going to break the gloom spell by a garden party on his daugh- ter’s birthday, and Simon espoused his cause gladly. Broxton Hall used to he. a happy and a gay house. “Anything to bring back the old gladsomeness, sir.” 'Mr. Matthews gave his orders about opening the house, clipping the cedars, etc. When he turned away, he heard the old man promptly bolt the door again, and as the wooden shutters were of solid boards the little cottage immediately offered but a dark, square bulk for observation. He returned as he had come. Making the circuit of the house from rear to front. by the side on which Colonel Broxton's study was located, involuntarily he glanced up- ward at the closed shutters, then start- ed and stood still, wondering. A faint light, so faint that it might have been a phosphorescent glimmer, shone through the slats of the dark green shutters. Whatever else his shortcomings. physical cowardice was not among them. Some one was in the Broxton house and in the colonel’s study. To go back for Simon would be useless. He would not come. He must depend upon his own address and his own nerve. Stealing noiselessly to the front of the house, the lawyer mounted the low front steps and tried the front door handle softly. It was locked. VVlth a strong grip he n'cxt seized one of the shutters of the long French windows that opened from the parlor to the ve- randa floor. It yielded readily. So did the sash. He slipped his shoes from his feet and sped with swift noiselessness across the hall. The study was at the rear of the house. It connected with the room in the parlor suit by the doors glazed with dead ground glass. Through the dim glass of these doors the pale phosphorescent gleam came steadily. He would catch the thief red handed. His hands were planted firm- ly on the silver doorknobs. He sent the sliding doors gliding noiselessly in their grooves with a resolute touch. Then he staggered and held fast by the lintel to keep himself from falling. Bending over the dead man's study table was a tall. shadowy form in white. The sound of scattering loose paper fell on his ears with a ghostly rustle. He saw a restless hand three times distinctly. In a sighing whisper he heard the words, “Lost, lost, lost!” all this in a second of time. The night wind swept through the open front window. The pale light was suddenly extinguished. The house lay in utter darkness. A faint. slow movement. like the rustle of garments, came near- er to the terror palsled man, passed by him, died away entirely. How long he staid there he never could have told, nor how he ever grop- ed his way back to the spot where he had left his shoes and from there to his horse. Once in the saddle, with the cold night air fanning his cheeks, his cour~ age came back and with it a flood of self contempt. “Bah! Am I in my d-otage? he cried angrily. “Tomorrow I will investigate this ghostly trickery and run the trick- ster to earth.” But he slept very little that night, nor did he run that ghostly “trickster" day nor any day thereafter. CHAPTER V. pnnranme FOR THE FETE. Mandeville confessedly never saw its like, never expected to see its like again. There were those in that conserva- tive village who flatly maintained that such magnificence was entirely out of place. They were sure history never recorded a greater ado made over the coronation of royalty or the installa- tion of presidents. After all, Mandeville was only Man- deville, and she in whose honor the world had just been turned upside down was nobody but little Ollie Mat- thews, who had grown up among them with no particular claim to uni- versal homage, a nice enough girl. pretty, amiable, social, and all that, but “such doings over her coming of age was just nothing short of nonsensical.” ' Mandeville possessed, among its an- tiquities, those who remembered the very day when Horace Matthews first put foot in Mandeville, the only son of a poor widow music teacher whom Ru~ fus Broxton’s father befriended as he always befriended the needy ones of the earth. The antiquities shook their hoary heads and groaned inscrutably, “And look at him now!” Such a “coming out party" had never been dreamed of in the wildest fancies of the most imaginative Mandevillian. ,i‘Coming out party” had sense and sound of its own. It meant what it sounded like. “Fete champetre” was a combination of the alien and the in- comprehensible. One language was more than sufficient for all of Mande- ville’s phllological necessities. It frowned down all others. , - 3 over Tom! to earth on the morrow nor the next. . But there was no disposition to frown down the glittering fact that from fu- nereal gloom to dazzling hilarity the old Broxtonplace had passed without the saving grace of an entr’acteâ€"such a painting of fences. and trimming of long neglected shrubbery, and string- ing of lanterns. and planting of pallid statuary that rather made some of the oldest ladies blink with amazement. and grouping of tubbed exotics, and waxing of floors for giddy feet, and cartloads of crockery and glass, and a band of music in blue breeches with red stripes down their legs, andâ€"andâ€" Mandeville was absolutely breathless with excitement. There were those who said it was a good thing for the town, because it gave “jobs” to so many idlers. Miss Greenfield, whose dressmaking had been found good enough for Mrs. Colonel Broxton and for this very Miss Matthews’ mother, didn’t see where the good of the town was being consulted when nobody this side of New York could make a good enough dress for the coming out heir- ess. That was what they called her, “the heiress," and Lawyer Matthews’ reckless expenditure of money on the coming fete warranted any amount of wildness in the matter of nomencla- ture and conjecture. Miss Malvina had been retained as general superintendent of the whole magnificent business. She was to act as Miss Matthews’ chaperon on the oc- casion. She had been privileged to se- lect the very sample the gown had been made from, all of which invested her with an importance she could never otherwise have achieved. The Spillman cottage became the most popular resort in the neighbor- hood. The few who had been bidden and the many who only expected to en- joy the fete through the medium of their ears all found urgent call to the cottage. “Mother" Spillman’s cottage was vir- tually on the Broxton grounds. It had originally been built for the por- ter’s lodge to Broxton Hall by a wealthy Englishman, who, having in- vested largely in some tile factories on this side, fancied he should like to live in close proximity to them. It was a fancv that died in its early infancy, and the lodge, with all that appertained thereto, passed into the ownership of the late Colonel Brox- ton’s father, a stockholder in the same company. The Englishman returned to the country where porters and porters’ lodges were a genteel necessity, and the little lodge was closed up. When the Rev. Isham. Spillman was called to preach and to teach in the neighborhood of Mandeville, the por- ter's lodge had been donated by Tom’s grandfather for a parsonage. When the Rev. Isham died, full of years and honor, it was decided that his venera- ble widow should live on in the pretty cottage and call it hers. The womankind of the Broxton fam- ily and of the Spillman had always been the best of friends, and now that there was no womankind left in the Broxton family Miss Malvina and her mother felt a hovering sort of interest in the lonely boy representative of what had once been the most impor- tant family in the county. It was nat- ural that Miss Malvina should have a hand in things connected with Broxton Hall. Mrs. Spillman held that nothing short of Tom’s own marriage would have warranted such “a turning upside down of things,” adding indignantly, “I suppose all Mrs. Broxton’s silver and china will be used just like it was their own." Miss Malvina. sounded a placating note. “Oh, that’s all right, mother. Ollie wrote to Tom that she wanted to have her birthday celebration on his grounds, and he wrote back he Would be only too glad to have her chase the shadows out of the old house, to use everything as freely as if it was her own." “Trust them for doing that; but. as for her chasing the shadows out, that's more’n she can do, Malvinaâ€"more'n anybody can do. They are gathering thicker and blacker and heavier, and the storm will burst over that poor boy’s head without one friendly voice to give him warning.” “Dear me, mother, how you do worry He’s all right. His father trusted Mr. Matthews if you don’t. Give him warning of what?” Miss Malvina performed as many of her daily duties within reach of her ,mother’s ear trumpet as was practica- ble. It saved time and steps. Just then she was hurriedly buttoning up her stoutest pair of boots. They would be waiting for her up at the Hall. There was no end of things still to be done. The stand for the band was to be decorated, and Jess would be wanting to know how many turkeys were to be dressed, and all that cut glass was to be washed. Glancing up from her low stool, she saw something that made her stare curiouslyâ€"marks of damp yellow clay on the seles of her mothâ€" r’s ample Oxford ties, which were crossed conspicuously on the hassock In front of the chair. She fired an in- dignant protest through the old lady’s ear trumpet. 3 “Mother, you have been walking about out of doors without your rub- bers.” “Rubbers! Out of doors! Walking about! Who says so? Who saw me? What are you talking about, Malvina Spillman ’2" Her voice was so shrill and her man. ner so excited that Miss Malvina look- ed at her in growing alarm. “Mother is certainly turning queer." Aloud she said soothingly: “Well, you’ve got a right to3prowl around if you feel like it, mummer. I only don’t like you to go out without overshoes. Good old ladies are getting scarce, and I want to keep mine a great many years to come.” “Oh, I’m all right, child! What made you think I had been out of the house Y” Elsa 211.1115} 29.19; .0! year shoes FEBRUARY 15TH, 1900 and your White nannei “Tapper, ~ bedraggled about the hem, moxie; A look of intense cunning Game.- the faded eyes. The old we ' kled audibly. “Well. you are one for finding ab out. I thought I heard Somebod the chicken coop last night, 333ml it , “You heard, mother?” n2.» “Oh, I'm DOt as deaf as YOU think am nor as blind neither! Why. I; 1 go from here up to the Hall the (33,?“ night that ever came and go all oil: the house without stumping a me :3” wanted to." “13 “I hope you won’t want to, mother» Just then, with a swish of $1113... petticoats and a catching of burr 3, . breath, Mrs. Deb Lyons presented 3‘, self in the cottage doorway. sh”; . a roll of cloth in her hands. “I just thought I would step 0.9, Miss Malvina, and ask you it 1 3.3.3,," run up Johnny’s breeches on your :3 chine. Mine's got the very old 133$ng in it, and the child’ll die 0111:“:th 0’89 plum crazy if he don’t have a Wire new breeches to wear to the Comm; out party." “Is your Johnny invited to the im- ty?” asked “Mother” Spillman, Wit slight infusion of sarcastic incredmi, in her voice. “Not that he ain’t M enough.” Mrs. Deb laughed frankly. “After a fashion, he's invited. 1;; Ollie told him if he would fix up 3 nice he might pass lemonade 319.3,.- among the folks. He is in Le: $33.33. school class, you know. EU: is 2.1g;- sweet young lady. My, but what;- afiair it is going to be! They 53; 333.3, ' Ollie’s dress is going to outshiue 9.2:. thing Miss Jeanne Westover's fetczéc: over from Paris." “I’d be rather glad,” said Malvina 1. consequently, “to have you sit w}; mother while I’m gone.” Thea, vi: lowered tones: “She’s been so restlgg lately. I don’t know what she’ll bet; to when she’s alone. I have 133,1. . machine in the back room so that: can sew when mother’s asleep. 39:1. ‘ times I think she hears the buzz.” “I’ll watch her. Thanks for the chine. I guess you’ll be on hazd .-:- fore I have to get back home to so about Deb’s dinner." “Oh, yes, long before t‘Ltn." Johnny's mother passed inn» 1‘. room, closing the door bet‘fl'CL-L “I’m going now, mother. I . stay any longer than I'm Lisa? said Malvina. She bent a :‘ man ch 0i: 51" forehead. She omitted to " Mrs. Lyons’ occupancy of ‘ room. Nothing irritated the ~ an more than to be put unite lance. and after that I‘C‘Ct‘ll'. . discretion was advisable. 11.11%. L- ons Malvina spoke a final word" .1" c2:- tion. “She can’t hear the machine in here nor see it neither unless s‘Le was ‘5 “33, ain’t likely to do that. So::..»::u-cs be , -' eyes do her a good turn. I :nlg; re: her if she thought you were watching her.” “All right,” said Mrs. Ly ns drop ping into a husky whisper. “I'll be .5 still as a mouse.” Left to herself, as she imagined . "Mother" Spillman developed an activ- ity that made Mrs. Lyons forge: '.L about her Johnny’s breeches as >13: st: , with her hand on the wheel and be: eyes stretched wide with asrouis:.:ue:'. 3 Presently she stole from the machine'- and glued her eyes to a crevice in the wall. ‘ Rising from her chair. the old won- an began feebly shaking its cushions about with quick. impatient motions .- Getting down on her knees, with om- spread hands she felt over the entire surface of the chair. Evidently keel3~ disappointment was the only result ' “'hatever she was looking for she did not find. With a sigh of discounts? ‘ ment she finally rose to her feet. 31311 gaunt, masculine figure, and stood wit! folded hands gazing down upon the ., vacant chair, muttering audibly: ~~, “Lost, lost, lost! And it is my fault » Somebody has stolen it. Poor Tom poor laddie, I'm the only friend :05“ got left! I’ll find it. Tom. trust promised your mother I'd be a to you, and I will be. I‘ll find it. ' 05 I’ll never give over till I do." A fluttering sigh. and the tall dropped back upon the cushions. t. white head droopcd upon the headres- and “Mother” Spillman was 5001‘: 13? - ped in sudden slumber, so pry-few and so prolonged that Miss Malvins had been home half an hour before 535‘ was aware of it. Mrs. Lyons considered it her dad 1° report the strange episode of the 0355 ion beating and the dreamy monologue to Miss Malvina, who looked anxious and perplexed. (To be continued.) me. , - f «v .Ow a 3' a A; â€"â€"â€"â€"l’ M. E. Tangney. \ i F I N Furniture and Undertaking Charges Moderate Lindsay Opp. Benson Hausc, Cook’s Cotton Root. (ltitlipoifl‘1 . Is successfully used monthly b.’ ‘fi OMMCS. Safe,eflectual. Ladies“ {our drug‘lst for Cook“: Cotto- lfi‘ 59‘ ml- e no 0 er, as all Mixtures. piltt!1 muons are dangerous. Price, ho. 1.5 box; N0. 8, 10 degrees stronger, $3 per boiled 1 0f 3. nailed on receipt of price and two 0“ stun s. The Cook Company'WindeOT- d; as. I and 2 sold and recommended by responsible Iii-assists In Canada. UNI“ DOVE-IV CO. , ' .03 [‘4' ”I’m . r. . I i i t 3% i l