FLOWER OF THE BOG.

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXIII, Issue 19496, 27 November 1926, Page 16 (Supplement)

FLOWER OF THE BOG.

/AH IRISH LOVJ2 STO2IY).

CHAPTER I.

with troubled eyes Alan Pettigrew looked at the yawning breach in the wall surrounding Grange. The previous ni"ht he and his man, Simpson, had packed it tightly with thorn bushes, pending the tardy arrival of Nally, the Killyduff mason. The bushes lay scattered about the grassy lane pr boreen outside, and the gap seemed to yawn more widely than ever in grinning mockery of him. A dozen times he and Simp son had filled it up in this crude fashion, and on every occasion their handiwork bad been undone during the night.

A small thing to trouble him, perhaps! but ho was a stranger in a strange land, and hated to think anybody harboured a grudge against him. No question of a right-of-way was involved, for though the bushy D'Arcy bogs extended for miles behind Grange, the boreen led direct to them, and there were other short cuts in all directions. Whom, then, had his action annoyed! Surely none would hinder him from repairing his own tumble-down property if he .wished to. A distant bachelor relative of the Pettigrew family, Maxwell Heron, had left it to him., unexpectedly, as a reward for Alan's share' in a gallant capture of guns in the late war, which won him promotion from the ranks and mention in dispatches. Grange solved the riddle of Alan's future. He had been a reporter on the staff of the popular Daily Signal, ■which its opponents decried sis the yellowist of yellow rags; but, on his return, health * reasons demanded that le should get away at orico out of. the racket of London, and Aunt Susan Pettigrew, a GirtoD graduate who kept a select boarding-school for young ladies, was exerting herself to obtain for him a secretarial post abroad, when news of Maxwell Heron's bequest came as a veritable godsend. With house and land Alan received a few thousands, enough to support him comfortably and enable him to start cattle-breeding and crop-raising. Bill Simpson waxed enthusiastic over the pos sibilities of hens and pigs as paying products for a modern beginning, knowing nothing of either, except that pork and poultry were excellent eating. They were a pair of incorrigible optimists Bill had served in the ranks with Alan, being afterwards his batman, and, prior to the big upheaval, one of the Daily Signal's motor-van drivers. Joyfully he accepted Alan's invitation to accompany him to the distressful country and try his hand at farming Tboir Connaucht neighbours gave them a cordial retention TTnrest might, be elsewhere, but "Killyduff remained placid and happy-go-luckv, tnlcine its pleasures and living its life,, paily. heedless of cloud? on the far horizon. Alan bad a "homey" feeling from the first. The keen, sweet air of hills and bogs exhilarated like rare champagne. It braced and strengthened him. The charm of the lovely lone places, his hospitable welcome, would have fully contented him, if. . . . Oh, that "if " ! Always there was a fly in the ointment In Alan's case' Patricia D'Arcy was the fly. They called her " Flower of the Bog" when they wsran'fc calling her "Patsy," and she and her doting father lived across the boreen just beyond the ragged hedge, her neatness an aggravation of her mistiness. The poor , and proud D'Arcys derived a fluctuating income from bog rents, and seldom had a spare shilling to line their pockets. Patsy was slender and redhaired, with the grace of a young sapling, an oval face of creamy paleness, and grey Irish eyes that could be softly winning and appealing or repellently hard and cold. Mrs. Hartigan, the resident magistrate's wife, introduced Alan at a tennis tea on her lawn, and, to their mutual astonishment the erstwhile radiant Miss Patsy had grown at once stiff as an icicle, had scarcely spoken, and almost turned her back upon him. Alan reddened and winced ...under the nnexpected rebuff, ill-natnreclly public,. and contrary to the accustomed behaviour of ■ girl whose praises were sung on every side. She appeared to have taken an instant* dislike to him. Instead of " Flower of the Bog," her name ought to be " Stinging Nettle." Subseouently she avoided him, and if compelled to show him bare civilities did it v.-ith such a grudge that he froze, too, and went to eoual pains to shun her rather than suffer the vexation of her slights; but the wound of her inflicting rankled —the why and wherefore of this unmerited treatment rankled. Other frirls were friendly. There were three in the Hartigan family, all as nice to him as could be.

Was his alien birth the cause? Well," the Cochranes were in the same boat, three-parts Scotch, and the Bellamys were English, yet Patsy was fondly inti mate with them. He put the question "to Mrs. Hartigan later; and she assured him his fears were groundless, though she couldn't understand Patsy's attitude, and would advise him to pay no attention. but leave the offender alone until she -realised her discourtesy to the stranger in their midst. " For the rest of ns," added Mrs. Hartigan, " I can say we are all glnd Grange has a master, and we consider you an acquisition. Don't worry about it. Things will come right."

Hugh D'Arcy said much the same, drawing down the subject one evening when he drifted into Grange to smoke the pipe of peace and sample Alan's Scotch whisky. " I hear Patsy's after your scalp," he chuckled. " She's a bundle of contrariness. Myself, I can uo more guess what she'll be doing from one minute to the next, then I can guess ■what'll happen in Asia Minor. Don't heed her, Pettigrew. ' Tis pure spoiling of women, to care whether they're sweet or sour. Maybe sha had a spite against Nick Boyle, and vented it on you. Faith, 'twould be like her. You know Boyle of Curlews ? He's fox marrying my Patsy, and I'm on his side, if 'tis any use to iiim." "I've met Mr. Boyle often," said Alan. "Is he not engaged to Miss D'Arcy? I thought he was." " He would be if he could coax her to say ' Yes.'" sighed Hugh, going on to speak quite frankly of his poverty and mortgages on the turf-bogs, which made the marriage imperative. He hadn't a doubt Nick would be good to her, and though he wasn't very steady, still, reformed rakes generally were the best of husbands. " The reforming experiment is risky," rejoined Alan; and D'Arcy sighed that "life was full of risks, whichever way we turned." Alan politely agreed, telling himsei; Miss D'Arcy's matrimonial hazards were tit> affair of his. At the close of a lengthy confab he went to the gate with Hugh, and mentioned the assaults on his wallet defences, wryly suggesting that he might be "de trop " in Killyduft Hugh viewed the matter lightly. Not a mother's sun ie the locality would put his hand tc such tomfoolery. Some silly jokei was playing tficks. If they were for giving hirn notice to quit, faith' he'd receive a hint stronger than that. " You'll find I'm right, Pettigrew," he concluded, clapping Alan's shoulder " Tis nothing at all. And, see now. no stand-otf nonsense on Patsy's account. Step over to us often, and welcome you'll be as the flowers' of May. If her nose is in the air, iet yours be an inch higher." ) Arcy's words recurred to Alan on 0,-L*r mny , , m ° rnin g on which ouf story i hls load of S loom Some flew to JamsT n R triCkß l hs sus P' c,ons old servant for S a f IXt y"- Vear Hartfgan » L°L the D A ,rcy s > or Con study n 2 f o r ' k' 8 ™ 113 lank J' youth, slaves IhXSTit I P - air Posy's him because their hesitate to annoy "Oi cotwS ia % detested him ' <,no or other of them." i

'COPYRIGHT.)

BY "MADGE BARLOW.

ha said, his face clearing. " I wonder I didn't think of them sooner. They're under that girl's thumb. I'll stop their pranks by rushing Naliy up to build the wall. That'll checkmate them. Anyhow, it's a jolly relief to think I'm not the object of a secret ban." . , Tho breeze wafted a hum of voices to his ear, and he strolled into the green lane. The voices came from D'Arcy's adjacent potato field. He stooped and peered through the ragged hedge. Within audible distance of him Jamsie Brannan sat hunched on an upturned cfeel, and Patsy stood opposite, wearing a blue cotton frock, her hair hanging in a thick (laming plait tied with white tape. A large pair of gardening gloves engulfed her hands, which she used freely in gesticulation, " It's done again/' she , was saying gleefully. " The bushes are strewing the boreen. Won't Mr. Dry-as dust be fit to be tied ? " " A blazm' shame 1 call it," said Brannan, " an' I hope he'll ketch vvhoever's interfarin' wid his gjip an' give , him a latherin.' " , "Verdict of not guilty for you, Jamsie," ' quoth Alan. " He'll have to rise earlier to catch anybody," jeered Patsy. "He isn't awake yet. He doesn't rise till eight or nine. Fancy him asleep at six of a summer morning when you and I are working." " The divil a much we're doin,' " murmured Jamsie. " Well, we are up, aren't we?" , j " We are, worse luck." " And he spending these glorious hours in bed." " He ought to thank Providence that he can. Six is a cruel hour to rise. Here's me wid me eyes glued together, an' himself expectin' me to dig a dozen barrow-loads of praties afore a bite passes me fastin' lips. An' there's you that promised to pick afther me, not movin' hand or fufc. By the same token, if him self sees ye piekin' praties he'll go clane mad." " He will," she answered, " but I'd love to do something for you. I may have to ask you to do something else' for me by-and-bye." Jamsie's fringe of bleached whiskers bristled. "Oh, may ye? I don't, then. The things ye vvant me to do are things nnbecomin' to me age an' grey hairs. Why can't ye lave me alone? " Patsy's voice melted to a soothing dulcet tone. " I've only you to depend on in an emergency," she cooed, her eyes mistily soft as peat smoke at twilight. " I said no less to your sister Mary in the kitchen yesterday. ' Jamsie,' said I, 'is a dear. I'm not faulting you, Mary, bat you haven't Jamsie's tender, sympathetic rfature, and never will if you live tc be a hundred.' She wasn't pleased, but I didn't care, for I told the truth, and truth's a jewel." " Swallow that wad of butter, you old idiot," grunted Alan. The old idiot swallowed it, weakening visibly. , " Sure sl'd crawl to Dublin on me bended knees for . ye, acushla," he quavered. " God knows 1 would." " I'm not wanting you to crawl to Dublin, only to do me trifling services when I'm in a fix, and stop taking the Pettigfew person's part against me. Why on earth you stand np for him beats me He's frightfully uninteresting, and a milksop. Would you believe it.? —Simpson dresses him and combs his hair, even washes his face sometimes. What have you to say to that ? " " I say plump an' plain it's a lie." " I heard it from Con. Hartigan." " Con's a brainy, mvintive young rapscallion. Wish I'd the handlin' of him instid of the R.M. I'd tache him." " Be a toady." she scoffed. "I'd rayther be that than bad-minded," he retorted. " The man must have! bewitched you. Jamsie, or you wouldn't talk so nastily," cried Patsy, flifting protesting hands. "I'm for your good, -to cure ye of a bitther tongue, alanna." > "Is it 1 to be called bitter for repeating the truth I Perhaps you haven't heard Mr. Nick Boyle offered to sell him a horse for the hunting, and Petti grew said he didn't need a horse. He • was afraid he d fall off. Put that in your pipe now and. smoke it." " Did he tell Misiher Boyle he was afraid ? " " N-n-no, but I'm telling you, stupid.'" Jamsie sucked a blade of grass and stared into space. • " Afraid l ! she exclaimed, tilting her chin. " A clothes-horse or a nursery rocker would suit him. You'll find he'll sneak out of the winter skating when ha hears the bog lake has dangerous spots, and the shooting, too. I'll wager he doesn't know the stock oi a gun from the barrel," courting defeat in her fiery haste. Jamsie smote his thigh and laughed wheezily. " Trust a woman to twist the knife once she's got it into a chap she don't like! Didn't spite talk there? Is't Pettigrew not' to know guns and horses, an' him over yondher in the hellsmother of thim, sweatin' blood? Aw, g'long. Vex or plaze, I say to your purty, saucy face he's nayther coward nor milksop, aii' I'm affronted at ye tratia' him as if he was dirt. A mane opinion he'll have of Miss D'Arcy." "■lt can't be meaner than mine of him." " Och, maybe, but I notice he isn't frettin'." Jamsie emulating the turning worm was a new experience for Patsy. She wheeled round furiously. "On second thoughts, I'm sorry I praised you to Mary, and you can walk after yourself picking the potatoes, if vou're able. I've something better to do than dawdling here encouraging yonr idls gossip." "My gossip! The saints are witness that I'm heart-scalded wid yours, an' me head buzzin' Jike a hive of bees. As for promises broke, we'll say nothin' Away, ye decaivar, an' niver "conie nigh me more." I'm going," said Patsv. with noerb hauteur. Across her shoulder she flung pack at bim in accents languidly crushing: And I must request you, Brannan, to be respectful in your manner and lan guage, and to remember, when you speak nio< that you are speaking to Miss ' A rev, not to Mary or the byre-girl," Jamsie's drooped jaw and glaring eves convulsed Alan. " T *~ ie scene is changed," lie chuckled Serves you right, old boy, s for chamoioning rnv cause, and serves me right f nr lislentna I've earned the listener's reward Jove, but I'm fairly in the black books' I'm a noodle and a rotter, according to her and master Con. I'll wring Con's neck if he isn't cautious, and i won't let ' Stinrine Nettle's ' impertinences rankle T—T'll smile at them. l—oh. hang it all' I wish she wouldn't c *ick to my mind." He walked down to the village and iec ■ nrpri NT n n v carious! v. Nallv rebuked his 'mnatience FTe mend tho wall to morrow Tn vair Alan insisted that 'here was no time like the present Nallv «nid life was long, and hurrv killed as many as ever doctors did Onld Mr Heron hadn't worried over a trifle of a <?an. and wasn't he as well off as his hinder end the fine, aisv-goin' gintle tnnn 9 ff Mr Pettisrrew would be onlv half as aisy he'd pet his ioh attended to in due course There was one com *ort—nohodv could etm'l a bole in a wall. CHAPTER n. Strolling homeward in brilliant sunshine. girding at the morning's irrita tinns, Alan was' overtaken by Nick Boyle, on horseback. Nick reined up and gave him a sealed and perfumed en velope. " 1 was bound for he laid, wickedly a-grin. " I dined with the Clunv Mahons at the Chase last night, and a lady visitor of the Bellamys, who was present with them, and who knew you in London, asked me to deliver this billet-doux. A topping girl, a Miss Stella Marquis."

j " Stella. Marquis I " ejaculated v Alan, taken off his guard, and looking startled and confused. " You—er—surprise me! " " So I see, and, I trust, pleasantly," Nick replied. A handsome fellow was Boyle of Curlews, spare to leanness, brown as a nut, black-haired", blue-eyed, his straightlipped mouth a line of steel until it parted in a charming smile to show a dazzle of whitest teeth. Hard rider, hard drinker, hard liver, he had wealth and breeding to condone his wildness. His stables were extensive. His colours were familiar on every racecourse in the three kingdoms, and he was never happier than" when astride a saddle risking his neck as if he had the proverbial nine lives of a cat.

"It appears Mrs. Bellamy met Misu Marquis iu Wales a year back,'* he went on, stroking his horse's mane. " You are aware of the kindliness of Mrs. Bellamy. She % invited Miss Marquis to Ireland, and enjoyed her distinguished society till Bellamy went over to join his wife; then Miss Marquis tacked on to new acquaintances, However, a few days ago the lady wrote accepting that mildewed invitation, and followed swiftly on the heels of her letter. A very dear friend of hers had been left a property near Killyduff, she explained, and it would be a sheer delight to meet Alan Pettigrew again. You were the magnet that drew her to us. You don't seem flattered. Isn't sheer delight flattering from a dean's daughter ? " " A what ? " queried Alan, regaining composure, his 'eyes like narrow slits of cold, frosted granite. " Dean's daugh ter ? "

"'•Miss Marquis' father was a dean of the Anglican Church."

Disgruntled though lie was, that tickled Alan. He visualised Stella, a restless, vivid figure, flitting through the delirium of a brief furlough squandered madly, recklessly, as youth squandered those hectic interludes in the ghastly business of life. He had made love to her. They all had; but Parratt, the black-and white artist, was the only one who had been in earnest Bit of a duffer, Par ratt. A- child could have hoodwinked him how he had blubbered when it came, to the final scene, the last mom ents! Across memory's screen Bitted a blurred picture of Stella dancing on a supper-table littered with the debris of broken meats and glass, what time the hand blared and husky throats yelled a Sentimental ditty as the farewell dawn lit the streets' wanly in a scurry of rain:—

" It ain't so very far to the good-bye

gate, My honey, my love, my heart's delight, Where we all have to go when wo sing out the night, My honey, my love. My honey, my love, my heart's delight My honey, my love." And Paj-ratt cried wlule Stella danced. Where had she been since then ? What had happened since ? He knew nothing wrong of her, nothing really wrong, but he had been as big a fool as the rest of the fellows, and she had shared in the foolery; and he didn't want tawdry ghosts of the past to rise and recall to him trashy vapourings, sloppy sweet-stuff exchanged on the mut ual understanding that it was mere froth, the effervescent bubbling up of fevered spirits. Nor could he recollect having been, in one* single instance a special object of Stella's favour. Parratt, duffer and idealist, the sky man of the company, had been that for some inexplicable reason, and even with, him she had blown hot and cold by turns. After they went back to France Parratt had written to her regularly, and been pathetically eager for the arrival of English mails. He would have mentioned it had Stella evinced the slightest interest in the fate of "The Daily Signal's" ex-reporter. Then why this belated enthusiasm and "very dear friend" pose? Grange might have supplied the kindling spark. An exaggerated story of his luck, trickling through various channels till it reached her, had probably stirred her in nate greed The Stellas of the world were greedy harpies. In his recent sphere of work he had gleaned shrewd knowledge ol their ways. Nick twitted him on his expression. " Your scowl isn't complimentary to Miss Marquis. Fie! She spoke of you in terms 'of loftiest praise, and pencilled her note on the Cluny-Mahon's piano-top, borrowing Dick's private seal to press on the blob of wax Observe the impression —a frisky Cupid." " My -scowl is the outward sign of an inward struggle to establish a claim to Miss Marquis' friendship," Alan answered, a little hipped and disinclined for chaff. "I met her onseveral occasions, but ours was a superficial acquaintance, and of her antecedents 1 am ignorant. She doesn't know enough of me to praise or blame." The butt of Nick's riding-whip poked him in the ribs. " Pettigrew, if I've a fault to -find with you it is that you are sadly an romantic. You've got the materials for a gem ot a romance flung at your feet, and yoti view them with the cold eye of a codfish and declare there's nothing doing. I could wish you warmer-blooded Have you ever been in love, my stern Scots chieftain 1 " "Not 'I. T had other things to think of." " And your age, may, 1 ask "I " " Just left the thirtieth milestone behind " " Laddie, you'll catch it hot and heavy when it does come." "It won't come. I'm beginning to believe I'm fool-proof." " Wait till you see Miss Marquis at the ball. Mrs. Cluny-Mahon, urged on by Dick, is arranging to give a grand ball in her honour; evening dress de rigueur,' for we must live up to a dean's daughter and put our best leg foremost. You can't decline to go. A full rally is imperative. I'm popping into D'Arcy's to warn Patsy." He dismounted, looping the reins over his arm and walking beside Alan. "Three Irish fiddlers and a pianist will supply the music,' he informed him. "If you've never danced to the music of Irish fiddles you've never tasted sweet ecstasy." "I suppose," slyly, "Miss D'Arcy is a perfect dancer ? " "On a proper floor Patsy is a fairy dream " Alan stole a glance at Nick and sup pressed a grin What simpletons love made of the most virile men! > Boyle's heart was always on his sleeve. He looked a tatuous ass. " I'm blessed if I'd allow 5 Stinging Nettle ' to make an ass of me," reflected Alan. Aloud he said : 1 don't-dance much myseli, seldom had the opportunity while I was raking London for copy, but as* a decorative wallflower 1 may have toy. uses. Yfiu're mighty gay id Killyduff, aren't you V "Man alive, why wouldn't we be' We're here to-day and gone to-morrow, and aow's the time for high jinks I'd drive you to Cluny Chase aqd back, only 1 expect to have another engagement, but I'll lend you a' conveyance with a thousand welcomes." " Awfuiiy obliged, Boyle. The baggy and farm "horse 'will convey me, and I've no doubt it'll be a jolly night. Youi Irish hospitality exceeds its fame, and that's saying a lot. About that hunting mare you offered me"—his tone ela borately casual-—" I'll buy hei provided the price suits my pocket, and " " She yours," interrupted Nick. " We won't quarrel ovei the price. Fact is I was breaking her in for Patsy to ride to hounds, and had the gift thrown in my teeth, and I'd oell her fo/ a mere song sooner than be vexing myself look ing at her." The bold blue eyes smiled self-con scion sly, ruefully. ' Nick's loquacity * seemed to dry np at its springs. He sighed, and walked dumbly to the en trance to Bog House, holding out his hand there for a cordial shake. Alan re sumed his walk. He read Stella's letter and crumpled 1 it in his fist, swearing beneath his breath. She couldn't . have fancied he was serious. To pretend she did wa# ' an invention, like her tale of the paternal . dean, a ruse to corner him. She had imposed on the Bellamys, but she'd find him a tougher proposition. "I'll show '

, her I'm 'of different mettle," he 3 threatened. " I'll show her I'm not 0 another guileless Parratt either. She |Can't spin webs around me." ' 'He went in to breakfast, and under the stimulus of eggs and bacon and strong . coffee devised means of " taking down " , her assurance. Her speedy descent on . Grange to ascertain the effect of her > letter he was fully prepared for, but it 1 happened that she called with Mrs. , Bellamy m his absence and did"- not ! enter the house. When they had lgft cards Stella dallied on the weedy lawn, j critically surveying the externals, her , sued'&j-gloved forefinger pointing in all directions, and her tongue chattering aru- . matedly. "As if she was planning aik teraiions and repairs," Simpson reported, adding that the lady of the roving glances rnfede him ratty. The call was one cl a series for the purpose ol introducing Miss Marquis, and the tinny rattle of Mrs. Bellamy's cheap motor was heard m the land for a hustling week. Stella's clothes thrilled feminine Killyduff perhaps more than hei beauty, and brought Lome to Patsy a painful sense of her own dire pauper dom She., felt that although Stella seemed to see nothing she saw everything: the drawing room's peeling paper and faded carpet, the patch of plaster fallen from the ceiling, the frayed and patternless hearthrug, the cotton frock shrunken in the wash and too tight for the swell of her young bosom. Poverty had not cost her a pang hitherto, but now it mortified her, reduced her to a mute and mirthless Patsy who set Miss Marquis wondering contemptuously what N T ick Boyle saw in her. Stella's previous conviction that it would be folly to try to snatch Nick was agreeably shaken If this was the rivalry she had feared she need not hesitate to attempt his. conquest and make sure of two strings to her bow in case one failed her reckoning up her chances of success she pronounced them roseate. ear S'H " she murmured u. Mrs. Bellamy during their noisy progress to the nex* place of call. Mrs. Bellamy unfamiliar r -ith the Judas type of fe male, beam (id satisfaction. "So nice of you,'' she gushed. " Our local belle wasn t in her usual form, and I'though 1 you'd be disappointed." The problem of clothes for the ball routed Pafsv's fliscn cc^, l with the Hartigan girls—Jane, Eileen and Dora. They scouted her opinion that in Miss Marquis' fashionable vicinih they would look a pack of frumps. Jane the eldest, put on her considering cap and sent to town for journals descriptive of the reigning stvle in dress. Econoim had to be the watchword of the R.M ' womenfolk, hut thev possessed a sewinp machine, and clever artistic fingers. Old gowns past their pristine freshness be came the subject of excited debate. An orgy of cutting, fitting, and ensued. hronchf her well-worn ivory silk to be unpicked and cleaned and its defects hidden !>v 'see tv'mmingjShe ran errands tirelessly, pulled out basting threads, and hpafpd fl«tirnus til' her face was brick-red. Hugh D'Arcx had promised satin slippers, gloves and a fan. In his garden Con Hartigan nursed m® ( choicest rosebuds for her adornment H ke disgrace to KiTlvduF anyhow, said Jane, letting wearv Ita nd < fell in her lap on the evening preceding the date of the hall. But, oh, girls, I'm dead beat. We. cot «mrh short notice it' c been a race against time." Patsy carried her finerv home jubilantly and went to bed exhausted, to dream that Stella, dressed like the Oueen of Sheba, bent over her in her sleep, and i by a weird feat of legerdemain plucked the heart out of her living bosom, and ; trampled it underfoot. lj. She awoke smiling at the fantastic notion. Birds piped in the high hedge thickets, the snn "s'mne wsnnlv. and swung her naked feet on to the strip of , carpet bv her bedside feeling that it ; was a iollv old world with no end of fur I 'n it, and life was crood despite a ehromV shortness of cash. No foreboding of what was to happen before another day dawned cast its shadows on her bliss. Downstairs D'Arcv awaited late hrenk fast, a nervous man, coughing, clearing his throat., eyeing the clock. Impatient for lazy Patsy's appearing, he dreaded it eringinglv. " Did she / intend to sleep ! the whole livelong day ? " he asked Marv Brannan. | When at length she did trio in, and kissed him good-morning blithely, he had the queer wobbly sensation he called a sinking at the pit of the stomach, not unknown to cowards, moral and other wise. As she seated herself behind the Britannia metal teapot and began to nour he launched his bomb in a spasm of Dutch courage, and dashed the bright ness from her face

(To be continued daily.)