THE CRADLE-SNATCHER.

Oamaru Mail, Volume XXXIX, Issue 10671, 21 January 1911, Page 2 (Supplement)

THE CRADLE-SNATCHER.

(By Gouverneur Morris.)

first column, front page, of the Wening edition of the Augusta Chronicle had the Associated 1 re.ss Account of the accident: and, ■'■Mr'' member after mem hers of rthe Aiken Club dropped in for a rubber of bridge whist or an appetiser, the jgroxtp discussing the event grew t*» t!ie -proportions of a small mob. v ir.sr. each newcomer was told what had Jiapipened, and then he was given the newspaper and his expression and comments noted while lie skimmed tluoirjv, the article. And each time the in.n: door of the club opened the gentlemen ■lowered their voices and looked guilty until they were sure it was not Jimmie Shannon who had just come. • Meekin was authority tor the approximate number of millions set iree .%'• the accident from the incubus of the old eccentric who had gathered them. ..,, . ■ -: -'.'Last vear," said Meekin, '-the income from his Standard . Oil holdings alone was one million eight hundred thousand.' I know that for a fact.And his Tobacco must amount to as mucti more. It's one of the big fortunes ■ Goddard laughed nervously. "its -rather exciting having the thing come 'so close to us. Of course we knew that good old Jimmie would be well •fixed tome day; but his grandfather "was comparatively young for a grandfather and nobody ever expected him to die. ..,,-, ,i <n . ■'•"'' "We're not sure,-' said Carroll, how . Jimmie stood with his grandfather. "-The old man was a very particular pillar of his church, and nowadays, os everybody knows, the average pillar ot the average church is hollow. "A sort of pillar-sham," said Garrison weakly." .<+u«,"And vou see." said Carroll, there be posthumous wives and children and all that sort of thing. : - "Sure 1 " said Goddard. "I was going up to Scotland to a moor my Brother had hired and old man Shannon's car was hitched to the same ' train- . . Well, he wasn't travel-

ling-alone." . "Good-lookerr" asked Meekin. '."'You bet!" said Goddard. "Regn- . lar English tvpe. Five-foot 'leven, red hair peaches-and-cream skin, wonderful white teeth, bored expression, string of pearls, snarling lap-dog weighting, about half a pound. .Old Shannon had. a carnation in his buttonhole and a fancy waistcoat, and he was laughing and cracking jokes and making the lapdog snap at him I only wish the elders of his church could have seen - "They'd have done what Mark Twain did " said Garrison. He held his hands before his face —and looked through the fingers. -,'.[■•'' "I wonder," said Goddard,. how goon Jimmie will know just how well fixed he's going to be. He'll get a big'slice anyway—sure; and maybe the i whole kettleful. I couid use some '- ¥*You will, Goddard," said Meekin. "jpleasarit things with his money, and f'lui'U be wanting all his old friends ■i»-have a good time." Goddard shook his head. -V%--First : think we know, Jimmie'll -knarry; 'Arid' she'll do the entertain"ingj." - -•" --■ '"■.'.' ■••■*' . not the marrying kind," ■". 'said-Gray, who had just arrived. "He's ;:th«i bachelor ; type. : He isn't quite : -tbirtyy but he's-formed habits; so many cigarettes and no more; so many drinks : arid no more; so much losses at cards and no more; winds his watch'every afternoon of his life while his bathis drawing. And, worst of alii he can't talk to one woman; but two put him at ease, and for half a xlozen he can be quite'showy and brilliant. And then •he's really, fond of little children, and it's a curious fact'that men who children seldom become fathers." **"■ >"Pre noticed that," said Garrison dismally/ And everybody laughed, liecause Garrison was the father of seven arid- had been but ten. years married, arid was by no means rich. " • '"Ch,eer up, Garri," said Meekin. ; "Maybe Jim .will• adopt children and S-ake some off your hands." f-f The talk came to a sudden end and t-Ke" group broke up; some made for the " "card rooiri, others ordered things; to 'drink, others snatched picture papers '■■ arid settled themselves into deep

-..»... The Augusta Chronicle had been left : on.the big central table, : and Jim Shannon," who had just entered, went to' it and picked it up. The ''bold type of the headlines had caught his. eye half the length of-"the room away: " ' " ' v - Papers rustles and eyes stole furtive /glaiices at Shannon. His expression did not change. He read the article .through from beginning to end. Then he lobked at his watch. Then he caught Meekin's eye and smiled. -"•'■" Have you seen this?" he asked, tapping Augusta Chronicle with two fingers. ~ "Err-^seeh —what?" faltered Meekin, "with a fatuous expression. wi.'S'Why," said Shannon, and now hisface reddened a little with \ excitement,. grandfather has been killed in an automobile accident on —on the Corniche." i-'Meekin rose and came forward. "'"Dead?" he said. I ;'Shannon nodded.

-.-': '."Absolutely," said he; "skull frac- • tured and back broken. Poor old fel--'rMeekin cleared his throat. -."The pathetic part is," said Shannon, "is that there isn't a soul to cable or telegraph to and say that I'm sorry. Ho. wouldn't be friends with anybody." * "How old a man was he?" asked Meekin. .■;:-•_" Seventy-two or three," said Shannon; "and I'd always counted on at ..least eighty-odd for him." r.- "Jini,"- said Meekin, "it sounds a lit- . tie .awkward, but aren't you really to .bejcongratulated ?" -v-"Oh;" said Shannon, "I do hope bo,' as long as it had to happen, I do hope it' 6 going to be good for me. I've aftcays been-so beastly poor. .. . . They wouldn't dare print this if it wasn't true, would they?" - Moekin shook his head. ; . "Shouldn't" think so," said he. "Have a drink?" " "Thanks, I will. I feel a little shaken -.. I can't help think-; can't help thinking of the possibilities, and-^-brrr!" "He had it in bales," Meekm remarked pleasantly. "Too much," said Shannon. Much too-much. You know I don't ask for "-"Well, I hope you get it all, said Meekin. "What's your poison?" the time? Six-forty-five. TIT take a pink .'im." " "Two pink "uns," said Meekin. When the drinks were brought Meekin said quietly: . "Here's how, Jimmie. May your tribe increase!" . "I shall never marry, 6aid {shannon.

H. When :v man. going on thirty, feels sure that he will never marry, it means one of two things: either he has loved too nuicb or he has never loved at all. Jimmie Shannon was in the second category. Several girls had attracted him for a season or so, but never to such an extent as to interfere with ' his general good health and happiness. And it had always seemed to him that the best examples of happy marriages among his friends left something to %e desired. lie believed theoreiieallv in trial marriage, but such practical experiments along these lines as were- brought to his attention shocked him. jimmie had worked in an office for five rears; then his mother died and left him master of a few thousands. a year, and he promptly severed con- > nectioDs with work —income-producing; •work— and prepared to amuse himself in a quiet aid gentlemanly way fcr tne

rest of his life. Ho was fond of shooting and cards, of reading and flowers, of golf and horses. He was very cleanminded, as men go, and something of an innocent. Privately lie attributed this to good taste rather-than to any particular strength of. moral fibre. "Icould be as! bad-as the. worst,.:-he once said, "if badness wasn't so very °At the back of his head somewhere was the fixed notion that some day, through his grandfather, he would tall heir to great'riches: and it had amused him, while waiting, to live strictly within the little that he had instead of compromising the future. He was an excellent manager and, without meanness, i made one "dollar do the work of two. Then out of a clear sky the grandfather was killed and there came presently to Shannon an abstract of the old gentleman's will—drawn fifteen years earner —and at about the same time some reporter for a New York paper wormed a look at the eccentric document and the curious predicament in which Jimmie Shannon found himself became public property. Everybody wondered what he would do, and. most of ail, lie won-

dcred. ~ . .■ , r , Briefly the will was to this effect. The whole of the grandfathers propertv —praeticallv the whole—was. to become Jimmk-'s. hut not until Jimmie had passed his thirtieth birthday ; and if b> that time Jimmie had not had the Rood ,cnse to marry and settle down, then the property was to no to i ale Haivard the" Presbyterian Hospital, and divers institutions and chanties. "For Heaven's sake, Jimmie, said Aleekin. "what are you going to do. "Well," said Jimmie ,m a stonily calm voice, "I shall be thirty years old nest month. That gives me not so many weeks in which to comply with the terms of the will. What can I.do? Nothing. I've just got to go on and live mv life as if this precious fortune had never concerned mem any way. ._•,' "Surely," said Meekin, "the courts will do something for y0n."... : . . "Not unless I ask them to.;- > "And you won't?" ~ ' : v-i "Of course not. How would yoiUike to die feeling that your wUI would be set aside by anybody that didn't happento like it? I've been brought up to believe that a will is" a, will."- ' :■ ■ ■ "Is your bringing up worth seventy or eighty millions to you?'''■.:■■• - , "Of course," said; Jimmie, • it nasn t been such a much of a bringing up; but it's my own and nobody can take it awav from me except myself.W •- \ "Jimmie," said Meekin,- "is marriage —well advised if hasty—out: 1 of ; the: question?" . \',' ■■:." . , : '," "There," said Jimmie; -"you interest me; but unfortunately I don't love-any-' bodv; and though that extract that got into" the papers has brought me love letters from all over the place, I seem to perceive a lack of sincerity in them. He burst out laughing. "Meek," said he, "I've something like a hundred photographs in my room at this minute, of girls who say they are willing t<s marry me." His eyes shone merrily. "Some, of them are pretty.. I might take a*chance. Yes?" ".. ; "What sort of - letters do .they write?" asked Meekin. "Warm, mostly," said:i Jimmie:; "Mostly they've seen- me 'somewhere in the summer of such and such a year, and haven't been able to sleep' a wink since. And again. some of them write reproving letters. Some are girls in boarding schools." "Any locals in the batch?" asked Meekin. ; : " -': V.; . V

"The ladies of Aiken;" said Shannon, "seem to know me.too well. There are no local applications; The nearest is from charming _ young widow. That is how. she describes herself." ■"•'...■.''

He pulled her letter from his pocket. - " -.- "It's my favorite so far," ho said, and proceeded to read an .extract in which the ..charming young widow described herself as ardent, affectionate and well fitted by birth, nature and education to adorn the highest circles in the land. "Circles/-: he;commented, "is spelled with a ' u.'"- : '_■ '••■-. Jimmie invited Meekin to. his room, and there regaled him for an hour with the letters and photographs of the various candidates. When, the two friends had laughed, and said as many cynical things as seemed good.to them, they fell into a serious vein of conversation. Meekin began it. - "Jimmie," said, "for Heaven's sake don't let this business slip, by -you if you can possibly meet. i,hc required terms. Now : just listen.- I'm not Satan trying to tempt—give me credit for that; but isn't there some girl you ■ know that you feel as if you could make a continental' sort of marriage with and get along happily with ? Only listen. I don't advise a bud in the rosebud garden of girls. They've got to have their chances at genuine romance if there is such a thing; but think up sonio older- girl—sensible, good-natured, good-looking —and take vonr proposition to her —yes, in cold blood—and'ask her how it looks to her. Tell her that we- are a business-loving nation and that this is a business proposition. Make her end of the bargain 16ok good to her. There are lots, of fine girls who wanted to marry .and didn't, and who'd, rather have a quiet, good-tempered husband who didn't love them, and whom they didn't love, than ho husband at all. I tell you you hare no right to sit. still and let this money fall into the pockets of Johnny Harvard and Elihu Yale. . . And I tell you'no matter'whore a marriage begins it always ends up in a sort of cold-blooded arrangement. "Why not begin the thing where it ends ? Instead of romance, yachts;, instead of sion',: the infinite -possibilities of doing good' on a big scale, of helping- others, of-being a great figure in the world." . • "If you had a sister,'' said Jimmie, ""of the uncertainage arid, allure of your example, would you advise her to accept me?"-'.. ■. ' "I'd beat the life out of her if she wouldn't," said Meekin grandly. "Yes, you would .'"Jimmie answered his friend: •'•- • "Never, mind that," said Meekin. "You've got several weeks to make good in, and if you don't I for one pass you up as- a silly, weak-minded fool. The trouble is you're- plain scared to make the-proposition. But she can't !do anything worse -than : say ' No'; and : theh you can- try: somebody else." "Meek," said Jimmiej isn't a girl in -America, a' respectable girl -of good family', who would t;ake me up on this proposition, -and. you knpw.it. You ought ; to rejoice in it : The one thing we Americans have got to recommend us is the disinterestedness of our women.-" ■ ■'■'.'„„ "Will you put it to the proof?" shouted Meekin: "Will you put- it to the proof?" * - - ■' '. Jimmie caught Meekin by the shoulders and shook hirii. - • . _ "Shut up, you ass!" he said.' ' '.'l don't think".l 'shall, put it to the proof. I hope I shan't. .But if you," can keep a secret, Meek, I'll tell .you one—l don't- know, I don't know/-:T don't:, know." ', r . ' '.-' '" v :■■'- ---.r? :

111. Several days passed. This is not a casual statement but an expression of speed. Oldfield in his torpedo-shaped car making speed in the lap of the Lord; the youngest aviator' in the newest aeroplane —these are but tortoises in the sight of time. How a given date gallops down upon the unprepared!—the day in June upon the sad bride who is not marrying for love ; the first of any month upon almost any man of family. There hadn't been many days of grace wherein Jimmic Shannon might eomplv with the terms of his grandfather's will. Several of these days. had passed. And those that remained were stampeding toward him like a herd of wild horses. At .first he had felt pathetic. He was in reality half stunned, and only half conscious of what lie wanted or of what lie didn't want. Suddenly he came to: saw the furiously swift approach of his birthday, and that full oiii) of wine, which his grandfather had !of't uulasied. about to bo snatched from him. You may call it. if you like, a weak- | cniim of the moral fibres. Perhaps the photographs and proposals that he received by every mail broght him a contempt for the. human race as a whole, ('•-rtaiidy his friends were, all urging him to a sudden, loveless marriage. He. tried to put- himself in sympathy with continental customs, and to some extent succeeded. "All for love, or the world well lost." 1 was a line that had always pleased his ear.

Now it seemed that the world was to | be as well lost, with love by nothing the better for it. "Why," he asked ■ himself, "should I be a martyr to something that I have never experienced?" He felt as a pagan may have felt who, through some error in persecution, had been mistaken for .an .curly Christian and tossed to the lions. It's sure that the pagan died for Christianity, a belief of which he had probably never py<m heard. It looked as if Jimmie was v> lose a great fortune for Jove's sake —a passion with which, at the very strongest, he had but a nodding acquaintance. Placed in Jhnmie's fix, nine men out of ten would at the very least think of marrying. Picture yourself single, miserably poor, and eighty millions dangled ' under your nose, to be all voui-s on the paltry condition that you marrv. If you had a year you would probably manage ; and of course a man of aplomb and savoir-faire could do a; groat deal in half a day. It was not until Jimmie's limit was reduced to ten days that he actually made up his mind* to marry —if the tiling could be managed ;. but, of course, at certain obviously easy arrangements he drew the line. His marriage might have to be cold-blooded and of convenience ; but there must be nothing degraded or disgraceful about it. The girl must belong to his own class; she must have dignity and good sense ; she must be of an ago to know her own mind in "Well, it happened that, winter that three girls answering to this general description were to be found at Aiken. They were well bred, well groomed, not so:fiehas to be. beyond the influence of money, and were what are sometimes termed-good sporjts. .-Miss Windsor, m particular, was a; very fine bridge player.'"'./.' Miss 'Merri'man's forte was golf;". Miss : Carlisle^,:■;horses, vj All three we're sensibhV: and matter-or-iact. If "they-had Jj'eeh; romantic ..they must have. marriecKlong';since,, for they-had a great'excellence of looks, fine ; skins, fine teeth and .long, strong .limbs: Failing in romance they, were nraying and /none too.';briskly-;:along 1 the well-ordered.-path that leads to maidism;.:; ;The: ... Micate; "Which •?" was-answered by:the - pie in Miss Carlisle's chin,. It had ,-ipr_ Jimmie a genuine ■. charm-.'. '■■■ It affectcd : him to this extent: if-'he: must marry; •then by all means let his wife have a; dimple ; in-lier chin.-.• V :-;■■? ■■■-■■■-■.■"£■;■ tf, - He despatched; a .note asking, if- she would ride with him.that afternoon- at; five. -The .-answer was: v- "With, pleasure'.": ••: ;::■■>. •'■ ;: --' y -/°& :: 'S£'-L, '' 'v .... Since the ./deaths of ! his grandfather; Jimmie had only seen, her. .once to talk, jvith her. y. He had, on< that > occasion very much enjoyed the frankness with: which she had broached the subject o| .his predicament. r Theyntaid; laughed about it with> genuine the dimple had sparkled, you may say ._„, ■'"•■' Though he was= not late by a second,, she was already-in the Saddle,- waiting for him. They' walked their pomes up the Whisky Road toward the Golf Club, and ;*Jirhmie, a little warm- with; shame but oil the "whole clear, easy and collected, began at once his first proposition of marriage. '.'■■■■' r '."■•, '-.-' - -"Lilly;" he said, "I've picked-you but ! from all niy friends -to - be.- the_ recipient of a doubtful compliment'. '■';«' ill you hear me to the end of it, and let ino do what 1 can with'•'the-pro's'.and. cons of it,, and .then .tell, me faithfully and ; as ' kindly as you can what you think of-i-tf" •■', - _' _'.: . .'- "•••-'- She bowed her graceful head. -Jne dimple-darkened in- her chin.-; Maybe she didn't know-what was coming. "Jimmie," said' she, "as'the-Jang said: ' Begin" at the beginning, go on to the end, and then stop.'" -

-...':. -.-IV.."'' -.:. ,':;■' ''■:. "■! ' ■■'• "By the terms, of my grandfather's will," Jinlinie began, paused, and made another beginning. "Hang it ~ all, Lilly!" he said; "if-I'm not married, before I'm thirty' I'll be out- seventy or eighty millions,.more orjess.- That s not the worst of. it.. I can stand it; It doesn't matter about me. I myself, can do very well on very'little... The tragedy of it- is that some charminggirl stands to lose her share of ■ all this money through", the' 'lamentable ifect of her hot being married.to ine. :Wben I first learned about the will I regarded the conditional clause as .a-thing 1 couldn't possibly'comply with; but, you see, I'm naturally selfish. I was only thinking of myself. Then I" began to think: 'Stop a'little;-this does not concern ;you alone". There's an unknown, a charming unknown, concerned in it. For lack'of an, ardent nature, of because of a cold disposition;, if.you like it better. I "am. casually:, disposing of an enormous suni of money in which I have only a half interest. ■ Here are fortv millions of dollars - belonging to Susan, or to Polly, or to Meg; and I;, applauding what I thought to be my own disinterestedness, was for, taking them away- frohi her arid presenting them to Yale and Harvard." .- Re paused. Miss Carlisle smiled. "Am I "still listening?'' she asked.

"Or is" it time for comments?" \ "You are- still listening,?.' said-Jim-mie. "That was V- just preamble,, to show you that what follows—on the face of it a selfish proposition—is at heart the decision of a'-noble: and generous nature." He laughed.- :She laughed. ''My sole object in life," ne went on, "is to find the girl that this money belongs to and-to give it to her, together-with my name-and address. Do you, Lilly, by ; any : chance, know who this girl can possibly be ? Do you think that any girl who had known me fairly well for a number of years could look' me and my proposition in the face? Could you, Lilly ?'Lilly, can. you?" - - :. - ■ ': -' , Miss Carlisle bit-her - lower lip; thoughtfully, then shook her head. •.--- - "I don't think I could possibly marry you," she said. "I'm sorry. It seeins a pity.; a wilful waste; 'Never was such a chance .at easy money." She sighed deeply. "But, no,.- Jimmie. But, no." : ' ■■ "Why not ?" he said petulantly. "Always supposing you are not actually ; n love with another man, why not ? -As you say, it's easy money. The money's easy, "and, though- I say, it that shouldn't, I think you'd -find me ,an easy man." ' She gave" her.; ; reasons, blushing

slightly. - ; .;• iv -■. ""' '■-■'' . "To stand up ; with a man._in church isn't a marriage.;- : To -live afterward' in" that man's "house 'on terms of a casual friendship, would Apt be ; _ a marriage. Your grandfather's;-will callsfor a quibble; for; a pun, fori a play .-On. words. You and I are. too old to play at false modesty. To marry a man, Jimmie, I- should have to love 'him so hard that I didn't care what happened.''- ~- • '.■':■ ■■ .'-'■' ■■■ f ;-j-".■■'-?" - "To go through.:a ; ceremony-ahd;iJib; pretend,afterward' that, we were a manand his; wife .would --be.- cheating,; wouldn't it ?'■'■'■ -He' spoke -with much; gravity. :'■_■ "And you say only pretend-.;j iri£ would be possible .to you. ; My dear'j giri> I -respect - your reasons. and/.yqur "punctilious, sense of- honor; but. it's-all: very disappointing.'' .' " v ' -.:■'■■:' '-In; a year or said she;:' "l shall be what; is called 'an-old girli'. There isn't now one chance in a million that I shall ever have a romance; but to be loved, and to .love back—oh,I woiildn't give up my one chance in a million for all the money in the world! That is my real reason." "And that reason too," said Jimmie,

"I revere and bow down to. I wish to God I loved you, Lilly, and that you loved me back." "It would be so easy to love back, at my age," she smiled; "so pitifully easy. Shall we gallop?" Once more they were walking their horses, and they came upon a bunch of wilted flowers that some one had dropped in the road or thrown away. "Do you see those flowers, Jimmie?" she said. In a few years I'll be like one of them. It's rather pitiable, isn't it ? Y'et they have the better of me, for while I am to wither where -I grow, they have been gathered. They have been worn !" "Is it out of all reason, Lillv," he' said, "to hope that love might happen to us—if —if " She shook her head a little sadly. "Lilly." lie said; "lovely flower. I should gather you with awe and wonder. I should wear you with an exalted pride." . "It won't do, Jimmie," she said; "it won't do." Half an hour later he was telephoning to JTiss Windsor. Would she go driving with him after dinner? There would be. a moon —not full, only slightly tipj.v. The answer was: "With pleasure."

'•By the terms of my grandfather's will," Jiininie began; but Miss Windsor interrupted him with a laugh. "Don't you think, Jimmie," said she, "that the'night is much too romantic for anything in-it-he. nature of a coldblooded- conversation?"

"Would you rather hold hands," said \, "and tell stories of the sad deaths lu kings? —or whatever the-line is?" "Very much rather," she said. "Onl ,\ have been too well brought up to jld hands and not well enough to iow anything about history." y "Hasn't money in very large quanties a romantic appeal?" he asked. And she agreed with him, saying Tremendous. It has always seemed a > the few- examples we have : foregoing large sums of money ioi j :i idea, for a principle, have a strong jloring of true romance." "To me," said Jimmie, "it's just the „ pposite. It's the getting a large sum h lat seems romantic, not the giving it p." . . ■ h "That," said she —"you'll forgive jny- j lying so —is because you've led-rather eool and heedless life. I don't be- j eve you were ever in a difficulty until s liis question of inheritance appealed v, n fluster you. And it isn't your fault ( you'd ever been one thing or Iho p th'cr the will would have been one j liing or the other." h "How do you mean?" he asked. b "I mean," said she, "that if you had g listinguished yourself for virtue the Qoney would have been left you out- I ight; and if you had distinguished ourself for vice you would have, been i :ut off ill a complete and efficient-way." "And this," said Jimmie,. somewhat t nortified, "is your idea of a romantic :onversation. To me it seems more like >eing rapped over the knuckles by a — < i schbolmarm." V- . ■ -,-,.--. ■• 7 : . She laughed and said: . ' "You. have guessed my age (to a ijcety." ; ' ; : i v t '•'Forgive- me," he said-; -but am 1 really ,a. nothing^nothing;;Miey/vyay—nothing the other?" :,:■: - J - : ":\- : ■.:■■". ■ ■ "You are: clean;?'ishe: said,..'.'and-. presentable i- That iis w^', "Wliat/sh6uldlbbe,^^;l^ : asked;. 'if, in, order t'o:keepthis money,:l»:rnarried a girl-I didn't love?''"- :"--'. ..} "-■ ".. .'.-That : would-: be -i being:-.- something positive,"-'said? Miss Windsor;-' - : "So'wouldigiving-atcup,'* saidhey ' It looks as if I'd Teaelted-the: -parting of the -way's^:. as iii£ .cbuldn't' help ceasing to be negative-fif T?.wanted;to^ 7 . "Do. ybti' really;waflt--the money so very, much ?"-'she Tasked> r ';" : ; -v • ■ -•-••'■-Fvef.;never- really wanted anything very, r much ?";-she a'sked:' -- -".; : . "I've; never reaUy-wanted anything very:nru;ch, J '' he confessed;;"but I have a; feelings.thatrdirectly I'd lost: the nioney-'l' might begin to want it, so that:it hiirt.'- And already' the possibilities of a great income have begun to touch; what I am pleased to call my imagination. Alices—-" 'He paused '..-' "Well?" said she. ;- ': ' -"I really want the -money.' Will you give it to me'?"/ : "I can't deny,"' ■ she said quietly, "that; the moment you telephoned, the possibility of your asking; this favoi of me presented itself. So my answer isn't unconsidered; Of course I'm poor, as people go, arid I'm getting on; so, even .if you w;eren't half ■ as. good company and half' as presentable "as- you are, T should-give your proposition a lieari'ng. -Why; we married —if we married — Jimmie,- would be-obvious to every one. We 'should be -compared to sharpers conspiring- to worst an old man. That, however;! could stand. People wouldn't ■say things to'our faces, and our money would buy us that homage in which, all '.'rich/Americans en( i D J T believing. I -might object to marrying you on the ground. that it's altogether too coldblooded. : ' ; ■-'But I think I could l stand, .that.; Every "sound girl who doesn't marry isjust so much'good material' gone" :to waste. -The girls who don't" marry feel this very acutely, Jimmie. :I cdniess for the whole tribe. Arid I confess to a natural curiosity to knowvfhat Me wine in the cup of life tastes like. Probably I never shall. Indeed the near 'certainty is positively'Jiumiliating. ' For' these reasons it - occurred to me,, when' I first took.;the liberty of proposing to myself on your behalf, to. say.'Yes.' But reflection, Jiinmie, at first full of doubt, ended finally in dis-; appointment. I can't see my way to. marrying you." ':.-; ."It .seems to me "he began, but: she'interrupted. ■ '■'You-are too young," she said. "We are of the same age," said he. ,'.' Actually," she said, '-'but not potentially. Some,time or other, Jimmie, a man is destined or doomed to fall in love. -From, eight years of age till fiftyhe is ripe for this miracle.. I couldn't bear to marry;a man who didn't love me." 1 couldn't bear to be married to a man .wko liad ..fallen in love with somebody else." . :. "Oh," he exclaimed, "that iisn't a reason.!" . - - . ,; ....-- -

"It isnot," she said; "it is,a nightmare. And yo.Ui Jimmie, where would yqu : be, for all your minions, with; me hanging round your -neck' like: a niillstone and you trying to swim to Hero's light- oil:. the : other side of the-Helles-pont? You, would lie too honorable to throw me over; and—and -can't; you see-that our merry farce of the twosharpers . and the old man's . money would end in tragedy?" > For a-while::they drove *6n, saying nothing. Presently : ... Miss "Windsor spoke: ' .",; ..'... "You ". would curse the chains of' gold that bound you,. Jimmie. You might even go mad. Have you the slightest conception of what wanting some one means?-" " '

"No," he said; "not the slightest." Miss Windsor sighed. "When .you do want her, Jinimio," she said, "God help you if you don't got her!" , You think that immense wealth would have in it no power to comfort?" he asked. . "Absolutely none," said she. ~» "But from love," said Jimmie, "even if it stings pretty badly at the time, people recover." - "Not from true love," said Miss Windsor: She hesitated, then confessed very frankly.

"I was once engaged to be married. We had to wait until lie had earned money enough to be married .on. He died. And so, realising that life can hold nothing real in it for me, I seriously entertained your fantastic' proposal of' a cold-blooded conspiracy between us two. And for my own part I'm still

§ame. But on the off chance that some ay you'll want somebody as I have wanted somebody, I say 'No' —one large 'No' for each separate dollar in aIL your millions of dollars. And this is final."

. "Xou are throwing me-down for my sake," said Jimmie. That's rather noble." ' "Man—man!" she said; "how dull you. are! How incomparably dense! Do you think I should have any consideration for a man who tried to buy me -as a Turk buys a Georgian?" "If not for my sake," said - Jimmie, "nor for yours, for whose, then?" "Comatose one!" said Miss Windsor. "Why, for—Hers!"

,VI. Miss Merriam was the eldest of a large family, for which she was always doing.the chores: housekeeping for Mrs Merriam, an invalid of convenience ; appeasing headmasters on account of younger brothers; managing her father's stable and keeping the .eye of a better angel on the balance in his cheque book. Between times she managed to play a. first-class game of golf. The morning after his rejection by Miss Windsor Jimmie called her up by telephone and asked her to play golf with him at eleven. She refused, pleading a multiplicity of home engagements. "Sorry," she said, "but we're expecting Harry Trevor and his sister to spend Easter holidays with Jack and Jill; it means turning the house upside down to make room. . Mamma isn't feeling very well " "Why, Ann," objected Jimmio. "they're only kids: let 'em sleep in the hayloft, and you come and play a. nice twosome with me.'' "Sorry." she said, "but our hay is baled—no't nice to sleep on. Ask me another morning. Since when were you so keen on golf?" "I'm not keen on golf," said Jimmie. "I want to talk to you." At her end of the telephone Miss Merriam smiled. "Oh," she said, "if that's all! I'll tell you—come for me about noon and drive me down to the station. The northern train is due at twelve-fifteen ; but it's seldom less than an hour late: we can talk while we wait. At least

u can talk; you said you wanted to] !k to me." At twelve sharp Jimmie drove his nabout up to Merrinms' front door, f r •, iiinibout In 1 o\ on tiling that an n] Km nmaboiii. oii'iht to line except e JiUl" iit_ro ' 'i ) sit* in the back i a iijuy i ltn'i ps.i ii undamed legs j, i 7 "\i ti ri n i she took hei seat t ' I till Ol 11-MOll << Jlu\ i* all coming b\ the same j in ' s.lu vnd. •'without a chaperon, i iu \ou cvei <-ceu lutle Trevor'"' The big Trevors," said Jimmie, \<lio gicat ti lends of m\ father, but ip )ie\ci seen the little ones. Nice y tK J ' b June " said Miss Mcinam, js a d loi tins j ear only. She is seven en Next -sear she will come out id be a famous beauty That will be ick's first tiagedy " „ 1 "A bad case s " Jimmie asked. "Oh, well," said she, "next veai he ill go to college and that will give , in a fresh niteiest in life " "Yetv," said Jimmie "But, oh, " to voung' Oh, to be going to college ram'—for the first time." "Don't talk nonsense," said Miss [emani "Drive tluougli ' Hoiry « ieet, wd -\ou° I want to see Miss J 'llkms' Banksia losei.' Miss Wilkms' lose ocupied its old i Dsition and a few new ones Onb ere and there could a fragment of t ouse be detected under the mass or urning yellow and bright, shining j reen , ~ , ~ , "Always worth a detoui," said Miss j leriam "It I were lich," said Jimmie, turn- j ig lus head foi a last look at the loses c I'd plant Banksias fiom here to 1 here, and back again.", i "liow about it, an>way J she asked. . 'The being rich again, I mean Is it juite true, Jimmie, that jou 11 be i hirty in a few days?" "['ll be thirty," said Jimmie, and 'm not mainod." "What a pity l " she exclaimed. 'Nowadays theic aie so many single T '"Awful, isn't it," said he, "to think 3 f letting all that money slip 0 " "Quite too frightful'" said she "Don't do it " '. "How can Ipi event it J ho asked "Atanj," she said, "and be quick about it I There's nothing shameful in a man rage of convenience Peisonalh' I approve oi the continental idea Jimmie was immensely encouraged, but he was in no hurry to let this appear "And for myself," he said, "I don t disapprove, but a man's got to think of the girl's point of view. One might feel, foi instance, that I was depnving her of a chance to make a love match Another might feel that she was depnving me of the same chance Is theie nothing a little degrading in the idea of a loveless mamage 5 Miss Merriam smiled blandly "It's a little degrading, yes, she said "I feel that. Once I felt it vei} stiongly. Each year I feel it less Here Jimmie spoke—not to Miss Meiriam but to himself. "Jimmie, he said, "this woman is about to pi°P°so to "\ou. Better spaie her that. lo herhcsaid "You talk sense I alwajs said so. And, so far as I know, you pi actice w hat you pi each Othei people don't Othei people talk sensibly and act foolishly, but vou aie diffeient lou have the courage of your convictions. She nodded. They had reached the station, and Jimmie brought his horse to a standstill • in the deep, red dust tinder the shade of a great oak tree. "Ann," he said, "we've always been •rood friends, haven't we? Always good comrades? Of me you know, at least, that I'm neither dissipated nor an out-and-out brute, and potentially that I am enormously : rich:.:' If you wdl marry me I'll settle half the money on you without let or hindrance of any kind. And vou shall live where and how- you will. Is it good enough?" "I like you," she said, "for putting the matter so baldly.. What I said about continental marriages, my convictions, and so" forth, is perfectly true. I And I should, be quite ready to act up to them but for oiie things " Jimmie drew a long breath. "And what is that?" he asked. "I hate to state it," she said.; "It s suck an essentially feminine reason. let's have it," he said; and he. smiled. .'.'.•'., . "Jimmie," she said, "I just don t want to. All my life I've been doing things that I didn't want to. do. Ivow this turns up. I don't 'want to do it "and I'm'going to afford myself the selfish luxury of not doing it." > Jimmie laughed. "There go eighty million's, he said — "your forty and • mine^—like , ducks scared by a "gunner." '." . ._ "Oh!" she exclaimed; "don't saythat 1..-am your laststraw. Surely Lilly Carlisle or " * A time had come to Jininiie, when it seemed well to. lie. "My last straw," he said, "and iriy. first." "•.'/'.■' ■ ,-i

"Don't think tnat i aont appreciate," she began gently. Far off there sounded the whistle of the approaching train. "Jimmie," she said quickly, ■ "you must find some one!" '"Ann," he said, "it would be a good thing 'for your family. Have you thought of that?" "I have seldom,' if ever, an opportunity to think of anything else," she said. "And you won't do it." "No," said she; "I won't." "Anyway," said Jimmie, "thank you for listening to mc and being so polite about, it." "Nonsense!" said she. "What," said he suddenly,, "would you do about it if you- were in my place?" "Well,", she said, "I wouldn't let the money slip.- Candidly I'd try everybody here and then I'd post up to New York; and—oh, somewhere; ■ Jimmie, there must be a grateful, grateful 'Yes' waiting for,you." The train pulled slowly in. Personally Jimmie was partly of Miss "Mer"riam's mind. His grandfather's millions and marrying in time to obtain them represented now a game of some sort, at which he was being beaten. He was good at games; a hard man to downskilful and resolute. Should he give up ■now and quit, discouraged? Better take the next train for New York and settle the matter out of hand. Already he was making a. list of girls to whom he could feel free to present his proposition. The list was alreadv as long as his arm. ... .Then suddenly young people began to pour out from the train upon the platform. Jack and Jill Merriam —yes, that must be the Trevor boy, he looked so, like his father; and the girl to whom Jack Merriam was trying to give his helping hand, and who was quite capable of getting off a" train without help, that jnust be the Trevor girl, but she did not look like anyone that Jimmie had ever seen To this'day he-cannot tell anyone what she looked like at/that moment —what she looks like now. Something seemed to warm him through and through He had not been introduced to her befoie ' all thought of leaving for New Yoik by that night's train had evaporated ra his mind. So the sun burns up unwholesome mists in the morning The joung people piled into a station waggon and drove off. Jimmie followed with Miss Merriam He seemed, like a man intoxicated with animal spirits. , Ho had her laughing uncontrollably befoie they had driven a block ,For the first time in her lite she thought that lie v, as handsome —dangerously handsome. "And so that," little Miss Troior was Fuiug "is the famous Mr Shannon th.it evei\body is talking about'' "He doesn't look like a. man who'll do what eipi-\b(id>'s betting he will do." "Did yon . see old Ann?" Jack *ins\w»ud "I'm on to hei all light' Oil lilh, it she onlv l.inds him won't you and I be rich!" "Ann wouldn't hind a perch," said 3111 "unless ilie was in love with it Ah mbei old Gogglesticks 2 Hewantedin bad enough and he had millions; but good old Ann wouldn't.Jiave it." C'liildicn ' ■-ud litt'e Tiewir, ' 1 in (i i/\ iboiii \ikf n Mm kH - slid T<uk "W nt until I show \ou Lomms' Line He blushed lo i!k loot- or Ins hin Ijool ' ' e\< 1 limed little Trevor. '"A mammy! a genuine mimm\—m uiHoiitHjv i tihlt m.niinn with a turban!" There were two vivid flashes: ilie exquisite child—she was little more—and the old negress, a rreature hewed, as it were, from ebony, had signalled to each other, according to that heliographic code which is known and practised the world over among kind and friendly ■heart.*. .1

■ VII. Mcekin, waiting lunch for Shannon at the Aiken Club, had never seen his friend in such a happy and youthful mood . "Almost," he said ' \ou act as if a latei will, qmte fice tiom imbecilities, had been found Vh.-t's new J " "I'\c had a hunch,' said Jimmie "The old man was light Eveiv man of thutv who knows what is good-for lum is a married man" Mcekin was filled with awe and won"Aio \ou diunh' 9 " lie asked "Have the hca\ens fallen -0 Have 3011 been bitten h\ a seipeuj o " "An astounding thing has happened, said Junmie, hilaiioush "But lust, am 1 speaking to a lnend whose cars are wide open and whose mouth is tight &lmt°" - "You know it," sua Aleoliin "Full well 1 know it," said Jimmic, "and of olet listen, old shutmouth I have seen a gill that I am going to marry.. T have seen a girl that I want to manyi" /" "Then you donit have to tell me, said Mcekin, "that she is a gill vou have never seen befoie. Name, please "Ijene," said Jimmic, "one beiutihu name fol'lowed b\ anpthei— Tievoi " Mcekm's amused e\piession changed to one of. shocked mci cduhtv s "Jimmie," ho said fiimlv, "I've neicr legaided vou as a noble poison, but, bv Geoi"e' I've alwavs counted onion to do the right thing She's oiih a kid, not out . Oh, peihaps v>u can pcisuade hei into it, and peihaps voii can pcisuade hei people into it Hut to me, and I'm no sticklei, it's shocking, it's a» outiageons pioposition Aie vou by any chance ' "She gotjoft the tiam with the Meinam kids," said Jimmic, "1 was at the station with Vim to meet them Have j ou seen hei J She was the last off Jack 'Mcmnm was loi helping hei She wouldn't have it It's a cliit\ jouinej heie. She was cool and iiesli —like celeiy. I can't desu ibe hei face I know this the minute 1 siw her I tinned warm alLo\ei with the sti august feeling I 7t was a new feeling fo me It was giatitude I was giatehil foi the woild and even thing in it But mosfh I was gtateful Toi liti It was is li she had "been sent If not, wh\ at tins particulai cnsis was I at the station meditatmg cold-blooded things when she came out of the tiam ? If not wbj am I drunk Tjjth the spint of vouth'' If not, win is m> hand shaking so*" Shannon's hand, w Inch he extended over the table, shook like that ol a man who had had man\ bad nights But Meelon said "You call it 'being sent ' 1 call it ci adlc-snatching What are jou going to do 0 " Jimmie's eves widened with astonishment. - ""Why, many hei, oi comse 1 " said he "You can't fall m love, couit and main 'i k'd m * l couplt ol weeks, the wav you can an eldei sist< > oi an eiring sistei Many Ann, if slu II 'uc vou, many Lilly Catlisle IVitcnalh I'm mighty fond of Alice V mdsoi , win not mairy her ? Nobodv'll kick at a pai tneislnp with anv of those to get the old man's money Even bod>'tl laugh and say it served him light and was a spotting proposition But a kid' "tthv , il von manage to do whit you ait threatening to do the world will pass jou up People, even at eightv, have got too much of the original sin of romance in them to stand for it. I tell \ou flankly, Jimmie, I won't stand for it."

"As Brutus said," said Jimmie flippantly, "when he knifed Csesar." . "The thought is abhorrent," said Meekin, without smiling. "Forget this idea and make your business proposition to some one your own size." Jimmie became very serious all in a moment. ■ l .

"There's, just-one. thiilg to prevent, Meek," he said. "This beautiful kid. Any way I look there's nothing else in the world." "Don't try to work a ease of love at first sight on me," said Meekin. "Do you remember the day you and I first met?", said Jimmie. "Two small boys in the first form," said Meekin. • "And at first sight we were friends,"' said Jimmie. "If friendship at first sight, why not the one other beautiful tiling in. the world ? You have never failed me. Have I ever failed you?" Meekin was troubled. ■ - ■. "Never," ho said; "never until—now." - ■■'.; "The minute'l-saw you," said Jinir mic, "I knew-that always, always I'd be your friend. The minute I saw licr T knew that always, always I'd he her lover. These things happen. People; say they don't. But they do. ' I have given you ; two eases. You can swear to one of them and I can swear to both."-'.•': v ■■■' .'"■''■'■■' '■" "No man,";said Meekin, "who hasn't fallen in love at first sight can really believe in it; hut " "If you had been born-blind," Jimmie interrupted quickly, "could I possibly explain to you the sense of seeing? There are people who always know which direction is north. That is a sense that you and I haven't got. We can't imagine the sensation." "I -was-trying to say," said Meekin, "that I would your word for' it. You askme to believe that you love this kid,-lihat you always-will love her. Well, I believe. I say I do anyway. And perhaps"—he looked his friend in the e,yes for :a moment—"perhaps I i;eally do - believe it. And still I say, 'No.' .You do it. It's'unlawful. It's vvicked:"

"If this had happened to me a'year ago/'..-said .-'Jimmie-, "when there was no question of money involved, you would have said, 'Go in, my boy, and win!' I can hear you saying it. But now —in spite of all the years we've been friends—you doubt my motives. ' : "I don't doubt them,'' said Meekin. "I think' the.v are mixed. It's impossible that it should be otherwise."

"Do-you think this," said Jimmie, "that if it hadn't been for the money I wouldn't have fallen in love with her at first-sight?" • Meekin pondered for some moments; then nodded his head reluctantly.

A phrase of boyhood sprang to Jim-, mie's lips. "All right for you!" he said, and rose stiffly and walked away with a contemptuous-expression on his face. Then this flashed into his head: "If it hadn't been for the money I wouldn't ever have- been at the station to see her get off the train." He turned resolutely and walked back to where Meekin, stony of face, was affecting to enjoy his coffee. ' "Can you forgive me _ Jm- that?" Jimmie exclaimed impulsively. "I've thought it over; and though what you think isn't: the absolute fact, still there's something in, it —enough in it to make me-ashamed and humble!" Heheld out; his hand.

"Toll mo this," said Meekin, without appearing to notice the proffered hand: "Aro you going to try to marry this girl?" "Of said Jimmie. "I've got to try and I moan to succeed., A man doesn't fall in love for nothing." "Can you jeconcilo this," said Moekin, "with your ideas of what a gentleman ought to be?" "Of course," said Jimmie, "it's reconciliation—ready made. I don't have to bo measured tor it. It fits like a dream." And he-added, so scriously and levcrently that there was no offence in it: "God is my tailor." "If anybody," said Meekin, his face darkening., "can make a silk purse out of a .sow's ear I suppose He can." He rose to his feet and the young men glared at each other. Both, I think, were for- a moment minded to strike. But. the weight of eighteen years of friendship was heavy on their arms The first tp lower his eyes was Moekin. , «; .

, At this -moment the hall-hoy brought Jimmie a note. - It was from Ann Merriam, asking him to make a fourth at tennis. The Trevor hoy, she w rote, had -i bad ankle, but the others, after their stuffy night in the train, were very keen to play. To Jimmie if seemed as if Paradise had opened before him. He tossed the note, open, in front of Moekin.

"Tt's fate, Meek," he said quietly. "I must go through with it. For Heaven's sake, old man, don't judge mo until .ill the evidence is in!"

VIII. A man on the eve of losing forty or eighty millions of dollars ought to be a tragic figure; he ought to spend his days hidden from the sight of men —his nights sombrely walking in a graveyard. That, ou the contrary, he should seem to shed ten years of his life, as he might

a co.it of which he had grown tired, is proof positive that the human heart is deep and unfathomable. That he should make a fourth at tennis once with three very young people could lie attributed to ordinary politeness and good nature. That he.should play with them—and by his own proposal—a "second,"third, fourth, and fifth time caused even the three very young people themselves to wonder what was the matter,. "".-. "-,-' '' ! '

Jack Merriam,. having reached the. brooding and tragic ago of eighteen, and fancying himself a man of the world hopelessly/in -love; was the first to solve the'nuzzle. He put the matter, blmitly;ioJiis sister Ann. stuck on Irene,": said Jack; /•'and likes it.'.' Sister Ann spoke soothingly. >'Jim Shannon's in ; .trouble," she said; "and. ybu kids so, full of foolishness and all keeps his thoughts off himself.: Naturally Irene is the chief attraction ; but he doesn't- mean anything ■by It. And of course Irene can't hell) feeling'-flattfcred. It's a feather in-any girl's cap to keep any man's thoughts away if rom his troubles." : But that afternoon Sister Ann took occasion to watch the tennis. ■ '.And there before her very eyes she saw displayed the early stages-of a whirlwind 'coivrtship. A fool could, see that Jimmie'was in earnest. As for Irene, you couldn't :be sure. She was either Psyche slightly lnirt by one of Dan Cupid's arrows, or she was an outrageous flirt. Ann noticed that her brother Jack's face had a black" look ; that whenever he hit the ball to Jinimie it .was-with a kind of furious force. Jill was jieartily enjoying Jack's discomfiture, although she was partnered with him: 'Sister Ami. returned to the house ■hill of responsibility. "Mother,", she sighed, "is no good, and here am I responsible for Irene to her parents. Well, 1 shall talk with; her arid have an understanding. Jiminie —no; Jinuuic can t possibly intend to snatch her out of her cradle to save his millions for him! I wonder if she quite realises what interpretation would be put on any sudden and foolish step that he might persuade her to take."

Jimmie was happy. It was happiness to know that the beautiful child had an inclination-- however slight— toward him.' And he knew;that she had. Somothing had' told .him. But. even if she had not yet shown him so much of her favor as that, . lie : would have been happy- He was-ill'that first full tide of love when -thoughts of,the morrow can take care of themselves. It seemed as if-: the mere ■ act "of lying down was enough to rest him. Each morning he looked younger and fresher, though the hours of his sleep could have been counted on the fingers of a maimed hand. Never before had waking seemed so easy to liim. or distances so short. Love lent him confidence. Even if what he was attempting to dp appeared shoddy •and unworthy : to others, to him it seemed the oho noble, the one right thing that ever had been attempted. "Whereas, of the proposals which he had so recently made v to Miss Carlisle, Miss ■Windsor, and Miss Merriam, he now thought with horror and loathing. Howcould any man,ever dream that a loveless marriage could be anything but an indecent nightmare? Why aren't men born with the knowledge of wliat love may one day mean to them? As the mother gives her son milk that he may thrive and grow strong, so she ought to be enabled to impart tlib knowledge of love to him, to the end that he may grow up stainless. ' . As the : noise of Jimmie's violent courfihip got about, nobody in Aiken thought that there was anything noble in it or in him. Old friends cooled their manner toward him and,, though

nobody actually attempted to interfere, there were those that itched to. So far, only one thing was sure—Jack Merriam's holidays were spoiled. The treachery of "woman had been revealed

to him. Nothing appealed to him any more except .murder followed by suicide. Jimmie was sorry for Jack, as a nian'of heart is sorry for a puppy'upon which he has .trodden. If Jack could have known how Jimmie felt toward liini the murder nnfst have become a fact. . .

Then, one afternoon, Irene went riding with Jimmie'and was fifteen minutes late for dinner. Ann took her to task for it and tried to give her a scolding. "I wish you'd stop in my room and see me on your way to bed," Ann had said. • Irene did so. "Close the door, will you?" said Ann. Irene closed it and stood looking down at Ann. Ann noted a look of true love in the child's eyes; so great they were, translucent and untroubled. "Irene," said Ann, "will you be angry if I talk to you like a mother?" "Of course not." said Irene. ** "Irene," said Ann, "you are getting yourself disagreeably talked about. Did you know it?" "I thought it likely," said Irene. She was unperturbed. "It doesn't look well for a girl of your ago to bo flirting;with a man so much older than yourself. Of course he's incorrigible. No "iiso to talk to him." Irene being a rcasohcr, said nothing. "You; may think," said Ann, and she smiled kindly, "that it's none of my business. But think of the light it puts me in—-and my mother. Wo have a duty toward you as bur guest, as a ■'.girl not yet out; and of course people are saying that wo are neglecting it. And so wo have been." "Honestly," said Irene, "I hadn't

-..thought of that. Do you want mo to tell Mr Shannon that he mustn't speakto mo while I'm your guest?" '. ; ..'.."You.'know as-well'..as I do," said Ann, "that Jimmie Shannon has only a few days left in which to comply with the terms of his grandfather's will. I think ho's sincerely smitten with you—most men are; but it can't be anything very serious, can it? Consult your common-sense." ■/.'■ But,", said Irene, "he hasn't asked mo to help him comply with that hateful old man's will. And it doesn't look to me as if he were going to." Ann was genuinely shocked. "And as for his being serious," Irene went on—paused, and meditated a moment. • "Look here, Ann," she said then.;' "suppose ho really is serious, and that because of the will I refuse tn believo it, ancl the whole thing ends in a mess?" [' Ann's eyes were.round with wonder. '.'•:.•-"You've said altogether too much," she" said, "and hot half enough." Irene seated herself by Ann on \he sofa;'wound an arm around her, In u*. her head in the.hollow-of Ann's neck, sighed and made this astounding confession : .■■.'■■'.'■ . --. ;■_ - "Ann dear, even if he isn't serious, I am! .... Now you won't rnaki me .bo rude to him, will you?" "You care for him, Irene!"-, was Ann's; horrified -exclamation. \ "l'o<i think you care for him!" 'H cared they first minute .1; fa.v him,"' said. Irene. "And .five" minutes' before"''you- saw him"—this was torn from''Hinn. against her better iudgment-r-"he proposed to me."

"And, luckily for mo," said Irene, "}ou threw- him down." '"He told you?" "Oh, yes. Ho told,me all the coM-

bloodod things he'd ever dons ii thought in connection with the will. And ho asked me to think better th : ngs of him if I could. And I cou' 1, Ann , and 1" can.""

"I think," said Ann, "that youV capable of miming away with him if ho asked 'you." ''He will'never ask mo to do aiivthing ignoble," said Iroiie. - "Some people," said Ann, "consul - that eighty millions can't'possibly move anything ignoble connected with thoiv

"And. they couldn't in this cujc," said Irene, "if he carcjs about me the way I caie about him.", "Care!" exclaimed Ann. '"■ Sometimes," paid,lrene, "he at niv-shoes m riioh'.a w;n tint 'l'm tempted to ':i\, •Go ahead and kl 1 -- tho;n if it will make you any mow comfortable?' " "['intended," said Ann, ,£ to speak •» few motherly words' 1o a simple ehi.d but it scorns T have n rompliciied olei)hant on mv bands. When is, .Min Shannon's bii tluliiv 6 " "J nnlv know- thn.fi it's some ■tini" tin . iroiilh." ' nd Tien" "M. i'i\Mi would know '' ■-iid -*»nii And the nest day she asked him ; bill he shook his head and said th it whatever concerned Shannon; his birthdays included, in no way concerned l'im.

IX. ' U t Meekin had begun to relent. head told him that Shannon was acting honorably ; his heart toil that it was better to have a di.sablo friend than no friend it ail I »> it is[n'wrote Jimmic a little not.-: t vo been thinking and feeling. is a vote of confidence. Wlie '.ev-r ios of your affair I know that if n't really care there wouldn't b iffair. As you" really can 1 , 110„.'e;se matters. ••Humbly. Mekk." imn! iP answered:

Thank the Lord, you've spoken up . j n stead .of later! Nothing does trr but caring—caring for one girl a few friends. God bless you! "Jas.~

a i that was not the late note that _,[,> was to write that day. I-'c received what was for him a *<-jy mail., and .while he was smiling ' a 'Uy and pondering his answers an;f fetter was brought hjm by hand. tirst envelope . which Jimmie n( . ( l contained this, and th-s only: five — °f course." It required no . cr . hut lying against his heart it him to eloquence. Ant! he an.c,l it for about an hour. - Then he »xl. paper-cuttcred a bltie_ enVolvpo " r eai I with, pain and surpris;: n%r •!im: If you st'.'l wish to per tii<' Lilly and wear he. say so. 'ha? thought it all over, aud it nli f> her that what y>:i proposed "other day .is the pest for all eon- ,,-,[—■ for tho grown-urs and ior the " r folks." •Jit lie read this:

n,-ir Jiinmio: I fool exactly as 1 did other day; but if it's merely a S ji„n of money with \ou.~whv I'd h rather sacrifice-myself than see a j entangled in your ambitions. It -n't really matter what becomes of %i!!l for her sake I am Willing to -ry'you.

"Alice "Windsor." )3 the letter which was brought by ~1 he recognised Ann Merriam's ."i u .r She also expressed herself as ; r .7' t o marry him for her family's )ZAv put it—and to save a girl ■■ ;,i her teens from making a fool V.f-rself. ■'- , l m ie wrote many asswers to these I'.jYj.ls and thought a good many V Finally he hit upon this:

p,, r Lillv: You threw me down . ; v"hard and pretty finally. Since -I have carried my broken heart j' u er.- and lam awaiting.an an•Faithfully yours, J.S." iiin-r what ho had written, he I \i serve, with slight variations, *\i; c o Windsor and Ann Merriam. ,-r which, since he was not to see v until live o'clock, he went about and laughing and avoiding quiit: of— woman. He boarded a C~ chuckled all the way to -jo. chuckled at the contents of ojd-mnuture shop of which he had *';o!J wonders, and chuckled all the "back to Aiken. : halt-past five he was riding witfc -."over a great plain south of jn Tb.ev had come to an underpin- between them without any■h spoken. "Whatevej'Jimmle should to"lu-r she knew in her heart she ; !d listen to as to an order —and t" It would have surprised her to v m cl<> a cold-blooded murder, but "iroald not have questioned his ■~t If he asked her to bolt with |"fc"-k she would —in the full confiD that it was she herself that meant ;l"h- world to him and. not some -.r," For half an hour they had been -J- : with silence. Suddenly Jimmie

Render." he said, "if we are the [ ;tt ; that ever knew and underA rithout words!" - i:i omit matter about the others,

■Si'ir.eWv says," said Jimmie, "that e should be iike two children going Aiu hand into a dark room. Only m a child. It's -nicked for me he «.i much older than you." ■l:'s iiist- the right difference," said . -Don't vou feel that?" Y. i know how I feel about it." •Yi:■■! never told me." Ac! you never told me. But I

■Vil.-r. did vou know—about me?" H-. L.udied". "The minute I saw t. Just before you'd ever seen me. kis- I knew then that it had to :> .-.at this way. And what is this • What are wc going to do about !:.;:." .-he said proudly, "is absow ;nr you to say." . - •WJI yi,'n .jump on to-night's train," ai-l. "and meet me in New York in x i ■■- us to marry —and be rich— Of mirse!" she said. 'Ar.i yi.u".l never, never doubt that *2- vim— only you —I wanted and u. !i..-:i.stly old money?" In :1 !u"t duubt you, Jimmie," she i. -IM just curl up and die if I .V.tl >ou. But doubt isn't in you

"f'L. '.in blessing!" he said. "IV I have to-night?" she asked. "X•:." he said. "There sha'u't be •Kin:; irregular abotit our-start in. ■• I niiist have your father's consent ~ai: till you are eighteen. And I ";: nin! some work to do, to eke : n -mall income. You've five or sis •:-!.i a year of your own, haven't ".Vrariy seven." she said. "Oh. we'll manage — we'll manage!" :•-! !:••. "Aiv \.,ii just going to let your .".-!r;u!i.T"-i legacy slide?" she asked. .1 '•:- thirty yesterday," said he. -:• ruahi.i for his hand. "Jirr.inii." .she said, "not for a single, '""-sry in,taut did I doubt you. - - - "--la:n.-o glad!" "I > i.-'.i tliat I just naturally had '•- iii'ii money to offer you," ho l-'I: • ti: (t- as long as I haven't —■ —" ' "Whrii f.vo people have as much to 'ilk a.I-nit as we have," said she, "it i't {;.:->iiil<. m make room for thoughts ~?:''". i y. . . . My lord has paid many ■i' l ns tor tne. I am his slave." ["!'!: .-ay. though," said Jimmie, F-•:•. if ,v, r a. man got anything dirt tear,—- it's open country hereNi:.<. hi.;- if you're willing to risk p.- S.-.i; -'* Their horses rubbed

J 1 the average reader the fact that lc ffiii; mi—ed his forty or eighty mil-r-ESf.i!l h.- a disappointment; and that I *'iy the average reader is—the r r r. ader.