JANE.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume xxxix, Issue 12868, 6 July 1912, Page 1 (Supplement)

JANE.

Having retired to a hospital to sulk, Jane remained there. The family came and sat by her bed uncomfortably and smoked, and finally retreated with defeat written large all over it, leaving Jane to the continued possession of Room 33, a pink kimono with slippers to match, a hand-embroidered face pillow with a rose-colored bow on the turner, and a young nurse with a gift of giving Jane daily the appearance of a strawberry and vanilla ice rising from a meringue of bed linen. Jane's complaint was temper. The family knew this, and so did Jane, although she had an annoying way of looking hurt, a gentle heart-brokenness of speech tliat. made the family, under the pretence of getting a match, go out into the hall and swear softly under its breath. But it was temper, and the family was not deceived. Also, knowing Jane, the family was quite ready to believe that while it was swearing m the hall, Jane was biting holes m the handembroidered face pillow m Room 33. It had finally come to be a test of endurance. Jane vowed to stay at the hospital until the family, on bended knee begged 1-er to emerge and brighten the world again with her presence. The family, being her father, said it would be damned if it would, and that if Jane cared to live on anaemic chicken broth, oatmeal wafers and massage twice a day for the rest of her life, why, let her. The dispute, having begun about whether Jane should or should not marry a certain person, Jane representing the affirmative and her father the negative, had taken on new aspects, had grown and altered,- and had, to be brief, become a contest between the masculine Johnson and the feminine Johnson as to which would take the count. Not that tliis appeared on the surface. The masculine Johnson, having closed the summer home on Jane's defection and gone back to the city, sent daily telegrams, novel and hothouse grapes, all three of which Jane , devoured indiscriminately. Once, indeed, Father Johnson had motored the forty miles from town, to be told that Jane was too ill and unhappy to see him.' and to hav° r -.limpse as he drove furiously avr.y. < f Jane sitting pensive at her window m the pink kimono, gazing over his head at the distant hills and clearly entirely indifferent to hirti and his wrath. So we find Jane', oovan v a frosty morning m late October, m triumphant possession Of the field — aunts and cousins routed, her father sulking m town, and the victor herself— or is victor feminine? And if it isn't, shouldn't it be? — sitting np m bed staring blankly at her watch. Jane liad just awakened — an hour later than usual ; she had rung the bell thr.e times and no one had responded. Jane's famous temper began to stretch and yawn. At this hour Jane was accustomed to be washed with tepid water, scented daintily with violet, alco-hol-rubbed, talcum powdered, and finally ffesh-linened, coiffed and manicured, to be supported with a heap of fresh pillows and fed with creamed sweetbread and golden-brown coffee and toast. Jane again' rang, with a line between her eyebrows. The bell was not broken. She could hear it distinctly. This was an outrage ! She would report it ito the superintendent. She had been ringing for ten minutes. That little 'minx of a nurse was flirting somewhere with one of the internes. Jane angrily flung the covers back and got out on her small bare feet. 1 Then she stretched her slim young arms above her head, her spoiled Ted mouth forming a scarlet O as she yawned. In her sleveless and neckless nightgown, with her hair over her shoulders, minus the puffs which later m the day helped her to poise and firmness, she ; looked a pretty young girl, almost — although Jane had never suspected this — almost an amiable young person. Jane saw herself m the glass and assumed immediately the two lines between her eyebrows which were the outward and visible token of what she had suffered. Then she found her "slippers, a pair of stockings to match,, and two round bits of pink silk elastic of private and feminine use, and sat down on the floor to put them on. The floor was cold. To Jane's wrath was added indignation. She hitched herself along the carpet to the radiator and put her hand on it. It was. even colder than Jane. The family temper was fully awake by this time and ready for business. Jane, sitting on the icy floor, jerked her stockings, snapped the pink bands into place, thrust her feet into her slippers and rose, shivering. She went to the bed, and D y dint of careful manoeuvring so placed the bell between the head of the bed and the wall tliat during the remainder of her toilet it rang steadily. The remainder of Jane's toilet was rather casual. She flung on the 'silk kimono, twisted her hair on top of her head and struck a pin or two m it, thus achieving a sort of Billie Burke effect a thousand times more bewitching than she liad ever managed with the puffs.' and flnging her door wide stalked into the hall. At least she meant to stalk, but one does not really stamp about much iv number-one, heedless pink-,satin mules. At the first stalk — or stamp — she stopped. Standing uncertainly just outside her door was a strange man, strangely attired. Jane clutched her kimono about her and stared. "Did— did you — are you ringing?" asked the apparition. It woto a pair of white-duck trousers, much soiled, a coat that bore the words "furnace room" down the front m red letters on a white tape, and a clean and spotless white apron. There was coal dust on its face and streaks of it m its hair, which appeared normally to be red. "There's something the matter with your bell," said the young man. "It keeps on ringing." "I intend it to," said Jane codly. "You can't make a racket like that round here, you know," he asserted, looking past her into the room. "I intend to make all the racket I can until I get some attention." "What have you done — put a book on it?" "Look here" — Jane added another line to the two between her eyebrows. In the family this was generally a signal for a retreat, but of course the young man could not know this, and besides he j was red-headed. "Look here," said Jane, "I don't know who you are and I j don't care either, but that bell is going I to ring until I get my bath and some breakfast. And it's going to ring then unless I stop it." The, young man m the coal dust and the white apron looked at Jane and< amiled. Then he walked past her into the room, jerked the bed from the wall and released the bell. "Now !" he said as the din outside ceased. "I'm too busy to talk just at

pre-eat, but if you do that again I'll take the bell out of the room altogether. There are other people m the hospital besides yourseli." At that he started out aiid along the hall, leaving Jane speechless. After he'd gone about a dozen feet he stopped and turned, looking at Jane reflectively. ''Do you know anything about c.-;cl: ing?" he asked. "I know more about cooking than you do about politeness," she retorted, white with fury, and went into her room and slammed the door. She went directly to the bell and put it behind the bed and set it to ringing again. Then she sat down m a chair and picked up a book. Had the red-haired person opened the door she was quite prepared to fling the hook at him. The fact that it was Lorna Doone would have made no difference. She would have thrown a hatchet had she had ono. As a matter of fact, however, he did not come back. The bell rang with a soul-satisfying jingle for about two minutes and then died away, and no amount of poking with a hairpin did any good. It was clear that the bell had been cut off outside ! For fifty-five minutes Jane sat m that chair breakfastless, very casually washed and with the aforesaid Billie Burkeness of hair. Then hunger gaining over temper, she opened the door and peered ont. From somewhere near at hand there came a pungent odour of burning toast. Jane sniffed ; then, driven by hunger, she made a short sally down the hall to the parlor where the nurses on duty made their headquarters. It was empty. The dismantled bell register on the wall, with the bell unscrewed and lying on the mantel beside it, and the odour of burning toast was stronger than ever. Jane padded softly to the odor, following her small nose. It led her to the pantry, wltere under ordinary circumstances the patients' trays were prepared by a pantrymaid, the food being shipped there from the kitchen on a lift. Clearly the circumstances were not ordinary. The pantrymaid was not m sight. Instead, the red-haired person was standing by the window scraping busily at a blackened piece of toast. There was a rank odor of boiling tea m the air. "Damnation !" said tho red-haired person, and flung the toast into a corner where there already lay a small heap of charred breakfast hopes. Then he* saw Jane. "I fixed the bell didn't I?" he re- j marked. "I say since you claim to know so much about cooking, I wish you'd make some toast." "I didn't say I knew much," snapped Jane, holding her kimono round her. "I said T knew n:o:e than you knew about politeness." The red-haired person smiled again, and then, making a- deep bow, with a knife m one liand and a toaster m the other, he said : "Madam, I prithee forgive me for my untoward conduct of an hour since. "Say but the word and I replace tho bell." "I won't mako any toast," said Jane, looking at the bread with famished eyes. "Oh; -very well." said the red-haired person with a sigh. "On your head be it!" * "But. I'll tell you how to do it," conceded Jane, "if you'll explain who yon are and what you are doing m that costume and where, the nurses are." -!_•« red-haired person sat down on the edge of the table and looked at her. "I'll make a bargain with you," he said "There's a convalescent typhoid m a room near yours who swears he'll go, down to the village for something to eat m his — cr — hospital attire unless he's fed soon. He's dangerous empty. He's reached the cannibalistic stage. If he should see you m that ravishing pinkthing, I — l wouldn't answer for the consequences. I'll tell you everything if you'll make him six large slices of toast and boil him four or five eggs, enough to hold him for a while. The tea's probably ready ; it's been boiling for an hour." Hunger was making Jane human. She gathered up the tail of her kimono, and stopping daintily into the pantry proceeded to spread herself a slice of bread and butter. "Where is everybody?" ah. asked, licking some butter off her thumb with a small pink tongue. Oh,' I am the cook and the captain bold, And the mate of the Nancy brig, And the bosun tight and the midshipmite, And the crew of the captain's gig, recited the red-haired person. "You !" said Jane with bread half- ; way to her mouth. "Even I," said the red-haired person.. "I'm the superintendent, the staff, the training school, the cooks, the furnace man and the ambulance driver." Jane was pouring herself a cup of tea, and she put m milk and sugar and look a sip or two before she would give him the satisfaction of asking what he meant. Anyhow, probably she had already guessed. Jane was no fool. "I hope you're getting the salary list," she said, sitting on the pantry girl's chair and, what with the tea inside and somebody to quarrel with, feeling more like herself. "My father's one of the directors, and somebody gets it," The red-haired person sat on the radiator and eyed Jane. He looked slightly stunned, as if the presence of beauty m a- Billie Burke chignon and little else except a kimono was almost too much for him. From somewhere near by came' a terrific thumping, as of some one pounding a hairbrush on a table. The red-haired person shifted along the radiator a little nearer Jane, and continued to gloat. i "Don't let that noise bother you," he said; "tliat' s only the convalescent typhoid banging for bis breakfast. He's been shouting for food ever since I came at six last night." "Is it safe to feed him so much?" "I don't know. He hasn't had anything yet. Perhaps if you aro ready you'd' better fix him something." Jane had finished her bread and. tea by this time and remembered her kimono. "I'll go back and dress," she said primly. But he wouldn't hear of it. "He's starving," he objected as afresh volley of thumps came along the hall. "I've been trying at intervals since daylight to make him a piece of toast. The minute T put it on the fire T think of something I've forgotten, and when I come hack it's m flames. >So Jane cut some bread and put on •■"jig.**, to boil, and the red-haired person told hi-, .lory. . "You .--pc." he explained, "although T appear to hi a furnace man from the waist up and an interne from the wuist down, I am really tho new superintendent." . ,

"1 hope you'll do better than the la«t one," sh_ said severely. "He was always flirting with the nurse.." "I shall never flirt with the nurses," he -promised, looking at her. "Anyhow I shan't have any immediate chance. The other fellow left last night and took with him everything portable exC.ir.; 'V ' ;•'..'-'■ ':■*.■■ -.-."■■■ .; ! -'•. i. '-•■ I wish to Heaven he'd taken the patients ! And he did more than that. He cut the telephone wires !' "Well !" said Jane. "Are you going to stand for it?" The red-haired man threw up his hands. "Tho village is with him." he declared. "It's a factional fight — the village against the fashionable summer colony on tiie hill. I cannot lelephone from the village — the telegraph operator is deaf when I speak to him ; the village milkman and grocer sent boys up this morning' — look here." He fished a sera j) of paper from his pocket and read : I will not supply the Valley Hospital with any fresh meats, canned oysters and sausages, or do any plumbing for the hospital until the reinstatement of Dr Sheets. — T. Cast-dollar, Butcher. Jane took tho paper and read it again. "Humph !" she commented. "Old Sheets wrote it himself. Mr Cashdollar couldn't think of reinstatement, let alone spell it." "The question is not who wrote it, but what are we to do," said the redhaired person. "Shall I let old Sheets como back?" "If you do," said Jane fiercely. "I shall hate you the rest of my life." And as it was clear by this time that the red-haired person could imagine nothing more horrible, it was. settled then and there tliat he should stay. "There are only two wards," he said. "In the men's a man named Higgins is able to be up and is keeping things straight. And m the woman's ward Mary O'Shaughnessy is looking after them. The furnaces are the worst. I'd have forgiven almost anything else. I've sat up all night nursing the fires, but they breathed their last at six this morning and I guess there's nothing left but to call tho coroner." Jane had achieved a tolerable plate of toast by that time and four eggs. Also she liad a fine flush, a combination of heat from the gas stove and temper.. "They ought to be ashamed," she cried angrily, "leaving a . lot of _ick people !" "Sih, as to that," said the red-head-ed person, "there aren't any very sick ones. Two or three neurasthenics like yourself and a convalescent typhoid and a D.T. m the private rooms. If it wasn't that Mary O'Shaughnessy " But at the word "neurasthenics" Jane had put down the toaster, and by thej time the unconscious young man had j reached the O'Shaughnessy she was going out the door with her chin up. He called after her, and finding she, did not turn he followed her, shouting apologies at her back until she went into her room. And as hospital doors don't lock from the inside she pushed the washstand against tho knob and went to bed to keep warm. He stood outside and apologised again, and later ho brought a tray of bread and butter and a pot of tea, which liad been boiling for two hours by that time, and put it outside the door on the floor. But Jane refused to -get it. and finished her breakfast from a jar of candied ginger that some one 'had/ sent her. and read Lorna Doone: Now and then a sound of terrific' hammering would follow the steampipes and Jane would smile wickedly. By noon she had finished the ginger and was wondering what tho person about whom she and the family hud disagreed would think when he heard the way she was being treated. And by one o'clock she had cried her eyes entirely shut and had pushed the washstand back ' from the door. 7 11. Now a hospital full of nurses and doctors with a bell to summon food and attention is one thing. A hospital without nurses and doctors, and frith only one person to do everything, and that person mostly m the cellar, is quite another. Jane was very sad and lonely, and to add to her troubles the delirium - tremens case down the hall began to sing t.he Chocolate Soldier m a falsetto voice and kept it up for hours. At three Jane got up and bathed her eyes. She also pinned on her puffs, and thus fortified she started out to find the red-liaired person. She intended to say that she was paying sixty-five dollars a week and belonged to a leading family, and that she didn't intend to endure for a moment the treatment she was getting, and being called, neurasthenic and made to pook for the other patients. She went slowly along the hall.' The convalescent typhoid heard her and called.. ■ . *• "Hey, doc!" he cried. "Hey, doc! Great Scott, man, when do I get some j dinner?" ; Jane quickened her steps and made for the pantry. From somewhere beyond the delirium tremens case was singing happily : I~ love you o — own — ly, I love — but — you. Jane shivered a little. The person m whom she had been interested and who had caused her precipitate retirement, if not to a nunnery, to what answered the same purpose, had been very fond of that song. He used to sing it, leaning over the piano and looking into her eyes. Jane's nose led her again into the pantry. There was a sort of soupy odor m the air, and sure enough the redhaired person was there, very immaculate m fresh ducks, pouring boiling water into three teacups out of a kettle and then dropping a beef capsule into each cup. ! Now Jane had intended, as I have said, to say that she was being outrageously treated, and belonged to one of the best families, and so ou. What she really said was pitebusly : ''How good it smells !" "Doesn't it !" said the red-haired person, sniffing. "Beef capsules. I'Ve made thirty cups of it so far since one o'clock — the more they have tho more they want . 1 my, be a good girl and run up to the kitchen for some crackers while I carry food to the convalescent typhoid. He** murderous !" "Whero are the crackers?" asked Jane stiffly, but not exactly caring to raise art issue until she was sure of getling something to eat. "Store closet m the kitchen, . third drawer on tho left."' said the red-haired man. shaking sonw* cayenne pepper into 'un* of the cups. "You might stop that howling lunatic on you way if you will." "Flow?" asked Jane, pausing. "I'-.im a towel down his throat or— hut don'l, bother. I'll dose him , witb this beef tea. and red pepper, and he'll

ibe too busy putting nut the fir. to want to sing." ' ' "You wouldn't b_ xo crutl !" said Jane, rather drawing back. Tho redhaired person smiled and to Jane it seemed that he was actually ferocious. She ran all the way up for the crackers and down again, carrying tho tin- ") :-. "I :•;•_•.* is no doubt that Jane's family would hnve prompt I ;*,*' swooned liad it seen her. When she came down there wa_> a sort of after-dinner peace reigning. The convalescent typhoid, having filled upon milk and beef soup, had floated off to sleep. The Chocolate .Soldier had given way to deep-muttered imprecations from the singer's room. Jane made herself a cup of bouillon and drank it scalding. She was making the second when the red-haired person came back with an empty cup. "I forgot to explain." he said, "that beef tea. and red pepper's tiie treatment for onr young friend m there. After a man has been burning his stomach daily with a quart, or so of raw booze " "I beg your pardon," said Jane coolly. Booze was not considered good forrti on tho hill— -the word, of course. There was plenty of the substance. "Raw booze," repeated the "red-haired person. "Nothing short of red pepper 'or dynamite is going fo act as a substitute. Why. I.'ll bet the inside o^ .that chap's stomach is of; the general _ sensitiveness and consistency of my shoe." "Indeed!" .said Jane, coldly polite. In Jane's circles people did not discuss* the interiors of other people's stomachs. The red-haired person sat on the table with a cup of bouillon m one hand and a cracker m. the other."You know/ he said genially, "it's awfully bully of you to come out and keep me company like this. I never put m such a day. I've given up fussing with the furnace and got out extra blankets instead. And I think by night our troubles will be over." He held up the cup and glanced at Jane, who was looking entrancingly pretty. "To our troubles being over !" he said- draining the cup, and then found that he had used the red pepper again by mistake. It took five minutes and ;four cups of cold water to enable him. to explain what he meant. "By our troubles., being over," he said finally when he could speak, "I mean this: "There's a train from town at eight to-night, and if- all goes well it will deposit m the village half a dozen nurses, a cook or two, a furnace man — good Heavens, I wonder if I forgot a furnace man!" ../'■• It seemed, as Jane discovered, that the telephone wires being cut, he had sent Higgins from the' men's ward to the village to send eomo telegrams for him. "I couldn't leave, you see," he explained, "and havipg some small reason to believe tliat I am persona non grata m this vicinity I sent Higgins." Jane had always hated the name Higgins. She said afterward that she felt uneasy from that moment. The redhaired person^ who was: not bad-looking, being tall and straight and having a very decent hose, looked at Jane, and Jane, having been shu.Vaway for weeks — Jane preened a little and was glad she. had put on her puffs. .''•*'' "You looked bfetter without them," said tho red-haired' person, reading her mind ma- most uncanny manner. "Why should a girl .with, as pretty hair your.** ct-verVit up with a chignon anyhow?" "You are .very disagreeable and — and impertinent," said Jane sliding off, the table. "Tt isn't disagreeable to tell a girl she has pretty hair," tho red-haired person protested— "or impertinent either." Jane was gathering up the remnants of her temper,, scattered by the event. of the day. "Yon said I was a neurasthenic," she accused him. "It — it isn't being a neurasthenic to be nervous and upset and hating the very sight of, people, is it?" "Bless my soul !" said the red-haired man. "Then what is it?" Jane flushed, but ho went on tactlessly : "I give you my word, I think you are tho most perfectly" — he gave every appearance of being about to, say "beautiful," but he evidently changed his mind— "tho most perfectly healthy person I have ever looked at," he finished. It is difficult to say just what Jane would have done under other circumstances, but just as she was getting her temper really m hand and preparing to launch something, shuffling footsteps were heard m the hall and Higgins stood m tho doorway. '.. He was m a sad state. One of his eyes was entirely closed and the corresponding ear stood out large and bulbous from his head. Also he was coated with mud, and he was carefully nursing one hand with the other. He said he had been met at the near end of the railroad bridge by the exfurnace man and one of the ex-orderlies, and sent back firmly, having m fact been kicked back part of the way. He'd been told to report at the hoepitnl that the tradespeople had instituted a boycott, and that either the former superintendent went back or the entire plaoe could starve to death. It was thou that June, discovered tliat her much-vaunted temper was not one-two-three to that of the red-haired person. He turned a sort of blue-white, shoved Jane out of his way as if she had been a chair, and she heard him clatter down the stairs *and slam out of the front door. Jane went back, to her room and looked down the driv t e. Ho was running toward the bridge, and the sunlight on his red hair and his flying legmade him look like a comet with a double duck-tail. Jane was weak m the knees. She knelt on the cold radiator and watched him out of sight, and then got trembly all over and fell to snivelling. This was of course because, if anything happened to him, she would be left entirely ' alone. And anyhow the D.T. case was singing again and had rather got on her nerves. In ten minutes the red-haired- person appeared. He liad a wretched-looking creature by the back of the neck and he alternately pushed and- kicked him up the drive. He — ithe red. -haired personwas whistling and clearly immensely pleased with himself. Jane put a little powder on her nose and Waited for. him to come and tell her all about it. But he did not come near. This was quite the. cleverest thing he could have done, had he known it. Jane was not accustomed to waiting m vain. He must have gone directly to the cellar, half pushing and half kicking. the luckless furnace man, for about four o'clock tho radiator began to get warm. At five he came and knocked at Jane's door, and on being invited m he sat down ou the bed and looked at her. "Well, we've got the furnace going." he said. ' _ ■ ' "Then that was th.^—-"

("Furnace man? Yes." "Aren't you afraid to leave him?" queried Jane. "Won't he run off?" "Got him locked m a padded cell," he said. "I can take him out to coal up. The rest of the time he can sit and think of hia sins. The question is — what are we to do next?" "I should think," ventured Jane, "that we'd better be thinking about soppe-." "The heef .__•.-.:-:; :•.:*:■ _."*:•" "But surely there must, be something else about — potatoes or things like that?" He brightened perceptibly. "Oh, yes, carloads of potatoes, and there's canned stuff. Higgins can pare potatoes, and there's Mary O'Shaughnessy. We could have potatoes and canned tomatoes and egg-i." "Fine !" said Jane with her eyes gleaming, although the day before she would have said they were her three abomination.. And with that he called Higgina and Mai*y O'Shaughnessy and the four of them went to the kitchen. Jane positively shone. She never realised before how much she knew about cooking. They built a fire and got kettles boiling and everybody pared potatoes, and although m exoess of zeal the eggs wero ready long before everything else and the tomatoes scorched slightly, still they made up m enthusiasm what they lacked m ability, and when Higgins had carried the trays to the lift and started them on their way, Jane and the red-haired "person shook hands on it and then ate a boiled potato from the same plate, sitting side by side on a table. They were ravenous. They boiled one egg each, and ate it, and then boiled another and another, and when they finished they found that Jane had eaten four potatoes, four egga and unlimited bread and butter, while the red-haired person had eaten six saucers of stewed tomatoes . and was starting on the seventh. "Yon know," he said over the seventh, "we've got to figure this thing out. The entire town is solid against vs — no use trying to get Jo a telephone. And anyhow they've got us surrounded. We're m a state of . siege." Jane was beating up an egg m milk for the D.T. 'patient, the capsules being exhausted and the red-haired person was watching her closely. She had the two vertical lines between her eyes, but they looked really like. lines of endeavor and not temper. She sopped beating and looked up. "Couldn't I go to the village?" she asked. "They would stop you." "Then — I think I know what we can do," she said, giving the eggnog a final whisk; "My people have a summer place oh the hill. If you could get there you could telephone to the city. "Could I get m?" /V "I have a key." Jane did not explain that the said key had been left by, her; father, with the terse hope that if she came to her senses she could get into -the house and get her clothes. "Good girl," said the red-haired person and patted her #on the shoulder. "We'll 'euchre the old skate yet." Curiously, Jane did not resent either the. speech or the pat. .-•,*.*,'".■' He took the glass and.tied on a white apron. "If our friend doesn't drink this, 1 will," he continued. "If. he'd seen it m the making, as I have, he'd be crazy about it." - He opened the door and stood listening. From below floated up the refrain : I— love you o— own — ly, I love— but — you. ■ - , , "Listen to that!" he Said. "And I gather he's, one of the hill ".colony ! Blood will tell, won't it. ";.-"• V'V/- ,' ■ Higgins came up the stairs heavily and stoppecj close by the red-haired person, : whispering something to him. There was a, second's pause. Then the red-haired person gave the eggnog to Higgins and both disappeared. Jane was puzzled. She rather 'thought the furnace had got out and listened, for a scuffle, but none came; She' did, however, hear the singing .cease below, and then commence; with renewed vigor, and she heard Higgins slowly remounting the stairs.. He came m with the emnty glass- and a sheepish expression. Part of the eggnog was distributed over his person. , '• • " . "He wants his nurse, ma'am," said Higgins. "Wouldn't let me near him. Flung a pillow at me.": "Where is the doctor?" demanded Jane. "Busy," replied Higgins. "One of the women is sick." Jane was provoked. She had put some labor into the eggnog. But it shows the curious evolution going on m her that she got out the. eggs and milk and made another one without protest. Then with her head up she carried it to the door. ■£. y •'■ _ "You might clear tilings away, Higgins," she said, and went down the stairs. Her heart was going rather fast. Most of the men Jane knew drank more or less, but this was different. S-:e would have turned back halfway th-'*.**-had it not been for Higgins and f>r '••viiing herself conquered. That wiw '■tie's real wickedness— -she never owned herself beaten. 'File singing had subsided to a low muttering. Jane stopped outside tho door and took a fresh grip on her courage. Then sive pushed the door open and went m. ■*'■'■ The light was shaded, and at first the tossing figure on the bed was only a misty outline of grays "and.. whites, •"•ihe walked over, expecting a. pillow at any moment and shielding the glass from attack with her hand. , "I have brought yoit another eggnog." she began severely, "and if you spill Then she looked down and saw the face on the pillow. To her everlasting credit Jane did not faint. But m that moment, while she stood 'staring down at the flushed young face with its tumbled dark hair and deep-cut lines of dissipation, the man who had sung to her over the piano, looking love into her eyes, died to her, and Jane, cold aud steady, sat down on the side of the bed and fed the eggnog, spoonful by spoonful, to his corpse! When the blank-eyed young man on the bed had swallowed it all passively, looking _t her with dull incurious eyes, she went back to her room and closing the door put the washstand against it. She did nothing theatrical. She went over to the window and stood looking out where tiie trees along the drive were fading m the dusk from green to gray, from gray to black. And over the transom came again and again -monotonously tho refrain : -.';.;. I—love1 — love yo« o — ownly, I love — but — you. Jane fell on her knees beside the bed and buried her wilful head m the handembroidered pillow, and said a little

prayer baaam-a she had f«*ft<i »ut m I time. 111. The full realisation of their predicament came with the dusk. The electric lights were shut off. Jane, crawling into bed tearfully at half after eight, turned the reading light switch over her head, but no flood of rosy radiance pot*-.."-! d_.v.i en Iho hand-embroidered pillow with the pink bow. Jane sat up and stared round her. Already the outline of her dresses was faint and shadowy. In half an hour black night would settle down and she had not even a candle or a box of matches. She crawled out, panicky, and began m the darkness to don her kimono and slippers. As she opened the door and stepped into the hall the convalescent typhoid heard her and set up his usual cry. "Hey," he called, "whoever that is come m and fix the lights. They're broken. And I want some bread and milk. I can't sleep on an empty stomach !" Jane padded on past the room where love lay cold and dead, down the corridor with its alarming echoes. The house seemed very quiet. At a corner unexpectedly she collided with some one going hastily. The result was a crash and a deluge of hot water. Jane got a drop on her bare ankle, and as soon as she could breathe she screamed. "Why don't you look* where you're going?" demanded the red-haired person, angrily. "I've been an hour boiling that water, and now it has to be done over again !" "It would do a lot of good to look!" retorted Jane.- "But if you wish .I'll carry a bell !" "The thing for you to do," said the red-haired person severely, "is tp go back to bed like a good girl and stay there until morning. The light is cut of!" "Really !" said Jane. "I thought it had just gone out for a walk.. I daresay I may have a box of matches at least?" He fumbled m his pockets without success. "Not a match, of course !" ha said dis-„ gustedly. "Was any one ever m such an infernal mess? Can you get back to your room without matches ?" "I shan't go back at all unless I have some sort of light," maintained Jane "I'm — horribly frightened !" The break m tier voice caught his attention and he put his hand out gently and took her arm. "Now listen," he said. "You've been brave and fine all day, and don't stop it now. I — l've got all I can manage. Mary fo'Shaughnessy is — — " He stopped. "I'm going to be very busy," he said with half a groan. "I surely do wish you were forty, for the next few hours. But you'll go back and stay m your room, won't you?" He patted her arm, which Jane particularly hated generally. But Jane had considerably altered since morning. , "Then A-ou cannot go te the .telephono " "Not to-night." : » "And Higgins?" "Higgins has gone,", he /said. "He slipped off an .hour ago. - We'll have to manage to-night somehow. Now will you be a good child?" "I'll go back." -she- promised meekly. "I'm sorry I'm not forty," ' '■■'■_: He turned and -started her m the right direction with a little push. But ,_he had gone only , a step or-, two when she heard him coming, after "her quickly. "Where are you?" "Here," quav_r,_d Jane, not quite sure of him or of hersel. '~ But when he stopped beside her.' jie didn't try to, touch, her arm again. He only said : • . . s "I wouldn't have you forty for anything m the. wo^rld. I want you to be just as you are, very beautiful and young." ' Then, as if he >-was afraid he would say too much, He turned; on his heel, and a moment after he kicked against the fallen pitcher m the darkness and awoke a thousand echoes. As for Jane, she put her fingers to her ears and ran to her room, where she slammed the door and crawled into bed with burn-' ing cheeks. Jane was never sure whether it xra/s five minutes later or five sconds **hen somebody m the room spoke — ftom a •chair by the window. ' „ "Do you think," said a mild voice - "do you think you could find tne some bread and butter? Or a glass of milk?" Jane sat up m bed suddenly. She knew at once that -hp had made a mistake, but she was quite dignified aboutit. She looked over at the chair, and the convalescent typhoid waa sitting m it, wrapped ,m a blanket and looking J wan and ghostly m the dusk. "I'm afraid I'm m the wrong room," Jane said stiffly-, trying to get out of the bed with dignity which is difficult. "The hall is dark and all tha doors look so alike : " She made for the door at that . and got out into the hall with her heart going a thousand a minute again. "You've forgotten your slippers," called the convalescent typhoid after her. But nothing would have taken Jane back. The convalescent typhoid ■ took the slippers home later and , locked them away m an inn^r draw, where he kept one or two things like faded roses, and old gloves, and a silk necktie that a girl had made .him; at college — things that are all the secrets that a man keeps from his ' wife and that belong m that small corner of his heart which also he keeps from his wife. But that has nothing to do with Jane. Jane weiit back to her own bed thoroughly demoralized. And sleep being pretty well banished by that time,' she, sat up m bed and thought things over. Bsfore this she had not thought much, only raged and sulked alternately. But now she thought. She thought about the man m the room down m the hall with the lines of dissipation on his face. And she thought va great, deal about what a silly she had been, and that it was not 100 late yet, she being not forty and "beautiful." It must he confessed that she thought a great deal about that. Also she reflected that what she deserved was to many son*' person with even a worse temper thar hers, who would bully her at times nn*-' generally keep her straight. And< Iron* that, of course, it was only a, step to the fact that the red-haired people are proverbially bad-tempered. She thought, too, about Mary O'Shaughnessy without another w<;man near, and not even a light, except perhaps a candle. Things were always so much worse m the darkness. And perhaps shn might be going to be. very, ill and ought to have another doctor ! Jane seerhed to have been reflecting for a long time, when the church clock far

down m the village struck ■-»•• A_fS with, the chiming of the oioek waa aera", full growu an idea which before it ira# sixty seconds of age was a determination. In pursuance of the idea Jane one* more crawled out of bed and began \*a dress ; she put on heavy shoes and 41 short skirl, a coat, and a motor vail over her hair. The indignation at tha defection of the hospital staff, held int subjection during the day by the necessity for doing something, now rose and lent speed and fury to her movements. In an incredibly short time Jane waa feeling her way along the hall and down the staircase, now a well of unfathomable blackness and incredible rustlings and creakings. The front doors were unlocked. Outside there was faint starlight, the chirp of a sleepy bird, and far off .across tha valley the gasping and wheezing of a freight climbing the heavy grade to the village. ' _ ■ Jane paused at the drive and took a breath. Then at her best gymnasium pace, arms close to sides, head up, feet well planted, she started to run. At the sundial she left the drive and. took to the lawn, gleaming with the frost of late October. She stopped running and then begad to pick her way more cautiously. Even -at that she collided heavily witl. % wire fence marking the boundary, and sat. on the ground for some time after, whimpering over the outrage and feeling her nose. It, was distincty scratched and swollen. No one would think her beautiful with a nose like that ! She had not expected the wire fence ; It was impossible to climb and more difficult to get under. However, she found , one place where the ground dipped, and wormed her way uiider th« fence m most undignified fashion. It is perfectly "certain that had Jane's family teen' .her-. then and been told that she was doing this remarkable thing for a. woman she had never seen before that lay, named Mary O-'Shaughnesßy. and also for a certain red-haired person OI whom they had never heard, they would have, considered Jane quite irrational. Personally, I believe Jane became Teallr rational that night for the first time m hei*' spoiled young . life. Jane ; never told the details of that exhuijsioh. T_ios<» that came out m the paper:, were only guesswork; of course, but I believe it? is quite true that a reporter'found scraps of her motor veil on three wire fences, and there seems to be no 'reason to doubt,' also that her puffs were discovered a week later m a coir pasture on her own estate.' But as Jane ". never wore puffs afterward anyhow .Well, Jane got to her own house about eieyen and crept in ' like a thief to the •telephone. There vvere more rustlings and j_ creakings m the' empty house tha» ' she had ever . imagined, and she went backward through the hall for fear of something coming, after her. But, which is to the point, she got to the. telephone and called up her father* m tha citv'.- 1 "" The first message that astonished gentleman got. was the red-haired person at. the hospital was very ill, having run int* a wire fence and bruised a noise, and that, he was to bi*ihg out ; at. once from, town 'two doctors, six nursesj -a ooot and a furnace 'mart L V yy '•■■' y,-. After a time, 'however, as Jane grew calmer, he got it straightened out, and •said a number of things oyer the telephone -arierit the* de_erting*-sl-aff ;thalr_T» quite, forbidden by the rules both of the clu.b and of the telephone company. ■ < He. gave;, jane full instructions .about sending to the village ahd having somebody coihe ;Up and stay, with her, and about taking: \a hot footbath and; going th bed ; between , hi n'nket*".' apd .'when , Jane replied ';mV'ekiy .to everything , "Yes, , father^ and "All right^ father," he was so stunned by her mildness i^iat he/was .'"• certa'h she must be really illY V Ndt-Vthat Jane had any idea 'of doing ' alt tjhtse (things. . She hung 'up the tele- . phone and gathered all the candles from the lower floor, and started back for the hospifyiJV V.The moon had come up and she. had. ho more trouble with the fe»- ' cih'g, but she was desperately tired. She •; climbed the drive slowly, coming to frequent pauses. The hospital, long and low iand sleeping, lay before v h_r, and hs. one upper window there was a small yellow light. / -■:-..-..'■'•, Jane climbed the 'steps and sat dowa on the top one. SHe felt very tired and sad and dejected, and she sat down'- 1 em the upper step to think of how useless she was, and "how much a man must know to be a doctor, and that perhaps she would take up ; nursing m _ aarnast ' and amount to something, and — — , It was abem. three o'clock m the morn- ■ ing when the red-haired person, coming - down belatedly to 'close the front doors, saw a shapeless 7 heap on the porch surrounded .by. a* \radius of white-wax candies,, and going up shoved at it with hia foot. Whereat -tho heap moved slightly and muttered v "Lemme shleep." The red-haired person said "Good Heavens !" and bending down held a lighted match to tho sleeper's face and stared, petrified. Jane opened her eyes, sat up. and put her hand over her matilated hose with one gesture. "Yon!" said the red-haired perse*. And . then mercifully the match went out.- ../'-'. .../'■;' "Don't light another," said Jane. "I'm an- alarming sight. Would — would yeu mind, feeling if my nose is broken?*,' He didn't movo to .examine it. -I* just' kept on I::* Del ing and staring. ' .■■.', v -"\Vhero. have you heen '" he demanded. "Over to telephone?" said. Jane, .and yawned; "They're v bringing everybody i)V* automobiles— doctor-, nurses, furnace maji-^oh, dear me, 'l hope I mentioned a c-poic!':.. - =■-. ; 'V v f , „-.'_, ||'L|o you mean to say," said the redhaired; person wonderingly, "that you Wfeht by yourself across the fields and telephoned to get me out of this mess?" "Not , at all," Jane corrected . him ccjoliy. "I'm inj the mess myself." "You'll be ill again." . * . . "1/ never was ill," said Jane. "I was hereVfor a mean disposition." " •* ■■ ■ ■ < Jane sat m the moonlight with her hands m her lap and -looked at him calmly., The red-haired person reached over 'and took both her hands.: (■"You're a heroine,* he '•aid, and bending;, dp^vn he kissed first one and then the other. "Isn't, it bad euought that you. are beautiful without, your also heing brave. Jane eyed him. but he was m deadly earne.st.v_ In the moonlight ..his hair was .I'cally iiofc red at all, and he looked pale and _ very, very tried. Something inside of Jane gavo a .uriou* thrill that was half pain. Perhaps it'was the dying ef her temper, perhaps— "Am I stilt beautiful with this nese?" ' she asked. ''Ypu are everything that a woman should be," he said, and dropping her hands/ he got up. He stood there m .the moonlight, straight and young and crowned with despair, and Jane looked up from under her long lashes.

'"Then why don't you stay whero you .Were?" she asked. "At that he reached down and took her '. hands again and pulled her to her feet. He was very strong. », . "Because if I do I'll never leave you again," he said. "And 1 must go." He dropped her hands, or tried to. but Jane wasn't ready to be dropped. "You know," she said, "I've told you I'm a sulky, bad-tempered " But. at that ho laughed suddenly, triumphantly, aud put both his arms round her and h°ld her close. "I love you," he said, "and if you aro bad-tempered, so am I, only I think I'm worse. It's a shame to spoil two houses with v. c . isn't it?" To Ivor eternal shame be it told, Jane never struggled. She simply held up her mouth to bo kissed. ! .That is rea-y all the story.' Jane's father came with three automobiles that morning at dawn, bringing with him all that goes to make up a hospital, from- a pharmacy clerk to absorbent cotton, and having left the new supplies m the office he stamped upstairs to Jane's room and flung open the door. He expected to find Jane m hysterics ahd the pink-silk kimono. What he really saw was this : A coal fire was lighted m Jane's grate, and m a low chair before it, with her noss swollen level with her forehead, sat Jane, holding on* her lap Mary O'Shauglmessy's baby, very new and magenta-colored and yelling like a trooper. Kneeling beside the chair was a tall, red-headed person- holding a bottle of olive oil. "Now, sweetest," the- red-haired person was saying, "turn him on his tummy and we'll rub- his back. Gee, isn't that a- fat back !" And as -Jane's father stared and Jane anxiously turned the baby, the redhaired person leaned over and kissed the back of Jane's neck. *.'-■'■ "Jane!" he whispered. "Jane !!" said her father. '