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They made their way down the little [ T have a table Inside,” he told them passage and out Into the sudden blaze ns they approached. ‘‘It—is better for -Hf sm'fim.’T.OIilse, led John conversation. The rest of the place is to a small car which was waiting In -like a bear garden. I am not sure If the real.4...^ ' " 'J “The dnylton,” she told the man, as. j-tie. arranged the fugs. “An«l now,” sho*j restaurant." 't they will dance hfrp today, but If they do, they will come also iato!£h» added, turning to John, “why have you come to-London7 How long are you going to stay? What are you going to do?. And—most Important of all—In' what Mrt't have you come?” John breathed a little sigh of Con-' tentment. "1 came to see you,” he con fessed bluntly., “Dear!' me !” she exclaimed, looking ‘I, at him with a little smile. “IIow down-’ ordered absinthe. “Wise man!” Louise declared, too, hate the .babel outside.” “We are faced,” said the prince, as he took up the menu, “with our daily problem. What can I order for you?” “A cup of clTocplnte,” Louise replied. “And Miss Sophy?” “Tea, please.’’ . ' - * ! John, too, preferred• tpnthe prince 1 * il ■ * » n 1 ♦. i i. ' i •’ :4-—1 Hr / |v> l ;' (1 i- ■ 1 r lie. V n f i ! i I [S | I •- -1 . . • 1 i -v*. JOHN STRANGEWEY REELS THE LURE t)F LOVELY WOM AN AND IS'UNABLE TO BREAK THE SPELL • LOUISE HAS WOVEN • - ' r .1 ■> ■ ^ Synopsis"—oh’u^ip through the English Cumberland country the breakdown of her automobile forces Louise Maurel, a famous London a ctress, .to'"'Spend' the night at the farm home of John.and Stephen Strahgewey. At dinner Louise discovers that the brothers are woman- bating recluses.- NeYt morning she discovers that John, the younger brother, has recently cormMoto u large fortune. In company with him she explores the furm and is disturbed by evidence of. his rigid moral principles. He learns she Is a friehd. of the prince of Sayre, a rich and disreputable neighbor. Three months later, unable to shake off the girl’s memory, John goes to London. . ' • * sniutntlons, right and tradespeople, with farmers, brought Into towp' by the market, with no-, quaintanres of all sorts '-.and condi tions. More than'ene young Woman shadowy corner of the. wings. Over- right you urtT - spirit of i,t to me. In you I see the era- “The truth—’” he began, bmliment of my Therese.” Louise made no movement. Her eyes were fixed, upon « > a certain from the, shop windowswj; the pave ments ventured to smile ht^bini, and the few. greetings, he rec* , Yvr*(Lfr.<*ml the wives and daughters of his ndghTrors were ns gracious as they could possibly ‘-be made. John almost smiled once in . the act of raising his hat, as he real ized how completely the whole charm of the world, for him, seemed to lie in one woman’s eyes. t At the Crojsswnys, where he should have turned to the Inn, he paused while "A polyglot meal, Isn’t It. Mr. St range wey?” said Louise, as the order “Has t<> be handled'very carefully,” ' va S executedH’not In the least what she said, interrupting him,* “The trujh Ibnr’ wonderful q)d butler of yours is either beautiful or crude, and tire understand by tea. Sophy, put peophTwlm meddle wiTh“such a won- your hat on straight if you want to derful thing need a great deal of tact. You have come to see me, you say. wrought as she hatH’stkffljt-flTA$fth the eniotlonal #>'xcjtebient of] her long s I ,l ' i *‘* h - «i<**'Vu S now n now mulcurl- th< ,„ , will !„■ Just ns frank, .nn, uxprwsion upon lu r Sl„. wnsjj ,,„ ve be(m , , llwt . y0 ‘ u wouidj looking at a falh, hesitating figure that come ?»* - Mon,] just off the stage. She forgot the- can't ImaKini , hmv p(m(] . H ls existe.nco.of the famous dramatist who to ll<iar you 8ay (1 nt .. ho (1(1( ^red. hung upon her words. IJer feet tin • «*^ijnrl longer trod the.dusty boards of the theater. She was almost painfully conscious of the perfume of apple blos som. v ; ... - . irr _ • “You !” she exclaimed, stretching out 'S’ 1 l Till ' CHAPTER V—(Continued.) " —3^ _i ~" “You aren’t let-ting your thoughts dwell upon that woman? s . “1 ha vie—thought about her some times,’’ John answered, almost defiant ly. “What’s the harm? I’m still here, am 1 not ?" Stephen crossed the room drawer of the old mahogany a motorcar passed. It contained a woman, who was talking to her host, her hands. “Why do you not come and She wa?Tnot in the least like Lou- speak to me? l am' here P’ j ise, and yet Instinctively he knew that John came out upon the stage. The thoughts, and for a moment lost cbn / [ sflf ’ Av,,s sa,ne world. The per-^w*tich dramatist, with his hands be- trol of himself. | fectlon of her-white-sergecostume, her hlpd'tlts back, made swift mental^hotys ■ , . <>f an Interesting situation. He'saw . “Were you thinking about that’wom an?” lie asked sternly. “What woman?” “The woman whom we sheltered here, the woman whose shameless pic ture Ison the cover of that book.” 10m. From the. John swung round on his heel, piny sideboard i “Stop that, Stephen 1” he said men- he produced an Illustrated paper,; I Ip UCingly. turned back the frontispiece' fiercely and held it up. “I)o you see thnt, John?” "I’ve seen it already." Stephen threw the paper upon the table. “She’s going to net in another of those confounded French plays," he' suid; “translations ■ with all the - wit tnken out und all the vulgarity left iu.” • ’^vny should I?” the older man're torted. '‘JTnke up that paper, if you want to reiul a sketch of the life of Louise MnukeL See the play she made her name In—‘LiKGIoconda’!" "What about it?" Stephen held the paper out to his brother. John read, a few lines and dashed it Into a corner, of the room. “There’s this much about It, John,” Stephen Continued. "The woman jrtayed ‘We knew nothing of her art,” John thnt part night after night—played Jt to the life, mind youJ- She made her ; reputation in it. TliatJs.. the’woman we unknowingly let sleep beneath- this roof 1 - The barn ls the place ffir her! and her sort!” John’s clenched fists were held firm ly to his sides. His eyes were blazing. "That’s enough. Stephen!” he cried. "No; it’s not enough !” was the fierce reply.” “The truth’s been burning In my declared colcMy. “YVe shouldn't under stand it, eVen if we saw her act. There fore it isn’t right for us to judge her. Tiie world has found her a great ac tress. She is pot responsible* for the plays slip acts in." Stephen turned away and lit Ids pipe anew. He smoked for a minute or two furUnisIy. His thick eyebrows came closer and closer together. -He 1 lie coming of a man who stood like a she went on, “I .have been. Imping it for .more reasons than one. You have come* to realize, I hope, that it is yoUr duty' to try to see a little more, of life than you possibly can, loading a patriarchal ,existence among vour flocks and herds.” * . T They wore silent for several 'mo ments. “I thought you would come,” Louise d at last; “and I am glad, but even .in these'first few minutes I want to , sav snmottrirrg to von. If vou wTsh t o glarjt among them, sunburnt; buoyafil- ; llv un(K . rstari(1 tlu , poopl ,,^ >u IIloet ! with health. Ids eyes bright with the | lH .V jU1 d the life they lead, don't be wonder of litB unexpech-d surround- ! ^ V - U]r broth( , r _ t „„ qllU *k to Judge, ings; a man in whose presence every- n ‘ ot vour pn . iu , lloos t ob tightlv. „ne else seemed to represent an effete Y Nvl „ fanny prol),iems, ((Hid pallid type-of humanity. — *;- ^ - 1 --- Those first few srmteTrces. SpoTreii TrT make a ’ good fnfjiression ofi Mr. Stmngewey. I am lioping that you two will be great friends.” Sophy turned toward John with a little grimace. , +*• * - r ' “Louis<vis so tactless!" she said. "I am sure any Idea you might have had of liking me will havt» k gone already. Has it. Mr. • Strangewey?“ “On the contrary." he replied, a little stiffly, but without hesitation, “I was thinking that Miss Maurel could scarcely have set me a more pleasant task.” : • : • The girl looked reproachfully across at her friend. • . i<j ( , “You told me he came from the wilds, and was quite uns'ophlsticated !” sin* exclaimed. “The- truth,” John assured* them, looking with dismay at his little china cup, “comes very easily to us. We are brought up on it in Cumberland.” “Don’t chatter too much, child," Lou- . ■ , , , . —- rtH*Hng^4R»4 ^the midst of a curiotisflittle crowd of a|)(>ut over in Ids mind. “John,” he asked. ‘Is It this cursed seemed to he turning some thought ..heart long enough. It’s better- out. You want to find her a guest at Rayn- hnm castle, do you?—Ravnham castle. money Hint is | making you restless?” where never a decent woman crosses the threshold! If she goes there, she goe*— Well?" An anger that was almost pnrnlyz- room. He left tlw* house by the bnck “I never think of it except when someone comes begging. I promised a thousand pound* to the infirmary to ady.* .> v ,u “Then' what’s wrong with you?” '' John stretched himself out, a splen did ligute of healthy manlK^nl. j'HTs (loor, passed quickly through the or- ohccks were sun-tknned, lii,s eyes clear * ehnTd, w here the tangled moonlight lay and bright. . upon thp ground In strange, fnntnstlc “The matter? There’s nothing on | shadows; across the narrow strip of earth the matter with me," he de- field, a field now of golden stubble; up The hill which looked down mpon the farm buildings arid the Churchyard The Whistle Sounded. The Adventure ..of His Life Had Begun at Last. * 1 -•» * **•>' ■ "** \, m • . hat so smartly worn, the half-insolent smite; th^dlttle gesture with WhicTf she strftnger*!, seemed to .Tfjiin, when he thought of iiis long waiting, almost plt- eously . Inadequate, /f.ouise. recogniz ing the (lifflcultysTThe situation, swift ly recovered her/cofriposyre. She was hoth tactful and gracious. ‘‘Mr. Faraday,” she said appealingly. "Mr. Strangewey comes from the coun try—he is, .In fact, the most complete j countryman I have ever met in my life. He conies from Cumberland, and 1 he once—well, very nearly saved my life. He knows nothing about the aters, and he hasn’t the least idea of the Importance of a rehearsal. You won’t mind if we put him somqwhere odt of the way till we have finished, will you?” “After such an introduction,’’.Fara day said in a tune of resignation, “Mr. Strangewey would he w elcome-at nnv. time. “There’s a dear man!’’ Louise ex- claimed.. "Let me introduce him quick ly. Mr. John Strangewey—Mr. Miles ise sald henigniy. 1 ”1 want to near ,ch __wUt-.Seejn - some more tif Mr. Strangewey’s im-' to you. D« IP a make up your ffl^sstnns. This is—well, if ndt quite a ifashionable crowd, yet very nearly so, YYliht do you think of it—thq wom en, for instance?" "Well, to me.” John confessed, can didly, “they all look like dolls or. man ikins. Their dresses and their hats overshadow their faces. They seem all the time to ho wanting to show, not themselves; hut w'TTat"thVy” Tuive 'on.'” They all laughed. Even the prince’s 'lips were parted by the flicker of a smile. Sophy leaned across the table ■with a sigh. - ’ “Louise," she pleaded, "y >u will leyd "It Isn’t your health I mean. There arc other things, as you well know. You do your day’s work and vou take bowlder, filled with a hateful sense of * *-*. ' your pleasure, und you go through both I unwrenked passion, yet with u sheer thankfulness In his heart thnt he had raised her hand—something about her at 0 , . \ I araday, M. Gfalllot, illss-Sophy Ge-. unlocked the floodgates. * ,, , ... * * rar<l, my particular little friend. The — r T t had yyt T ] prince Of Seyre yor, Already know, al- ing, a sense of the utter Impotence of ' ' ” * u t S ®^°*. . J- l< tb<*bgh you may not recognize him trv- words, drove John in silence from the '' n lenlthy appetite for his midday jn pHmlance himself on that absurd meal, and a certain interest concerning s(onl , a deal In barley uprfn which he was T . x . . , .. 4| , i . . . * . . • John bowed In various directions, about to engage. And now another 1. „ , ». , , .. . . ■ ,, , , . , - ... tT a .*, , and I* araday, taking him good-natured- world had him in Its grip. He flicked . . , r . , , . ‘ , . j . , ly by the arm, led him to a garden seut the mare with his whip, turned away . ’ . . ’ . .v , .. . , „ 1 , * ... at the hack of the stage, . from the Inn. and gqlloped up to the station, keeping ptlfe with the train. whose whistle he had heard. Standing ..... . . outside was a local horse dealer of his llo rat grimly. dr,wn upon « -f<*t-, (iri , |llt , [la , anything in a hurry^” "I w y 1 remember that." he promised. “You.must 'remember, 'though, that I don’t expect ever to become a convert. I believeT am a countryman, bred and born. jStill, there are some tilings that I want to understamL-If I can, and, more .than anything else—I want to see you V* She faced his direct speech this time with more deliberation. “TellrbRexactly why.” "If I couldTffll you that,” he replied simply. “I shoulit'die able to answer j for myself the riddle''wffleh has, kept him to me sometimes, won’t you? You me awake at night' for weeks and won’t keep him altogether to yourself? months, which hns puzzled" m> jiiore There are such a lot of places to. take than anything else in life has eve^ him to!” done.” |>..“I was “You real|y have thought of me, NUiarked, with an air of self-ftatisfac- then?” i J tion. ‘of-wiu succeed in '’making a favorable nhfqvssion upon him. . I promise you yotirMfflare." !”T«*11 us some moreTY^ your Impres- sions. *Mi*. St rangewey," Shphv begged. “You. want to laugh at me^\John protested good-humoredly. 1 • r ■ * * never greedy,” Louise re- “There!” he said. “You are one of the most privileged persbYiS in London. You shall hear the finish of our re hearsal. There isn’t a pressXpian In- “Didn’t you always know that I Should?” rr' v. _ “1’erhnps,” she admit toil . “Anyhow, l alwajs* felt tlmt we should meet again, that you would come to London. The problem is," she added, smiling, “what to do with you now you are here.” •‘‘I haven’t come to he a nuisance,” he assured her. “I just want a little help from you. I want to understand Iveoause it is your world. I want-to feel myself nearer to you. I want—” She gripped his arms suddenly. She blurred with custom perceive so lit-tle. knew well i*tinu^!i that she had dellb- ^ ou are fiuRe right "hen \ou say that eiuitely provoked "his words, hut tlnwe ,heso wonu ‘ ri ar ‘‘ ,,ke manikins; t-hat was a look in her face almost of fear. ^ u> * 1 * HM hes and faces are lost; hut one does not notice it until It Is polnt- “<>n the contrary," the prime sured him, ns lie fitted a cigarette into a long amber tube, “they want to laugh with you. You ought to realize your, value as a companion Hi these days. You are the only pej>.u> yvlio can see the trytli. Eyes* and tastes M ,, ! London I’d have near the place “Take the mare hack for me to Peak _ , . * 1 . as if your feet were on a. treudnilli.V "Your fancy, Stephen!” “God gran4 It! I’ve had an unwel come visitor In yqur absence." John turned swiftly around. “A visitor?" he repeuted. “Who was It?” Stephen glowered at him for a mo ment. Hall, will you, Jenkins,"dr send one of vTwenty-four hour? away from prince of Seyre, as he calls himself, though he has the right to style him self Master of Raynham. It’s only hiS foreign blood which makes him choose -what I regard as,the lesser title. Yes, escaped the minsmn of evil thoughts which Stephen’s words seejned to have created. The fancy seized him to face these half-veiled suggestions of his brother, so far as they concerned himself and his life during the last few months. Stephen was right. This woman who your lads?” he begged. “I want to ; sitont htl,s ’ John l0(,ked out wlth P uz Yds “Don’t let'us he too serious all at once,” she begged 'quickly. ‘ “If you Imre one fault, my dear big friend from the country," she went on, with \ "It was Jhe prince,” he saTd; “the had dropped from the clouds for those few brief hours hn<) played strange havoc with John’s thoughts and his w hole outlook upon illfe. The coming j cutch this train.” The man assented with pleasure—It paid to do a kludngss for a Strange wey. John passed through the ticket office to the platform, where the train was waiting, threw open the door qf a carriage, and flung himself Into a corner seat. The whistle sounded. The adventure of his life had begun at last, i CHAPTER "VI. zled eyes~fbom Ids dusty seat among ropes and pulleys and leaning frag ments of scenery. ‘What he saw and heard seemed to him, for the most part, a.meaningless tangle of gestures and phrases. The men and women In fashionable clothes, moving about be fore thq£ gloomy space of empty audi torium. looked more like marionettes than creatures of flesh and bl(\od, drawn this way .pud that atthe bidding ! of the stout, masterful Frenchman. Of harvest, the care-of his people, his ' French draraat t^- dark wh0 "ns continually muttering exeln- >ports, his cricket, the early days upon . , , , , \ ’ matlons and banging the manuscript tin* grousp .moors/ had qll suddenly P a e- am an corpu en , s 00 upon upon b j s ban( j it seemed like a dream lost their interest for him. Life had ^ me ^ e ® a .^ e ’ picture, with unreal men and women liecQtne n ^ ^ dishing his manuscript in his hand. He m ’ mocking always in his cars-. He sar with his head resting upon his hands, ‘looking steadfastly across the valley helmv. Almost at his feet fay the little church -with its grave- h,llf * ImnKod the phlm.of Ms left'hand with about ttlmlesttly, sajlhg strange ,g. hitlfrChnlletiglng words„,e rolled-..p tannuserlpt and looked at them all furiously. ‘The only success I care for, he Then there came a moment which brought a tingle Into his blood, which tvouse. tiie whole little colony nrotmd .. .. .plunged hi? senses Into hot confusion, thundered, “is an artistic success!” „ • t ' , , s U waS a - ni a v “With Miss Maurel playing your, 4 f w nis> u . tl * ^ > a pla *, v 1 * , which they were rehearsing^ of course ! se obviously unreal embrace, but It was only a play. , ,, -■ j .. leading part, M. -.Graillot, the actor- T . , ■ ., ,1. . . r , yard, the long,line of stacks and barns, , , , ... . . , - It was mdambahle tiling to see Loui? .111 . .. ... manager declared, “not to speak of n . . . . .. . j . , , the laborers cottages.M-the huRlfTs , ,, , , , . . taken Into that cold and obvlousl , ; .- , company carefullv selecte<i to the best , u ^ . j of my judgti . • , , lir ^ juusinont, I think you may ven- T . . which his life seemed centered. Tiie * J J , , It was part of her nuiwier moonlight lay upon thegronml ,UI ’ * t0 init< John resumed h1s seat and* folded TTTTHuid lip—- Tim anfflmflsr fTowod hurriedly to ^ „ rm ; with the ombrnge had fallen an Rmiglnary c-urtaln,, and the. rehear- Louise. alhTos!' like snow shea ye,s of wheat standing up in the -in w 1 hi Ik . , , Across the viaduct there came a -"’111 he as patient as ( ifflhHyi.f sfreiimiug light, a serpentlike . The stage manager s*mited out some trail* gtiL(nily heard whistle*—file Scot- Infections from his pst distant of the wrnfields. Reyoqd ^ 0,1 rocsd \ to mo a fact, he said wa ^4 a w, r> They were all crowded as the dark gorge toward which he gallantly, which almost reconciles me together^ tnTklng, in the center of the nd looked so many nights at this ,,lis (iia ica travesty of sonic of sta ^ e The prirtce^ who had stepped "ur. - tuy;lines. -Proceed, thenr-prqyeed! I across the footliRh ^ ade his way to 1 1 ,ard London. tlslr tow out of sight. footlights, where John was sitting. "So you have deserted Cumberland for a time?” lie courteously inquired. “I came up last night,” John replied! “London, nt this season of the year,” the prince observed, “is scarcely at Its -best.” ! *V- ' : 'i iox. A gentleman- on its way southward 1,1 foultless ^morning ,clothes; who His-eyes followed it seemed,to liirve been thoroughly enjoy.- Ih' f!lY nid lilniseif thiJili- '‘ig flu), interlude, Suddenly Adopted the lug,of the passengers wh+t.wnuld wnke_ walk of a footman. Other the'.next morning in London. He felt actors, who had been whispering to- Jiimself suddenly acutely conscious of gether in the wings, came back to their ids isolation. Was there not somefhTngM»' ,a< ' es - advance)] alone, a lit tit; almost monastic in the neeluslon4-hieh hw^uldly, to the front of the stage. At' had becojile a passion with Stephen,- r ,, H‘ sou “ d h, ‘ r ^IlIJ'^umbeHand .during the whole of that inTd wliich had its grip, too, upon him*- .--lot, nodding his head vigorously, was* tffne.’* V- aTled to. ask you to .shoot and stay a waste of llfe.’a burying of talents? toothed. ,IIer_ speech whs a long one. It “You Arenjt^Letting Your Thoughts! Dvyefl Upon That Woman?" at the castle, if you would, from the / sixteenth to tiie twentieth of next' month.” “What answer did you jErlve him?’* ”1 told him .that you w'W'ybur* owtf master. You must -send word tomor- row-” ' ;;; ... .J*. v~rrmrmrmmmm*mmp He Aose Pshis feet. The half-formed purpose of weeks held him now, defi nite, und secure.' He knew thnt tills pil grimage of Ids to the hilltop, fit* rapt Tontempiatlon of thi^little pnnOrnma which had become so dear to him; was In a sense valedietory. I 1 *- John smiled. “I afh afraid,” he said, “thnt I am not critical. It is eight .years since I wus here last. I have not been out of The prince, after a raomenils Incred- “I Want to Feel Myself Nearer to You. I Want—" - * ...» - ' a swiftly assumed gayety, “It is that you are too v serious'£or your -years. Sophy andT between us niust try to cure you of that! You see, we have arrived.” He handed her out,' followed her across 4-lie phvement, and found him self plunged into what* seemed to him to he an absolute vortex of human be ings, ail dressed in very much the sumq fashion, all laughing and talking together very much in-the same note, all criticizing every fresh group of ar rivals with very much the same eyp and manner, r The palm cViurt was ed out.” “We. w ill revert," Louise decided, "to a more primitive life. You and I will inaugurate u missionary enterprise, Mr. Tftrangewey. We will Judge the world afresh. „ We will reclothe'and re habilitate it.” # • • The prince flicked the ash, from the end of his cigarette. “Morally aswell as,sartorially?" he asked. * ,, There was a moment’s rather queer silence. \The. music rose above the hubbub of voices’ and died away again. Louise rose to her feet. The prince, ^vith a, skillful maneuver, made his way to ,her side as they left the res- taurunt. * • - v “Tomorrow afternoon, I think you said?” he repeated quietly. „“You will be itKtown then?" "Yes)xL think so.’V/ "You lutye cliunged your mind, then, about^—" "M* GrnlllotNvlll not listen to my TenVing London," Interruiited rap- Idly. “He declares that it Is too near the production . of the |*lay. Mv own part nmy he perfect, lull He needs me —~~ : for the yake of 1 lie' others/ He puts It like a Frenchman, of course.” They had reached the outer door, which was hqlng held' open for them • by a bovving eominissiounnire.- Join and*’Sophy w*ere waiting upon the pave- nieut. * The prince drew a little back. ’, “I understand,” he murmured. John finds himself in the midst of new city adventures, and he succeeds in captivating more than one handsome' woman of the stage world. After all, two more months passed - ulous stare, laughed softly to him- prowded with little parties seated at nppeareq that she had been arraigned sel ^ the various round tables, .partaking before a com pan \ of her. relatives, as^ “y.ou are a very wonderful person; * languidly* of the most Indolent meal of senfflled to comment upon ,h>r mis- Mr. Strangewey,” he declared. “I have ! the day. Even the broad passageway heard‘of your good fortyne. If I can of .any service to Vou'during your leimnilii hn l addiu (Wds. . She woimd up with a pas? ate appeal to her husband, Mr. Miles Farmlay, who had ma(le,uia ulu xpected wm concmded# was \<yeathed In smiles. . “Ah!” he crieijr~'"You haye lifted us 'xany of bi*f other guests, f yiiqipose?” Tie mentioned no minigs at all.”. before,the end came, and it^came then'' John was, silent fiffl .a momeut. A without a moment’s vtoqring. It .was ^all up! ’Now I feel.once mojorthi in- bewildering* thought had taken hold of ] n little past midday whenTohn drove spiratlon ldm. Supposing she were to he tljere? slowly through the streets of Stephen, watching 1dm. read his Ketton In his high dogcart, excha ^-Mademoiselle, I kiss your rket hand,” he went on. “It is you who still redeem my play. You bring back the - y-... V- “plense command roe.” “ “You are x&ty kind,” John replied gratefully. . t !l^ouIse broke away from the little group and came across toward them. " “Free at laitl” she exclaimed. “Nqw let us go out and have some tea.” * > (TO BE CONTINUED.) The Squirrel Dog. :.riThere Is no occbuntiug for that un canny Taculty that eauhles a homely, long-legged, sad-eyed pup to go un erringly to a lofty oak tree In whose jfigher branches a bitof animated hrown fur Is secreted. Another dog of the same or more prepossessing ap pearance and of a better breed might trot unconcernedly past that sttme oak haari-ihe- »rw wffhont^w^iatwfr^^ow*a^iBn«wl' sniff. the orchestra* fo^he bahel of voices.^* r U ( dot so with the real "squirrel dog, was full of men and women, standing about and talking or looking for tables. J ona^lllT hAflE JllO tllllfiln. ,lf ..■..-ir.irjt The prince of Seyre beckoned to them from the steps. He seemed to have been awaiting their arrival there—a cold, immaculate, and, considering-his lack ot^jUlgJil, a curiously distin- guished-lobking figure. He’d pick out the/right tree In the densest grove a hunter ever penetrat ed. And if that squirrel started leap ing from tree to tree, that *dog would-* follow it over a square mile of, flm-, her. , ’ ly