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' v ?. i> , , :5H . . * X,. ^ ,5f - S*?v J " *JT#- / _ *v"'., .''.Vitj-, < - "-'i.. V . - :. . ... ' , 9 Rgfpmm ? HE Morrls-Moores had Just had their first?no, not quarrel?tiff, v Harry was now In hiB study tV pulling down books he did not ^Fwant and piling them up on his Jtt table. He selected a row ot notebooks bearing title, "The Grlsons and the Italian Valleys." He got out extensive whlteWlrJjMW blotched Swiss survey maps. |and files of the little "Ladln" SHbeSSEs paper printed lit Samaaden. He had got all thl8 up thoroughly on bis last Journey, and now was the time to dip deep into the pile of printed and annotated "stuff." It would help hlni to forget anything so absolutely silly as a little wife upstairs In her room, the tears of temper still wet on her cheeks, and employing her small white teeth In reducing to tattered "waste" a soaked lace pocket handkerchief. , Henry Morris-Moore felt himself very superior. He was calm, cold, Judicial, and abovo what he called "infantile tempers." Upstairs Clara wept and fretted. To think, only to think?scarcely ten months married, and It had come to this! Ah. If only she had known! Were all men so cruel, so bitter? Did nobody care for her? She would go to her mother?No (Clara's reflection came refreshingly cool, like a splash of cold water), no-o-o?well, not quite that! For one thing, she knew her mother; and Mrs. Murray-I.lnklatcr would "pack her back to her hUBband." Clara heard her mother speak these very words. Hut?It was over. So much was fixed. Never, never would It be "glad, confident morning again." Henry had settled that when he spoke those words?those cruel dividing words. He had said?had said?well, Clara could not 1 quite remember what. But, at any rate, it was over. She ooulil never forgive him?for saying that?yes, about dear Aunt Unetitia. Oh. yes, she remembered, "that he could never get her I a single night to himself Without some stalking < old she-patriarch with a reticule coming in to spoil everything." 1 Clara would not have her family spoken against?not by a score of Henry Moores. She had been educated carefully in the Murray- , Linklater cult, and no Vere de Vere could be prouder of her name. , Clara, in her bolted bedroom, was getting out her blotting book and pad to write to her i poor wronged aunt. She was going to ask a i refuge for the few remaining days of a blasted ( life. Yes, that was the adjective she was using, ] and (strange coincidence!) the villain below i stairs was also using it, though perhaps in a more colloquial sense. He hnd Just knocked < over a whole pile of the neat notebooks in 1 f ? which he stored away his literary material, and * was passing off his own clumsiness in invec- i tlve against inanimate things. This was his man's way of biting his handkerchief. I But the strong arm of coincidence reached yot further. Stumbling ami grumbling, Harry gathered up the fruit of his travel experiences and be- I . gan re storing them in the little three-eornored ' Rhfllvnu tlhnpn v. l">"? *- ?*-' iic sucn mings tor refer- 1 ence. Work would not "go" to-night, somehow. One remained in his hand?a small pocket note- ' book with rounded corners, which served to 1 carry about him for the shortest personal Jot- 1 i tings. Usually it lay among his keys on the ' .. dressing table, and when he shaved he was In ' the habit of putting down a word or two?oh. 1 as brief and bald as possible. , * * i Hut this particular stubby volume happened to be his diary of two years ago, and ho stood 1 there with one hand mechanically pushing the notebooks into their places, while his eyes, en- ' tangled by what he read, transported him to ' the ragged carpet, the peremptorily furnished 1 lodgings, the solitary walks, hands deep in 1 pockets, overcoat collar up, cap pulled low? 1 of the days when first? But stay, what was ' Clara doing? ' She had got out her blotting book from un 1 der "The Songs of the North." The new maid? j very hard on the temper of young wives are new mams, as a class?had Jammed It Into the rack, bending the corners shamefully. And so, 5 when at last Clara had released the folio, lo! a car.cade of solidly built volumes In red basil i clattered to the ground. She had Just, time 1 to spring back; for'he volumes had solid brass locks, all opened with the samo little gold key. ! She wore It abcut her neck, n?d no od? in the ( HI -1ha1l 1 CJirisilTlO ^7 5-R.Cr :HHB\ | i?\ * vB ^ .? cs^stozzy SLWP G&fjFA'aFTCS"/*' world, not even Harry, had ever been allowed to peep within. Indeed, since she was married she had not often done so herself. But now? now that the happiness of her life had founden,>d beneath her. she would go back?it might he all the pleasure (sob) that was left her? thus to live over a happy past. (A time.) Watklns, the Moores' new maid, experienced some surprise (and not unnaturally) when, in the exercise of her vocation, she was parrying a copper jug of hot water to Mrs. Moore's dressing room before sounding the first gong, she observed her master and mistress approach each other from opposite ends af the corridor, both Intently reading, like people on a stage?he In a small black book, sho in one large, fat and red. A still poorer opinion had Sarah Watklns of her new plnce when she saw the readers look up simultaneously, suddenly and guiltily close their books, turn on their several heels, and so exeunt. f "And them sez as what they has only been married ten months!" she meditated. "Well? we'll see what's to come of this!" The family dinner that night was distinguished by extreme correct It tide of demeanor, ind an etiquette almost Spanish in its statelloess. They were nothing if not polite?that Is. when Watklns was in the room. But Watklns knew, and stayed a moment on the mat. llstenng to the silence that dropped like a pall. Sho entered, smiling to herself, knowing (oh. experienced Watkins) that she would find Clara ooking sideways at the pattern of the carpet is though she had never seen it before, while it his end o^ the table Harry was molding jread pellets as if for a wager. These things lo not vary. But even Watklns the wise did not know sverything. Penny fiction does not Inform ts readers what real people do. So as soon is Clara had escaped out of tho dining room, icfore he had time to open the door for her, iiarry sulkily sat down and felt for his cigarette case. He was sure he had left It In the Irawing room. Yet he would not go for it. de could hear Clara playing a noisy jig, the vriggle and stamp of which ho particularly oathed. "The little wretch." he said, laughing In jplte of himself, "she knows quite well." "flood evening, Mr. Moore," said his wife, ind he rose and went. "Your cigarette case is n the smoking room." But this time Harry had it all his own way. Six feet of blonde colossus mado short work >f mere pinpricks of the tongue. Clara found farRgmei A ^ >31t>rv ook.e'tt ^' $ ' '* = "" ' ? -# )r ' -A ' * It I % * f: : I $ %: J ' ' . - . /?sz z+&i<r z^ooAy/Vc Kf= JWT'TZ'APA' G>^ 7jY7= <34/2/^7^ herself swept olT the piano stool and Installed where, on the rounded nrni of a big easy chair, she had little more liberty of movement than that of swinging her feet naughtily and rebelliously. while her husband questioned her. "What book were you reading so intently this afternoon when I came upon you in thn corridor? Lot me Bee it?" "Shan't!" (A time). "Oh. you coward! Because you aro strong! I shall go to?to?" "Where? To whom?" said Harry, easily. "To my?to Aunt I.aetitla." "She wouldn't have you, child," laughed her husband, "and besides, she would charge you board?which I should have to pay!" "Well, I would pay it out of my own money?there!" "What own money?" "My houso money!" "You forget, Mrs. Morris-Moore," said her husband, gravely, "if you run away you wouldn't have any house money!" Then in a burst, as he shook her, "Oh' you great baby," ho cried, "make up. Bring the book! It was a volume of your diary. 1 knew by the lock. I'll show you mine. Fair exchange! Off with you!" "Well, come with me, then," said Clara, holding out her hand, "hut don't you think I'm giving in. It's only yielding to brute force. My spirit is unconquered." "Never mind your spirit," said her lord, "fetch the hook!" And in these books, the greater and the lesser, they read late into the night. And this was what they found. " 'Christmas eve' "? said Clara, "begin there!" And sho paused, waiting, with her finger in its place. "Oh." said her husband, "I don't think there is much!" nuu jun van juuraeii a writer!" "Well, shall I begin?" Clara was all on pins and needles now. She could hardly keep still. The quarrel was forgotten. "'Christmas eve' (she read). 'A dull day? Paid calls In the lane?Went to Margaret's. Baby Is adorable and Tom begins to love me and calls me Aunty dee-ar. Came homo by Grant's and brought back fruit for dinner. There Is a man coming, a friend of father's. It is a horrid nuisance.'" Here Clara Moore broke off suddenly. "Oh, I wrote everything fresh, you Bee. I wanted to remember. You've no Idea how bad my memory used to be In those days. Being married helps. One has to remember one's hushand's Iniquities." " 'Set in a notebook, learned and conned by rote.' murmured Harry. His wife stopped and looked severely at him. "Well," she said, "I did write a lot, I know, and yours Is no fair exchange. 1 did It partly as an exercise, you see, for I was considered very good at composition at school, whatever you may think. Besides, I don't believe you have anything In that book at all." "Oh, yes?I have!" and he nourished a closely written page of memoranda before her eyes. "Well,"-she said, with a sigh (and her eyes were dim and distant), "I will read?thoueh I never thought to let anyone see?not even you. But since you have been so horrid to me, 1 will." It seemed an odd reason, hut Harry wisely i nodded. Clara fluttered some leaves thoughtfully. "Where shall I go on?" she asked, knitting her brows. "You did begin from the beginning," he smiled as he spoke, "why not continue?" She glanced up with sudden shyness, almost as he snoke, "why not continue?" She glanced up with sudden shyness, almost like a surprised Eve. "You were saying that It was a horrid nuisance, having me come to dinner," said Harry Moore, "did you change your mind?" "Here It is," said his wife, running her eyo down the columns of close knit writing. "'11:00 p. m. He is gone. It wus not so horrid after all. But 1 think he likes Edith best. Ho Is big and badly dressed. Why can't writers and artistic people dress humanly? He had on tho funniest tie I ever saw, and a beard, and he came In a big gray cloak like one of Millet's shepherds. But he talked?yes, It was worth rTT ~ ~ wr TTfTlBT ' nbranip while hearing him talk. Not much to me. though, but he looked at me a lot. and somehow seemed to be conscious of everything I was doing. Dr. Stonor came In after, and wanted me to look out music for him. We went Into the corner together and got out the folios, and though he was talking to father. 1 knew very well he was watching us." That's all." Clara concluded. She had been reading very rapidly, as If anxious to get to the end. "Now for yours!" Mine! oh, mine's no great thing." fi^id Harry, opening his little black pocketbofjk^ "Jottings merely." "Go on, please." cried Clara, stamping her foot, "and mind, don't alter a word or put In more. I shall know!" '"Christmas eve'" (began Harry) "'worked at Guardian article, took It round, Baw proof of yesterday's. Chief wants mo to go to Armenia about the atrocities. Shan't! To club In afternoon?Clifton, McCosh, Moxon and several of the fellows there, who wanted me to stop. Told them I couldn't. Had to go out to old Llnklater's to dinner?girls, music, bore? but 1 should look In later.' " "Oh!" interjected Clara, with her head suddenly haughty, "a bore?was it?" "You said a horrid nuisance!" remarked her'husband, and continued his reading without troubling to defend himself further. " i got there early?long way out of town? several false trails. At last found the place? a big house under trees. From the doorway I could see In the hall a girl standing on steps, putting up holly and green stuff. Presently old LInklatcr came and Introduced me. "This is Clara!" I became conscious of two great, dark, steady, grayish-hazel eyes. The dinner went all right after that. Pretty?well, I don't know: a fascinating and glamorous person certainly. There was also a sister.' " "Nonsense!" said Clara. "You are making up as you go along. I know you." Her husband silently handed her the book. Decidedly It was so written. Clara did not apologize for her unbelief. She only remarked, "Oh, but you are a dear." And, rubbing her cheek against his coat sleeve, she purred. "Go on!" she said. " ,llhin??r miltn Infnrmul ' Ilnrru i ? .,^-4 ? .-.w. * * ??? a / V,V)UUli UCU. " 'Talked too much, but got led on Bomehow. Everything went well. Doetor fellow there, who put on a lot of frlend-of-the-family side? sat In a corner and talked to the girl with the eyes.' " "Ah. ha! You see?you were Jealous already!" cried Clara, clapping her hands Joyously. "Nonsense!" said Harry Moore. "Of Uttlo Stonnr? I think I see myself!" "Road the next day?go on?go on! No, the day you came to Elton again!" " 'Went to make my "digestion" call. Took some flowers up to Elton, and talked to the old lady. Think I made a conquest. But the Lady of the Eyes did not show up. Waited an hour and a half, but don't think I wasted my time entirely. Dear old lady!" "Harry, you are a cold-blooded wretch!" "Very much the contrary, Mrs. Moore!" "Now shall I read?" And without giving him time to answer. Clara opened the solid basil boards and continued, "'Dec. 28th: Went out all the afternoon with Miss Grlerson. Down the lane?soup kitchen, girls' club, and went home with her to tea. When I got homo I saw mother had a secret. You always knew by the satisfied way she has of looking mysterious. She would bo disappointed if you didn't ask her at once. So I teased her to tell. "'Do you kuow whom I've been entertain-' tng all afternoon?' she said, her shoulders shaking with repressed laughter. I understood [ well enough. " "Oh, the curate,' I said, as carelessly as I could. 'I saw him going down the lano like a pair of compasses let loose.' "'Do you think the curate wnnlH hrlnir mo I thoso?' said mother, triumphantly. And she showed me a lovely bunch of rosea, a wagon- | load nearly, which she had Bet woll hack In the dusk of the piano, bo that I should not see tbem before mothor had her little triumph, i My! they must have cost heaps of money this time of yenr. 'They are all mine,' said mother, i 'but If you are good you can havo Just one bud for yourself. You see what one gets by staying quietly at home!' " 'She was teasing me, of course, this dear old sweet-hearted mother. " 'You see what one gets for doing works , of charity and mercy!' I said. 'He would have given them to me If I'd been here. I'll never do a good action again!' " "Now turn on to 'Four Seas Cottage,' and read about that," cried Clara. Her eyes were not gray now, nor yet hazel. The dark pupils | had swallowed up all the rest, overflowing everything with the soft blackness of a misty night of few stars. "Let's sec. Raster, wasn't it?" said her husband. "Rut why skip? Much water had flowed undor bridges during these months of spring." "Oh, I want to gee to the end?the end!" Clara whispered, excitedly. "Quick, quick?I can't wait!" "Well, here It Is: 'April 8th. We went a walk along the beach, she and I. We tAlked. I told her that unless something was going to come of this, I must go away. "'What,' .sho said, 'for altogether?' And i nam ies.- men she walked a good while Bllent, and when I looked, I could see'?" "No, you didn't" said Clara. "I could never have been so silly!" " 'Tear after big tear rolling slowly down her cheek,' " Harry continued, Imperturbably. " 'I needed no more than that?who would? " 'You don't want me to go?' I cried. " 'She shook her head, still weeping, and not caring now whether I saw or not. " 'So I stayed.' " They sat long silent that night In their own home, near each other, and happy Harry's heart was softened. He was In tho mood for concessions. "Dear," he said, "If you would like Aunt Laetitia to come and stay with us a month?" "Oh, bother Aunt Laetltia!" exclaimed Mrs. Henry Moore, "I only want you!" And thus did Clara Murray-Llnklater deny her father's house and cleave to her husbund. m WitttV ISob's fT WAS Christmas ere fa jPt- 1 a mining camp la ^ l\?r. \ Rocky mountains, , \ years ago. There were * many men. bnt only one little girl. She was sitting In front of a fireplace, which occupied one whole end of "the ^ best cabin In camp." Her seat was m a flat piece of plie log. Lying close 1 to her was a big St. Bernard dog. 1 "Miner Bob says that Santa Claus I comes down the chimney; but now, I Rorer, wo know better than that.** I She took hold of the dor's collar, and 1 I turned bis head toward the fireplace. x s "Even If he should get down the chimney. he'd be burned up. lie could not bring anything with him without getting It black and dirty. I'll put the fire out tonight with that pall of water." Rover got up and took a lap or two. and then came back and waited for the rest of the story. She continued: "Rut I don't believe iny Santa Claus will come away out V|S here, where there is only you and me. Here she stooped and whispered in the dog's ear. "We'll leave the win- V low open. Of -course. Rover. I don't B mind telling you why I am so anxious 1 for Santa Claus not to come down 1 that chimney. You see. I want a doll. Miner Hob says that Santa Claus brings you what you wish for. I never saw real dolls, but they cust be beautiful things. This picture I ^ cut out of a magazine is a doll, so ' Miner Hob says. Whew! It mustn't come down the chimney, Rover, It mustn't." In a few minutes the dog and the little ^rirl were both fast asleep. This time the child's head was pillowed on Rover's shaggy coat and in her hand *he tightly held an advertisement of Christmas toys. Two men. sitting at a pine table In the other end of the cabin, were talking in a low, mysterious manner. "We are "most out of food, you know," said one; "only five potatoes left We paid $100 for the last stick, but wo could not get another stick for love or money. We have been snowed In now for three months, and ws'vfc got to count on four weeks more be- fed fore there Is any hope of getting out v of here." "Yes. I know it," replied hlB com- , ' ? panion. "but I'm going to do It Just ' the same." "You know the boss' orders." spoke up the first man. who was Miner Rob. "We'll catch it if we disobey, especially when starvation is staring: us in / the face." "I can't help it." was the reply, "put It all on me; I'll stand the blame." ,. j i The men drew their chairs closer # A together, and there they worked for J? several hours, stopping; Just long te enough to lift the little plrl from the floor to her cot. where she went on dreaming of Santa Claus and tho j beautiful doll. { JC It was a bitter cold night?a regular fl blizzard' Several miners lost their way going from one camp to tho Other and wore frozen to death Ani- d mals that failed to get under shelter 1 were found dead next morning. ^ The little girl remembers no more of that most terrible storm In the history of the camp, but next morning she was awakened early by her father trying to close a broken window. Ho said it had been crushed in by tho storm, but the little girl said, "No, Santa Claus did it." "He's been here!" she cried, and in c her excitement fnirly rolled from her cot over the floor to the chimney. With cries of "It's a doll?a doll!" she clasped to her heart tho most beautiful thing she had ever seen. "It's my doll, all mine; and It'B got eyes, and a nose, and a mouth, and A ears and hair?and such a beautiful red flannel dress!" She kissed It again and again, and no heart ever came so near bursting with Joy as the heart of that lltti? girl, way out In the snowed-ln mine, with death and starvation all about her. The two miners had oome In, and were listening to the wonderful story as It fell again from the childish Hps. "You used them all," Interrupted the father, gnzlng sternly at the man. "Yes." said Miner Bob, "we used them all." "It was wrong, very wrong?" "We could not help It," replied the other miner. "It was the only way to make It. and we'd rather go hungry the rest, of our days than have the kid disappointed." The "kid," oblivious of anything but the blessed Joy of possessing a doll, was telling Rover: "Father thinks the wind broke the window. I forgot to open it; but. you see, Santa Claus knows Just what you want, so he brought the doll through the window to save her from getting dirty coming down the chimney." Little did she realize that of all the dolls found that Christmas morning in the stockings of the little ones all over the United States not one was made of as precious material as hers. She was clasping to her bosom tho "only five potatoes In camp." They had been carved Into "Miss Doll" by Miner Hob. and dressed in pieces of tho only good red flannel shirt that the other man possessed. Forty Christmas days have' passed since then, and they have all been happy ones, but the poculiar and exquisite satisfaction T experience In pressing to my heart "my potato doll" has never been exceoded. J~ i