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Show i - SCARLET TRUMPETS Dy JANE JORDON 1 u J, Wi'Hlorn NuwiiiJiiiJflr Union.) . A I. AN came slowly Into the cool, beautiful room; It was very hot outside, even where fountains played In the garden. The room someway was Indicative of Uncle Horace, restful rest-ful In Its quiet dignity. Alan had been mentioned as one of Uncle Horace's heirs, the property to he shared with a certain young woman, w hose mother the elder man had loved long ago, and hnd failed in winning. Alan had' recently met this young woman and had not been especially Impressed. Cheerful and pretty, too, It must be admitted, was Miss Nora Harry. She was now Uncle Horace's guest in the big house to which Alan had come through all his school vacations vaca-tions to pass happy days. Uncle Horace veiled Ills disappointment disappoint-ment when Alan decided against law, which was his own profession, but he could but be gratified in his favorite's success In the business he hnd chosen. Other young women were present at this house pnrty which Uncle Horace was giving. He liked to entertain In this great home, too often silent. Grafton, his uncle's law partner, was also there, a dependable man among men, attractive to women. Preoccupied, Alan walked the length of the living room. Who, he meditated, might feel entirely sure of Lois? Today assuring him, her dark eyes hurt by Ids doubting of her loyalty. Tomorrow laughing her mockery mock-ery across the shoulder of Grafton or across some other favored man's shoulder shoul-der with whom the will o' the wisp happened to be walking. Saying to Alan later: "Why, my dear, don't you know I'm not to be believed? when I can't believe be-lieve In myself." Alan paused before ttie empty fireplace fire-place where In winter logs gave iforth their warmth. Now the fireplace was filled with flowers In tall vases scarlet scar-let flowers ablaze In Imitations of the fire that wanned. "Scarlet trumpets," his uncle called them, straight, erect, glowing. Alan smiled at the fancy; they reminded him of the commanding beauty of Lois. Her voice came to him as he sat bowing his head on his arms crossed on a wide carved table. Across Alan's troubled senses came a soothing perfume reminiscent in some pleasing intangible way of boyhood boy-hood days and happy memories. He lifted his head ; on the table before hira In a violet vase was a bouquet of heliotrope bloom heliotrope that his mother had loved and worn on the simple sim-ple muslin dresses, Alan remembered. The thought of her brought tears to his eyes. Were there women like her still In this world? Yes, pretense, Alan thought bitterly. Was not Lois and her kind ever pretending? He could see In memory his young mother's hands on his father's head, soothing, encouraging. Alan's father had known reverses struggle. Alan's Bweet mother had been the great compensation. com-pensation. True, understanding, unselfish. "You make me mad," came the rollicking song "You make me glad" It ended In a crash of keys and Lois' wild laughter. Tears were creeping through Alan's fingers how long one tender memory had power to stir. Some one came into the room ; he arose hurriedly. The scent of heliotrope heli-otrope Increased the young woman who entered wore a knot of the flower on the breast of her ' white frock. She smiled up at him, and her voice was softly pleasing "You remember me? I am Nora Barry. Your uncle asked me to bring tea to him here; he has returned from a tiring game. Will you join us?" Alan was confusedly aware that tears were visible in his eyes. Also, he knew that Nora Barry, In kindly sympathy, affected not to see them. What must she think of him? Men do not weep over perplexities perplex-ities of business. Uncle Horace came in smiling his enjoyment. "My two favorite young folk," he said, "and tempting refreshment refresh-ment spread before us. What more may the heart of a lonely old man desire?" de-sire?" Later he looked across the table to where Nora Barry sat. "My dear," said Uncle Horace, "you grow more like your mother every day." Alan watched the glow that overspread over-spread the girl's sweet face ; he was seeing for the first time that long ago sweetheart of his uncle's, whose loss he hnd ever deplored. "She cared for tho other man," Uncle Horace explained ex-plained with a certain proudness, "and Nora Barry was too true to marry for my money." So, through the years of his disappointment disap-pointment Uncle Horace was faithful to his ideal. And Nora Barry grew more and more like that mother. Uncle Horace declared. "I will play for you," Nora offered. Alan went and leaned over the grand piano at the end of the room. He had not known that music had such power to soothe. Slowly he walked to the fireplace where the scarlet trumpet flamed. "It has no perfume to last," he said, Irreverently. ' "But" Uncle Horace answered, "just a flare of color to hold the eye attractive at-tractive for a time." Alan went back to the piano. Norn I raised her blue eyes to his anxiety j In their gaze lest bis mysterious sor row had not been dispelled. Sudden ly he knew that It was for his di-version di-version that she had hopefully giver her music. He smiled down upon hei to him came gratefully thi perfume of heliotrope. |