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Show Jkjj Wt Tlx C0Y PUNCHER ;fegMfeBy Robert J.C.Siead 4, V-Wv "kitchener, and other poems" p' i rjuubatioro by tnrin Myet n your relations with this young Elden. this cow puncher. Let us know the worst." Irene's eyes flew from her mother to her father's face, and there they cnught something that restored their culm. "There was no worst," she said with a ripple of laughter, "but there was n good deal of best. Shall i tell you the best?" "Irene." said her mother severely, "did you permit that young man to make love to. you?" "I did not give him permission. If that answers you, because he didn't ask It." Mrs. Hardy had risen. "Andrew, you hear that? She confesses. It's dreadful! Horrible I What will everybody ev-erybody say?" "No worse than you have said. 111 be bound." put In the doctor. "Yes, take her part. What care you for the family name?" "1 have a right to speak for the family name," said, the doctor firmly. "It was mine before it was yours. I cannot see that the family name has been compromised In the slightest degree. de-gree. This Is Irene's first adventure. It will pass away. And even if it does not he Is a manly boy." Mrs. Hardy surveyed her husband hopelessly, then turned to Irene. "Have you made any promises?" "Only that I wouldn't make any promises until he had his chance. That seemed fair." "I suppose you are receiving letters from him?" "No." "Why doesn't he write?" For the first time Irene's eyes fell and the color mounted richer In her cheeks. She had to confess now, not for herself but for him. "He can't write," she said. "Merciful heavens!" exclaimed Mrs. Hardy, collapsing into a chair. . . . "Andrew, bring me a stimulant." (TO BE CONTINUED.) cident left me to enjoy my holiday as best I could at a ranch deep In the foothills, and Reenle stayed with me there. There was no one else " "No one? No ranchmen, cowboys cow punchers I lhiuk I uuve heard" with nice disdain. "No. Only young Elden " "Only? Who Is this young Elden?" "But he Is just a boy. Just the son of the old rancher of whom 1 have told you." "Exactly. And Irene Is Just a girl. Doctor Hardy, you are all very well with your fevers and your chills, but you can't diagnose a love case worth a cent. What about this young Elden? El-den? Did Irene see much of him?" The doctor spread his hands. "Do you realize that there were four of us at that ranch four only, and no one else for miles? How could she help seeing him?" "And you permitted it?" "I was on my back with a broken leg. We were guests at their home. They were good Samaritans to us. I couldn't chaperon her. And besides they don't do things that way In that country. You don't understand. It'p altogether different." "Andrew," said Mrs. Hardy, leaning forward, and the word was ominous, for she used his Christian name only In moments of crisis, "wai Irene ever with this young man alone?". The doctor arose to his feet and trod heavily upon the rich carpetings. "I told you you don't understand," he protested. "The West Is not the East. Everything is different " "I suppose human nature Is different," differ-ent," she interrupted meaningly. Then her head fell upon the table and her hands went up about her hair. It had been brown hair once but was now thin and streaked with gray. "Oh, Andrew," she wept, "we are ruined! That we should ever have come to this!" It was now Doctor Hardy's turn to he exasperated. There was one thing his philosophy could not endure. That was a person who was not and who would not be philosophical. Mrs. Hardy was not and would not be philosophical. phil-osophical. "This Is all nonsense!" said the doctor, doc-tor, Impatiently. "There Is nothing to it, anyway. The girl had to have s.me company. What If they did ride together? What" "They rode together? Alone?" "They had their horses along," said the doctor, whose impatience had made way for sarcasm. "You are mocking me. In this hour of shame you are making jests. Call Irene." The girl was summoned. Her fine face had lost some of Its brownness, and the eyes seemed deeper and slower, but she was still a vision of grace and beauty as she stood in response re-sponse to their call, framed in the curtains of an archway. Her quick sense caught the tense atmosphere, and she came forward with parted lips and extended fingers. "Yes?" she said. "What is wrong? Can 1 help?" "Your father has confessed," said Mrs. Hardy, trying hard to speak with judicial calm. "Now tell us about CHAPTER VII. Continued. "Real estate Is the only subject I would trust him on," she continued. "I must say, Dave, that for a shrewd business man you are awfully dense about Conward. He renin ined silent for a few moments. mo-ments. He decided not to follow her lead. He knew that If she had anything any-thing explicit to say about Conward she would say it when she felt the time to be opportune, and not until then. "How much did you Invest?" "Not much. Just what I had." "You mean all your savings?" "Why' not? It's all right, isn't It?" Fie had risen and was standing by the window. "It's all right. Isn't It?" she repeated. repeat-ed. "I'm afraid it Isn't !" he said, at length, in a restrained voice. "I'm afraid It Isn't." "What do you mean?" she demanded. demand-ed. "Bert," he continued, "did It ever occur to you that this thing must have an end that we can't go on forever lifting ourselves by our own bootstraps? boot-straps? We have built a city here, a great and beautiful city, almost as a wizard might build it by magic overnight. over-night. There was room for it here; there was occasion ; there was justification. justifi-cation. But there was neither occasion occa-sion nor justification for turning miles and miles of prairie land into city lots lots which in the nature of things cannot possibly, in your time or mine, be required for city purposes. These lots should be producing; wheat, oats, potatoes, cows, butter that is what we must build our city on. We have been considering the effect rather than the cause. The cause is the country, the neglected country, and until It overtakes the city we must stand still, If we do not go back. Our prosperity has been built on borrowed money, and we have forgotten that borrowed money must some time be repaid." "You mean that the boom is about to burst?" she said. "Not exactly burst. It will not be so sudden as that. It will just ooze away like a toy balloon pricked with a pin." There was silence for some minutes. When she spoke at length It was with a tinge of bitterness. "So you are unloading?" "The firm Is. I beg you, Bert, to believe that if I had known your Intention In-tention I would have tried to dissuade you." "Why me particularly? I am only one of the great public. Why don't you give your conclusions to the-world? the-world? Now that you see the reaction setting in doesn't honesty suggest what your course should be?" There was reproach in her voice, Dave thought, rather than bitterness. He spread out his hands. "What's the use? The harm is done. To predict pre-dict a collapse would be to precipitate a panic. It as though we were passengers passen-gers on a boat at sea. You and I know the boat is sinking, but the other passengers don't. - They are making merry with champagne and motorcars if you can accept that figure fig-ure and revelry and easy money. Why spoil their remaining few hours by telling them they are headed for the bottom?" After a moment she placed her fingers fin-gers on his arm. "Forgive me, Dave." she said. "I didn't mean to whine." "You didn't whine," he returned, almost al-most fiercely. "It's not you. You are too good a sport. But there will hp lots of whining in the coming months." Manlike, It did not occur to Dave that in that moment the girl had bidden goodby to her savings of a dozen years and had merely lookeo. up and said, "Forgive me, Dave, I didn't mean to whine." He glanced at his watch. "It's late for a theater," he said, "but we can ride. Which do you say auto or hnrsehack?" "I can't go horseback In these clothes and I don't want to change." Dave pressed a button and the omnipresent om-nipresent Chinese "boy" stood before him. "My car," he said. "The two-passenger two-passenger car. I shall not want a driver." Then, continuing to Miss Morrison: "You will need something more than that coat. Let me see. My smoking jacket should fit.!' In a few minutes they were threading thread-ing their way through the street traffic traf-fic In Dave's machine. Presently the traffic thinned, and the car hummed through long residential- avenues of comfortable homes. On and on they sped, until the city streets and the city lights fell behind and the car was swinging along a fine country road through a land marked with streams i nnd bridges and blocked out with fragrant fra-grant bluffs of young poplars. At last, after an hour's steady driving driv-ing In a delight of motion too keen for conversation, they pulled up on the brow of a hill. Dave switched off his lights, the better to appreciate the majesty of the night, and In the silence si-lence came the low murmur of water. There were no words. They sat and breathed It. Suddenly, from a sharp bend behind In the road, flashed the lights of an npproachlng car. Dave was able to switch his own lights on again only In time to avoid a collision. The oncoming on-coming car lurched and passed by furiously, fu-riously, hut not before Dave had recognized rec-ognized Conward as the driver. Back on Its trail of dust floated the ribald notes of lialf-lnfbxfcated women. "Close enough." said Dave when the dust had settled. "Well, let us jog hark home." They took the return trip leisurely, drinking In the glories of the night and allowing time for the play of conversation. con-versation. Bert Morrison was a good conversationalist. Her points of Interest In-terest were almost Infinite. And they were hack among the street lights before be-fore they knew. "Oh, I almost forgot," Bert said, as they parted, as though she really had forgotten. "I was at a reception today to-day when a beautiful woman asked for vou asked me If I had ever beard of Mr. David Elden." "'What. Dave Elden, the millionaire million-aire ?' I said. 'Everybody knows him. He's the beau of the town, or could he If . he wanted to.' Oh, I gave you u good name, Dave." "Thanks. Bert. That was decent. Who was she?" "She - said her name was Irene Hardy." CHAPTER VIII. Upon the return of Irene Hardy to the East it had slowly become apparent appar-ent to her mother that things were not as they once had been. It seemed as though she had left part of her nature behind had outgrown It, perhaps and had created about herself an atmosphere at-mosphere of reserve foreign to her earlier life. It seemed as though the loneliness of the great plains had settled upon her. "Whatever has come over Irene?" said Mrs. Hardy to the doctor one evening. eve-ning. "She hasn't been the same since she came home. I should not have let her go west alone." The doctor looked up mildly from his paper. It was the custom of thi doctor to look up mildly when Mrs. Hardy made a statement demanding some form of recognition. From the wide initiation into domestic affairs which his profession had given him Doctor Hardy had long since entirely ceased to look for the absolute in woman. He had never looked for it in man. He realized that in Mrs. Hardy he did not possess a perfect mate, but he was equally convinced that in no other woman would he have found a perfect mate, and he accepted his lot with the philosophy of his sixty years. So instead of reminding his wife that Irene had not been alone when she went west he remarked very mildly that the girl was growing older. Mrs. Hardy found in his remark occasion oc-casion to lay down the book she had been holding and to sit upright in a rigidity of intense disapproval. Doctor Doc-tor Hardy was aware that this was entirely a theatrical attitude, assumed for the purpose of Imposing upon him a proper humility. He had experienced experi-enced it many times. "Doctor Hardy," said his wife after the lapse of an appropriate period, "do you consider that an Intelligent remark?" "It has the advantage of truthfulness," truthful-ness," returned the doctor complacently. compla-cently. "It Is susceptible of demonstration." demon-stration." "I should think this Is a matter of sufficient interest to the family to be discussed seriously," retorted Mrs. Hardy, who had an unfortunate habit of becoming exasperated by her husband's hus-band's good humor. "Irene is our only child, and before your very eyes you see her you see her Do you know, I begin I really begin to suspect sus-pect that she's In love." It was Doctor Hardy's turn to sit upright. "Nonsense !" he said. "Why should she be in love?" It is the unfortunate un-fortunate limitation of the philosopher that he so often leaves Irrational behavior be-havior out of the reckoning. "She is only a child." "She will be eighteen presently. And why shouldn't she be In love? And the question is who? That Is for you to answer. Who did she meet?" "She met no one with me. My ac- |