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Show v. . Copyrlglit. ' 1 f And so she sat In front of th mirror and criticised every detail of tne coiffure which the maid prepared. , , . . I and unhappy. As he went on to ask her to be a little less reckless, Helen put her arms around him and said, with the solemnity that she always wore when she waa eayest: "But, daddy, I don't know what I'm to do; you sent me to Germany to study music, and if I'm never to play it" "Yes. but, Helen, such frantic, dreadful noise!" ' ' But, daddy, tbe Germans are emotional emo-tional people, you know; no one would have been in the least surprised at that in Germany; it was a hvmn, daddy!" "A ihvmn!" gasped Sir. Davis. "Yet" honestly," said Helen. "It Is a wonderful hymn. Every German knows it nearly by heart. Mr. Davis had as much knowledge of German music as might be expected of one who had lived twenty years in the country and heard three hymns and an anthem every Sunday by a volunteer choir. Helen's musical ' education, as all her other education, had been superintended super-intended by Aunt Pollv, and the only idea that came to Mr. Davis' mind was of Wagner, whose name he had beard people talk about in connection with noise and incoherence. "Helen," he said, "I trust that is cot the kind of hymn you are going to 6ing tomorrow." "I don't know was the puziled reply. "IH see what I can do, daddy. It's dreadfully hard to find anything In German music like the slow-going practical lives that we dull Yankees have kept me happy for weeks, if Arthur Ar-thur hadn't been here to trouble met" Then, however, as she went to the window again to watch the storm, which was now raging in all its majesty, majes-ty, she added more unselfishly: "Poor boy! It is dreadful to think of him being out in it." She saw a bolt of lightning strike in the distance, and she waited breathlessly for the thunder. thun-der. It was a fearful crash, and it made her blood run faster and her eves sptrkle. "My!" she exclaimed. "But it's fine!" And then she added, with a laub: "He can correct his poem by it, if he wants to!" She turned to go upstairs. On the way she stopped with a rathsr conscience-stricken look and said to herself: her-self: "Poor fellow! It seems a shame to be happy!" She stood for a moment thinking, but then she added: "Yet, I declare, I don't know what to do for him; it surely isn't mv fault if I am not in love with him in that mad fashion, aad I don't see why I should make myself wretched about it!" Having Hav-ing thus silenced her conscience, she went up to unpack her trunks, humming hum-ming on tbe way: "Sir Knight, a fsithfal lister's love This heart devotes to thee; I prav thee, ask no other lov. For pain that cause me. "Quiet would I thee come, Aad quiet see the go; The ilnt weeping of thin eyes I cannot bear to know." fi CHAPTER III. (Continued.) There was a tall mirror between the two windows of the room, and Helen went toward it and stood in front of it, .. gazing earnestly at herself. "Is it true, then, that I am so very beautv full" she mused. "And even Arthur must fall in love with me! ' ' Helen's face was still flushed with . the glory of her ride with the Storm King; she smoothed back the long strands, of golden hair that had come loose, and then she looked at herself again. "It is dreadful," she said once more, half aloud. "I do not think I ever felt so nervous in my life, and I don 't , know what to do: everything I did to please him seemed only to make him more miserable. I wanted him to be happv with me; I wanted him to stay with me.' . And she walked away frowning .and seated herself at the piano and- began peevishly striking at the keve. "I am going to write him and tell him that he must get over that dreadfulness," she muttered after a while, "and come back and be friends with me. Oakdale will be too 6tupid without him all summer and I should . be miserable." She was just rising impatiently when the front door opened and her father came in, exclaiming in a cheery voice: "Well, children!" Then he stopped in surprise. "Why, some one told me Arthur Ar-thur was here!" he exe'aimed. "He's gone home again," eaid Helen, in a dissatisfied tone. " -"Home!" exclaimed the other. "To Hilltown?" While she was singing Arthur was in the midst of tbe tempest, staggering toward his home ten miles away. He was drenched by the eold rain and shivering shiv-ering and almost fainting from exhaustionfor exhaus-tionfor he had eaten nothing since early dawn; yet so wretched and sick at heart was he that he felt nothing, and scarcely heard the storm or realized where he was. lead." Then a sudden idea occurred to the girl. "Just see. for instance," she said, fumbling hurriedly among her music, "I was playing the 'Moonlight Sonata" this morning, and that's a good instance. "That is the kind of moonlight they have in Germany." she laughed, when she found it. After hammering out a few discords of her own she started recklessly into the incomprehensible incompre-hensible "presto," thundering away at every crescendo as if to break her fingers. fin-gers. "Isn't it fine, daddy t" she cried, gazing over her shoulder. "I don't see what it has to do with the moon," said the clero-vman, gazing helrtlessly- at the open window and wondering won-dering if another crowd was gather- "Yes." "But I thought he was going to stay until tomorrow f" "So did I," eaid Helen, "but he changed his mind and decided that he'd better not." "Why, I am reallv disappointed," aid Mr. Davia. "I thought we ehould have a little family party: I haven't eeen Arthur for a month." "There is some important reason," eaid Helen; "that'e what he told me, anyway." She did not want her father ,i te have any idea of the true reason or &9 ask anv inconvenient questions. Mr. Davis would perhaps have done so had he not something else on his mind. . "Bv the way, Helen," he said, '"I must ask you, what in the world was that fearful noise you were making t" " Noise t ' ' asked Helen, puzzled for a moment.- ! "Why, yes; I met old Mr. Nelson eoming down the street, and he eaid that you were making a most dreadful racket upon the piano, and shouting, too, and that there were a dozen people gtanding in the street, staring!" A sudden wild thought occurred to Helen, and 6he whirled about Sure enough, she found the two windows of i the room wide open, and that was too much for bar gravity; she flung her-ie her-ie nnsvn th aofa and save vent to iug. . ' "That's what evervbodv'g been trying try-ing to find out!" said Helen. Then, as she heard the dinner bell out in the hall, she ended with half a dozen frantic fran-tic rnns and, .lumping un with tbe last of them, took her father's arm and danced out of the room with him. "Perhaps, when we come to see the other side of the moon," she said, "we may discover all about it. Or else, because be-cause the moon is supposed to set people peo-ple crazy." So they passed into dinner, din-ner, where Helen was as animated as ever, poor Arthur and his troubles seeming to have vanished completely from her thoughts. In fact, it was not until the meal was nearly over that she apoke of them again; she noticed that it was CHAPTER IV. "Doesn't thoa 'ear my 'one's legs, as thsy canter wayf Proputiv, proputty, proputty that's what I ears' em easy. . But I knawed a Quaaktr feller at often 'a towd ma this: 'Doaa't thou marry for munny, bnt goa wheer munny isl " Helen had much to do to keep her busy during the next few days. She had in the first place to receive visits from nearlv everybody in Oakdale, for she was a general favorite in the town, and besides that everyone was enrious to see what effect the trip had had upon up-on her beautv and accomplishments. Then, too, she had the unpacking of an incredible number of trunks; it was true that Helen, having been a favored boarder at an aristocratic seminary, was not in the habit of doing anything troublesome herself, but she considered it necessary to superintend the servant. Last of all there was a great event at the house of her aunt, Mrs. Boberts, to be anticipated and prepared for. It has been said that tbe marriage of Mr. Davis had been a second romance in that worthy man's career, he having bad the fortune to win the love of a daughter of a very wealthy family which lived near Oakdale. The parents had of course been bitterly opposed to the match, but the girl had had her way. Unfortunately, however, the lovers, lov-ers, or at any rate the bride, having been without any real idea of duty or sacrifice, tbe match had proved one of those that serve to justify the opinions opin-ions of people who are ''sensible;" growing dark outside, and she stepped to thei window just as a distant rumble of thunder was heard. "Dear me!" she exclaimed. "There Is a fearful storm eoming. and poor Arthur Ar-thur is out in it; he must be a long way from town by this time, and there is no house where he can go." Prom the window where she stood she had a view across the hills in back of the town, and could see the black clouds coming swiftly on. "It is like we were imagining imag-ining this morning." she mused; "I wonder if he will think of it I" The dinner was over soon after peal after pl of laughter. "Oh, daddy!" she gasped- "Oh, daddy!" Mr.' Davis did not understand the joke, but he waited patiently, taking off hie gloves in the meantime. "What is it. Helen " he inquired. "Oh, daddy!" exclaimed the girl again, and 'lifted herself up and turned her laughing eyes uppn him. 'And now. I understand why inspired people have to live in the country! "What i it, Helen!" "It it wasn't anything, daddy, ex-eept ex-eept that I was playing and singing for Arthur, and I forgot to close the win- dom.'' , , "You must remember, my love, that rou live in a clergyman 'a house," said Mr. Davis. "I have no objection to merriment, but it must be within bounds. Mr. Nelson aaid that he did not know what to think wasthe matter." mat-ter." Helen made a wry face at the name; the Nelsons were a family of Methodists who lived across tbe way. Methodists are people who take life seriously, as a rule, and Helen thought the kelsons were very queer indeed. "Ill bet he did know what to think.' she chuckled, "even if he didn't iry it; he thought that was just what "Ci expect from a clergyman who had a decanter of wine on his dinner table." Mr. Davis could not help gmiling. And as for Helen, she was herself all over again; for .when 'her father had come in she had about reached a point where be cculd no longer tear to be serious haps the most prominent trait of high society in general a complete satisfaction satisfac-tion with the world ehe knew, and what she knew about it, and the part she played in it. For the rest. Aunt Polly was one of those bustling little women who rule the world in almost everything because the world finds it too " much trouble to oppose them. She had assumed, as-sumed, and had generally succeeded in having recognized, a complete superiority superi-ority to Mr. Davis in her knowledge about life, with the result that, as has been stated, the education of the one child of the unfortunate marriage had been managed by her. (Te Be Continued.) tunc, and she looked out again lust as the first drops of rain were falling; the thunder was rolling louder, bringing bring-ing to Helen a faint echo of her morning morn-ing music. She went in and sat down at the piano, her finsrers roaming over the keys hesitatingly. "I wish I conld get it again," she mused. "It seems like a dream when I think of it-it it-it was so wild and so wonderful. Oh, if T could only remember that march!" There came a crash of thunder near by, as If to hero her, but Helen found that all efforts were in vain. Neither the storm musio nor the march came back to her. and even when she played a few chords of the great chorus she bad sung it sounded tame and commonplace. common-place. Helen knew that tbe glory of that morning was gone where goes the best inspiration of all humanity back into nothingness and night. "It was a shame." she thought, as she rose discontentedly from the piano. "I never was so carired away by music in my life, and the memory of it would the young wife, wearving of tbe lot she bad chosen, had sunk into a state of peevish discontent frdm which death came to relieve her. Of this prodigal daughter Aunt Polly was the elder, and wiser, sister. She bad never ceased to urge unon tbe other, oth-er, both before and after marriage, the folly of her conduct, and had lived herself her-self to be a proof of her own more excellent sense, having married . a wealthyatockbroker who proved a good investment, trebling his own capital and hers in a few years. Aunt Pollv therefore there-fore had a fine home upon Madison avenue in New York, and a most aristocratic aris-tocratic countryseat a few miles from Oakdale, together with the privilege of frequenting the best society in New York, and of choosin- her friends among the most wealthy in the neighborhood neigh-borhood of tbe little town. This superiority superi-ority to her errino- sister bad probably been one of the causes that bad contributed con-tributed to develop the most prominent trait in her character which is per- |