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Show w9jer pmchard WON V " COPyftlOHT oouaL6DAy PAGE O CO. SYNOPSIS. 13 I frrow tired of my work as a college Instructor ana buy a New England (arm on sight. I inspect my farm and go to boar at Bert Temple's. Bert helps me to hire a carpenter and a farmer. Hard Cider, the carpenter, estimates the repairs and changes necessary on the house. Mike commences plowing. I start to prune the orchard trees. Hard Cider builds bookcases book-cases around the twin fireplaces. Mrs. Temple hire Mrs. Pillig for me as a housekeeper, and announces the coming of a new boarder from New York, a half-sick half-sick voung woman who needs the country air. I discover that Stella Goodwin will make a delightful companion and believe she ought not to return to the hot and dusty city for a long time. I squeeze her hand slyly. Together we dedicate "Twin Fires." I surprise her wading in ' the brook and enjoy a delightful thrill. Mrs. Pillig, my housekeeper, arrives with her son Peter and his dog Buster. I wonder if I love her. We take a quiet walk by the brook. Stella returns to New York. s You'd never guess how Johri Upton made the decision of his i i life and carried it out. If you, $ 1 reader, are married you'll huge- S jj ly enjoy this installment. If i you're not married and are won- i dering how to persuade a girl to $ i marry you there's all the more 5 i reason why you'll enjoy the fol- lowing continuance of the story. "It it was nice of Buster to send you," she said. "You look so white, so tired," I answered. an-swered. "Where is all your tan?" "Melted," she laughed. "Have you business in town? It's awfully hot here, j-ou poor man." "Yes," said I, "I have business here, very important business. But first some supper and a spree. I've got 'most two bushels of peas to spend!" We had a gay supper, and then took a cab, left my grip at my college club, where I had long maintained a nonresident non-resident membership, and drove thence to Broadway. "How like Bentford Main street!" I laughed, as we emerged from Forty-fourth Forty-fourth street into the blaze of grotesque gro-tesque electric signs, which have a kind of bizarre beauty, none the less. "Where shall we go?" "There's a revival of 'Patience' at the Casino," she suggested, "and there are the Ziegfeld Follies" "Not the Follies," I answered. "I'm neither a drummer nor a rural Sunday-school Sunday-school superintendent. Gilbert and Sullivan sounds good, and I've never heard 'Patience.' " We found our places in the Casino just as the curtain was going up, and I saw "Patience" for the first time. I was glad it was for the first time, because she was with me, to share my rlplichr. As incomnarable tune nfrpr protesting lips. "I shall, anyway," 8h? added. "We are two lone orphans, you and I, but we have each other, and all that Is mine is yours, all all all!"' Suddenly she threw her arms about my neck, and I was silent in the mys-! tery of Iter passion. ( CHAPTER XIII. j i I Do Not Return Alone. Many people, I presume, long to fly from New York during a late June and early July hot spell. But nobody who does not possess a now place in tho country, still unfurnished, with a garden gar-den crying for his attention and a brook wandering amid the pines, can possibly realize how the dust and heat of town affected me in the next ten days. It affected me the more because. I saw how pale Stella was, how tireii when the evenings came. With her woman's conscientiousness, she was struggling to do two weeks' work in one before leaving the dictionary. She even toiled several evenings, denying herself to me, while I wandered disconsolate dis-consolate along Broadway, or worked over my manuscripts at the club, surrounded sur-rounded by siphons of soda. At the luncheon hour and between five and six we shopped madly, getting a stair carpet, car-pet, dining-room chairs (a present from' her to herself and me, as she put it-fine it-fine Chippendale reproductions), a few rugs as many as we could afford and other necessary furnishings, including in-cluding stuff for curtains. For the' south room the curtains were gay Japanese Jap-anese silk from au oriental store, to balance the Hiroshiges, and while we were buying them she slipped away from me and presently returned, tho proud possessor of two small ivory ele-. phants. "Look, somebody has sent us another present!" she laughed. "Folks are so good to us!. These are to stand on the twin mantels, under the prints." "From whom are they?" I asked. "Your best friend and my worst enemy," ene-my," she answered. For three days after she left the office of-fice of the dictionary I saw little of her. "There are some things you can't buy for me or with me," she smiled. Then we went down together to tho city hall for our license, sneaking in after hours, thanks to the kindly offices of a classmate of mine, the city editor of a newspaper. The clerk beamed upon us like a municipal Cupid. The last evening she left me, to pack her trunks, and I went back to tho club, and found there a letter from the magazine where I had submitted my story. It was a letter of acceptance! Misfortunes are not the only things which never come singly. I danced for joy. If the stores had been open I should have rushed out then and there and bought the mahogany secretary we had seen a few days before and wistfully wist-fully passed by. Fortunately, they were not open. In the morning my cab stopped in front of the old house near Washington Washing-ton square, and Stella came forth witll a friend, a sober little person who appeared ap-peared greatly impressed with her responsibilities, re-sponsibilities, and bo the totally inappropriate in-appropriate name of Marguerite. "Dear, dear!" she said, "I've never attended a bride before. It's very trying. try-ing. And it's very mean of you, Mr. Upton, to take Stella from us, .and leave me with a new and stupid coworker. co-worker. How do you expect the dictionary dic-tionary to come out?" "I don't," said I, "nor do I care if it doesn't. There are too many words in the world already." Bill Chadwick, another classmate of mine, came up from downtown, and met us at the church door. The rector was a friend and fellow alumnus ot ours. It was like a tiny family party, suddenly and solemnly hushed by tho organ as we stood before the altar, and in the warm dimness of the great, vacant va-cant church Stella and I were mado man and wife. The four of ua went out to the cab again, and Bill Insisted on a wedding breakfast at Sherry's. "Good Lord!" he said, "you two gumshoe gum-shoe Into an engagement, and get mar- John Upton takes his first mess of peas to town and sells them to the hotelkeepei with whom he enters in conversation. CHAPTER XII Continued. He smiled politely, but not without a skepticism which annoyed me. I hastened from him, and left my manuscript manu-script with the stenographer, who had arrived for the summer. "I'll call for the copy tomorrow noon," said I. Then I went to the telegraph tel-egraph booth and sent a day letter to Stella. "Buster sending me to thank you," It read. "Meet me Hotel Belmont Bel-mont six tomorrow. Sold over a bushel of peas today. Prepare to celebrate." cele-brate." "Mike," said I, returning to the cart, "drop me at the golf club. Tell Mrs. Pillig not to expect me to lunch." It was ten o'clock when we arrived at the entrance tothe club. I jumped out and Mike drove on. The professional profes-sional took my name, and promised to hand it to the proper authorities as a candidate. Then I paid the fee for the day, borrowed some clubs from him, and we set out. I had not touched a club since the winter set in. How good the driver felt in my hand! How sweetly the ball flew from the club (as the golf ball advertisements phrase it), on the first attempt! I sprang down the course in pursuit, elated to see that I had driven even with the pro. Alas! my second shot was not like unto it! His second spun neatly up on the green and came to rest. Mine went off my mashie like a cannonball, and overshot into the road. My third went ten feet. But it was glorious. Why shouldn't a farmer play golf? Why shouldn't a golfer run a farm? Why shouldn't either ei-ther write stories? Heavens, what a lot of pleasant things there are to do in the world, I thought to myself, as I flnariy reached the green and sank my put. Poor Stella, sweltering over a dictionary in New York! Soon she'd be here, too. She should learn to play golf, she should dig flower beds, she should wade in a brook. I flubbed my second drive. "You're taking your eye off," said the pro. tune floated out to us the absurdest of absurd words, her eyes twinkled into mine, and our shoulders leaned together, to-gether, and finally, between the seats, I squeezed her fingers with unrestrain-. able delight. "Nice Gilbert and Sullivan," she whispered. "It's- a masterpiece; it's a masterpiece!" master-piece!" I whispered back. "It's as perfect per-fect in its way as as your sundial! Oh, I'm so glad you are with me!" "Is it worth coming 'way to New York for?" "Under the conditions, around the world for," said I. She colored rosy, and looked back at the stage. After the performance she would not let me get a cab. '"You've not that many peas on the place," she said. So we walked downtown to her lodgings, through the hot, dusty, half-deserted streets, into the older section of the city below Fourteenth street. I said little, save to answer her volley of eager ea-ger questions about the farm. At the steps of an ancient house near Washington Wash-ington square she paused. "Here is where I live," she said. "I've had a lovely evening. Shall I see you again before you go back?" I smiled, took the latchkey from her hand, opened the door, and stepped behind be-hind her, to her evident surprise, into the large, silent, musty-smelling hall. She darted a quick look about, but I ignored it, taking her hand and leading her quickly into the parlor, where, by the faint light from the hall, I could see an array of mid-Victorian plush. The house was silent Still holding her hand, I drew her to me. "I am not going back alone," I whispered. "You are going with me. Stella, I cannot live without you. Twin Fires is crying for its mistress. YTou are going back, too, away from the heat and dust and the town, into a house where the sweet air wanders, into the pines where the hermit sings and the pool is thirsty for your feet." I heard In the stillness a strange sob, and suddenly her head was on my ried without so much as a reporter In the church, and then expect to make a getaway like a pair of safe breakers I No, sir, you come with me, and get one real civilized meal before you go) back to your farm fodder." I Bill had the solemn little bridesmaid, laughing before the luncheon was over.j but the last we saw of them they were waving us good-by from behind tho grating as we went down the platforral to our train, and the poor girl was mopping her eyes. "Isn't the best man supposed to fall in love with the bridesmaid?" I aslced. "At least I hope he'll dry her tears." "Good gracious, yes!" cried Stella. "I never thought of that. You don't know what we've done! Marguerite is a dear girl and an excellent cross-indexer, cross-indexer, but she's no wife for your gay friend William. You'd best send him a telegram of warning." "Never!" said I. "Bill has cruised so long in Petticoat bay as a blockado runner that I hope she shoots him full of holes and boards him in triumph. Besides, everybody ought to get married." mar-ried." Stella's eyes looked up at mine, deep and happy below their twinkle, and we boarded the train. 5 But we haven't reached tho ' ' i finish yet, by a long shot. Most !' stories end with wedding music !' but not so this tale about John ',' J and Stella. How Peter and Bus- ' 5 ter and the others greeted the J newlyweds and how Bid Chad- ! ' wick and little Marguerite spun ! S out a romance Is told entertain- '' Ingly hereafter. ! wvwwwvwvvwwvvwww! (TO BE CONTINUED.) "I m taking my mind off," said I. "Give me a stroke a hole from here, for double the price of the round, or quits?" "You're on," said he. That night I slept ten hours, worked over my manuscripts most of the next morning, packed a load of them in my suitcase, and after an early dinner got Peter to drive me to the train. "Peter," said I at the station, "your job is to take care of your mother, and keep the kindlings split, and drive to market for Mike when he needs you. Also to water the lawn and flower beds With the spray nozzle! If I find you've used the heavy stream, I'll I'll I'll sell Buster!" That amiable creature tried to climb aboard the train with me, and Peter had to haul him off by the tail. My last sight of Bentford was a yellow dog squirming and barking in a small boy's arms. The train was hot and stuffy. It grew hotter and stuffier as we came out of the mountains into the Connecticut Con-necticut lowlands, and we were all sweltering in the rullman by the time New York was reached. As I stepped out of the Grand Central station into Forty-second street my ears were assaulted as-saulted by the unaccustomed din, my nose by the pungent odor of the city streets, my eyes smarted in a dust whirl. But my heart was pounding with joy and expectation as I hurried across the street. I climbed the broad steps to the lobby of the hotel, and scarcely had my feet reached the top than I saw a familiar figure rise from a chair. I ran toward her, waving off the boy who roshed to grab my bag. A second later her hand was In mine, her eyes apon my eyes. oreast ana cer tears were flowing. My arms closed about her. Presently she lifted her face, and our lips met. She put up her hands and held my face within them. "So that was what the thrush said, after all," she whispered, with a hint of a happy smile. "To me, yes," Bald I. "I didn't dream It was to you. Was it to you?" "That you'll never know," she answered, an-swered, "and you'll always be too stupid stu-pid to guess." "Stupid! You called me that once before about the painters. Why were you angry about choosing the dining-room dining-room paint?" She grew suddenly wistful. "I'll tell you that," she said. "It was it was because you let a third person Into our little drama of Twin Fires. I I was a fool, maybe. But I was playing out a kind a kind of dream of home building. build-ing. Two can play such a dream, If they don't speak of it. But not three. Then it becomes It becomes, well, matter-of-facty, and people talk, and the bloom goes, and you hurt me a little, that's all" I could not reply for a moment. What man can before the wistful sweetness of a woman's secret moods? I could only kiss her hair. Finally words came. "The dream shall be reality now," I said, "and you and I together will make Twin Fires the loveliest spot in all the hills. Tomorrow Tomor-row we'll buy a stair carpet, and lots of things together." "Still with the pea money?" she gurgled, gur-gled, her gayety coming back. "No, sir; I've some money, too. Not much, but a little to take the place of the wedding presents I've no relatives to give me. I want to help furnish Twin Fires." She laid her fingers on my |