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Show The Cgirl in Ike Mirror Dtj ELIZABETH JORDAN O bj The Century Company.) WNTJ Servlo pered excitedly. "Oh, dear, I hope I sha'n't cry ! 1 always do cry at weddings, wed-dings, and I never know why." From the crowd outside there rose a cheer, evidently at the bride's appearance. ap-pearance. The echoes of it accompanied accompa-nied her progress into the church. "The mill people adore Barbara," whispered Mrs. Lytton. "She built a big clubhouse for them two years ago, and she's the president of most of their clubs." In his seat behind her, Jimmy Har-rigan, Har-rigan, who had given his attention to the conversation, sniffed contemptuously. contemptu-ously. If the dame In front was goln' to talk about Miss Devon, why didn't she tell somethin' worth while? Why didn't she tell, fer ins'ance, that Miss Devon played the best golf of any woman in the club, and, had beaten M-s. Lytton to a frazzle in a match last month? An' why didn't she say somethin' about how generous Miss Devon was to caddies In the matter of skates and boxing gloves and clothes? And why didn't she say what a prince Laurie Devon was, instead of all dat stale stuff what everybody knew? The excitement in the street had communicated itself to the dignified assemblage in the church. The occupants occu-pants of the pews were turning in their seats. The first notes I of the great pipe-organ rolled forth. Friends who had known and loved Barbara i J i , of friends. We all love her, so we're glad to know she has found the right man to marry, especially as we' are not to lose her ourselves. She intends to live in Devon house every summer." The newcomer a Mrs. Renway who had social aspirations was politely po-litely attentive. "I met Laurence Devon at the Country club yesterday," she said. "He's the handsomest creature I've seen, I think. He's really too good-looking; good-looking; and they say there's some romantic story about him. Do you know what it Is?" Her friend nodded. "Mercy, yes ! Every one does." Observing the other's growing attention, at-tention, she went on expansively : "You see, Laurie was the black sheep of the family ; so the Devons left all their great fortune to Barbara and put Laurie in her care. That Infuriated In-furiated him, of course, for he is a high-spirited youngster. He promptly prompt-ly took on an extra shade of blackness. black-ness. He was expelled from college, and sowed whole crops of wild oats. He gambled, was always in debt, and Barbara had to pay. For a long time she wasn't able to handle the situation. situa-tion. They're both young, you know. She's about twenty-four, and Laurie Is a year younger. But last year she suddenly put her mind on It and pulled him up in a rather spectacular way." Mrs. Itenway's eyes glistened with interest. "Tell me how !" she begged. The raconteur settled back into her pew, with the complacent expression of one who is sure of her hearer's complete com-plete absorption in her words. "Why," she said, "she made Laurie a sporting proposition, and he accepted accept-ed It. He and she were to go to New York and earn their living for one year, under assumed names and without with-out revealing their Identity to anybody. any-body. They were-to start with fifty dollars each, and to be wholly dependent de-pendent upon themselves after that was gone. Laurie was to give up all his bad habits and buckle down to the job of self-support. For every dollar he earned more than Barbara earned, she promised him five dollars at the end of the year. And if he kept his pledges he was to have ten thousand dollars when the experiment was over, whether he succeeded or failed. He and Barbara were to live in different parts of the city, to be ignorant of each other's addresses, and to see each other only twice." She stopped for breath. Her friend drove an urgent elbow into her side. "Go on !" she pleaded. "What happened?" hap-pened?" "Something very unexpected," chuckled Mrs. Lytton. (For some reason, rea-son, Barbara's friends always chuckled at this point in the story.) "Barbara, who Is so clever," she went on, "almost "al-most starved to death. And Laurie, the black sheep, after various struggles and failures fell in with some theatrical theatri-cal people and finally collaborated with a successful playwright in writing writ-ing a play. Perhaps It was partly luck. But the play made a tremendous tremen-dous hit, Laurie kept his pledges, and Barbara has had to pay him a small fortune to meet her bargain." The hearer smiled sympathetically. "That's splendid," she said, "for Laurie ! But is the cure permanent, do you think? The boy's so young, and so awfully good-looking " "I know," Mrs. Lytton looked ominous. omi-nous. "He. is straight as a string so far, and absorbed in his new work. But of course his future is on the knees of the gods, for Barbara is going go-ing to Japan on her honeymoon, and Laurie will be alone in New York the rest of the winter. Barbara found her husband In New York," she added. "He's a broker there, Robert Warren. That's what she got out of the experiment! experi-ment! She met him while she was working in the mailing department of some business house, for seven dollars a week " Mrs. Lytton stopped speaking and craned her head backward. back-ward. "They're coming!" shewhis- The Third, Stalking Behind Her With Her Train Grasped in His Tiny Fists, Was the Infant Samuel Mrs. Lytton Had Mentioned. This latest Elizabeth Jordan 6tory Is one of the most fascl- , . nating mystery novels of the last fifteen years, and that Is saying a great deal when you realize that within this period such tremendous tre-mendous successes as "The Bat," "The Thirteenth Chair" and 'Seven Keys to Baldpate" were made known. "The Girl In the Mirror" is not only an interest-compelling interest-compelling story, but also possesses pos-sesses that quality of romance and adventure which sweeps the reader onward with Increasing speed and delight to the astounding astound-ing climax. Elizabeth Jordan has written many a good story, and in producing this she only adds another chapter In her own success story. And to say any more about a mystery story would be unfair. Elizabeth Jordan Jor-dan began her writing career with the New York World. After thirteen years of this kind of schooling she resigned to take the editorship of Harper's Bazar, Ba-zar, which she held for another period at thirteen years. Later she became a literary adviser to this publication. Among her successes are "Wings of Youth," "The Lady of the Pentlands" and "The Blue Circle." CHAPTER I Barbara's Wedding The little city of Devondale, Ohio, had shaken off for one night at least ihe air of aristocratic calm that normally nor-mally distinguished it from the busy mill towns on its right and left. Elm avenue, its leading residence street, usually presented at this hour only an effect of watchful trees, dark shrubbery, shrub-bery, shaded lamps, and remote domestic do-mestic peace. Now, however, it had blossomed Into a brilliant thoroughfare, thorough-fare, full of light, color - and movement, move-ment, on all of which the December stars winked down as if In Intimate understanding. Automobiles poured through the wide gates of its various homes and joined a ceaseless procession of vehicles. Pedestrians, representing every class of the city's social life, jostled one another on the sidewalks as they hurried onward, following this vanguard. For the time, indeed, there seemed to be but one destination which a self-respecting citizen of Devondale might properly have In mind ; and already many of the elect had reached this objective and had comfortably passed through its wide doors, down its aisles, and Into its cushioned pews. It was an interested, good-humored and highly observant crowd, pressing forward as each automobile approached, ap-proached, to watch with unashamed curiosity the guests who 'alighted and made their way along the strip of carpet car-pet stretoWng from curbstone to church. Devondale's leading citizens ere here, and the spectators knew 'hem all, from those high personages who were presidents of local banks down to little Jimmy Harrigan, who was Barbara Devon's favorite caddie hi the Country club. Tnlike most of bis fellow guests, Jimmy arrived on foot; but the crowd aw his unostentatious advent and greeted him with envious badinage. "Hi, dere, Chfmmie, where's yer evenin' soot?" one acquaintance desired de-sired to know. And a secord remarked re-marked solicitously, "De c'rect ting, Chimmie, is t' hold yer hat to yer n'.-art as y' goes in !" Jimmy made no reply to these pleas-Knlries. pleas-Knlries. The occasion was too big diid too novel for that. He merely .Tinned, presented his card of admission admis-sion In a paw washed clean, only in spots, and accepted with equal equa-n'niity equa-n'niity th" piercing gaze of the usher and the rear seat to which that out-ruged out-ruged youth austerely conducted him. "There, round-eyed Jimmy stared i:).mt him. He had never been inside r St. Giles' before. It was qu.:e lussible that he wouid never tind him-v-rlf inside of it again. He took in I the beauty of the great church; its j blaze of lights; its masses of flowers; ! its whispering, waiting throng; the broad white ribbon that set apart cer-S cer-S tain front pews for the bride's special i friends, including a party from New I l'ork. Jimmy knew all about those i friends and all about this wedding. ; His grimy little ears were ceaselessly j open to the talk of the town, and for weeks past the town had talked of j nothing but the Devons and Barbara Devon's approaching wedding. In the pew Just in front of Jimmy,. Mrs. Arthur Lytton. a lady lie recognized recog-nized as a ubiquitous member of the Country club, was giving a few intimate inti-mate details of Miss Devon's life to her companion, who evidently was a newcomer to the city. "You see," Mrs. Lytton was murmuring, murmur-ing, "this Is really the most Important Impor-tant wedding we've ever had here. Barbara Devon owns most of Devon-dale, Devon-dale, and her home, Devon bouse, Is one of the show places tn the state. She hasn't a living relative except her brother. Laurie, and I fancy she has Iwn lonHv. iiotwlthht andlng her hosts "Of course you don't! It's too small and too near the floor. It's a thirty-months-old youngster Barbara picked up in a New York tenement. She calls him the Infant Samuel, and she has brought him here witli his mother, to live on her estate. They say she Intends In-tends to educate him. He's carrying her train and he's dressed as a page, in tiny white satin breeches and lace ruffles. Oh, don't miss him I" A little ripple stirred the assemblage. assem-blage. Three figures in the long advancing ad-vancing line of the bridal party held the attention of observers. 'Two were the bride and her brother. The third, stalking behind her, with her train grasped In his tiny fists, his round brown eyes staring straight ahead, and his fluffy brown hair flying out as if swept backward by an eternal breeze, was obviously the Infant Samuel Sam-uel Mrs. Lytton had mentioned. From a rear pew the Infant's mother moth-er watched her offspring with pride and shuddering apprehension. It was quite on the cards that he might suddenly sud-denly decide ,to leave the procession and undertake a brief side excursion Into the pews. But Samuel had been assured that he was "taking a walk," and as taking a walk happened to be his favorite pastime he kept manfully to his new form of diversion, even though It had features that did no," strongly appeal to him. His short legs wabbled, and his tiny arms ached under un-der the light weight of the bridal train, but Something would happen If he let that train drop. He did not know quite what this Something would be, but he abysmally Inferred that It would be extremely unpleasant. He held grimly to his burden. Suddenly he forgot It. The air was full of wonderful sounds such as ha had never 'heard before. His eyes grew larger. His mouth formed the "O" that expressed his deepest .wonder. .won-der. He longed to stop and find out where the sounds came from, but the train drew him on and on. With an unconscious sigh he accompanied the train ; bad as things were, they might have been worse, for he knew that somewhere in advance of him, lost in a mass of white stuff, was the "Babs" he adored When the train stopped, he stopped. In response to an urgent suggestion from some one behind him, he dropped It. In obedience to an equally urgent inner prompting, he sat down on It and gazed around. The walk had been rather a long one. Now the big house he was in was very still, save for one voice, saying something to Babs. It was all strange and unfamiliar, unfa-miliar, and Babs seemed far away. Nothing and nobody looked natural. Samuel became increasingly doubtful about the pleasure of this walk. The corners of his mouth went down. A flower fell into his lap, and looking look-ing up he saw Sonya Orleneff smiling at him. Even Sonya was a new Sonya, emerging from what Samuel dimly felt to be pink clouds. But the eyes were hers, and the smile was hers, and it was plain that she expected expect-ed him to play with the pink flower. He pulled it to pieces, slowly and ab-sorbedly. ab-sorbedly. The task took some time. From It he passed to a close contemplation con-templation of a pink-slippered foot which also proved to be Sonya's, and then to a careful study of a black pump and black silk sock that proved to be Lawwie's. Lawwie was smiling down at Samuel, too, and Wobert was standing beside Babs, saying something some-thing In a 'voice that wobbled. Samuel sighed again. Perhaps by and by Lawwie would take him out for a real walk In the snow. All this pink-and-white display around him might be pretty, but there was nothinf in It for a small boy. Fie gazed ap-pealingly ap-pealingly at Sonya, who promptly hoisted him to his fat legs. The man at the railing had stopped talking to Babs and the walk was resumed, this time toward the door. Again that especially es-pecially precious part of the white stuff was in Samuel's keeping. The sounds that now filled the air were more wonderful than ever. They excited Samuel. His fat arms waved, and the light train waved with them. A compelling hand, Sonya's, quieted them and it. There was absolutely nothing a little boy could do in this queer walk. Gloomily but sedately the Infant Samuel continued his promenade. prom-enade. "Here he is," murmured Mrs. Lytton to her friend. "You can see him now, can't you?" "Rodney Bangs, the playwright who collaborated with Laurie, is sitting in the front pew," continued her informant, inform-ant, "and the fat little bald man next to him Is Jacob Epstein, the New York manager who put on their play." At the same moment Epstein was whispering to his companion, as the two watched Barbara and her husband hus-band start down the aisle in the first little journey of their married life. "Say, Bangs, (f ve could put tMs vedding into a play, Just Mke they done It here, ve could vake up Broad-vay Broad-vay a little ain't it?" You'll learn more about Laurie 1 In the next Installment. jj i ITO BH CONTINUED. Devon since she was a little girl, and many who had known her father and mother before her, looked now at the radiant figure she presented as she walked slowly up the aisle on ber brother's arm, and saw that figure through an unexpected mist. "What a pair !" whispered Mrs. Renway, Ren-way, who had a pagan love of beauty. "They ought to be put In one of their own parks and kept there as a permanent per-manent exhibit for the delight of the public. It's almost criminal negligence negli-gence to leave that young man at large," she darkly predicted. "Something "Some-thing will happen if they do !" Mrs. Lytton absently agreed. "The bridegroom is very handsome, too," she murmured. "That stunning, insolent creature who Is acting as matron ma-tron of honor, and looking bored to death by it, is his sister, Mrs. Ordway of New York. The first bridesmaid is another New York friend, a Russian girl named Sonya Orleneff, that Barbara Bar-bara met in some lodging house. And will you look at the Infant Samuel !" An expression of acute strain settled set-tled over the features of Mrs. Renway. Ren-way. She hurriedly adjusted her eyeglasses. eye-glasses. "The what?" she whispered, excitedly. excited-ly. "Where? I don't see any infant!" Mrs. Lytton laughed. :'X-:-xm-m:'X-:x-:'X-:-z-:-x-:-x-:-x-:-X'M:' |