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Show "Of cotirse not. Father nnd I'll both be awfully glad to havo you. Will you put your motor In the shed while I get Algy tucked In? lilnnche will tnke you. I'll be back In a minute, nnd show you where the guest-clmm-ber nnd bathroom are." She was nlready downstairs when they returned from the shed, bending over the guilty but contented Moses. "I'm afraid you won't have nny des sert for supper," she said, laughing. "Moses seems to have cleaned out the pantry while I was busy with Algy. But I can open n jar of preserves, nnd there nre cookies. You go upstairs and turn on the water, Moses. I'll be there In Just n minute Hello, Paul !" Iler voice, soft nlready, softened perceptibly nt the last words. Philip, turning quickly, saw a boy who seemed to be simply n larger nnd masculine replica of Rlnnche there was an almost al-most nstonishlng family resemblance between all these Mannings! coming up the walk towards them. "Hello," he said leisurely, "nello, Blanche, you're going to catch It for running nway. Hello " "This Is Mr. Stnrr of Boston," put In Mary, quickly, repeating the somewhat some-what scanty Information which Blanche A Romance of the Commonplace By Frances Parkinson Keyes WNU Sorvlco Coryrlfc-ht by francos rnrklnson Koyoi SYNOPSIS MotoiinR throuph Vermont, nenr the village of Hamsteiul, Philip Starr. young Boston architect, meets, In unconventional fashion, lilnnche Mannlnp, sirl of seventeen, with whom he Is Immediately enamored. enam-ored. In conversation, he learns something of her family history. Starr is convalescing from a serious illness, nnd It being a Ions distance to Burlington, hi8 destination, Blanche suggests, the small village not boasting a hotel, that he become, be-come, for the night, a guest of her 'ousln, Mary Wanning. CHAPTER II 2 Lady Blanche farm lay a mile or so south of Ilamstead, stretching on one side of the road back to the foothills of the Green mountains, and on the other, in broad, sweeping meadows, straight down to the Connecticut river. Two big houses, one of brick, with a small, semi-detached brick building the lawyer Moses' office the other of wood, white-painted and white-pillared, with a large flower garden, stood on It. Across the road was a smaller house, brick with a wooden ell, less true to line, and decidedly less prosperous pros-perous in appearance. As they came In sight of all tills Philip Starr brought his motor to an abrupt stop, and turned to Blanche, who had unhesitatingly accepted his Invitation to "help him find the farm," by riding back with him. "Is that where you live?" "Yes, the big brick house Is ours. The big white one Is Cousin Jane's. The one across the way is where Mary lives." "Good Lord!" "What's the matter?" "Matter! It's the most beautiful Wallacetown for?" he asked crossly. "I've got nil my plans made 1 didn't know we were going to have company, did I? I'd have asked you to go with me, of course, only I knew you wouldn't care for It anyway, even If you weren't too busy it'll &e nlno o'clock before you get the dishes donu and the bread set." Then, seeing that Mary's face was still clouded, he ndd-ed, ndd-ed, more pleasantly and very persuasively, per-suasively, "Mary you like me to have a good time, once In a while, don't you ?" "Of course I do. I!ut " "Then say you hope I'll have it, like a good girl." He slipped his arm around her, rubbing rub-bing his head against hers, nnd kissing kiss-ing her cheek. She smiled and returned re-turned his kiss. "All right, run along," she said cheerfully. "lilanche, you can keep Mr. Stnrr amused, can't you?" "Of course she can," said Philip hastily. But he stood still, looking at Mary with a slightly puzzled expression. expres-sion. Was it possible that Paul engaged en-gaged he had the boy's sister's word for It to this wonderful creature, was going to Wallacetown, wherever that might be, to a "show," his privilege to do so practically unquestioned, leaving leav-ing her to wash dishes and make bread? Customs of chaperonage In Dam-stead Dam-stead are simple, not to say primitive. As a rule, however, they work out surprisingly sur-prisingly well. Seth, coming In after dark from the barn, lighted the kitchen lamp, and read the Wallacetown Bugle and his farm pnper. Then he took off his shoes, and tiptoed up the stairs to bed. Philip, going up to bed about eleven, found Mary in his room, turning turn-ing down his bed. "I say, Miss Mannings-may I speak to you for a minute?" "Of course," answered Mary, turning turn-ing to him with a smile. "What is it?" "Your cousin Blanche she isn't engaged, en-gaged, too, is she?" Mary flushed. "What makes you say 'too'?" she asked quietly. "Why she told me about you and her brother. I hope you won't think I'm fresh if 1 tell you I consider him awfully lucky." "It's I that am lucky," returned Mary slowly. "Paul's the dearest boy in all the world, after you get to know him. I feel much older than he Is, though as a matter of fact, we're almost al-most exactly the same age. But we're not exactly engaged. We've a sort of an understanding 'keeping company' it's called, here in Hamstead. But Paul isn't bound at all." "Well, I should think he'd want to be," said Philip with visible admiration. admira-tion. "'But now, about his sister? Has she got an 'understanding' or anything any-thing awkward like that with anybody?" any-body?" "No," said Mary, smiling. "She's very young yet, you know barely seventeen. Why?" "Because," Philip burst out, "I've fallen in love with her head over heels. Of course I haven't told her so yet. But I think she's the loveliest the most exquisite oh, the " "Yes, I know," said Mary. "So you want 7" "I'm twenty-four years old, and I'm a fairly decent sort," went on Philip, plunging as usual straight to his point "1 haven't any ancestral home like this in fact, one of my ancestors was an Irish immigrant, and all of my family were very plain people there weren't any town histories written about them ! But we've always been INli iiir I place I ever saw in my life. I didn't tell you, did I I'm an architect. I mean, that's my regular job. But on the side, I can't help dabbling In other things sketching, modeling, carving I was four years in Europe while I was growing up, and went back to Paris for a course at the Beaux Arts after I got through Harvard. And I've never " his eyes turned from the landscape and swept over the face and figure of the girl beside him "seen the Elysian fields and one of the nymphs before !" "It's pretty, but I don't see why you should think it's so remarkable. And It's so deadly dull ! Perhaps we had better hurry a little, or Mary may be through supper." They stopped beside the least pre-- pre-- tentious of the three houses, and walked up the cobblestone path. Here, on the huge granite slab that formed the front doorstep, sat a small boy, who was engaged in eating an enormous piece of lemon pie with his fingers. "Hello, Moses," said Blanche. "Where's Mary?" "She's putting Algernon to bed," replied re-plied the small boy. "Algernon !" exclaimrrf Philip, Involuntarily. In-voluntarily. "Yes," interposed Blanche, a trifle Impatiently, "Cousin Laura his mother, moth-er, you know, that died said she was so tired of the same old family names, that when he came along, she felt she'd simply got to have a change. She found that In a book called 'The Wicked Duke'; Algernon was the duke. It wasn't allowed in the Hamstead library, but it was a great story, just the same. Come In, Mr. Starr, and I'll call Mary, Mary ! M-A-R-Y " "Yes," floated down a voice from the upper story. "Coming, honey. Did you have a good time?" "Yes, lovely. Hurry up we've got company." A door opened and shut quickly, there was the sound of swift footsteps coming across a hall, and a girl, with another golden-haired child presumably presum-ably the namesake of the wicked duke in her arms, appeared at the head of the stairs. In a flash, Philip remembered remem-bered and understood the quick resentment re-sentment Blanche had shown when he asked her If her cousin were plain. ' For if Blanche were lovely, Mary was certainly beautiful, with the tall, superbly su-perbly formed, quiet beauty of a Greek statue. And yet, it was not of a Greek statue that he almost Instantly thought. The blue cotton dress that she had on. dulled and faded from frequent washing, had turned to the soft color in which the painters of the Middle ages loved to clothe their Madonnas; the little boy, apparently snatched from his bath to answer Blanche's summons, was cuddled, pink and plump and sturdy against her shoulder. Mary I The coincidence of the name, too, seemed almost startling. What sort of a man could the indifferent Paul be, he wondered. The younger girl's explanation of his presence broke in upon his silent admiration. "This is Mr. Philip Starr of Boston, Mary. I met him by the brook. He's Rn architect. He's been sick with typhoid fever, and is on his way to tlurlington in a motor to make a visit tvhile he's getting strong, but he got lost. I told him I was sure you'd take him 'n for the night." "I'm afraid I'm dreadfully lntru slve." Interrupted Philip, smiling up at Mary, but she In turn Interrupted him ! t "Then Say You Hope I'll Have It, Like a Good Girl." had been able to give her about him. "My cousin Paul, Mr. Starr Blanche's brother." "How do you do?" said Paul, without with-out much enthusiasm. "Glad to see you Mother's gone to bed with a sick headache all used up after cleaning the North parlor. So I thought I better bet-ter coma over here for supper." "Of course," agreed Mary warmly. "Will you show Mr. Starr where to go while I get Moses settled? Come, Moses." She disappeared up the stairs again. Philip picked up his bag, which Paul had made no effort to take from him, and followed. Little as he knew of the customs of New England farmers, he thought it unlikely that there were many who looked like this one, or who were at leisure to appear In white flannels at six o'clock on a May evening. eve-ning. He resented both the boy's beauty and his clothes. Paul stopped at the open door of a small room and motioned him to enter. "I hope you'll find this fairly decent," de-cent," he said, depreciatingly. "Mary's not much of a housekeeper there's probably some dust about. That's the bathroom at the end of the hall there's only one." "Thanks have 1 time for a shave before supper?" "I guess so Mary'U wait for you anyway." The family was waiting for him when he went downstairs again. Blanche had gone home and changed her dress for another white one, softer and filmier than the one she had worn in the afternoon. Mary, apparently, ap-parently, had had no time to freshen up, and had simply tied a crisp apron of generous proportions over the faded blue gingham; while a tired-looking, elderly man, without a necktie and with a shabby coat slipped on over his khaki shirt and trousers, came forward for-ward to welcome Philip. "Pleased to meet you." he said with the same unquestioning cordiality that Mary had shown. "Blanche has been tellin' us how she happened to find you and that you've been sick. I'm real sorry, but I guess our good Vermont air'U fix you up. Come and set down to supper. It's all ready such as 'tis. I understand Moses has et up a good share of It." There was, however, no scarcity of supper. There was, on the contrary, a good deal of it two big slices of ham, with a quantity of clear, golden-brown golden-brown gravy, fried eggs, baked potatoes, pota-toes, dandelion greens. Philip thought he had never been so hungry, that nothing had ever tasted so good "Want to smoke?" asked Paul at his elbow as they rose from the table. Philip hesitated. He had not visited vis-ited In many families where "they did their own work" but he had a vague feeling that he ought to offer to be useful. "Don't we help with the dishes first?" he asked. "Mercy, don't you think of such a thing I" Seth exclaimed. 'Mary'U have 'em done in no time, while I finish milkin'. You and Blanche and Paul go and set on the front porch and take It easy." "I'm going to Wallacetown, to a show," said Paul briefly. "Oh, don't tonight !" Paul turned on his cousin Impatiently Impa-tiently "What are you so down on i honest, as far as I know, and we've prospered and risen In the world. Tve lots of friends. I've Inherited some money, and I'm earning more. I've got a pretty good job, for my age, I'm In Davis and Hamlin's office " "Gale Hamlin, the architect?" "Why, yes! Do you know him?" "I've I've met him. His niece, Hannah Adams, was one of my classmates class-mates at boarding school. I used to visit her, sometimes, In Boston. So you are In his office !" "Yes," said Philip excitedly. "What tremendous luck! He can tell you about me Blanche's mother and brother, you know and you, for that matter! And you will help me all you can with Blanche, won't you?" Mary picked up her lamp. "I don't believe you'll need an awful lot of help with Blanche," she said, whimsically. whim-sically. "But I'll say a few things to Cousin Violet that might make a difference. dif-ference. Good night." "You are good ! And you don't thnk I'm an awful chump going at things this way?" "I think you're rather nice," said Mary, still whimsically "If you must know 1" She was closing the door gently behind be-hind her, when Philip pulled It open again. "Mary," he said, "I may call you Mary, mayn't I tell me the superstition supersti-tion about Lady Blanche about all the Blanche Mannings." "Well," said Mary, hesitating a little, lit-tle, "all the Blanches so far have fallen In love at first sight, and married mar-ried strangers and gone away from their own homes to live. Their husbands hus-bands have ndored them, and they've been rich and beautiful and " "Is that all of the story?" "Is there anything," asked Mary, suddenly, "that I could tell you that would make you want her any less? Anything that would make you afraid to try and get her?" "Anything in the way of an old superstition, you mean? Good Lord, no !" "Then," said Mary, "I think that's enough for tonight. And good enough for any night, too, isn't It r Especially for a man who has Just said he was In love with Blanche It ought to make you feel as if the suit were half won already! Good night." (TO BE CONTINUED.) |