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Show to be announced the ne ' week wnm he wont, back to town. Vincent tock the litt'e figuie into his arms. But he smiled broadly into th friendly darkness husbands are human, hu-man, you know. In nil the gay week that followed it seemed that Cavanagh wjs attentive to every woman in the house but Miss Tre lawny. The Vincents' charming piazza was like a room with its lugs and cushions, chairs and tables, books and magazines, maga-zines, and here, a week later, on the night before the breaking up of the house-party, Vincent found his wife. "Of course you are worrying over those people!" he said. "You wouldn't hava run off here alone in the dark under other conditions." "She is an artful, bold, designing creature! 1 guess she's a teacher tired of making her own living, and he is such a great, big splendid, simple sim-ple fellow he just let her gobble him up. Of course Dorothea is indifferent! She's not going to throw herself at any man's head, certainly not at an engaged man. He is not so indifferent. indiffer-ent. I saw him looking at her as though he would devour her. And to think that two lives should be spoiled by this horrid creature!" She threw out her small hands tragically. Vincent had placed his hand over his wife's lips. "I'll be hanged!" he said. "It's Dorothea and Cavanagh." They came down the long portico slowiy; they were utterly unconscious of the proximity of the Vincents. "Tomorrow is almost here," Cavanagh Cava-nagh was saying, "It has been an eternity!" eter-nity!" "Yes," the girl's soft voice cooed, then vehemently, "I couldn't stand it another day I couldn't!" "I couldn't stand anything without with-out you, my darling." Cavanagh laughed happily and drew the girl's unresisting form into his arms. He kissed her: they then turned and walked back into the house. There was absolute silence on the piazza after their departure. Vincent felt something hot and wet on his hand. "Not tears?" he asked in dismav. i " "To think that Dorothea would act like that!" Mrs. Vincent sobbed. "I'm sorry for the poor, neglected sweetheart, sweet-heart, Heaven knows. And she said my house-party was not to be endured another day, end he called it an eternity! eter-nity! They'll know it when I invite them again asked for their invitations invita-tions it's a horrid world," the sobs came faster, '"and if you were not in it, I'd die!" Miss Trelawny was still with Cava-nagn Cava-nagn when the Vincents entered the house through ths- library. There it . was cool and the lights were dim. From the room beyond the sound of music and of dancing feet came. . Miss Trelawny came towards them, Cavanagh following. "We don't care if people do know," she said. "The engagement will be announced next week." Vincent gasped. "And we want people to know, anyway," any-way," Cavanagh explained. "If Dorothea Doro-thea hadn't wanted it kept quiet until the announcement we would have had the jolliest week! That's what we , planned; but when we fo.nd the crowd she would not let me even look at her. Why, she telegraphed that I mustn't even know her!" , He laughed. "Won't you congratulate us?" Vincent grasped Cavanagh's hand heartily, and, husbands are but mor- , tal, you know, shot a little side-long glance at his wife to witness her discomfort. dis-comfort. Discomfort? Mrs. Vincent stood drawn to her slender height, smiling, and holding herself well in hand. Her To Meet Miss Trelawny. BY SARA LINDSAY COLEMAN. (Copyright, 1901, by Daily Story Pub. Co.) "It would be such fun if we could .ever " "Wouldn't it," said Vincent. . "You haven't the least idea what I mean," Mrs. Vincent spoke severely. "I wish you would not jump into the conversation so vehemently. "I was going to say " "You were going to say," triumphantly, trium-phantly, "that we could have such a lark if people would only let us alone. I believe IV s-p h i 13 iTt !1To py ' with them. They think we are married and have coma up here alone and that we are being bored to death but won't confess con-fess it, so they visit us. We've had all my family, and all your family who is it now? The Lord help us if the school-friends havo started." "It's a schooi-friend, and a dear one; but I don't want her now. I don't want anybody but you. I thought," in a plaintive voice, "that we would be happy now that the last relative is gone, didn't you?" "Who is it?" Mr. Vincent asked with a martyr-like air. "It is Dorothy Trelawny." She glanced at the letter. "She says she is going to be near here and wants to see me, if it is unite convenient. It isn't philanthropy with our friends," this in fine scorn, "it's climate cli-mate and comfort. Did you ever see anything more beautiful than that?" With one comprehensive sweep she took in the summer landscape that lay before them. Beautiful valleys glittering with dew, softly- swelling hills, cool shadowed . woods, and on en very intimately before his marriage and having been married only a few months; found his wifes unexpectedness unexpected-ness her greatest charm. Now she sprang up gaily, rushed at him, flung her arms about him and declared he was the sweetest thing in the world. Although slightly puzzled, Mr. Vincent Vin-cent smiled indulgently and awaited further developments. "Oh," she said, "I'm so excited! Dorothea Trelawny and Henry Cavanagh Cav-anagh were born for each other! All Dorothea's women frrends want her to marry, and I know three of them," she ran them off on her fingers, glibly, "who have invited them for the express ex-press purpose of getting them engaged." en-gaged." She laughed gleefully. "But they never came together never even met. There was always some trivial thing that kept one or the other away. Fate was against them; and she has relented." She rah. her slim fingers through Vincent's hair, delightedly, fun." She danced down the piazza. "Go write to Mr. Cavanagh," she called back and disappeared in the doorway. "Oh," Mrs. Vincent whispered to Vincent, "I'm so excited!" It was a week later and they were waiting in the parlor for Cavanagh, who had been the last member of the house-party to arrive, waiting also for dinner. There was a murmer of talk soft laughter the deeper tones of men. "I am so disappointed!" It was a plaintive little whisper in Vincent's ever sympathetic ear a few moments later. ' "But, my dear, what would you have had them do?" "I would havo had her just flutter "This Is a coincidence it isn't Fate, it's Providence! Won't those other women envy me won't they hate me! You'll get Mr. Cavanagh to rent a house up here next summer, won't , you? It will be lovely for all of us to be together." "My dear!" Vincent was not able to keep up with his wife's flying thought. "What if they should not fancy each other?" He put the question hesitatingly. hesitat-ingly. He was unwilling to dampen her ardor. "They were born for each dther!" enthusiastically. "They ;are waiting. Neither of them will ever marry, they haven't, you see, until they wed each other. I am going to write to Dorothea Doro-thea this moment," she sprang to her feet. "I'm going to write to some others, oth-ers, too. Lots' of them a gay house-party house-party full. We will have a week of an eyelash, or color, or get embarrassed embar-rassed anything to show she knew her hero had come." "She's of the Vere-de-Vere type," Vincent murmered soothingly. "You know the proud, cold ones don't show what they feel. But she is a stunner! The handsomest woman in the room, my dear." . 'The handsomest?" reproachfully. "Except yourself," promptly. Vincent stood at his bedroom window win-dow that night, looking out, when a plaintive little voice, tired out with the heavy duties of the day, confided in him the awful intelligence of Cavanagh's Cava-nagh's engagement. He had told her about it himself, SLOi had said that the eneaeement was f 4if ' -ft " "HiPS It "Won't you congratulate us?" voice was sweet and as clear and cool as crystal as she said: "You've surprised Mr. Vincent, and all the house-party will be astonished. But, you see, your indifference was a trifle too overdrawn a little too over-studied over-studied to deceive me." She kissed the girl, held out her hand to Cavanagh, and then the four of them went in to join the dancers. ' ssar "It bas been in eternity." every aide mountaina clothed to their crest with verdnre. "Dearest," Vincont began, "I oh, hang It all! I've had a letter, too. When I wrote I told him what fun we ware having, and how cool it was, and that I knew he must be sweltering. But I didn't know he would come. You may trust me not to give another in-Titatlou in-Titatlou it's climate they all ae-ept." ae-ept." "Who la it?" It was Mrs. Vincent's tura t affect a martyr-like air. "Heary Cavanagh." Vr. Vlacant aot having known wom- |