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Show I so Jl Py EDNA ILLUSTRATIONS MSWh, rM&iI A BY CLARK AGNCW. (8sg2 ft'fV Copyright bf WHttfSVC iV 1 i had been poring. But between her and the book outspread on the table were Pool, Hoogendunk, dog, pigtails, Maartje. She pointed with a determined deter-mined forefinger. -What's that book Iloelf was reading?" Maartje thumped a great ball of dough on the baking board. Her arms were white with flour. She kneaded and pumuieled expertly. "Woorden boek." Well. That meant nothing. Woorden boek. Woorden b IMmly the meaning mean-ing of the Dutch words began to come to her. Hut It couldn't be. She bn-slied pant the men In the tlpped-baeL tlpped-baeL chair, stepped over the collie, reached serosa the table. Woorden woru. Iioek book. Word book. "He's reading the dictionary I" Selina said, aloud. "He's reading the dictionary!" diction-ary!" She had the horrible feeling that she was going to laugh and cry at once; hysteria. Selina flung a good night over her shoulder und made for the stairway. He should have all her books. She would send to Chicago for books. She would spend her thirty dollars a month buying books for him. He had been reading the dictionary ! Iloelf had placed the pall of hot water on the little wash-stand and had lighted the glass lamp. He was Intent on replacing the glass chimney within the four prongs that held It firm. Downstairs, lu the crowded kitchen, he had seemed quite the man. Now, In the yellow lamplight, his profile sharply sharp-ly outlined, she saw that he was Just a small boy with tousled hair. About his cheeks, his mouth, his chin, one could even see the lust faint traces of soft Infantile roundness. "He's Just a little boy," thought Selina, Se-lina, with a quick pang. He was about to pass her now, without glancing at her, his head down. She put out her hand ; touched his shoulder. He looked up at her, his face startlingly alive, his eyes blazing. It came to Selina that until now she had not heard him speak. Her hand pressed the thlr, stuff of his coat sleeve. his sleeve and coat-front mechanically, still looking at Selina. Klaas Pool, already at table, thumped with his knife. "Sit down, teacher." Selina hesitated, looked at Maartje. Maartje waa holding a frying fry-ing pan aloft In one hand while with the other she thrust and poked a fresh stick of wood Into the open-lidded stove. The two pigtails seated themselves them-selves at the table, set with Its red-checked red-checked cloth and bone-handled cutlery. Itoelf flung his cap on a wall-hook and sat down. Only Selina and Maartje remained re-mained standing. "Sit down! Sit down!" Klass Pool said again, Jovially. Jovial-ly. "Well, how Is cabbagesr He chuckled and winked. A duet of titters tit-ters from the pigtails. Maartje at the stove smiled; but a trifle grimly, one might have thought, watching her. Evidently Evi-dently Klass had not hugged his Joke In secret. Only the boy Itoelf remained unsmiling. liven Selina, feeling the red mounting to her cheeks, smiled a little, nervously, and sut down with some suddenness. Maartje Pool now thumped down on the table a great bowl of potatoes fried In grease; a platter of ham. There was bread cut In chunks. The coffee was rye, toasted In the, oven, ground, and taken without sugar or cream. Of this food there was plenty. It made Mrs. Tebbltt'a Monday night meal seem ambrosial. am-brosial. Selina's visions of chickens, oly-koeks, wild ducks, crusty crullers, and pumpkin pies vanished, never to return. She hud been very hungry, but now, as she talked, nodded, smiled, she cut her food Into Infinitesimal bites, did not chew them so well, and despised de-spised herself for being dainty. "Well," she thought, "It's going to be different enough, that's certain. . . . This Is a vegetable farm, and they don't eat vegetables. I wonder why. . . . What a pity that she lets herself look like that, Just because she's a farm woman. Her hair screwed Into that knob, her skin rough and neglected. neglect-ed. That hideous dress. Shupeless. She's not bad looking, either. A red pot on either cheek, now ; and her eyes so blue. A little like those women In the Dutch pictures father took me to see In where? where? New York, years sgo? yes. But that woman's wom-an's face wns placid. This one's strained. Why need she look like that, frowsy, horrid, old ! . . . The boy Is, somehow, foreign-looking Italian. Queer. . . . They talk a good deal like some German neighbors we had In Milwaukee. They twist sentences. Literal translations from the Dutch, I suppose." Jakob Iloogendunk, Pool's hired hand, was talking. Supper over, the men sat relaxed, pipe In mouth. r I ROELF POOL SYNOPSIS. Introducing "Bo Bis" (Dirk neJong) In his Infancy. In-fancy. And tils motliar, Baltna DtJonf, daughter of Blmaon Paaka. samblxr and ntlnman of fortune. Her life, to young womanhood In Chicago In 1 8 SS, has been unconventional, somewhat some-what aeamy. but generally enjoyable. enjoy-able. At school her chum le Julie Mempel, daughter of Auguat tlempel, butcher. Simeon la killed In a quarrel that la not hla own. Selina la nineteen year old and practically dratltute. Selina secures se-cures a poaltlon a teacher at the High I'ralrle achool, In the outskirts out-skirts of Chicago, living at the home of a truck farmer, Klaae Pool. CHAPTER II Continued 3 Selina's qulk glance encompassed the room. In the window, were a few hardy plants In pots on a green-painted wooden rack. There was a sofa with a wrinkled calico cover; three rocking chairs; some stark crayons of Incredibly hard-featured Dutch ancients an-cients on the wall. It was all neat, stiff, unlovely. But Selina had known too many years of boarding-house ugliness ugli-ness to be offended at this. Maartje had lighted a small glass-bowled glass-bowled lamp. A steep, uncarpeted stairway. Inclosed, led off the sitting room. Up this Maartje Pool, talking, led the way to Sellnu'a bedroom. Selina Se-lina was to learn that the fnrm woman, wom-an, often Inarticulate through lack of companionship, becomes a torrent of talk when opportunity presents Itself. A narrow, dim, close-smelling hallway, hall-way, uncarpeted. At the end of It a door opening Into the room that was to be Selina's. As Its chill struck her to the marrow three objects caught her eyes. The bed, a huge and not unhandsome walnut mausoleum, reared Its somber height almost to the room's top. The mattress of straw and cornhusks was unworthy of this edlllee, but over It Mrs. Pool had merclTully placed a feather bed, stitched und quilted, to that Selina lay soft and warm through the winter. win-ter. Along one wall stood a low chest so richly brown as to appear black. The front panel of this was curiously curved. Selina stooped before It and for the second time that day said: "How beautiful!" then looked quickly quick-ly round at Maartje Pool as though fearful of finding her laughing as Klnas Pool had laughed. But Mrs. Pool's face reflected the glow In her own. She came over to Selina and Ing out very well. She would have such things to tell her futher then she remembered. She shivered a little lit-tle as she stood up now. There surged over her a great wave of longing for her father for the theater treats, for his humorous philosophical drawl, for the Chicago streets, snd the ugly Chicago houses; for Julie; for Miss FIster's school; for anything and any one that was accustomed, known, snd therefore dear. She had a horrible premonition that she was going to cry, began to blink very fast, turned a little blindly In the dim light and caught sight of the room's third arresting ar-resting object. A blue-black cylinder of tin sheeting, like a stove and yet unlike. It was polished like the length of pipe In the sitting-room below. be-low. Indeed, It was evidently giant flower of this stem. "What's that?" demanded Selina, pointing. Maartje Pool, depositing the Ismp on the little wash-stand preparatory to leaving, smiled prldefully. "Drum." "Drum?" "For heat your room." Selina touched It. It was Icy. "When there Is fire," Mrs. Pool added, hastily. Selina was to learn that Its heating powers were mythical. Even when the stove In the sitting room was blazing away with a cheerful roar none of the glow communicated Itself to the drum. It remained as coolly Indifferent In-different to the blasts breathed upon It as a girl hotly besieged by an unwelcome un-welcome lover. "Maartje!" roared a voice from belowstalrs. The voice of the hungry male. There was wafted up, too, a faint smell of scorching. Then came sounds of a bumping and thumping along the narrow stairway. "Og heden!" cried Maartje, In a panic, her. hands high lu air. She was off. Left alone In her room Selina unlocked un-locked her trunk and took from It two photographs one of a mild looking man with his hat a little on one side, the other of a woman who might have been a twenty-flve-year-old Selina, minus the courageous Jaw-line. Looking Look-ing about for a fitting place on which to stand these leather-framed treasures treas-ures she considered the top of the chill drum, humorously, then actually placed them there, for lack of a better refuge, from which vantage point they regarded regard-ed her with politely Interested eyes. Perhaps they would put up a shelf for her. That would serve for her little stock of books and for the pictures as well. She was enjoying that little M "Cabbages fields of calihages-what calihages-what you said they are beautiful," he stammered. He was terribly In earnest. Before she could reply he was out of the room, clatterln? down the stairs. Selina stood, blinking a little. The glow thnt warmed her now endured en-dured while she splashed about In the inadequate basin; took down the dark soft musses of her hair; put on the voluminous long-sleeved, high-necked nightgown. Just before she blew out the lamp her lust glimpse was of the black drum stationed like a patient eunuch In the coiner; and she could smile at that ; even giggle a little, what with weariness, excitement and a general gen-eral feeling of being awake In a dream. But once in the vast bed she lay there utterly lost In the waves of terror and loneliness that envelop one at night In a strange house amongst strange people. She listened to the noises that came from downstairs; voices gruff, unaccustomed; shrill, high. These censed und guve place to others less accustomed to her city-bred city-bred rars; a dog's bark and an answering answer-ing one; a far-off train whistle; the dull thud of hoofs stamping on the barn floor; the wind in the bare tree, brandies outside the window. Her watch a gift from Simeon Peake on her eighteenth birthday with the gold case all beautifully engraved en-graved with a likeness of a gate, and a church, and a waterfall and a bird, linked together with spirals and flourishes. flour-ishes. of the most graceful description, was ticking away companlonably under un-der her pillow. She felt for It, took It out and held It In her palm, under her cheek, for comfort. She knew she would not sleep thnt night. She knew she would not sleep She awoke to a clear, cold November dawn; children's voices; the neighing of horses; a great sizzling and hissing, and scent of frying bacon; a clucking and squawking In the barnyard. It was six o'clock. Sellnu's first day as a school teacher. In a little mon. than two hours she would be facing a whole roomful of round-eyed Geertjes and Jozlnas and Koelfs, The bedroom wa cruelly cold. As she threw the bedclothes bed-clothes aside Selina decided that It took an appalling amount of courage tills life that Simeon Peake had called a great adventure. Anyway, Selina finds a kin-' dred soul in Roelf, who also thinks cabbages beautiful. (TO UK CONTlNfEH.) rtooped with her over the chest, holding hold-ing the lump so that Its yellow flame lighted up the scrolls and tendrils of the carved surface. With one discolored dis-colored forefinger she traced the bold flourishes on the panel. "See? How It makes out letters?" Selina peered closer. "Why, sure enough! This first one's an 8!" Maartje was kneeling before the chest now. "Sure an S. For Sophia. It Is a Holland bride's chest. And here Is K. And here Is big P. It makes Sophia Kroon DeVries. It Is anyways two hundred years. My mother she gave It to me when I was married, and her mother she gave It to her when she was married, and her mother gave It to her when she was married, and her" "I should think so!" exclaimed Selina, Se-lina, rather meanlnglessly ; but stem-Ing stem-Ing the torrent. "What's In It? Anything? Any-thing? There ought to be bride's doilies in It, yellow with age." "It Is!" cried Maartje Pool and gave a little bounce that Imperiled the lamp. "No!" The two on their knees sat smiling at each other, wide-eyed, like schoolgirls. "Here wait." Maartje Pool thrust the lamp Into Sellnu's band, raised the lid of the chest, dived expertly into Its depths amidst a great rustling of old newspapers and emerged red-faced red-faced with a I Mitch basque and voluminous volum-inous skirt of silk; tin age-yellow cup whose wings, stiff with embroidery, slood out grandly on either side; a i pair of wooden shoes, stained terra- cotta like the sails of the Vollendnm I tishing boats, and curved trom toe to j heel In a delicate and intricate pattern. pat-tern. A bridal gown, a brid' '-up, bridal shoes. "Well !" said Selina, with the feeling feel-ing of a little girl in a rh-h utile on a rainy day. She clasped her bands. "May I dress up in it sometime?" Maartje l'ooi, folding the garments hastily, looked shocked und horrified. -Never must unyhody dress up in a bride's dress, only to get married. It brings had .u.k." Then, as Selina stroked the stiff silken folds of the skirt with a slim und caressing forefinger fore-finger : "So you get married to a High I'rulrie Dutchman I let you wear it." At this absurdity they both laughed again. Selina thought that tbJa school teaching venture was start- UUSn OI exoouiuiiuu unu v umcn 117 woman, unpucklng. She took out her neat pile of warm woolen underwear, her stout shoes. She shook out the crushed folds of the wine-colored cashmere. cash-mere. Now, If ever, she should have regretted Its purchase. But she didn't. No one, she reflected, as she spread It rosily on the bed. possessing wine-colored cashmere could be altogether downcast. From below stairs came the hiss of frying. Selina washed In the chill water wa-ter of the basin, took down her hair and colled It again before the swlmmy little mirror over the wash-stand. She adjusted the stitched white bands of the severe collar and patted the cuffs of the brown lady's-cloth. The tight hnsqtie was fastened with buttons from throat to waist. Her fine long head rose above this trying base with Btich grace and dignity as to render the stiff garment beautiful. It was a day of appalling bunchlness and equully np-palllng np-palllng tightness In dress; of panniers, galloons, plastrons, revcrs, bustles, all musiner of lumpy bedevilment. That Selina could appear in tills disfiguring garment a creature still graceful, slim, and pliant was a sheer triumph of spirit over matter. She blew out the light now and descended de-scended the sleep wooden stairway to the unllghted parlor. The door between be-tween parlor and kitchen was closed. Selina sniffed sensitively. There was pork for supper. She was to leurn that there was ulways pork for supper. She hesitated a moment there In the darkness. Then she opened the kitchen kitch-en door. There swam out at her a lui?.e of smoke, from which emerged round blue eyes, guttural tulk, the smell of j frying grease, of stable, of loam, and of woolen wash freshly brought in from the line. A'lth an Inrush of cold air that sent the blue haze into swirls the outer kitchen door opened. A boy, his arm plied high with stove-wood, entered ; a dark, handsome sullen boy who stared at Selina over the armload of wood. Selina stared back at him. There sprang to life between the boy of twelve and the woman of nineteen an electric current of feeling. "Roelf." thought Selina; and even took a step toward him, Inexplicably drawn. "Hurry then with that wood there!" fretted Maartje at the stove. The boy flung the armful Into the box, brushed "Fields of Cabbages What You Said They Ars Bsautiful," Ho Stam. mered. Maartje was clearing the supper things with Geertje and Jozina making a great pretense at helping. If they giggled gig-gled like that In school, Selina thought, she would, In time, go mad, and knock their plgtnlled heads together. Itoelf, at the table, sat poring over a book, one slim hand, chapped and gritty with rough work, outspread on the elbth. Selina noticed, without knowing she noticed, that the fingers were long, slim, and the broken nulls thin and fine. Selina wanted, suddenly, to be alone In her room in the room that but an hour before hud been a strange and terrifying chamber with Its towering bed, Its chill drum. Its ghostly bride's chest. Now It had become a refuge, snug, safe. Infinitely desirable. She turned to Mrs. Tool. "I I think I'll go up to my room. I'm very tired. The ride, I suppose. I'm not used . . ." Her voice trailed off. "Sure," said Muiirtje, briskly. She had finished the supper dishes anil was busy with a huge bowl. Hour, u baking board. "Sure go up. 1 got my bread to set yet and whut all." "If I could have some hot water " "Itoelf! Stop once that reading and show school teacher where is hot waver. wa-ver. Geertje! Jozioa ! Never In my world did I see such.". She culled a convenient pigtail by way of emphasis. A wall arose. "Never mind. It doesn't matter. Don't bother." Selina was In a sort of panic now. She wanted to be out of the room. Hut the boy Itoelf, Willi quiet awiftness, had taken a battered tin pall from Its book on the wall, bad lifted an iron slab at the back of the kitchen stove. A mist of steam arose. He dipped the pall Into the tiny reservoir reser-voir thus revealed. Then, as Selina made as though to take It. he walked past her. She heard blm ascending the wooden stairway. She wanted to be after him. But first she must know the name of the book over which be |