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Show II The Onlookers ,. l,.-- '".'By F. Harris Deans j? II TST7"HEN 1 entered tile room. Elizabeth I Vv V,'as s,tt,llg Sa7',l, Pensively at I Mrs. Veralour. Mrs. Veralour, with I 'ho air of a tragedy queen who had been I handed her notice, stood gazing out of tne I window. I "Morning, Elizabeth," I said; "morning, Lady M'acbeth." "S3I1," said Elizabeth. Mrs. Veralour, however, was less cordial h her greeting; she ignored me. "Is it a dagger?" I questioned Elizabeth. Crossing over to Mrs. Veralour's side I followed the direction of her eyes. 1 All I could see, however, was young I Marsden, sitting outside the window on a' 1 piazza chair, aimlessly hitting the toe of his boot with a tennis racquet. 1 glanced inquiringly at Mrs. Veralour. "What is it you think you sec?" I asked sympathetically. "Your past life or just spirits? Come and pat one of her hands, Elizabeth." I never ask peoplo. to do what I wouldn't do myself, so, with the best intontionj iu the world, I took one of her hands in mine ind stroked it gently. If Elizabeth had , oeen brisk enough in following my example t would have been all right. As it was, however, she did not even move from her ?hair, and Mrs. Veralour boxed mv car3 vlth the hand Elizabeth should have been lolding. I glanced reproachfully at Elizabeth. "A little more ol! Mrs. Veralour's energy, Slizaboth," I begged, stroking my ear teii-Jerly. teii-Jerly. "What breakfast food were you brought up on, Mrs. Voralour?" "Bo quiet, Dick," cried Elizabeth im-I im-I patiently, . I Mrs. Veralour for the first time ap- I )carcd to realize my presence. I flinched I is slie put her hand on my shoulder. I "Don't you think it's a shame." she caid, I Indicating young Marsden and the racquet. "Eh?" I Baid. I stared more in- Hl tentry at the racquet. "Oh, by Jove, Hl 11 is'" I cried, suddenly enlightened. HI "Hang it, I've half a mind to inter- Mrs. Veralour, after gazing at mo 1 admiringly, glanced over in triumph 1 at Elizabeth. 1 "Didn't I say he was a good sort 1 Qt tho bottom?" she demanded. H Elizabeth bit her lip doubtfully. H "it's you- who are the good sort, 1 Mrs. Veralour." I said cordially, 1 "calling my attention to it." Some 1 women wouldn't havo thought of it." 1 I raised my arm. 1 "What are you going to do?" she 1 demanded, clutching at me. 1 "Tap at the windows at him." I 1 sa'd. "I shall have to have that 1 racquet restrung If he keeps kick- 1 ing if llko that." 1 -What racquet; the one he's 1 knocking about so. I lent It to him 1 yesterday." H "l sai(l ho was as selfish as he 1 could be.'1 said Elisabeth dlspassion- 1 ntely, apparently referring to Mrs. 1 Veralour's earlier eulogy of me. "I don't mean your stupid racquet," said Mrs. Veralour Irritably. "I was pointing to the Marsden boy and Ella Harrison." Glancing once moro out of the window, I observed at the other end of tho lawn our hostess's daughter an d a stout elderly man. "That's Mr. Wright," said Mrs. Veralour, with an air of explaining everything. "Poor Charlie Marsden!" "That's all very well." I grumbled, "but you can't get out of it that it's my racquet lie's got." "Oh, bother your racquet!" she snapped, walking away from tho window. "If you dare tap," she cried sharply, as 1 stood hesitating, "I'll never speak to you again." "But why should Charlie Marsden spoil my racquet because Ella Harrison is talk- ing to Wright," I persisted. "It wasn't because of that at all; it was because Mr. Wright was talking to Ella." "Well, he can't expect the girl to be allowed al-lowed to talk all tho time. I expect Wright likes to get the fresh air into his lungs now and then, just like the rest of us. Anyhow, Any-how, 1 notice Charlie himself doesn't talk exclusively with his eyes when he's with her." "Can't you see perfectly well that those two poor young creatures are absolutely breaking their hearts?" "Young Marsden was breaking my racquet," 1 said, "I saw that. What's wrong between them?" A sudden smile lit, up Eliz?beth's face. "There's nothing wrong between them." she burst in. "It's all Wright between inem ' "But what makes you think Wright is damming the current of their young love?" I asked. "It's an or engineering term, Elizabeth," I. explained in an aside; "In the sense 1 use It. 1 mean." "It's so obvious," said Mrs. Veralour. "The obvious nevoY made anybody think," I interjected. "Do you mean Wright's attentions are so patent?" "No-o; I'll giva the man credit, he doesn't try to monopolize her. But then he's thirty drears older than she Is. A man his ago do.csn't make a fool of himself." "His is Just the age," I corrected; "at twenty the girl makes a fool of a man, but at fifty he makes a fool of himself. Youth is the age of love. But who told you about Wright?" "Ella did herself," said Mrs. Veralour; "she told us both. She was awfully upset, wasn't she, Elizabeth?" "Has Wright er said anything definite, or is it just intuition on Miss Ella's part?" "Plain common sense. What's he stopping stop-ping here for otherwise? It was on his account ac-count that Mrs. Harrison invited us nil. Did you think you were asked for your fascinating fascinat-ing society?" " "I know why you were asked anyhow, Mrs. Veralour; on account of your bridge." "My bridge! Why I'm a perfectly frightful fright-ful player." "That's what I meant How much did sho lose that night, Elizabeth? Still don't get downhearted. Mrs. Veralour. What you lose on the swings you make up on the roundabouts. You must pay for popularity, you know." "I haven't been listening to you," she exclaimed, ex-claimed, with rather overdone Indifference; "so you can't make me angry. Anybody can play bridge if they give their minds to it." "It depends on the mind they give to it, though." "About Ella Harrison," put in Elizabeth, looking tactful. "Oh. yes. Well, she said her mother is always drumming into her what a perfectly splendid man Mr. Wright is. He's got a lTous6initho neighborhood, youknowahd' looks them up every day. Then cm lop of that, tho houso party, and he's asked to stop! What is sho to think?" "He used to know her father, you know," I reminded her; "perhaps he come3 to see her so often from a sense of duty." "Well, but why should her mother talk about him so much?" , "Thqfe you have me." I admitted. "What makes any woman talU so much?" "Oh, do be serious," cried Mrs. Veralour, tapping her toot impatiently. "You wait till you hear Mrs. Veralour's plan," put in Elizabeth, in a tone that was almost' a threat. "Plan!" I cried in alarm. "HaVc you got a plan?" l"Yos," she said, regarding me defiantly. "Now, look here. Mrs. Veralour, you'll be getting yourself disliked if you go on like this. It's positively selfish, the way you won't let anybody have any little troubles trou-bles without wanting to share them. You should try' to restrain yourself." "It's a splendid scheme," stated Elizabeth Eliza-beth enthusiastically. '"Good Lord1" I cried in horror, "has she dragged you into it already?" "Don't get jealous," said Mrs. Veralour. "I haven't left you out?" "I know that," 1 groaned; "I'm alwavs the sack of sand in this outfit. I'm dragged in to keep you two steady, and then if anything goes wrong I'm thrown over." "He went up In a captive balloon, the other day," explained Elizabeth untruthfully; untruth-fully; "that's why he's so so airshippy." "You needn't come In unless you like," said Mrs. Veralour. "You can please yourself." your-self." "I can't. I've all my work cut out to please Elizabeth " "To please one should be to please both.'" "It isn't in our case, thon; to please both is to please one Elizabeth." "Well, my idea," she said, "is that Mr. Wright is old enough to be sensible." "You always were an optimist, Mrs. Veralour." "So if he only realized that Ella liked somebody else, he'd he'd" "Throw his hand In?" "Tactfully withdraw," said Mrs. Veralour. "Point is, how's he going to realize it?" "Well" Mrs. Veralour hesitated, "If he were told" . . . "Just so, if he were told. The only thing is, you'll never find anybody Impertinent Imperti-nent enough to tell him." "There's me," said Mrs. Veralour. "I beg your pardon," I said, "you had slipped my mind for the moment. Therejs you, as you say." r "Or perhaps I ought to have said us." "Of course, us," cried Elizabeth. "Of course, us," I said bitterly. "I don't mean, tell him in so many words, naturally." "Whichever way you choose," I said cheerlessly, "will be the worst. I don't see why the girl can't tell him herself; seems to me It would come bettor from her than from three comparative strangers." "Oh, but I shall put it to him as a hypothetical hypo-thetical case, so that he won't guess till afterward whom we meant" "And yet," T, said, parenthetically, "to look at him you'd think he was almost a bright sort of man." Mrs. Veralour frowned. "We can ask him a simple question," suggested ElizaDeth, brightly "Should a girl marry a man old enough to be her father, when she's in love with another man?" "Suppose he says yes?" "Oh,, but he won't," said Mrs. Vewlouf "Haven't I told you that ! think "he's 1 -1 digit ' Of very nice man at heart?" ;1 "Onlv his heart is in the wrong place. Ii .. 7? T ; :A lin that lt?" Rioted I rose to my feet, and, lighting a cigar .,11, t . .1 '; to ette, I strolled toward the. door. .. 1 "I've heard a good many of your schemes. Mrs. Veralour," I said, "and up 'j to now I'd always thought them the worst ) that even you could think of; but now " : "But now V said Mrs. Veralour ex ''cfias ultantly. :)tat "But now," I said, as I opened the door, jglrj, "I've lived and learnt." A'ith'e The, next afternoon, acting on instruc- 'rrpeo tions, I lounged into the library and, find- tAinti ing Mr. Wright alone, I stamped twico on hall the floor. " ' a : He glanced up in some surprise when 1 : i Tcrt e did this. His surprise deepened when tha ; jefonE door opened and Elizabeth stole ner- I vously in. 0 i; 1 addrt 1 "Is Mrs. Veralour here?" she asked, vM'Sabi though the only place she could have been rint without being seen was under the table. f Jlui "o," I said, "you know very well she t tiiecli isn't. She is coming last, to make surft a. j, we're both here." X Uy jj; Mr. Wright rose to his feet, and for a y by moment or so we all stood staring appro- ibyei henslvely at one another. tcre li As. with an incoherent apology, h jvj- started edging toward the door, Mrs. Vera t , s lour entered. , f "Can you spare me a moment?" she 1 es asked brightly. "I particularly wanted tc 1 that seo you alone." Ti yjn "Alone," he said, gazing over to when f t, 6 Elizabeth and I were forming a smai: f J 0J crowd in tha rnrner. .1" atli "I mean whon Ella wasn't witl f '"W you," she said slightly losing he! i; & a head. k . , For a moment he appeared con j 4let fused, and then he flushed ver: 0y creditably for a man of his years. " sCr'ujc "Oh, thank you," he said. "I taka tjta j it you are being kind enough to v oj j, congratulate me. Foolishly enough we had been hoping nobody would 1 Vt discover our little secret just at -.F:aiark present; forgetting that onlookors Etlrv see most of the game. We wanted k. to be sure how Ella would take it. ! fi" I think she likes me a little." $ 7 Inl "Liking," said Mrs. Veraloui obE severely, "is not love." l conct "As to that ... So long as i she does not actively object to me S ta,, as a stepfather . . . Thanks ?. iC again for your congratulations." i 59 hi "Well!" said Elizabeth blankly, $ fea6n as he left the room. t r "Where are you going to?" do- ttoi manded Mrs. Veralour, as I made t fct ' toward the door. e ,T lt ' "Going to ask young Marsden to 5' 1 give mo my racquet back," I said f angrily; "it was mere wanton fl iJP l destructiveness.'" ' ft lt1 Uit |