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Show j Alabaster Lamps ! S By MARGARET TURNBULL 1 Copyright. I9?5. by Murpvret TurabttlL wntj Sorvlo "Alabaster Umps" Is a story of old love and of new love: as old-fashioned as homc-KTown strawborrles on blscult-douKb j shortcake; as modern us a low. i sleek spoedster balloon tiros and bobbed-hair driver. Mursii-get Mursii-get Turnbull says It 'a; written with the thought of Knowing j what a 'practical man with a hard head, a soft heart and a yearnlnfi for the romance In lire would do under certain elrcum-j elrcum-j stances. The tale was written on a hiHh hill above c lie Delaware Dela-ware river, far removed rum the theater and movlns pictures. It was drafted out under the trees and during loan, peaceful walks down the wood road. All about lay the country Miss Turnbull lovos. and there live some of the finest people in the world plain American citizens. For Instance, there Is C. M. Dabhs. village grocer. gro-cer. Into whose life eame some genuine romance a romance in which figured beautiful women, adventures, a mysterious young knight from the battlefields of the World war. Jousting with adversaries In the marls of trade, ocean liners, a visit to forelan shores, and a host of other things which enabled Mr. C. M. Dabbs, grocer, to gain a secret desire to view existence "through the mists of alabaster lamps." I1 CHAPTER I The grocery store of C. M. Dabbs, at the crossroads, Peace Valley, was astir. This was "late-closing" night. Parked before the door were vehicles of all sizes, sorts and description, from motors to old-fashioned farm wagons and buggies, the pntiet horses waiting, wait-ing, with drooping heads, while their masters finished their interminable marketing and equally Interminable conversations. Marketing took a long time In Peace Valley. In the first place, on late-closing late-closing night It was the custom to "go down along the crossroads and do your storing' at Dabbs'." In the second place, hurry was a vulgar habit that bad uot yet reached Peace Valley. - 1. 1.. ....... Vf L-nnwintT UUe WaS 1U LUC -----a I what was adoing" in the village and the surrounding countryside by going to the crossroads store. The news-gathering news-gathering and distributing took time, for no subject was rashly broached or rapidly discussed. One has only to listen attentively to. the apparently apparent-ly monotonous discussions in country stores to discover that, though illiterate illiter-ate and totally Ignorant of grammar, these solons have read deeply in tlie Book of Human Nature. Two men alighted from a car Just outside the grocery. One of them, the proprietor of the shop, said: "Leave the bags. Ned. The boy'U bring them in." He was a dark-haired, rather thick-ft thick-ft man. He was not tall. His fine face was reddened like that of a sailor sail-or or fireman; round, full and clean shaven. The hair sf his temples was praying a little. It was his eyes that made you look twice at him. C. M. Dabbs' eyes were blue as any Italian sky. and as cold i ice, or as soft and "deep as the name sky. n an uri Pabbs looked at you. They were at their softest and deepest deep-est now as he looked at his companion compan-ion He was a much younger man.' not more than twenty-seven, with smooth brown hair. His clothes were all that clothes should be, and worn l,v one who thought about them before be-fore he put them on. and then lorgot about thorn- He was not. the type usually usu-ally found in a country village and he looked about him with an interest that proved him a stranger. Peace Valley!" he .-aid. softly. 'It looks like It!" He glanced again nt the crossroads, one of which led steeply steep-ly uphill, while the other wound about the vallev until It disappeared behind a tall woo.l. The grocery store was a Croat old stone house, the front part ,f which had been transformed from dwelling. Next floor, a long low building combined the business ot blacksmithing. wheelwrighling and mo tar repairing. The old and ihe new were mingled peacefully together, he post office, the brightly lighted barber ri.in) and the cobbler's little hovel were nil in-mined about the crossroads. "I didn't exaggerate, did I?" asked lnhbs. The young man shook his head. 'Teace Valley," he repeated. "1 did" it believe there was such n place!" He Klnnced at the sign over the door and turned to the older man with a smile. "(.'. M. Dabbs, General Store." lie mi aloud. "You told the truth about lliat, too. But why C. M.? Come, what ! It that distinguishes you from the rnk and file of Dabbses? Is 11 "diaries' or 'Cyrus' or " Tlie older man blushed. "C M-. renerally sign myself," he admitted. "Imt if vou really want to know what " stands for why, Claude Melnotte fiahbs 's piy name." The young man 'noshed softly, re-Peatlng. re-Peatlng. "Claude Melnotte." Mr. Dabbs smiled. "Do yon blame' "W for Sticking to C. M.. or Mister? "1 do not," hit companion declared ""nlmtlcally. "T-ell me" "A traveling company, pretty good ,m'. too, I believe." Mr. Palm? 1'PP1"1 hurriedly, "with somebody celebrated : 11 'I'uiilinu,' oj Tie to the county s-'"1 and played 'The Lady of Lyons.' My mother" "I didn't mean Hint," the young man assured him hastily, as though fearing obstetrical details. "I meant to ask is there a i.ady of Lyons' In Peace Valley and is yours called 'Pauline,' too?" Mr. Dabbs hesitated, shook his head thoughtfully, and said slowly: "1 live alone, wLh Aunt Lyddy to keep house for me. "'Course. I've always thu'.'.ght It was a blamed silly play. All about a poor boy marrying a lady under false pretenses. pre-tenses. Good many years since I read It, though, but as I remember, he made good. I've often wondered if In real life" Hut his companion cared nothing about discussing Lytton's old play. "1 say. Claude Melnotle," lie Interrupted, "is your Peace Valley home lit by 'alabaster 'ala-baster lamps'?" Claude Melnotte Dabbs hesitated. He was home again, afler a week of the Wholesale and Retail Grocer's convention con-vention in New York. Behind that calm exterior he was greatly excited. 111? lit 1 "Come in and Meet Aunt Lyddy." Something In the young man's question ques-tion faintly stirred his memory. Surely there had been mention of "alabaster lamps" in that old play. Vaguely feeling feel-ing that there was unother answer, he took particular pains to be exact. "We've got an electric light plant for the store only, as you'll notice. In the house we burn coal oil. They're Rochester lamps." He threw tlie door wide open and beckoned to his companion to enter, saying : "Welcome home, Ned. Welcome to Peace Valley and our store." With their entrance conversation stopped and all eyes turned toward Mr. Dabbs and his companion. Ned saw what seemed an Immense cavern, lit by crudely Installed electric lights which shed a garish glow over tlie huge stock of canned goods, flower pots, cotton cloth, hams, bacon, tea, coffee and other staples which constitute consti-tute a general store. "Hello, Sim," Mr. Dabbs began, greeting the big-headed, pale-faced man behind the counter who was ladling la-dling out sugar for a hewhiskered farmer. But before he could introduce Ned,, a clear, girlish vgice interrupted : . "I beg pardon, bill could will anyone any-one tell" me the road to Clover Hollow?" Hol-low?" The occupants of the store transferred trans-ferred their attention to Ihe girl who. unnoticed, had entered .lust behind Mr Dabbs and his companion. She as a slender, vivid, dark girt. One ntitlht suspect, and I'm. I. red lights i the brown hair almost hidden by 1(.r dose-lilting hat, and a lire l:i the 1)h,e eves thai looked mil from under U)lli; dark lashes. F.verything about her spoke of money and care expended expend-ed upon every article of her cloihmg. she had that curious air of responsibility responsi-bility and. knowledge lha! Is so oddly part' of voulh that the war has left us. -I beg pardon." Ned began, but Ihe girl looked past him and at the capa-i,e capa-i,e Dabbs. who had turned toward her ami was pointing through Ihe dark doorway as he spoke: "Go straight nlong up that road until un-til you pass Brook farm, which you'll know by the little covered bridge over tlie brook. Cross the bridge, turn to the right and keep on up tlie hill and away from Peace Valley and you'll he on the only road to Clover Hollow." The girl thanked him briefly, though cordially, and went swiftly out. Ordinarily Ordi-narily Ihe crowd would have discussed her. her destination and her likelihood of being a "slayer" or just a visitor at Clover Hollow. But now there was another stranger present, and Ihey turned their attention to Ned. Mr. Dabbs Introduced him briefly: "My nephew, Ned Carter, come to stay awhile." Then, as Ihe srore began to wake up and get ready for speech, he turned lo Ned with a. curt. "Come in and ineei Aunt Lyddy." Ned followed without knowing that lie had lei! behind a seething mass of curiosity. Dabbs knew it. That Claude Dabbs had an unknown nephew was unlliinkable, and unsupported by the facts concerning the Dabbs family as knownln Peace Valley. Jim Karniim made one brave effort toward putting things on the proper Peace Valley footing. As Mr. Dabbs led Ned to the door, Jim found his voice: "Didn't know you had a nevvy, Claude," he called out, "and don't ex- actly see how you can, either, seeing I you're the only one of the hull Dabbs family left." "My second cousin's boy from the West. He's always called me uncle, though, Instead of cousin, owing to the difference in years. Come on. Ned," and Dabbs opened the door. Ned found himself in a queer, bare little room, almost filled by a big table-topped desk of the vintage of 1S00, quite as large as a modern dining din-ing table, and a vast armchair that looked even oldev, though both were in an excellent state of repair. There were no pictures on the wall, only a calendar. "My ollice," Dabbs explained. "But come on and meet Aunt Lyddy, one of the best women God ever put nretun in, but likely to be flustered if you bring anybody on her suddenlike." He opened a door leading Into the Interior of the house and ushered Ned Into Ihe family dining room. Aunt Lyddy sat at the table, a Rochester lamp' hi the center on an elaborately embroidered centerpiece. The lamp had a white shade, but after the harsh light of ihe shop, Ned was grateful for the softer glow. Aunt Lyddy was a personable old lady, handsome despite her sixty-odd years, with a great pile of the whitest hair Ned had evw seen. She looked up as Mr. Dabbs entered and scrutinized Ned from over the rims of her glasses. "Well, Mister Dabbs. this is a pretty time to come, home! Been ajoyiug around somewhere, as usual, I suppose." sup-pose." "Brought you something. Aunt Lyddy." Lyd-dy." Mr. Dabbs patted her on the back and placed a small package In her lap. "Just a little something lo satisfy that awful craving you've L'ot for jewelry." Then, before the de-ii.rbiort de-ii.rbiort old woman could open the box or speak, he continued. Ids hand on Ned's shoulder: "But I brought a bigger big-ger present than that back with me. Aunt Lyddy. this Is my adopted nephew. Ned Carter." "H'm. adopted!" As she spoke. Aunt Lyddy's eves remained fixed on Ned. ''Yes a.iopled. But remember. Aunt Lyddy. he's Just 'nephew' to those gas ba"S in the store waiting to be tilled and llo-H rt""l !lwn wl,n ",p "ws" Mint Lvddy nodded. "Well, you showed right good taste in selecting a nephew. Claude. He's a presentable-hioklna presentable-hioklna voting fellow. I'll say that. If so be as he treats yotl as fair as you treat him. he can stay here ami wel- ''''niaiik vou. Aunt Ly.hly." and Ned Mulled his friendliest. "I certainly mean well !" : Who Is this brand new rela- tion, and why hasn't Aunt Lyd-dy Lyd-dy heard of him before. (TO BE CONTINl'KIl.l |