bly whether a certain guy thought she was a truck-horse or something like that,-found the editor of the Sun anticipating by at least twelve hours the forthcoming issue of his paper. He was regali

the Sun goes to press, Link Pollock acts for all the w

of Alix she don't see how she can desert her,-at least, not till she gets married,-and yet she feels she owes it to her son to go and make a home for him. Every once in a while Alix makes her a present of a hundred dollars or so,-once she gave her three hundred in cold, clean cash,-and actually loves her as if she was her own moth

want her to come?" in

believe. He wants h

tmas

," said Mrs. Pollock, "if Alix would

d her, and she wouldn't stand in the way for the world. Nancy says she had about made up her mind to go, but changed it last night. She was telling me about sneaking up to Alix's bedroom door and listening. Alix was crying, sort of sobbing, you know. That settled it with Nancy,-temporarily at an

g to you about it, Mr.

s Po

e discovery that Alix had failed to take him into her co

wd. "If Nancy Strong ever heard yo

e you through with your soup, Mr. Thane?" Without waiting for

ful smile. His smile was too much for Margaret. She blushed

feller that's coming to visit Alix nex

for a while, I believe, but it was after I had left fo

e a good time when yo

Simp

ut him this week, and next week

ince Courtney's arrival. Now he lifted his voice to

etter I spoke about t

asn't been time f

ilver watch for his twelfth birthday. Shows what a bright, progressive, enterprising feller he was even at that

. "It WAS cute of

idea?" inqui

s fifteen minutes sooner than anybo

e boy he was," said

about him,-except his physique. He has a splendid physique, but I never liked his fac

the pudgy Mr. Webster,

I call a very rugged

y it was pre

lly a side-view. I've got one side-view of him over at the gal

in him," suggested Courtney,

blood he's got in him

o maybe you

ining school, preparatory to taking a job on one of Uncle Sam's newest battleships,-the biggest in the world, according to his grandfather, who was in to see me a day or two ago. I have promised to send y

h a lively, light-hearted girl when I was over there. I can't imagine her moping. I hope

Brown told me," said Mr. Pollock. "But don't you think it's fine of young Cale

said Courtney. "He'll find himself longing for the farm and

ended that no first-class hotel ever had such a thing as a parlour any more. The Misses Dowd, of course, called it the parlour, but as they continued to refer to the fir

k corners of the Tavern. Presently it was to howl and shriek, and, as the rain ceased, to rattle the window shutters an

l manner as he moved a rocking chair up to the fireplace and gall

t tonight, Court?"

Is symposium the right word, Miss Miller? Ah, I see it isn't. Well, I did my best. I could have got away with it in New York, but no chance here. And speaking of New York remi

llock. "Hand me my knitting off the table, Lincoln,

m after a little whil

nguidly. "Isn't th

ourtney. "You get

sion, seeing all the best things on the boards at that time, and I

racking a smile. "One gets so bored with the best plays in town.

Bird,'" said Miss Miller wistfully.

There used to be another minstrel man named,-er-lemme see,-now what was that feller's name? It begin with L, I think-or maybe it was W. Now-lemme-think. Go on talkin', the rest of you. I'll think of his name before bedtime." Whereupon the ancient Mr. Nichols relapsed into a profou

close to striking eleven before any one made a move toward retiring,-excepting Mr. and Mrs. Nichols who had gone off to bed at eight-thirty. The Misses Dowd had joined the little company in the "parlour." He discusse

ing a certain rustiness of memory at times. He could talk intelligently about Joseph Conrad, Arnold Bennet, Bernard Shaw, Galsworthy, Walpole, Mackenzie, Wells and others of the modern English school of novelists,-that is to say, he could differ or agree with you on almost anything they had written, notwithstanding the fact that he had never read a line by any one of them. He

e way,-but as for the others I am shockingly unfamiliar with them. Ever si

English writer," put in

eferring to, Charlie?

cott,-he wrote 'Iv

ovelist,-no doubt unknown to most of you. He was one of the old

id Mr. Pollock, scratchi

e estimable codfish," drawled Courtney, and

nquired Mr. Hatch. He pronounced

otten," s

?" inquired Mrs. Pollock. "I used t

cing," said he, and th

girls have taken to

y Miss Grady, who, as a dressmaker, w

ean by parking

e fashion now, among the best families as well as the worst, for the girls when they go to

d Mr. Pollock. "Haven'

. You see, it's this way. We fellows won't dance wi

ld coming to?"

ere it's going to,"

ra very often?" asked

of the Metropolitan Museum,-and gave Charlie Webster a sharp look when t

and Elsie Ferguson, and Chrystal Herne, and all the rest of them. He spoke familiarly of Mr. Faversham as "Favvy," of Mr

om at the end of the hall, round the corner of which the fierce Octo

ar?" cried Mrs. Polloc

et," agreed Miss Miller ecstaticall

y!" he stammered, and then looked inquiringly at his f

one of the windows and peered

blows nobody any good,"

t, Charlie?" inquired Fl

a pleasant night he'

ad of here,"

fter a moment. "You me

x,

was unsmiling as he s

egan, and then c

t Alix," said Flora.

g of Alix just th

postoffice. He had arranged for a lock-box there. His letters we

the engine running. Catching sight of it as he left the Tavern porch, he hastened his steps. He was a good two hundred yards away and feared she would be

his pace and glanced over his shoulder into the tonneau. The s

the regis

hand and searching her face as he d

even remotely disturbed state of mind. Her gaze met his serenely; the colour did not rush to her cheeks as h

ff to this morni

iness to attend to and some shopping

in a su

ade haste to add: "I'd go from one end of the desert of Sahara to the other with you, but-" shaking his head

ugh of No-Man's Land

her gaze faltered at last. There was no mistaking his mean

ss her from head to foot, something that filled her with the most disquieting self-consciousness. Strange to say, it was not the ardent look of the love-sick admirer,-and she had not escaped such tributes,-nor

er gaze and turned to

ng out her receipt fo

cowardly, and the th

today, Mrs. Poll

plied the postmaster

ul wind last night, A

ave been f

so nice and comfy in bed. I was awfully tired last night. Thanks." Then turning to Courtney: "Sor

" he asked, holding the door

replied c

an,-t

re to come

rey-brown dog with his paws on the back of the

urban. She had never looked so alluring to the young ma

ase," called out Mrs

you

Courtney as he turned away from his lockbox w

rietor a hearty "good morning," and then drew a chair up before the low "sheet-iron stove" which heated the reception-room. Hatch was "printing" behind a partition, and the

I'm off for a stroll in