The Syracuse Journal, Volume 16, Number 36, Syracuse, Kosciusko County, 3 January 1924 — Page 2

r ' The Cortlandts of Washington Square By JANET A. FAIRBANK - Cowright by Tbs Bobbs-MerriHCn

CHAPTER XV—Continued. —ll—-.- ’ “Marriage!" she exclaimed. aloud—“A stranger like that!" She went to the window to cool her flushed face, and standing there, overioklng the familiar square, she summoned back her dimming memories of the Italian. Indubitably. he was a romantic figure, more darkly beautiful than any other man She had seen, and with something unknown’and alien about him. . . . He had beefi very good to her; she recalled her awakening tn the cottage, with Avezzana’s eyes upon her. • and the subsequent scene which had. SO filled her with unreasoning panic. ... He had asked for her guardian’s address. Now she knew why. . . . How fantastic it ail was! . . . He had been brave, too, there tn the midst of the fighting. . . . And Italy was a jnost lovely place—Densley had said it was a paradise for lovers. ... It was Strange how renjqte her ’association with Densley seamed; only an Irradicable* impresshm .of his sophisticated viewpoint remained, and a gentle ‘•egret. ... It might have been years ago that he had died. \ . . Life was a queer business. . . ■. How could any one want to marry her without knowing more of her? . . . Still, it was nice of«hlm. ... A countess, too. Glamor stole over her senses, and yet she was sad; she did not know why. . . . Her guardian’s acceptance of the Idea of her leaving him depressed her, . . . It made her feel homeless and mlserfteble. . . .'To her amaxement, tears Kgdenly brimmed tn her eyes. She them In n luxury < emo ,-tr. I flung her-o-ls far© jni'n ■kb.-.!, ■ • • sh ”*’ k h, r > h - J r ■ lie Vas at G.-ttVStoffH A’on must come down at “I can’t? It take me * time! You go down and see him. A’uhß Emily, do." v “He asked for me, ■ Ann. Naturally I Shall go down. But hurry.” Ann fouml It impossible to obey this command. She wanted very much to see Avezzana—she wa< breathless at the thought of him below, waiting. She was all on fire with curiosity as vto what he won't*, do next, but at the sifime time she wanted t© look her best should regret his aitest&ii overtures. She ran to the glass and Skrutinlxed her facey although she had ohbr just Itegun to cry, her eyes were undoubtedly rather red. "I look even • than 1 did in the train," sj>e murmured i discontentedly, as she poured water Intn her wash basin. The cold was de- ; llcious to her flushed fare; do om would ever know she had been crying. She decided, when she looked in the mirror again, after prolonged applications. She lingered over her dresses, unable to decide which one she should put on: but she was determined that It .should not be black, and finally sh# selected an apricot green tissue,, which she had worn in-the spring before she put on her mourning. In It she had a young and vernal look that was undoubtedly charming. She had a heartening conviction of It, herself. As she stole down the stairs she could hear alternately Mrs." Cort lam It’s high voice and Avezzana’s lower, more emotional tones. “What are they talking about?" Ann wondered, pausing midway on the steps. She thought that they seemed to be getting on very well without her. so when she went down the long library to greet the young Italian officer she assumed a little air of Indifference. Avezzana sprang to his feet at her coming and regarded her with Intent eyes. Be was more beautiful than ever, and his uniform was more splendid than the one be bad worn on the field. Dhder bls look she was inclined to be somewhat uncomfortable, and when he bent to kiss her hand she flinched visibly. It was impossible for her to accept this salutation and she felt #elf-conselously that Mrs. Oortlandt’s aaasslve presence was not the plari? for •n amorous interlude. She sent her • lightning glance under her eyelashes, feut even before Avezxana’a head was I’fted Ann could see that Mrs. Cortlandt had preserved an air of worldly complacence. “Well.” she thought unbidden. “11l have to get used to It, if I am going to live in Italy * After that they conversed. The three of them sat very upright In their .hairs and went politely through the topics of the day. Ann was amazed st herself; she had not dreamed she tad such reserves of conventionalities. It seemed tn her that hours passed before Avezzana rose smartly to his feet, bowed, ptanted a kiss, first on the exact diametrical badk of Mrs. Cortiondt’s hhnd, and then on here, and I*ref>g>«[ to take his departure. On Ma way to the door he paused, as though struck with a sudden thought. "The ambassador from my country will be in this city on Wednesday. Would R. perhaps, prove amusing to you. Signora, to meet him? If so I will arrange a little dinner at the Fifth Avenue hotel, where I am stopping for. It la possible, a fortnight." •A fortnight,” thought Ann, with a flashing grin. -He doesn’t think It wlli take very long." However, an ambassador; that was something! bear Mrs. Cortlandt accepting effuMve- . we pt e< as - *

ued. -You are; I have no doubt, comfortable there. We are very proud of the Fifth Avenue, but after all—e hotel !* She shrugged her plump shoulders scornfully. “It would give me great pleasure if you would take dinner with us on Sunday. I am only sorry that Mr. Cortlandt is not here to make you welcome." Avezzana accepted with every symptom of decorous delight, and took his departure without more than a glance at Ann, It was all entirely incomprehensible; had anyone except her guard Inn been involved, she would have thought the whole thing a gigantic hoax. Mrs. Cortlandt, howevec, was decidedly impressed. .-Whatever be sees in you. Ann, I cannot imagine," she confided to the girl. “He Is a charming young man. Such beautiful manners! Such delightful breeding!" Without going Into it further, Ann understood that Mrs. Cortlandt had been informed of Avezzana’s intentions. Fanny was greatly excited at the prospect of meeting a genuine Italian count, for. In the ’sixties, titles were a novelty in New York.- She asked Ann a great many questions about him, to which that young woman replied, dryly. “Oh. he is Just a man. Fanny, like other men—blacker, perhaps.” The Theodore Renneslyers came to the ceremonious mld-Sunday dinner, miraculously reconciled to Ann. Mrs. Rdnneslyer had not spoken to her since irtje had jilted Hendricks, and his father, on the one or two occasions when the girl had seen him. had been so filled with kindly embarrassment in her company, that she had minded It more than his wife’s Icy displeasure. She wondered what sort of a meal they would have, all together with Avezzana, and wished nervously that she might be excluded from It. as she had been In the- rebellious days of her childhood. To her amazement, when Ilenneslyer came In, just on the Mu <>f the young Italian, she was full if <htdlow. affection tor ; uni h»-r h:ci reKy i > :• - • HL ' - - HL ■ a frothy little ruffles lace, and a purple bonnet with the wide brim, which poked forward Over her vivacious face. Her waist was perhaps a little thicker and her cheeks trifle pinker than they had been on the day. so long ago. when Ann had first seen her. and if one were disagreeable Enough to look for them, one might possibly find, In the shadow of her hat brim, a network of fine wrinkles about the corners of her pretty eyes, but her throat and her hands were as white as ever, while the glossy ringleu that clustered under wreath of pansies on her hat were exiAwivto*' riiv vecaK-yus-Mrs. Cortlandt had else to dlnniT. "Only the family, said archly to Avezzana, and he hud resj-ondetl with a grave courtesy which Ann thought made Mrs. William seem bourgeois. The talk at the dinner, however, was quite brilliant. Mrs. Itenneslyer had been to Italy l>efore her marriage. “How can you bear to leave so beautiful a place?" she demanded orutoricslly, “It was In the spring when v I was there, and there were roses everywhere—everywhere. I assure you, Ann—and purple flowers, great masses of them. I forget their name-" “Bogumvella." Avezzana affirmed, smiling. "Yes, that’s It. So sweet! Os course. I was there long before any one had heard of Garibaldi. I am quite an old -Oh, He la Just a Man, Fanny, Like Othar Men; Blacker, Perhaps.* woman, you see! I went down to Rome and presented •« the pope. I had to wear a black veil <m my head, Fanny; it vras really quite becoming, and the pope was very sweet to me—very. Oh, yea, I loved Bon*l I was a great snceess there, too. I oftm wonder. Theodore, that I ever came back to New York to marry you. There was such an attractive man I met there! I wonder, Count Avezzana. if by chance you knew him? Os course, by this time, be Is probably a grandfather!’’ And then began a long cataloguing of possible acquaintances, in which Aveszana engaged himself vivaciously. Aim wondered if the Italian were really amused by it It was impossible to tell, when watching him from ffijkr<w< ffaf, Xott*' Anti thC’TV 1 teaefid bd and Ms black eyes clashed

with her gray ones, but there was nothing personal, nothing demanding, in his look; the man she had known In the little house at Gettysburg had vanished so completely that she thought her memory must have her In regard to him. As for her guardian’s letter—she could only believe that Avezzana had, by this time, changed his mind In regard to her, for he had made no effort to arrange for a glimpse of her between the Thursday of his call and Sunday. In the drawing room after dinner, however, he asked her. choosing a moment when /flhe was protected by the presence of both the aunts, if It would be a proper thing for him to nsk her to ride with him one afternoon. “Quite. I should think,’’ Ann said, dryly. Mrs. Itenneslyer added.. smoothly. "In New York, of course, we are not so rigid as you are in Europe: young girls do many things I would prefer a daughter of mine didn't. But yon have my permission, Ann, to ride with fount Avezzana.” Ann grinned a .little at that; then she recalled her last ride with the Italian, and a slow flush burned up in her cheeks, for the elaborate secrecy with which he surrounded that episode was making her self-con-scious. It was arranged that they would go op the afternoon before the count’s dinner for the Italian ambassador, but at noon of that day the heat broke in a sharp thunder squall and a flood of rein, so that riding was out of the question; Ann had an odd sense of relief at postponing the tete-a-tete. In the evening they all wore their best clothes; when Mrs. William, Fanny and Ann drove through the rain In the big Cortlandt carriage. It could scarcely accommodate their flamboyant skirts. Ann was in white. Fanny In pink, and Mrs. Cortlandt tn plum color. The older woman talked all the way of the charms of their young host; his good looks, his brilliancy and his fine manners. Ann wondered what she would be saying if she knew of the night in the little cottage at Gettysburg. “Nothing against him," she thought, cynically, “but probably a great deal agnlnst me!” . - s The dinner was a most Impressive occasion. Avezzana had engaged a private dining room In his hotel, and had decorated the table lavishly with flowers, after the Italian fashion. He had secured distinguished company to meet his ambassador;'a general in the Northern army, whom he had met nt Gettysburg, an ex-minister to Italy from Wilmington, Delaware, and an ItallWj, capitalist from Chicago—a squat, tat, swarthy man. who. when he talked at all. talked volubly of the possibilities the fruit trade in AmerL ca. The hxnbassador proved to be delightful. *e was n fine-looking old man. with # white Imperial, fierce, white brow- over them, which moved up and down frantically. when he talked. Ann liked him at once; it would have been Impossible not to have done so. for be immediately set abonlistttfKJng himself pleasant, and was by no means proof against such flattering attention. She sat on his right, for Avezzana bad placed the aunts on either «ide of him. and she found hetvelf devoting most of the evening to a discussion of her host. “A charming boy,” the ambassador said; smiling Indulgently across the table at Avezzana. “I knew his father well, and his mother. Ah—une bella Signora, Slgnorina. and how she will enjoy you. so fresh, so naive, so American!" His English was extraordinarily fluent. “My young friend has a great life before him. It will not be long, now. when my king will have a united Italy; there will be no more

Art Always a Thing of Utility

Taught Primitive Man to Fashion His Weapon, His Tools and His Coarse Garment. The weapon, the tool, the vase, and. in harsh climates, a coarse garment of skins—such are the first forma, foreign to his own substance, that primitive Jinan fashions. He is surrounded by Iteusts of prey and is assailed constantly by the hostile elements of a still chaotic nature. . He sees enemy forces In fire, in storms, la the slightest trembling of foliage or of water, in the seasons, even, and in day and night, until the beating of his arteries and the sound of his steps have given him the sense of rhythm. Art Is. In the beginning, a thing' of immediate utility, like the first stammering ol speech; something to designate the objects which surround man. for him to imitate or modify in order that he may use them; man goes no farther. Art cannot set be an Instrument of philosophic generalization, since man eould not know how to titiUse it But be forges that instrument for he already abstracts from his surroundings some rudimentary law which applies to his own advantage. The men and youths range the forests. Their weapon is at first the knotty branch torn from the oak or the elm, tbs stone picked up from the ground. The women, with the old men and the children, remahbhldden in the dwelling, an improvised halting place or grotto. From bls first stumbling steps man comes to grips with an ideal —the fleeing beast which represents the immediate future of the tribe; the evening meal, devoured to make muscle for the hunters; milk for the mothers. Woman, on the contrary, has before her only the near and present reality—the meal to prepare; the child to nourish; the skin to be dried; later on, die fire that is to be tended. It is

THE SYIUCn/RE JOT RXAt

fighting—no more wars. The young Guido will be free for politics, and he will go far."' Ann. at this juncture, made a feeble attempt to divert the conversation Into more abstract channels, but the ambassador would have none of It. “His family jewels!" he exclaimed, apropos of nothing, "such pearls! But pearls are ton dull for you. I have seen his grandmother’s diamond earrings, which wait for Avezzana’s bride — there Is a tiara, too.” ■ His glance traveled to the top of Ann’s shining head and rested there until she frit uncomfortably naked; she had never seen a tiara, to be sure, but her instinct toki her the place for one. “And his houses. Do you like the country, Slgnorina?” “Ye-es,” said Ann. “Pretty well.” She Lad In mind the little white farm house in Milton Center. “Alt, until you have seen Piedmont you have hot seen the country! A beautiful old castle, Slgnorina. stone everywhere, inside ami out; therefore, even in midsummer, you have never the heat like this. Such gardens’ Such flowers! Such fruits!;ln America you have no idea of fruits —in spite of Willi “You Are a Sly Puss, My Dear. And It Is No Wonder That My Poor Boy Could Not Carry the Day Against Such a Rival.* what our friend yonder is at this moment engaged in saying, byway of endearing himself te your so charming aunt, Mrs. Itenneslyer. . . . And the moon light on the terrace on a May night. Slgnorina—even your cold American heart could not withstand that!” “What does one do in the country in Italy?” Ann demanded lucidly. “There is hunting, my dear young )ady. You should see the Count Avezzana returning from the chase —” Ann interrupted him ruthlessly, quite regardless of the fact that he was an ambassador. "No, I mean what do the women do?” The ambassadorial eyebrows flew up and down with extraordinary rapidity. “Oh." he said, “the ladlesj Our sunlight. Slgnorina! To Mt to it is Heaven! The ladies have always a parasol of some beautiful color; they make pictures, so. which a man remembers. They gather the flowers? too. and instruct the gardeners as to the fruits, and, of course. Slgnorina. they talk, in more languages, perhaps, than in this, your country, but the context is the same —for our Indies are no different in ttfat resjiect from ladles all over the world." He laughed, secure In the humor of his little joke, and

she, doubtless, who 4inds the first tool and the first pot; It is she who is the first workman. It is froin her realistic and conservative role that human industry takes its beginnings. Perhaps she also assembles teeth and pebbles into necklaces, to draw attention to herself and to please. But her positive destiny doses the horizon to her, and the first veritable artist is man. It is man. the explorer of plains and forests, the navigator of rivers, who comes forth from the caverns to stud) the conste.lations and the clouds; it is man. through his idealistic and revolutionary fun--t ion, who Is to take possession of the objects made by his companion, to turn them, little by little, into the Instruments that express the world of abstractions which appears to him confusedly. u Thus, from the beginning the two great human forces realize 5 that equilibrium which wiil never be destroyed; woman, the center of immediate life, who brings up the child and maintains the family in the tradition necessary to social unity; man. the focus of the life of the imagination, who plunges •into the unexplored mystery to preserve society from death through ids dlreciing of It into the courses of unbroken evolation.—Elie Faure in Arte and Decomion. Called It "Indian Salt.* In the Middle ages sugar was known as “Indian salt," aatf was used only by physicians and by the very rich. It be- , came n staple article of food when ; tea and coffee began to be used. — "" 111 Heart-Beat Magnified. Usdng wireless amplifiers and a loud i speaker to magnify the sound of the ■ heart-beats is surgery’s latest deveF t j opmen t ♦ *

added. fit ciawta, Haty have thrir devfliitrtw ftMrir "fa Ihe ritie*," Aim eohHnuM definitely, "wi.Hi tiw *’*• The MnhMMddM’ Irowed tearit Ifi Ms chair and eitpitoded his whit* shirtfront genhiiir "Per fiarco!--sarit <1«llgbthil Ilves I Not |.«>riHi|«s energetic ns this of yours, In thin so charming country, but always tamtaln*. y»m nnderstHnd ft Is the rttatom in the cities of tny country to drive In the afternoon—ln Homa, on the Corso, and. Jn Firenze. In the Cnssitie; the ladles use the elegant open carriage like those In whh’h the Queen Victoria drives. Also, bthuiHW mtr king ronrtions tt, it ha* recently become the custom for the Indies to ride on ths horse in my country, us they do io England—but. you understand, with somewhat less freedom. And there are bails.—-soln'os —the ©pern--all those entertainments which une finds In capitals—and also. nnturHily, they have their devotkms —their charities.” Ann said nothing in response to thia. She wns wondering if the Italian ladles liked it,.living cushioned lives like that. After all. n day bad twenty-four hours: the amliassador’s sketch left gaps her Imagination could not fill. When the ladies were shawling. Mrs. Rennneslyer murmured to Ann, softly, “You are a sly puss, my dear, and it is no Wonder that my poor boy could not carry the day against such a riyal." She swept out before Ann could defend herself, but on second thought the girl decidt-d it was perhaps as well she had not bad the occasion to explain to Hendricks* mother that she had never loved her son.

The dinner made a great difference in the attitude of the Cortlandts toward iter, there was no question about that. Mrs. Renneslyer awarded her a reluctant respect while Mrs. William deferred to her as though she were already one of the magnificent Avezzanas about whom the Italian ambassador had talked. As a result, Ann’s life was vastly more comfortable. Fanny regarded her with dazzled eyes; she turned suddenly shy, and was much too timid to discuss the possibilities of a great marriage. As for the girl herself, she could not help enjoying the extraordfllary situation in which she found herself, and her wonderment as to what Avezzana’s next move would be became a preoccupation. It was evident that Avezzana considered the dinner a definite step In Jiis courtship, for every day, following that event, hq sent her flowers; they arrived early in the .morning, fresh and untouched by the September heat. In the evening he came, formally, to call on her and Mrs. William; it was always a repetition of, his first visit; the older woman was invariably present, and the conversation flowed in shallow courses, so that Ann found herself swallowing yawns. Avezzana’s form of. courtship was new and exciting, but she came reluctantly to the conclusion that she did not like him, particularly. It was all very perplexing. but, at the same time, it was a fascinating game. When the proposal finally' came she was. for all her anticipation of It, caught unaware. The Italian came to dinner in Washington square, and found her alone in the library. It was obvious that the others would be there ’ln a moment, and Ann had no expectation of anything decisive impending, until, contrary to his habit, Avezzana came cl<>se to her chair, and stood over her with an air of affectionate proprietorship. f “It Is coming!" Ann thought, staggered. and she began to talk rapidly of the extraordinary heat of the night. He brushed her simple defenses aside with a romantic gesture of his hand. “I have something to ask of you.” “No. Please don’t ask me anything. Count Avezzana.” She knew, as she spoke, that he took her compunction for mere maidenly confusion. He smiled, and surprised her. “Have I your permission to call you by yourname? To call you Ann?” In her relief, she almost laughed. “Oh —that? Yes, of course, If you' like." This permission encouraged Avezzana to an extraordinary extent. He leaned closer to her, and the scent of his pomade enveloped her with an odor entirely different from that used by American men. "Grazla. mio Bella. You know, perhaps, why I have remain so long tn your city?” “I thought perhaps you liked IL" Ann-said nervously. "I do.” Avezzana shrugged one of his slim shoulders. No. I have remain so long in your city because of you,, my Ann. You must have —what is It you say?—« guessed, that it was my intention to ask you to do me the honor to be my wife. Ever since that night at Gettysburg” broke off, and for a moment his deep? look flickered away—“but we will nos talk of that —not now. It is only that since then I have the wish but for one thing." He slipped his hand over Ann’s at thia juncture. “Could you care for me?” he asked, smiling brilliantly down upon her; his assurance was contagious. “I am afraid not” Ann said drearily ; at the time it seemed to her unfortunate. “I will teach you.” Avezzana proclaimed. Joyfully. It was exactly as though she had not spoken. “You must marry me, my Ann. You must come with me—-to Balia.” Ann continued to look at him, halfhypnotized. “I think my unde would like It.” she murmured. “But ye*—it is a good alliance. The only question is this. Is It yonr wish?" Her wish? She almost yielded to his power of suggestion. . . . Everything seemed to be pushing her toward marriage.... . Nineteen years old. .. . High tiffie. . . . Every one would be pleased, i. . She had only to nod her head. She smiled rather miserably at Avezzana, and heard a tiny voice aomewbere saying, "I really can’t—l’m aorry." She half regretted the words as soon as she knew them to be hens, and yet she did not recall them. Avexzana flushed deeply, and for an instant the vivid passion of his nature flashed out, as it hqfi at Gettysburg. “I must haveyyou!" he said; for the first time he was loud and uncontrolled. “I will not give you up. How la R that you can think to refuse me, after that night near the battleF

“That Is nil Ann said. “It has nothing to do v.ltb my mntrying yon. or tod." , With a riohnf effort, Avezzana re gained Ida smooth control of himmdf. “I’lwase,” he begg**!, "glv«- me a little • line, Do not yet make up your mlod ng a Itwrt m*. I to* you." "Very weil," Ann conceded grudgingly, "But don't lie too hopeful." Tb»* night. Ix-tore he toft, Avezzana had a word alone with Mrs. Cortlandt, and tIM» next afternoon Ann rum© In to find the two Howted in the library. Mho was only too glad to stMl past the door to the rtslr. filled with an erhilarr tlng sonar of rscfipe. Hhe bad been In her room hut a f»v momenta wiirn Mrs. Cortlandt rapped portentoualy at her dooi# Rhe came in. Ann thought, like a ship under full sail. “Well. ml*».“ she flung at the girt, with a complete return to her old ipaßner. "and so, having dlagraced the sane fly which bus l*«i your benefactor, you have the Insolence ,to refuse to marry the man who la «;llllng to clear your good name!” ’ / “Ro." Ahn said Indlgnhntly, “he haa told you." "And high time he did! What ?/our guardian will think of such behavior! All night! Alone!” “No." Ann corrected her coldly. "Not alone. With Count Avezzana." “Have you no sense of shame?" “I have nothing to be ashamed cf. I cant see why he had to tell you about It, now everything is all over.” “Over? Nonsense! Count Avezzana Is willing to marry you. Ann.” “But I’m not willing to marry him. I don’t love him. Aunt Emily.” Mrs. Cortlandt looked at her, exasperation written plainly on, her face. "You have compromised yourself with him,” she said. “You might just as well love'him. You certainly will have to marry him.” “Do you think uncle ,would agree with you in that?” Mrs. Cortlandt for a moment she was staggered. “I dare say,” she said, at length, “that your guardian is sufficiently Infatuated with you to excuse even this impropriety, but if you have ordinary gratitude for all his kindness, you will marry Count Avezzana. and save him the embarrassment of explaining your escapade.” Ann’s eyes widened. She had not thought of that aspect of her sorry case. “I wish you would let me explain It to you,” she said, weakly. Mrs. Cortlandt furled some of her sail, at this concession. She seated herself majestically, and bent a sorrying look on the culprit. “Nothing can ever explain it, Ann,” she said heavily. “There is nothing for you to. do but marry Count Avezzana. And your guardian approves the match. I have had a letter from him stating his wishes in regard to it.” “Oh. may I see it?” It seemed to Ann like a life line in drowning seas. “Certainly not, miss. ... . This young man is everything you could want, titled, head over heels in love with you —rich, even. * You would be mad to hesitate, even if you had’ an alternative.” She looked at Ahn shrewdly. “Your guardian’s choice! Have you no gratitude?” ’ Suddenly weariness engulfed Ann. This angry woman arguing with her! She wanted to be rid of her at any cost. . . . She could see years of railing stretching out before her, and innuendo about it, too; she thought, shivering, that nothing could be worse than that . . . Her guardian wished the match. That, in itself, was enough. . . . She amazed Mrs. Cortlandt by a swift capitulation. “Very well, I’ll marry him. You can tell him so.’’ She looked at the older woman in open sneering scorn as she bounced up from her seat; Mrs. Cortlandt smiled, she even kissed Ann —a swift peck on an averted cheek —murmuring “Contessa’"'as she did so. • •••••• Fanny was all a-flutter over her friend’s romantic alliance; the Renneslyers were pleasantly congratulatory, and flattered, too, and Avezzana was delighted. From the moment Mrs. Cortlandt conveyed the good news to him he boomed into a happy conviction that Ann bad loved him all along—that It was only maidenly modesty which had prevented her admitting It. He gave her an ancestral ring of such magnificent proportions that it fairly staggered her. With it on her hand she could tblnk of nothing else; she

. yS/aw/» fsiu' \ Ml ' vwri mJ * j She Understood Why the Italian Ladies Only Picked Flowers and Sat in the Sun could perform none of the ordinary 'duties of her life, and looking at it in its overpowering magnificence, she understood why the Italian ladies only picket! flowers and sat in the sun. | From the moment of her acceptance, affairs seemed to move along entirely without her volition. She heard Mrs Cortlandt and A venal a discussing an early date for the marriage, her tronaseau, wedding presents, and sailings, all at once. In a half-hour she was more nearly wedded to this strangei than she had been to Hendricks in all the years of her engagement, and she was aghast at such speed. Mrs. Cort landt’s enthusiasm swept her along oa its high tide, mute, but already rsbei lions. \ (TO BE CONTINUED.) <SS

BP Daddy's dEyer\i(\g fairy Tale ZAARY GRAHAM BOWER THK CHRISTMAS TREE *Let u« stag, let ue sway. For boob eontfeth the day, Whea ail creatures give cheer. The great &y of the year! Let us keep up ©or humming. Yea, Christmas is coming. And all the world’s glad, ▲nd n© one feels sad!" ’ So sang the Balsam Fir tree, and all the other trees in the great woods

swayed and sang and hummed and laughed In their low, wonderful way. “You see,” said the Balsam Fir tree, “I am especially happy. To Jbe sure all trees are happy. They can have such a good time. They can look up at the good old smiling Mr. Sun and he will look down bn them and beam with delight "Trees can lift up their heads

Gleaming With Candles.

and the King of the Clouds will send down cooling drinks of water. When Miss Springtime comes many of the trees put on their best frocks and they smile as the jolly Breeze Brothers play music for their songs. “The Poplar trees are happy for they can do such a kindly work in the world. They are able to grow in parts of the country where there have been great fires and they do their best to make up for all the barm that has been done. “The lovely Willow trees give shade on the hot summer days and though they bend their branches they do not really weep as so many think. No, they bend down and kiss ever so gently the rivers and the brooks and the mossy earth and they “ ‘We do not weep. All no!’ “The Maple trees and the Elm trees, the Hickory trees and the Beech trees all have their work to de and how they love their work! “But is seems to me that the luckiest of all trees are those that stay green the year around. They hear the secrets which old Man Snow comes and tells to Mother Earth, and the Snow Flake children give dances and frolics on their branches. “And of air the trees we are the very most fortumfte, it seems to me.” “Yes,” whispered the other trees, "you are very fortunate, and you deserve your good luek. For years and years members of your family have done their best to help in cases of sickness. “Your leaves have been made into pillows and you have soothed to sleep those who have become almost too tired to sleep. Yes, you deserve your ' good luck.” “It Is good of you. Trees, to say such kind things of us,” the Balsam Fir tree continued. “We hope we deserve our good luck, but at least we d® appreciate the honor. “Yes, we, as a family, have been used more often for Christinas trees than have any other Tree family. “When-41 is quiet in the woods I think of the stories the Breeze Brothers have told of the times they’ve blown about window panes when they have looked Inside and have seen members of my family dressed up in tinsel and gleaming with candles. "They’ve told me of the toys that have been placed on the branches and of children who’ve stood about the trees and sat about and who’ve laughed and smiled and shouted with joy. “Pve heard, top, that so many members of my family have seen a certain jolly old man. wearing a red suit. “He had a long white beard. Pve beeq told, and bushy white eyebrows and he brought presents which he took out of a pack he was carrying and put upon the Christmas tree. “Ah. life is beautiful.” the Balsam Fir tree continued. . 4 “I am so happy here In the great woods and not only do I enjoy myself

Made Into Pillows.

but I have these lovely thoughts, too. “Truly, as a family, we are honored. It may be that this year I’ll be chosen and that I will go to be a dressed-up Christmas tree. “But think. Trees, think of the - honor! W e’v e been chosen as the tree for the greatest day of the year — Christmas Day. Sometimes other trees have been chosen, but

generally Jt is the Balsam Fir tree that Is chosen. “Ah, we are a most fortunate family." Then once mortf the trees all began to sing, and this was their song: ••Merry, merry Christmas, this Is what we're saying. Every time you see us now swaying, swaying, swaying!” Netherlands Ones a Sea. Before the birth of the fchlne a great part of the Netherlands, as one sow sees it was a sea, limited on the German side by a rocky coast which now shows itself in the Tuetoburger Wald hill*. ■ Illi No Rise Paper. The “rice paper” of which cigarettes are made is not rice paper at all and the “rice paper” on which the Chinese make such exquisite color sketches is made of the pith of a tree.