The evening times., 1895-10-22

dfed feet away from tue mouse, stanUS
a sign. Like everything else il is son,ber.
On a black ground. in gray letters, stands
the warning
mo Visitors Permitted here"
There for four years they have lived
alone. Professor catten h.nIsel. was
seen in the village twice week on his
way 10 New York Mrs. Catteil hes been
seen but once That was a year and n
half ago Since then IL is asserted she
has not left the house.
There was not sign OF life about the
place. An oppressive silence. broken
only by the wind rustling through the
three skeleton pines. lay over everything
A small dark brown stable blocked the
road, with just enough OF yard in front
In which to turn a wagon A bend in
the path and the front OF the house came
in view. 1t differed only from the rear In
that a small glass-inclosed porch had been
built on il. The house stood on a founda
ton of rock. al the highest point of land
within fifty miles There could not be a
more dangerous place to children. A STUN
bic and fail would send one hurling down
the moun nj ain side.
1ht tSpoItti uiS va tHt upuSt-
In the inciosed porch were the three chill
dren. They were seated in row on a
bench. silent and solemn. No toy was
in sight. Their little faces were as grave
as those of mourners at funeral. They
were heaithy-iooking children, but there
was not a single CLEAN OF joyousness OF
youth in their faces. They partook Of their
surroundings. silent. weird. and gloumy.
''Is your father at home?" asked the re-
porter.
All three children looked up. No one Of
them spoke or moved. Still nothing
but that calm. dreadful. uncanny silence.
and the look of hopeless desolation.
At the sound of the reporters voice the
front door opened and Prof. Cattell ap-
peared. He is a small, cleaH-shaven man
of about forty. His deep-set, nervous
eyes CLEAN under a pair OF heavy over
hanging brows.. His mouth, stern. yet
mobile, has no trace of kindliness or
humor. He is a grave, serious. studious-
looking man.
The room into which he showed the re-
porter was evidently his workshop. In n
vague way attempts had been made at aes-
theticism. There were prints of Watts and
Burne- Jones well framed upon the walls. A
Kassak rug of great beauty was on the floor
and books and proof sheets and bits Of manu-
script were everywhere.
He was plainly annoyed at the visit Mo-
tioning the reporter to a chair, he sat down
and was silent for the space of five minutes.
Now" he said, ''what do you want?
You have come q hard road to findme. That
is the only reason see you. We never see
people here.
us it true that you are making expert
ments in psychology upon your three chill
dren?" was asked.
"Yes," he said. gruffly. ''but they are my
children, and it is my business. I have
brought them here for that purpose. Twill
not say anything further about the mat
ter
AS the reporter walked down the steps of
the house. the three children were still sit
ting on the bench. They had not moved.
They did not look up this time.
As the wagon came to the turn In the road.
which shut out the sight of that strange
house, the reporter turned for a last view.
A thin line of smoke was coming from the
chimney. 1t was the only homeiike and
natural thing seen: 1t was not thick enough
or black enough to blot out the memory of
those three little children, sitting solemn
and silent on that bench In the stiffness of
the mountain top.