The Irish standard. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn. ;) 1886-1920, 1897-04-10
Cready reared for the pleasing reminis-

Cready reared for the pleasing reminis-
cence.-
The colonel smiled perfunctorily. he
had heard the tale before. II rather
wonder he did not como down on US
with an order for examination this
time," he observed.
well, l reckon from what they got
out OF it before that he thought he'd do
better to take somebody that had gone
through the workings without IN order
from the court" suggested the superin-
tendent, with grin. ...
Col. Meredith thrummed absently on
the table, his eyes fixed In frowning
thought upon the floor. ut would SIM
plify matters" he observed at length.
evidently referring to some proposition
that had been discussed before. "Tho
mine has stopped work, you say"
"Yes; engine broke down." Nc.
Cready's tone conveying hint OF SUBJ
tie humor in the explanation.
''Well, if you can make it go-1 don't
know that we take any great chances"
the colonel said, rising with distinct in
timation that he considered the inter-
view at an end. 'But there is no object
in carrying the joke too far. would
stop short of the dislocated shoulder
this time if I were you. Come. Doro'
thy;" but he started with surprise as he
looked at her, exclaiming with genuine
concern: "But what is the matter.
child Pare you sick?"
81 believe-I think have slight
headache" she nervously returned.
wave of red suddenly dycing her cheeks.
"The heat"-she stopped to pass her
hands in bewildered way across her
eyes-"it is sitting, is it not?"
81 hope you're not going to have
mountain fever" her father inpatient
~ calculated, selling upon her hand to
feel her pulse.
81 don't know but we've been givin'
Miss Meredith suthin' of a scare with
our talk" McCready mumbled, in a
somewhat jocose tone of apology from
the door. "Mebbe she thinks she's got
in with some pretty tough citizens;"
but nobody was giving heed to what he
said.
"A little too FAST" the colonel pro.
nounced, releasing the wrist while he
shut his watch with an impatient snap.
II dare say it is nothing; but you would
better take some quinine and go to
bed"
eyes; do not care for any supper.
I will go back to my ROOM" Dorothy
murmured, hurriedly, carefully avoid
ing glance at McCready as she passed
him at the door.
"Take at least five grains of quinine,"
her father anxiously advised, looking
after her. "And I will send you up some
toast and tea"
Five grains of quinine! How far
would that go toward sparing Harvey
Neil dislocated shoulder? How far
toward saving her father from the dis
grace of even tacit acquiescence in such
villainous work? Dorothy laughed in
hysterical amusement as she restless1y
paced her room, a laugh which ended
in something like a sob.
She had always been so proud of her
father; proud of the instructive refine
caro- of his person, Ii, the temperatures,
well-nigh austerity, of his living; Of his
fine appearance in the world of men; OF
his brilliant war record, when his title
had been won by signal bravery in the
field; of the unbroken series of business
successes which had given him. the
power and prestige of money. However
they might malign him, men treated
him with Difference which she had all
ways accepted as just tribute to his
worth, looking up to him in that hero
worship which seems al innate impulse
of the woman nature. That this adj
miration so boundlessly fostered was
not all love she had hardly realized
until now, when she seemed to feel her,
self shrinking back from him with
sort of horror. Words that in moment
of excitement her mother had uttered
years ago came back to her now
as she paced the floor. II hope you
have inherited your fathers temper.
ament - for your father has no
heart" the unhappy wife had
sobbed, bitterly regarding the child,
who had been too young then fully
to grasp the meaning Of the words.
"People who have no hearts are never
hurt; they only hurt other people; aud
for them it is better so," she had gone
on to say; and now for the first time
Dorothy seemed to understand. It was
true. He had no heart, no feeling; If he
had. he could not have smiled in passive
consent to such an Ubiquitous scheme
as that McCready had untolded that
afternoon; he must have felt the shame
Of it. Thank Heaven, she had not IN
herited his temperament II was to be
moral monstrosity, one of natures
most pitiable freaks.
She had worked herself into such a
passion that she seemed hardly capable
Of coherent thought. Suddenly realiz'
ing that this would not do. she seated
herself by the window, steadily gaz-
ing out at the flame fringed clouds rim
ming the western hills. She must be
calm to think what was to be done, for
action of some sort appeared to her In
evitable. The idea of appealing to her
father she impatient)y abandoned as
useless. Far rather would she get
warning to Neil himself; but where was
the messenger who would serve her
purpose without danger Of betrayal?
Could she wait until her father had re-
tired for the night and go herself? Two
,,,;loa NJ 1ooolv mountain c1imhinr