Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1898-01-08

"Oh, human nature is pretty much the
same in the wilderness or in the world OF
social life," said Waring, good-humoredly.
ut would be but poor philosophy 70 cry
ont against the world ! have left because
/ played the fool there; on my head be II
II | threw away my fortune. There are as
many good fellows-or as few good fellows
in one state OF life as another"
II believe that" said Kenneth. II
should like we'll to see your place, Mr..
Waring."
why don't you come out for q bit. 1t
Is a sort Of life YOU would like, | think"
'Eh, but he has his work cut DOT for hin
here!' cried Uncle Sandy. He'll find it
best to bide wi me, Moo, tell me how
mony head o. cattle have yc forbye horses'"
And the three men plunged into talk.
from which Mona collected that Waring
had Invested almost all the capital left him
latter much wild extravaganza and fool
fish speculation-in a ranch near the fam
Gus redwoods on the Pacific coast, and
that, as yet, he had realized very little,
though his hopes were high, and he had
evidently thrown himself energetically into
the undertaking.
She kept silence gladly. Waring's
presence-his steady composure, his quiet
submission to the inevitable-touched her
deeply. She longed to cry out
Have you forgiven me' Can | atone
for the pain ] infllctedf"
But most probably he had nearly forgot
ten that he once loved her, and hoped TO
alone, to disentangle her thoughts-to
tno tEn Jfgs,,uha,na "a hAr vAtn
AS they seemed so absorbed In converse.
ton. Mona thought she might slip away
unobserved; but her uncle noticed heI
movement.
"Bide a bit, my lassiev" he cried. awe
have sat here lang enough: we'n a. come
wi We TO the drawfng-room. You shall
sing Us n sang, and then I'll gang AVA tC
my bed. Ny niece sings fine, Mr.. War
ing" he added, as he took Mona's arm.
II know that, Mr.. Craig" returned War
ing, opening the door for them to pas:
through; II remember her songs we'll"
Mona felt that she blushcd crimson,
while she said, in a low tone, to her uncle
Il have scarcely any voice to-night-do
not ask me to sing"
"Hoot, toot, my dearie! you'll please us
weel."
Mona stood a moment irresolute after
Uncle Sandy had tumbled into the depths
of his chair. Waring came TO her side. and
looking kindly, and perhaps a little sadly,
into her eyes, said
Don't refuse, Miss Craig! You done
know what a treat the music OF awoman's
voice Is 10 an exile like myself, especially
as in n few days | shall go back to the wilds
again"
Then l will do my best" returned
Mona, simply, and she went TO the piano.
The ong she choose was a pretty, quaint
German ditty she had learned while abroad
for she did not wish 10 revive painful re-
collections by singing anything that might
be familiar TO Warning. He moved away
and sat in deepest thought while he listen
ed.
"Aweel, that's not ane o. my favorites.
I am not much Of a m~usician-my oppor
tunities have been scant--but l have IN
uncommo guide ear" said Uncle Sandy.
'Give US a Scotch sang, my dearie!'
IF ! am not presumlng too far" said
Waring, coming over to lean on the piano,
might | ask for an old favorite-'Robiu
Adairt'"
cay, that will do from Uncle Sandy.
II need not nave been so careful to spare
his :os.iass." thought Mona. ~ an max.
ing a fool of myself. 1t is an age since ]
attempted it," she said aloud: but l viii
try IL IL you like
It was d~readfuliy annoying. but she
could not steady her voice. She could NOT
keep a certain tremulous pathos out OF heI
notes. Men were so conceited-they had
such a high opinion OF themselves. tina,
perhaps Leslie Warning would fancy, a
she was so upset at meeting him, that she
regretted having rejected him. All, no;
he was too frank and honest, too simple
and unselfsh, TO need the guarded treat.
ment Isle required. Iisle. why, he was
not comparable TO Leslie Warning. What
wonders time and trouble had done for the
latter.
THANK you," said Waring. from his
chair In q shadowy orner where he had
retreated when she began the song he had
asked for. THAT was IN immense treat
"Ay, there's nae music like Scotch music,
nor is there any sangs for melody an
poetry, an' spirit, an'-an' historical value,
like Scotch sangs," said Uncle Sandy.
Il believe the Irish claim Robin Adair'
as their own" said Mona.
"Ciaim 1t! ! daur say they do" said
Uncle Sandy, CONTEMPORARY. They'd
aye claim everything; but II that lit isns
Scotch. aweel, am no Scotch. Come, give
me your arm, Mona, I'll just gang 70 my
bed. I'm awful weary"
Then may be Mr.. Warning would Ike Z
smoke with me In the kitchen. Think w
will have 1t all to ourselves In q few min.
utes," said Kenneth.
Thank you, l should. One grows q IL
tie too fond Of the weed when one Ii freed
from the restraints Of society"
"It's . very perncecious practice; but ft's
Just talking to the winds TO protest against
II. Goodnight, sirs. Kenneth, there ars
the keys. Mr.. Warning win need . drappis
after his pipe"
"Good-night,n murmursd MonA. q she
gaye her arm to her uncle.
Waripg bowed, but did not attemps h
shakH banda with her.
u was an INFINITE reiiet % 10 sioses end
locked into her own room. For 9 long
time she thought ~confusedly, o. rather :