Freeland tribune. (Freeland, Pa.) 1888-1921, 1899-04-06

she wanted in Colorado as we'll as in
New York.
Yes, he would go to her. He would
sweep her off her feet by his passionate
pleading; he would carry her away
with him: he would bring her back to
the mountains and to his home.
The train thundered into the station.
Tom Weir had never been east of
Denver before. The babel and confu-
sion annoyed him. He thought of the
solemn, wind-swept mountain spaces
and of the wide-spreading, peaceful
plains. He longed to find a quiet cor
ner. But the clatter and hubbub pur-
sued him to his hotel.
The address of the letter he was car
rying over his heart took him far up
town. When he succeeded in master
ing the intricacies of the bells in the
apartment he found a door was opened
by pert little maid who stared su-
perciliously at his height and breadth,
his clothes and his sombrero.
NO" she drawled, Miss Cameron
is not in; she is driving in the park"
Can l see her this EVENING"" he de-
manded imperiously.
why. no." she said, with astonished
eyes. of course not. No one ever sees
her in the EVENING""
When can see herr" he felt himself
going hot and cold by turns.
"You might possibly see her at noon
Tomorrow" snapped the maid. She's
never up before noon" Then she shut
the door with decided bang
Tom strode away, hurt, angry, suspi-
cious. What did 1t mean? Art, car
riage, living in luxury. Never up be-
fore noon. Suddenly he stopped and
cursed himself for a mean, pitiful cur
that he should suspect her of anything
that was not good and pure and wom
anly. To-morrow-to-m at noon,
he would see her. Everything would
be explained, and on his knees he
would beg her to forgive him for his
unworthy suspicious.
AS he entered his hotel he ran into
man from Denver whom he knew.
They shook hands and adjourned to the
bar. Tom was honestly glad to see
him. To tell the truth, the ranchman
was lonely and bit homesick.
Got the dumps?' laughed the man
from Denver. "Oh, brace up! Go to
the theater and amuse yourself. Let's
see. Go to the Gotham. There's
great show there. Out Of sight. Say,
but there's girl there that's beauty.
The town has gone wild over her. She
is on only for a few moments. but she
leaves an impression. I'll see you to-
morrow about noon. Good-night-in
- of hurry" and he was gone be-
fore Tom could tell him that to-mor-
row at noon he had an engagement.
The theater was crowded. The stage
was peopled by hosts of pretty girls
with brazen smiles and alluring eyes.
There was plenty of fun and music
and dancing and laughter.
But Tom was not interested. Perhaps
his lonely life had not fitted him to en-
joy such a shaking of folly bells. Per-
haps the heart that had always rever-
enced womanhood despised the dubious
jest, the offensive innuendoes. He won
dered as he looked about how nice
women could bear to listen to such
stuff.
At times he lost sight of the stage.
Tomorrow at noon," ran in his mind.
1t throbbed through the melody of the
orchestra, it resounded in the strains of
song. The violins breathed and whis-
pered and sobbed the refrain over and
over, Tomorrow - tomorrow at
noon"
At last the stage was darkened. He
heard some people next him talking
about the beautiful woman who was to
pose as a statue. He leaned forward.
The curtains parted. On a pedestal
stood a woman with masses of cluster
ing hair falling over her white shoul-
ders. Her superb form stood out like
marble against the somber background.
What was it the men were calling
out as the carriages rolled up to the
door of the theater? Oh, yes, how
stupid of him! Tomorrow, at noon,"
blazing letters read in the glittering
signs along the crowded thoroughfare,
Tomorrow at noon-to-morrow at
noon"
He went to his room. He laughed as
he flung himself upon his bed. TO
morrow-to-m morrow at noon"
The man from Denver knocked on his
door and ratified and shook it. Wake
up Weir!" he shouted, wake up. It's
Darling of Denver. Come. you lazy
beggar, want you to go to luncheon
with me-"
There was no answer.
Wake up, Weir!" he called again,
banging the door with his fist.
But no answer returned from the ST.
lent room, where the brawny form lay
stretched upon the bed and where the
blood was slowly trickling down from
the white forehead in which the ranch
mans sure bullet was buried
Fine Churches IN Manila.
Nv far the most striking characteris