The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1902-01-16


rier's face.
"Isit bad news?" she said. She moved
a little nearer again. Ferrier folded
the telegram hastily and put it in his
pocketbook.
NO" he told her, .'the news is dis
tinctly good" His scent-drugged sense
of duty was coming to life again, and
he felt that he should feel it to be so.
There followed pause. She was wait
ing to hear the rest, and Ferrier was
wondering what would be the best
thing. in the long run, that he could do;
how he could come out of 1t all, not
with flying colors--he had no hope of
that-but with the smallest latter of
shred of decency.
He turned upon her that unflinchng
gaze attributed by the moralist to the
conscience clear. "There will be
friend Of mine here this afternoon" he
said. He stopped.
YES" murmured Eve.
81 may as well tell you, suppose"
said Ferrier, that she is the girl to
whom | am engaged"
She rose slowly up from the seat
and stood looking at him without
word. Her head was contemplated
upon one side, and there was smile
upon her lips, but back of her eyes
there was a hint of strain. 1t was a
long half minute before she spoke.
81 am not sure which ! think is the
more to be congratulated, you-or the
girl" she said
Ferrier sat where he was and
watched her going down the walk be-
tween the rows of La France roses in
full bloom. He was not under any
spell or enchantment now, and he knew
that he had behaved himself surpris-
ingly like a cad.
But no normally constituted man
with whom charming girl is in love
can continue for long in any such un-
pleasant frame of mind. 1t does not
argue that Ferrier was more light than
most, because, by the end of fort
night, he had very nearly forgotten
the entire affair. Eve had done her
best to that end by vanishing from the
hotel and from his field of vision with
out word or sign; and so had Miss Bah
bington-by other means. Who would
look back upon the garden from the
threshold of paradise.
The threshold of paradise, in this
case, was the railroad office, and Fer
rier was getting the tickets for his we'd
ding trip, Miss Babbington was with
hint was one of the ekdvantages to
be reaped from westerf funconvention-
ality that she might do such things.
But she left Ferrier to the settlement
of dollars and bits and walked about
the office, observing the pictures that
hung against the walls. There were
the Yosemite and Shasta, the Grand
canyon and the Yellowstone. There
were views of an ostrich farm and of
several coast hotels-of the hotel
where she and Ferrier and her mother
were, more especially. She stopped
before this. In the center was the big
photograph of the hotel itself, and at
the four corners, set in medallion-wise,
were smaller views of the attractions
around the place. The carna ton gar
den was one of these. Now If that
particular photograph had been in one
of the upper corners of the frame all
would probably have gone well, and
this story would never have been told.
But it was in the right-hand corner,
and directly upon level with Miss
Babbington's eye. She went quite
close and examined it.
When Ferrier came up to her she was
examining it still. There was smile
of satisfaction with life and things
upon his face. Upon Miss Babbing-
tons there was nothing of the kind.
Unfortunately, Ferrier failed to no.
tice either that or the curiously shak-
ing quality of her voice as she asked
him if he had bought the tickets yet.
He tapped the pocket where they were.
"San Francisco and the Yosemite" he
said.
"I'm sorry" said Miss Babbington,
"that l shall not be going with you
that you will have to take the trip
alone"
"Alone-" repeated Ferrier. He
started to laugh, but he saw that
Whatever else it might be, the matter
was not joke.
"Unless-" went on Miss Babbing-
ton, making a struggle to keep calm
that turned her white-''unless you
can get another girl to go with you
some one as obliging, for instance, as
that girl in the picture there" She
pointed with gloved finger, which
shook perceptibly, to the medallion in
the lower right-hand corner of the
frame. Ferrier did not understand,
but he went a little nearer and bent
down to look.
The photograph was very small, but
it was also very clear. The carnations
in the foreground might have been
counted one by one, and, though it was
hardly more than an inch in size, there
could be no possible mistaking the fig
ure of the man upon bench half hid
den by the heliotrope vine, of the man
upon whose shoulders a girl had laid
her uncovered head, of the man who
was, plainly and beyond any hope of
denial, kissing that girl. BY no stretch