The Minneapolis journal., 1903-12-26

You'd better go to the opera with
the Whipples,'' he called to her over
his shoulder, as he waited for her
to reach her own door before turning
Off the upper hall light.
Not a bit of it, she answered
thru the dark.
The novel with which Evelyn tried
to read herself to sleep that night did
not hold her attention. and after her
memory had teased her into impa-
tlence. she threw the book down and
for a long time lay thinking. She
knew her father SO we'll that she had
no doubt OF the current of his
thought and his wish to praise James
Wheaton and disparage Wary Rari-
dan, and it troubled her; not because
she herself had any well-defined pref
erence between them or in their fa-
Nor as against all other men she
knew; but it seemed to her that her
father had disclosed his own feeling
rather unnecessarily and pointedly.
suddenly, as she lay thinking and
staring at the walls, life took on new
and serious aspects, and she did not
want 1t to be so.i# Because she had
been SO much away from home the
provincial idea that every man that
calls on a girl, or takes her to a
theater in our free, unchaperoned
way. is a serious sutor had not i'm
pressed her. She had expected to
come home and enjoy herself in
definitely, and had idealized d situa-
ton in which she should be the stay
of her father thru his old age, and
the chum and guide of her brother,
in whom the repetition of her moth
ers characteristics strongly appealed
to her. There had been little trouble
or grief in her life, and for the
first time she saw uncertainties ahead
Il n f@t ln 4l,s
had seemed simple and clear. She
had felt no offense when her father
spoke slightingly of Wary Raridan;
she knew that her father really liked
him, as every one did. and she would
not have hesitated to say that she ad-
mired him greatly, even in his possess
sion of those traits which betrayed the
weakness Of his character. She GER
tainly had no thought of him save as
whimsical and amusing friend a
playmate who had never grown up.
1T was true that he had made love
to her, or had tried to; but she had no
faith in his sincerity. She had first felt
amused, and then little sorry, when
he had gone to work so earnestly He
quently that it was all for her, and
she laughed at him and at the love-
making which he was always attempt
ing and which she always thwarted
SaNtOn DID not come often to the
house, but when he came he exercised
his ingenuity to bring Raridan into
the talk in the rare times that they
were alone together. She knew why
Saxton praised her friend to her, and
it increased her liking for him.. It is
curious how a womans pity goes out
to a man; any suggestion of n1isfor-
tune makes an excuse for her to
clothe him with her compassion It
G hn no otr1f 1n,,x rrif+ f+e~
inflicting punishment, hastened to
throw in compensations. Saxton
asked SO little, and beamed so
radiantly when given SO little; he re-
ceived kindnesses SO shyly. as if, Of
course, they could not be meant for
him, but it was all right anyway, and
he would move on just as soon as the
other fellow came.
AS for Wheaton, he was certainly
not frivolous, and her fathers respect
for him and dependence on him had
communicated itself to her. He was
SO much older than she; and at 22,
35 savors of antiquity; but he was
that she respected. He was terribly
formal, but he was kind and thought
full; he was even handsome or at least
so every one said.
She lay dreaming until the clock
on the mantel chimed midnight, when
fallen Ion the coverIft, to put it on
the stand beside hee bed.l A card
which she had been using as a mark
fell from the book; she picked it up
and turned it over to see whose it
was. 1t was John Saxton's.
Father didn't say anything about
him. she said aloud. She thrust the
card back into the book and reached
UP and snapped out the light.
(To be, continued Monday,)