The San Francisco call., 1904-10-09
Lnence in Alameda Square.

'SolCnS, she repeated. THAT re-
calls Editor Brownlow's little joke
only he didn't mean it. He wrote of
them as 'Solons, but the printer got it
'solans. The member from Caliente
read the article and the word stuck in
his mind. In an unhappy hour he asked
Colonel Mack's boy-Harry, the ire
pressible, you know-to look 1t UP for
him. Harry did it, and. of course, took
the most public occasion he could find
to hand in his answer. It's geese, Mr..
Hackett,' he announceds triumphantly,
and after we were all through laugh
ing at him the member from the warm
place turned it just as neatly as vet
eran. We'll, I'm Hackett,' he said"
David Kent laughed, as he was in
duty bound, but he still had Ormsby
on his mind.
Il see you have Mrs. Brentwood and
her daughters here-can you tell me
where | can find Mr.. Brookes Orms-
by?"
Il suppose I could if I should try
But you mustn't hurry me. There is
a vacant corner in that davenport be-
yond the piano; please put me there
and fetch me an ice. I'll wait for you"
He did as he was hidden and when
she WAS served he stood over her,
wondering, as other men had Won
dered. what was the precise secret of
her charm. Loring had told him Miss
Van Brooks story. She was Southern
born, the only child of a somewhat
i'll considered match between
young California lawyer, wire pull
ing in the national capital in the in
terest of the Central Pacific Railroad.
and a Virginia belle tasting the de-
lights of har first winter in Wash
ington.
Later the young lawyers State, or
his employers, had sent him to Con-
gresS, and Portia, left motherless in
her middle childhood. had grown up
in an atmosphere of statecraft, or
what passes for such, in an era of
frank commercialism. Inheriting her
mothers rare beauty of face and
form and uniting with it a sympathet-
ic' gift in grasp of detail, political and
other, she soon became her fathers
confidante and loyal partisan. taking
the place, as a daughter might, of the
ambitious young wife and mother,
who had set her heart on seeing the
Van Brock name on the roll of the
United States Senate.
Rensselaer, Van Brock had died be-
fore the Senatorial dream could be
realized, but not before he had made
a sufficient number of lucky invest
ments to leave his daughter the ar
bitress of her own future. What that
future should be not even Loring
could guess. Since her fathers death
Miss Van Brock had been a citizen of
the world. With a widowed aunt for
the shadowiest of chaperons she had
drifted with the tide of inclination,
coming finally to rest in the Western
capital for no better reason, perhaps,
than that some portion of her interest
bearing securities were emblazoned
with the great seal of this particular
Western State.
Kent was thinking of Lorings re-
countal as he stood looking down on
her. Other women were younger
and with features more conventional
ly beautiful; Kent could find a round
dozen within easy eye reach, to say
nothing of the calm-eyed, queenly i'm
provisatrice at the piano-his con-
stant standard of all womanly charm
and grace. Unconsciously he fell to
comparing the two. his hostess and
his love, and was brought back to
things present by a sharp reminder
from Portia.
stop looking at Miss Brentwood
that way, Mr.. David. She is not for
you, and you are keeping me wait
ing"
He smiled down on her.
1T is the law of compensation.
fancy you have kept many man
waiting, and will keep many another"
There was little tang of bitterness
in her laugh.
You remind me of the time when l
went home from school-oh, years and
years ago. Old Chloe-she was my
black nanny, you know-had a
grown daughter of her own, and her
effort to dispose of her Mrand' was a
standing joke in the family. In an
swer to my stereotyped question she
stood back and folded her arms. Nav,
honey; dat M'randy amt ma-ied yit.
She gwine be des lax you; look pretty,
and say, Howdyi Misteh Jawnson, an
go long by avn turrer side de road "
"A very pretty little fable said
Kent. And the morale"
is that l amuse myself with you
ali of you; and in your turn you make
use of me-or you think you do. OF
what use can 1 be to Mr.. David Kent
this EVENING""
See how you misjudge met he pro-
tested. MY errand here tonight is
purely charitable. Which brings me
back to Ormsby-did you say you
could tell me where to look for him %
He is in the smoking-room with
five or six other tobacco misanthropes
What do you want of him?'
Il want to say two words in his ear:
after which l shall vanish and make
room for my betters."
Miss Van Brock was gazing stead
fastly at the impassioned face lighted
by the piano candles.
rs it about Miss Brentwood ?" she
asked abruptly.
I'm way-yes," he confessed.
She rose and stood beside hinn-a
bewitching figure of woman who
knew her part in the human comedy
and played it well.
rs it wise, David ?" she asked softly.
Il am not denying the possibilities;
you might come between them if YOU
should try-I'm rather afraid you
could. But you mustn't, you know;
it's too late. You've marred her. be-
tween you; or rather that convention.
which makes a woman deaf, blind and
dpmb until a man has fairly com
mitted himself, has marred her. For
your sake she can never be quite all
she ought to be to him-for his sake
she could never be quite the same to
you"
He drew apart from her, frowning.
IF | should say that / don't fully
understand what you mean?" he re-
joined.
Il should retort by saying something
al