The Somerset reporter., 1906-10-04

toms name was beginning to be known
in the world of architecture, 1t had
been hard fighting every step of the
way. Even now he was not free from
financial difficulties, and instead of put
ting up at the luxurious country club
which was still open to visitors he
was housed In farm at the village
outskirts.
But, whether the gypsy had read his
fate truly or not, there was something
tantalizing and mysterious about her
prophecy, and next day he went again
to the camp. Jan was nowhere In
sight. In vain he questioned the old
nag who had offered to tell his fortune
the day before. She declared there was
no such person and called on a
swarthy deyil-may-care young fellow
who lounged close by to confirm her In
what she said.
NO" he reiterated. mo Jan is
here"
1t was useless to argue. and Clayton
turned homeward with a feeling of de-
feat, when, perched on a fence near
where he had first seen her, he espied
Jan.
1--WE been to find you at the camp"
he said, land they told me there was
no such person"
They told you that?' She threw
back her head, and her brown throat
shook with laughter.
And there was young fellow there
who looked as if he would like to muir
der me-"
you mean Zingare? He is terribly
jealous. The least thing puts him In
passion. That is why he pretended not
to know where | was"
"And where were your
"Out in the woods at the edge of the
hill to see the sunrise 1t was like a
campfire burning behind the trees"
She was as yolube as she had been
reticent before, and, vaultng up on the
fence beside her, Clayton sat and talk
ed till noon.
1t was only when he reached bis
farmhouse that he remembered that
he had meant to ask her about his fu-
ture, and she had bewltched him so
that he had forgotten it. The next two
days it rained, and on the third he
found the gypsy camp deserted. A
charred spot marked the place where
their fires had been, and that was all.
They had vanished as silently as they
had come.
And no one seemed to know what
trail had been taken. Clayton was dis
appointed to the verge of moodIness.
Try as he would, he could not drive
Jan from his thoughts. Now he plctur-
ed her walking down the. road, erect
and graceful now he fancied her
crouchlng by the fire at night and
probably with Zingare opposite, q
thought which made him grind his
teeth. Again and again Miss Alyard
passed him in her high red cart, but he
would not SO much as turn to look.
What were all the heiresses In the
world compared to what he had lost?
In crisp twilight as he wandered
down the road some one stole up be-
hind him and touched his arm.
Jam he cried ioyfully ITS you.
Where have you been? I've searched
and searched. Perhaps"-he frowned-
perhaps you and Zingare"-
"Zingare" Her voice was full of
scorn.
"You do not love him.?
"No" contemptuously
"Then, Jan, will you marry me-"
81, n gypsy? But your peopie--your
friends
"Coufound my friends | love your
even If you find that I've deceived
you rs only some gypsies know how to
deceive? At first, when you mstook
me in my Hungarian walking costume.
it was Il ioke-telling your fortune and
then driving past you afterward-and
then l meant to tell you was Clornda
Alyard and | couldn't. l couldn't be-
cause | wanted to see If you'd care for
me and not for anything else. And
you do love me-" It was the girl and
not the heiress who spoke.
"More than my life" said Clayton.
They are called the eccentric Clay-
tons because people sometimes meet
them in the woods, walking together,
hand In hand, laughing like children,
she in curious red and yellow cos
tune and he In a blue flannel suit de-
cidedly the worse for wear