Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1906-09-20
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A Pale of the Third Generation
BY HARRY LEON WILSON
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Copyright. by LothrOp Publishing Company.
CHAPTER XIII.-CoNTINUEp.

feel an interest In the creature and
his wretched affairs, and even fell
into the deplorable habit of saying:
81 must come to see you and your
wife and Paul some pleasant day,
Philippe" and Philippe, being a
man of the world, thought none the
less of her for believing that she did
not mean it.
Yet it befell on an afternoon that
Mrs. Bines found herself in a popu-
ious side-street, driving home from
O visit to the rheumatic scrub-woman
who had now to be supported by the
papers her miserable offspring sold.
Mrs. Bines had never seen so many
children as flooded this street, She
wondered il an orphan asylum were
in the neighborhood. And though the
day was pleasantly warm, she de-
cided that there were about her at
least thousand cases of incipient
pneumonia, for not one child in five
had on a hat. They ragged and dashed
and rippled from curb to curb so that
they might have made her think of
swift mountain torrent at the bot
tom of a gloomy canyon, but that the
worthy woman was too literal-minded
for such fancies. She only warned
the man to drive slowly.
And then by a street sign she saw
that she was near the home of
Philippe 1t was three o'clock, and
ne would be resting from his work.
The man found the number. The
waves parted and piled themselves
on either side in hushed wonder as
she entered the hallway and searched
for the name on the little cards I'M
der the bells. She had never known
the surname, and on two of the cards
"Ph." appeared. She rang one of the
bells, the door mysteriOusly opened
with a repeated double click, and she
began the tOilsome climb. The waves
of children fell together behind her
in turbuleNt play again.
At the top she breathed a moment
and then knocked at a door before
her voice within called:
"Entrez!" and Mrs. Bines opened
the door.
1t was the tiny kitchen of Philippe.
Philippe, himself, in shirt-sleeves, sat
in a chair tilted back close to the
gas range, the Courier des Etats Unis
in his hands and Paul on his lap.
Celine ironed the bosom of a gentle
mans white shirt on an ironing board
supported by the backs of two chairs.
Hemmed in the corner by this board
and by the gas range, seated at a
table covered by the oilcloth that
Stimulates the marble of Italy's most
famous quarry, sat, undoubtedly,
Baron Ronault de Palliac. A steam
ing plate of spaghetti la Italien was
before him, to his left large bowl
of salad, to his right bottle of red
wine.
For a space of three seconds the
entire party behaved as if it were
being photographed under time-expo-
sure Philippe and the baby stared,
modonless. Celine stared, resting no
slight weight on the hot flat-iron.
Baron Ronault de Palliac stared, his
fork poised in mid-air and festooned
with gay little streamers of spa
ghetti.
scorching linen, and cry of horror
from Celine.
All, la seule chemise blanche de
Monsieur lie Baron!"
The spell was broken. Philippe
was on his feet, bowling effusively.
"Ah! it is Madame Bines. - suis
tres honore-I am very honored to
welcome you, madame. 1t is madame,
ma femme, Celine-and-Monsieur lie
Baron de Palliac-"
Philippe had turned with evident
distress toward the latter. But
Philippe was only a waiter, and had
not behind him the centuries of school
Ing that enable a gentleman to remain
a gentleman under adverse condi-
tons.
Baron Ronault de Palliac arose with
unrufled aplomb and favored the
caller with his stateliest bow. He
was at the moment a graceful and
silencing rebuke to those who aver
that manner and attire be interde-
pendent. The barons manner was
ideal, undiminished in volume, fault.
less as to decorative qualities. One
fitted to SAVIOR it's exquisite finish
would scarce have noted that above
his waist the noble gentleman was
clad in a single wooden undergarment
of revolutionary red.
Or, if such one had observed this
trifing circumstance, he would, assur.
eddy, have treated it as of no value to
the moment; something to note, per-
haps, and then gracefully to forget.
The baron's own behavior would
have served as a model. One swift
glance had shown him there was no
way Of instant retreat. That being
impossible, none other was graceful;
hence none other was to be consid-
cred. He permitted himself not even
glance at the shirt upon whose fair,
defenseless bosom the iron of the
overcome Celine had burned it's cruel
brown imprimature. Mrs. Bines had
greeted him as he would have wished,
unconscious, apparently, that there
could be cause for embarrassment.
"Ah! madame" he said, handsome
ly, you see me, l unfast with the
fork. You see me here, l have envy
of the simple life. l am content of
TO do it-comme ca-as that see
YOU" waving in the direction of his