The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-12-01

l They had been introduced, but little ! that mattered to Vie Morris. who con
 sfdered such ceremonies only for weak 1 lings "sucxled in a creed outworn The engineer stood a moment in the l doorway staring, his shoulders thrown
 back. his brows bent indignantly, and all his fair hair bristlinG like lions mane.
 He had the surprised, angry look Of some l big dog who returns to find little one | (and a stranger) in possession of his bone | and carpet.
 But he did not leap upon Philip Cal mont who rose with his usual gentle
 quiet to his feet, and bowed, saying | Miss Bryan has gone out Mir Finnan l has not yet arrived l presume that you l have come to see him!
 | "Presune!' snorted Vic Morris, his l temper breaking loose. T should think | you do presume! Who are you, sir. to
 dictate my comings and goings to me? | If I choose to come here every night h l the year. what Is that to you? |, To this Philip Calmont only replied II ! possible, more gently than before, that , he believed that Miss Bryan would be | back immediately Then he reseated hlm- | self, and became absorbed in the growth | of the geraniums outside the window | They were all moist with the spring.
 showers. Having done his part and feel | ing quite sure of his position, he did not l trouble his head farther about the quaint. | uncertain tempers of Mir. Ludovic Mor- l ris. After all, what more natural? He | would not have liked such an intrusion 1 himself, even from the rest of the fam l fly. But he was trying to act up to little l Miss Nunsby's advice to do something for
 himself. So. characteristically, he was beginning with Vida Bryan. The furniture of Dicks cottage was all 1 of dull oak which had descended to him
 by ordinary generation-the ancient set | ties and three-legged chairs, polished at
 back and seat by centuries of hard
 worked homespun, moleskin and cordu-
 roy. Except at funerals, broadcoth had 1 never touched them. For a special chair l was kept for the minister, covered, ae-
 cording to age. with velvet. or hairclotn. | or cretonne But furniture of that kind
 never wears out Doubtless some remote ! Finnan, away back in the time of the 1 Covenant had made it--chair and dresser | and r-poster-with adze and plane and ! turning he made 1t to be in read 1 mess to receive his sober Cameronian 1 bride. And, like their furniture, the Fin 1 mans had remained Cameronians ever since.
 That night when Vic Morris and the | doctors third son were first brought face 1 to face, Vic growing like an angry mas
 tifr and Phil gazing serenely through the ! darkenng window the kitchen parlor or ! house place of Glebe End was full of
 quaint moony reflections. Old oak furni- 1 ture and paneling with freight glinting on them conduce to mystery. The even l ing fire in preparation for Dicks supper 1 burned on the hearth far back. and once Phil rose with his easy air to replenish
 1t. which caused Vic Morris to spit like 1 an angry cat.
 "It appears to me that YOU know your
 way about-here, that is" IT. said sharp
 ly, but not so well in the world. I un-
 derstand that you are the parish doc
 tors son. that you set up for man,
 though you do nothing-and are only a
 burden on your father"
 Phil looked steadily at MT. Ludovic Morris. gently unmoved, but with the
 slightest curve of contempt on his short
 upper lip. His face was always pale, and
 now no more than usual
 | "You are right" he answered, shifting
 a little round in his chair so as to rest
 his eyes deliberately on the broad should
 CTS of the engineer MT. Morris of the | Pits I think! An. am right. Well. MT.
 Morris, l am obliged to you for the in-
 terest you show in my affairs. My posi-
 tion. l admit. you state very truly. The
 alternative you are probably ignorant of
 as ignorant as I am myself"
 This aroused Vic Morris. He stood in
 the fireight vehement and energetic. He | gesticulated. He even raised his voice | so that he could be heard out on the high ! road, forty rods away.
 What are you to do?" he cried. Why.
 man, work-work-work. When I was | half your age I was learning to run an
 engine in the daytime-out of our school hours, that is--teaching in a night school, 1 feeding on the higher mathematics, till l
 dropped brow on my book with pure
 sleepiness Well, why did I do it? So
 that today there is no place on the face | of the earth where I could not make | livelihood
 l "Ah!" said Phil very quietly, 'T would l that my lines had fallen to me in such
 pleasant places. But one must just do as
 one can. l have not been so unfortunate
 as you, MT. Morris I have always had | other people to consider"
 1 Your own idleness. you mean. Master 1 Philip Calmont," cried Vic Morris quite
 forgetting his manners "You like the do-nothng life You are content to live | on the hooks of your father-to render | him half-bankrupt, you and your brood,
 making him the talk of the place." ! At the first word of his father, Phil
 Calmont had risen, pale, slender and very | stern. What would have happened in the next nalf-minute cannot be imagined For ! Of course the lad was no match for Vic i Morris, who could have crushed him be- 1 tween his hands. Though it is doubtful l whether, even in his own opinion, he l could have vanquished him.
 | But just then the inner door swung l back. the one which led from the little 1 back lobby, which opened out upon the ] woods the nearer shrubberes, and Dick | Finnans woodpile. Vida had entered | quietly, without either of the men hear | ing her, and in moment the fat was | in the fire
 1 She was dressed in a plain gown of blue | serge, which moded her figure like some ] natural leaf-sheathing of the spring. It | was. however, merely her 'second best l dress-that which she put on in the week. | aday evenings. She motioned Vic Morris l to seat For moment he did not obey l caught, as it were, in a loud, empty | echo of his own words. He realized fc- ' the first time that he had been speaking | ill that quiet kitchen as he would have l done in the galleries of the mine. He sat down. Vida waited a little. still ] in the twilight, standing near the door by | which she had entered, her foot tapping 1 impatiently and angrily. The fireiisht, | having caught a nest of pinekpots, blazed ] up, and while the flame lasted neither 1 of the men could take his eyes off her. | At last she spoke
 | MT. Morris" she said. you permit | yourself to storm in this house us you might at the horses in some stableyard. | Is Dick Finnan under any obligations 70 | you. that you assume such right?" 1 Certainly not" said honest Vic, hang l ing his head.
 1 Or am I?"
 | still less.' faltered Vic Morris; "the truth is that I ought to ask your par | don. And l do. Mir. Calmont and I were having little discussion-politics, you