The Birmingham age-herald., 1907-07-21

Of course l understand, Washburne,"
 I grinned. T have a dim recollection of
 reading the end of that romance in one
 novels.'
 "I don't care a snap of my fingers whether you believe me or not if youll carry a letter to Clara for me-" he said. I assented, waited until he had put his I thoughts on paper, bade him goodby and good luck, and then 1 hastened back to Whispering Pines. Early that afternoon
 house and without word l surrendered her brothers epistle to her. ''One good turn deserves another" laughed she, and much to my surprise she handed me an oblong envelope bear ing the superscriptlon MT. Frederick At
 klnsoh, care of MT. Edgar Morton, Fifth avenue, New York" cancelled stamp and the words "Whispering Pines, Tar rytown,' in embossed white lettering were the other adornments of the missye
 '""his would put Sherlock Holmes him scelf to shame" I exclaimed, casting self to shame" | exclaimed, casting mystery.
 Ut doesn't me-" she laughed. At my | old friend Edgar Mortons request, l in- vited his bosom friend, one Frederick At kinson-I didn't think until now that you
 were he--to our cotillon that takes place next Thursday This morning the Invita- ton came back with a letter from Edgar under separate cover, telling me that he suspected that you were somewhere in Tarrytown on business. He neglected to say what the business was" But" I stammered In confusion. 1T
 was given to understand that your father
 was averse toto young people-to your ] meeting young people here" That sounds like one of Edgar Nor ! tons absurd practical jokes" she trlled,
 "or 1t may owe It's origin to my father s peculiar attitude toward my step-brother Am l to expect your regrets or your ac- ceptance?' she ended. Do comer'
 She disappeared. I stood frozen to the spot, wondering what was best for me to do under the suddenly changed aspect of the situation.
 The next two days my eyes hungered for the sight of my lady. but my visual longing was to go unsatished. I learned from the servants that MT. Middleton was confined to his room with an attack of the gout.
 However, 1t was strictly necessary that
 l should keep up the appearance of being busy. After a long reflection I ln- spired with the Idea that the digging cf d hole would demand every moment of my time and no permanent injury to the landscape
 l sent information to Mir Middleton | through the butler that had discovered | section of poverty-stricken. sandy soil 1 In one corner of the estate. near the wall. | and that if there was objection l in- tended to excaYate there, fill the cavity l in with good rich loam--ordered from the , town-and plant n hillock of shrubs. The l lawn was monotonously flat anyway, and ! a mound or two would lend charm and | variety to the view. I toiled on with the | presumption that the hole was a work | of art until the advent of the day before ] the cotillon, which was the fatal day l that marked MT. Mlddleton's conval- ! essence. He came out for an airing and | hobbled across the lawn on his crutch. | He looked aghast at me for a second or
 two. then he recovered his voice and | roared:
 What in the name of eternity are you | doing there?'
 Begging your pardon, sir" I replied
 politely. "I am planning shrubbery of l Calycanthus Hydrangea Paniculata Grandifiora, Incarvillea Delava--'
 'Tts big enough to hold them." he | grumbled. hobbling off toward the con servatory. I clambered out of the pit and
 watched him, my heart in my mouth. He