The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1908-08-22

The man Is an arrant fool, and prob
ably couldn't get woman to live with
him." he said with finality.,
The ponies were ascending the rise In
Rue Victor Hugo, at the southern end
Of the city. The porteuses, coming down
from the hill-trails, the lithest, hardest
women of the occident, bore q pitiable
look Of fatigue in their faces. The pres
sure of the heat, and the dispiriting con-
dition of the atmosphere, were revealed
in the distended eyelids and colorless,
twisted lips of the burden bearers. As
Miss Stansbury looked out toward the
harbor for Uncle Joey's boat, Constable
regarded her profile. The delicacy of
color and contour brought to him an i'm
perious realization of her fairness. It
appeared that in his absence the rarest
touches of perfection had been set.
"You haven't changed MUCH" she said
laughingly. You were always willing
to agree that l was right, and all men,
yourself most Of all, deeply In the wrong.
Don't you remember how used to preach
to you about mans need of doing some
thing emphaticT'
xQO6SO ! IcucMDCIs AVuA AcooOAS
made a deep impression"
AT least, you bore very gracefully with
an oppressive companion. she declared.
"Just as If you didn't know best how to
dispose Of your time and talents"
ION the contrary, you were more near
~ right than you knew. was In need
of just such moral stimulus. The sorry
part, Miss Stansbury, Is that l don't
bring you admirably invested talents even
now"
She glanced at him quickly. II believe
l understand better some of the difficult
ties you have had to contend with" she
said. 1--WE all read how you kidnapped
the entire New York newsboys' associa-
tion-how you fed the grimy little chaps
oceans of charlotte russo and mountains
of plum-du6, giving them a Sunday at
ternoon at sea, and presents to remem-
Der. That was fne."
II forgot to tell Breen about that"
he remarked, smiling at the recollection.
"Breen is a friend Of mine, who was
good enough to come along. Hes rare
fellow, and you'll like him."
"You make people fnd out by them
selves so much about you" she observed.
Think how you let me believe you were
absolutely without interests or ambitions
even last year, while you were making
daily visits to the jaws Of Pelee. 1t was
months afterward that l learned what
those journeys meant-and then through
the press. We all read the paper you
delivered before the geological society on
Antillean formations. Think how l felt
while recalling some Of my lectures on
your careless attitude toward life. You
might have told me-"
II failed to discover the secret, Miss
Stansbury," he said quickly. "Old Pc
lee has big story for the right man,
but l was unable to drag it forth. l had
nothing to be proud Of to tell you"
The ponies had gained the eminence Of
the Morne d'Orange. Ahead was the
broad, white plantation house, where the
Stansburys and Constable's uncle lived.
To the right was the daxsling, sapphire
bay, where the Madame was m0ored
among the shipping; behind and below,
the red-tiled roofs Of Saint Pierre, and
behind the city, back Of all. La Montague
Pelee, hung like an emperor OF the Rom
ans, paled in the intense light Of morn
ing, and wearing delicate white ruching
of cloud about his crown.
1T is different with most people" she
replied. "They have so much to tell Of
little things. The silent men who are
dreaming Of big things all the time
think of conversation like this when the
island is glowing like a brazier!"
"What is the meaning of this terrific
sultriness and the white scum In the gut
ters?' he asked suddenly.
"Why, I supposed you understood
Understood what, Miss Stansbury?"
"Why, old Pelee has been showering US
with ash from time to time during the
past ten days. 1t is the faint Of sulphur
that spoils the air. The city would have
been white now, except for the heavy rain
that washed the ashes away just before
dawn"
Constable turned approximately to-
ward the volcano. He had come into an
inheritance Of winged thoughts In the
presence Of the woman, but the news Of
Pelee's activity disordered the very root
of things. Mrs. Stansbury was standing
on the porch Of the great house, whose
walls, verandas and portcullises were
cooled and perfumed by embroidering
vines. The driveway was bordered by
Rose Of Sharon hedges, and the gardens
famed with poisettias and roses. There
was cool grove of mango and India
trees at the end of the lawn, edged with
moon-howerets and oleanders. Back OF
the plantation house waved the sloping
seas of cane: in front, the Caribbean.
On the south up-reared the peaks Of Car
bet: on the north, the Monster.
Constable advanced eagerly to give his
hand to Mrs. Stansbury, who received
his greeting with cooling repression. he
would have been dismayed, had he not
felt on former occasions polar draughts
from this source Still, he paid her
unquestioning homage. It was enough
for him that Mr.. Stansbury, an admirable
American gentleman, honored her with
a life Of one-pointed devotion: that his
uncle, Joseph Wall, Of sound mental bal
ance and heart vastnesses, cherished her
goodwill. 1t was enough for Consta-
BILE, indeed, that Mrs. Stansbury fnothered
q daughter. He was by no means above
conceiving that another should dislike