Macon beacon. [volume] (Macon, Miss.) 1859-1995, 1909-11-26

OA O40 4AO Al opSSCaA1SS, Anu
assuming that l was an idler from
the summer colony, he greeted me
c~ourteously. 1 questioned him as to
the character Of the winters in this
region, spoke of the employments of
the village folk, then mentioned the
canOe-maker.
Yes; he works the year round down
there on the Tippecanoe. He sells
his n all over the country-the
Hartridge, that's his name. You must
have seen his sign there by the cedar
hedge. They say he gets big prices
for his canoes"
Il suppose he's a native in these
parts?" 1 ventured.
No; but he's been here a good
while. l guess nobody knows where
he comes from-or cares. He works
pretty hard, but l guess he likes it."
Hes an Industrious man, is hep"
"Oh, he's a steady worker; but he's
a queer kind, too. Now, he never
votes and he goes to church;
and for the sake of the argument,
neither do I"-and the old fellow
winked prodigiously. Hes a mighty
odd man; but l can't say that that's
against him. But he's quiet and peace
able, and now his daughter"
"Oh, he has a daughter?'
yes; and that's all he has, too;
and they never have any visitors. The
daughter just come home the other
day, and we amt hardly seen her yet.
She's been away at school,"
Il suppose Mr.. Hartridge is absent
sometimes; he doesn't live down there
all the time, does hep
q can't say that 1 could prove it;
sometimes 1 don't see him for a
month or more; but his business is his
own, stranger" he concluded, point
eddy.
You think that if Mr.. Hartridge
had a visitor you'd know it?" l per-
sisted, though the sh%opkeeper grew
less amiable.
We'll, now, 1 might; and again 1
mightn't. Mr.. Hartridge is a queer
man. l don't see him every day, and
particularly in the winter 1 don't keep
track of him.
With a little leading the storekeeper
described Hartridge for me, and his
description tailed exactly with the
man who had caught me on the canoe
makers premises the night before.
And yet, when 1 had thanked the
storekeeper and ridden On through the
village, l was as much befuddled as
ever. There was something decidedly
incongruous in the idea that a man
who was, by all superficial signs, at
least a gentleman, should be eStab-
lished in the business of making ca
noes by the side of a lonely creek in
this odd corner of the world. From
the ~StOrekeeper'S account, Hartridge
might be absent from his retreat for
long periods; if he were Henry Hol-
brook and wished to annoy his sister,
it was lot SO far from this lonely
creek to the Connecticut own where
Miss Pat lived. Again, as to the daugh-
ter, just home from school and not
yet familiar to the eyes Of the village,
she might easily enough be an inven.
ton to hide the visits of Helen Hol-
brook. 1 found myself trying to ac-
count for the fact that, by some mean
short of the miraculous, Helen Hol-
brook had played chess with Miss Pat
at st. Agatha's at the very hour l had
seen her with her father on the Tip
pCCduO0. Anu Iu0u L was Ddu10U
again as 1 remembered that Paul Stod-
dard had sent the two women to ST.
Agatha's, and that their destination
could not have been chosen by Helen
Holbrook.
My thoughts wandered into many
blind alleys as I rode On. 1 was thor
oughly disguised with myself at find
ing the loose ends of the Holbrooks'
affairs multiplying so rapidly. The
sun Of noon shOne hot overhead, and l
turned my horse n a roc that led
homework by the eastern shore of the
lake. AS approached a little country
church at the crown of a long hill I
saw a crowd gathered in the highway
and reined my horse to see what had
happened. The congregation of farmers
and their families had just been dis
missed; and they were pressing about
a young man who stood in the center
of an excited throng. Drawing closer,
| was amazed to find my friend Gil
1espie he center of attention.
But, my dear sir" cried a tall.
bearded man whom 1 took to be the
minister of this wayside flock, you
must at least give us the privilege of
thanking you! You cannot know what
this means to us, a gift SO munificent
so far beyond our dreams"
Whereat Gillespie looked bored.
shook his head, and tried to force his
way through the encircling rustics. He
was clad in a Norfolk jacket and
knickerbockers of fantastic plaid, with
a cap to match.
A young famer, noting my curiosity
and heavy with great news, whispered
to me-:
That boy in short pants put a 81, DOC
bill in the collection basket All in
one bill! They thought it was a mis-
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