The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-04-20
the subject-for a time.

the subject-for a time.
 The next morning, however, he re- newed it again under similar circum- stances:
 T think. my dear, that we had bet ter give up any idea of keeping that young man on the list of our friends. care to continue our acquaintance ship Joy suffered much this time; all the more because there was nothing that she could say which would be wise. She had to content herself with commonplace acceptance of his views She answered with as steady a voice she could manage:
 ''Of course, Daddy Whatever you think right!'' The answer pleased her father: he showed it in his reply:
 'I am sorry about it. my dear; for he seemed a fine young fellow. and he saved you very brave1y. However we cannot help it. We did all we could to make him welcome; but we can't occasion for wain-ropes!' After g pause she ventured to say meekly:
 ''Yes. It would be pity if we had to quarrel with a man who did so show that he did not get your letter, then it would be-you could forgive him."
 ''Of course I would. my dear. But these English are so stand-on that there is no understanding them. wanted to be friends with the man who saved my little girl But there, it is no use wishing anything when people are pig-headed :"
 His words somehow made Joys heart glow. It might be all right yet, if only
 But the present was sadly un-right The suspense. the uncertainty, the waiting in the dark were hard to bear. It was little wonder that in the middle of the following week her father mo- ticed that she had grown pale and Istless. Deep down in his mind he connected it somehow with ''that damned fellow but he took care not to betray his thought to his daughter in any way. His present wish was that even the existance of the fellow should fall out of the memory of his grievance fall out of his memory; there had to be a day of reckoning for all concerned in such.
 He quietly made preparations for their northern tour. and when all was ready told Joy who joined with alac- rity in the move. London was now growing hateful to her.
 In the meantime Ath1yne, living either in his castle of Ceann- -da-Shai1 which he had long looked on as his home-as a centre. was flying about in his new motor car, learning each day fresh mysteries of driving. The speeds of the motor are so much above those of other vehicles that driver.
 
 other ways. seems here to be dealing with 0 new force. The perspective changes so fast as the machine eats up the space that the mind requires to be practised afresh in judging dis tances and curves. It had been a bit ter regret to him that he had to keep out of London just when Joy had come to it. His mind was always running with her when all the interesting things came before her: to note the sudden f1ushes of delight. to see the quick lifting of the beautiful eyes, to look into their mysterious. bewildering depths. At first when such ideas took him whilst driving. he nearly ran into danger Unconsciously his hands would turn the wheel for speed, and in his eagerness he would make such swerves and jumps that undesirabl things almost happened. However. after a few such experiences his nerves learned their own business It is part of the equipment of chauffeur to be able to abstract and control his driv ing senses from all other considera- tions; and such dual action of the mind requires habit and experience for it's realization. The constant watch fulness and anxiety had at least his heneficient use: that for a part of the day at all events his mind was kept from breeding over his personal trou ble.
 The arrival of Colonel Ogilvie's let
 
 in a way a new trouble for him; for whilst he was delighted to get so friendly an overture it was he saw but another difficulty ahead of him. He must either reply in his false name. which was now hateful to him: or he must leave the letter. for the present. unanswered. This latter alternative would be dangerous with a man so sensitive ard so punctilious: but. all told it was the lesser evil. He had had opportunity to make up his mind on the subject before the letter came. for Aunt Judy had said in her last letter that Colonel Ogilvie had spoken about writing to him before they should arrive in London. Still it was a sore trial to him to be so discourte- ous. with the added chagrin that he naight-probably would-stand in his way with the one man in the world whom he wished to propitate.
 (To be Continued.)
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