The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1909-06-21
(Continued.l


 (Continued.A She ended with a nervous laugh, and l looked up at Caine with a pretty. help. less air of seeking protection. Amzl always found this appealing attitude irresistible If social longings were Conover'S feet of clay, Lefty stand | ish served as a similar pedal handicap | for Caine. He wished young Hawarden had not thrust himself upon the tete- a-tete of their homeward walk He with unspeakable doughty promises Of safeguard from peril: to see her soft round eyes raised to his in the adm1ra- tion such protestations are wont to eX, cite between very young or very old lovers. But Jack was doggedly tread ing along beside them in all the charm | ing ignorance of his age and tempera- ment. The boys sulks were even now dissolying and he joined again in the talk: still harping on his hero. ( "f never met Conover till this morn ing" he said. 'I wish now I'd known him better. It's queer I never met him at Miss Shevlin's She's his ward. you know"
 Lefty. to whom he spoke. answered with a tinge of the latent sub-acid In her gentle voice:
 q didn't know. But I've noticed things about Miss Shevlin that made it seem quite likely"
 Miss shevlin.'' said the boy hotly; ''is the prettiest. brightest. best-bred girl I ever knew. If you mean she is" av "I dare say" answered Lefty with elaborate carelessness- But l never noticed her especially"
 "I don't see." persisted Jack. "how you could have helped it. She's the | sort of girl everyone notices. There's something about her."
 why. what zealous champion she has!" exclaimed Lefty. playfully, her
 laughter ringing thin. T congratulate her."
 "You needn't" retorted Jack And I'm afraid you'll never even have chance to congratulate me. T." By the way. Hawarden." interposed Caine lazily pouring oil on the churn- ed waters. according to his wont | read your Scribner's story to-day. I can congratulate you on that. at any rate, can't I? It was decidedly good. | wondered at your knowledge of hu- man nature"
 Hawarden's chest swelled. At twen- ty-two. who does not know human nature as never can 1t be known in later wears? And who does not re- joice at recognition of that vast knowl- edge?
 five had some experience with life, in my time.' said Jack. darkly- And paint my fellow-man as I see him. Not as he ought to be. But as he is. If I seem merciless in my character drawing"
 "You do indeedi" began Caine. But fit of very well executed coughing | cut SnOTI HIS TlEnlcOuS pEdiSc- JdChs disappointed. sought to lead the talk back to the former happy theme. I'm writing a story now. he said. ''tnat is bigger in every way than any thing I've done before. But I can't decide vet. even in my own mind whether it is very good or very bad. It is one or the other. I know that" eff it's enough of either" replied Caine. 'it is certain to make a popular hit"
 "I've made De-Miss Shevlin my heroine,' pursued Hawarden. scornfully disregarding Gaines untimely flap like her on paper the way one sees her in one's mind. I wrote a poem about her once. Harper's Magazine ac- cepted it."
 He paused. Then. ridden by the demon of truth. added with reluctance. They published it in fine print over toward the end. But" more buoyant- ly. "T saw it copied afterward in no less than two papers,"
 Why don't you put Mr. Conover into a story. too?" suggested Lefty unwilling not to seem quite at home
 in so profound a literary discussion Wouldn't he make a good character? He's so-"
 "I'm afraid not" decided the boy.
 judicially weighing his verdict. He's
 more of a man than anyone else in all
 my experience But he wouldn't quite
 fit into a story. Pm afraid. You see.
 he lacks romance. for one thing. One
 could hardly fancy Caleb Conover in
 love. And then-unless you count this
 evenings affair." doubt if he was ever
 in an adventure of any sort fin his life.
 His character, from a literary view
 point. doesn't lend itself to action or
 analysis Insmaking the study of hu
 'T seer' broke in Lefty. almost
 sharply. You are quite right. He
 would be impossible fin a story-and
 everywhere else."r
 hardly think dan1u1rrad Caina
 Mot impossible. Improbable. at worst.
 I am afraid a great many people in
 Granite will find that out before he is
 through
 Hawarden bade them goodnight at the
 door: declining &ketty's perfunctory in
 vitation to come in. The evening was
 still young. But the lack of cordiality
 of youth. He reflected somewhat be-
 latedly that she and Caine were en-
 gagged and that it was possible they might find themes even more alluring
 than literature to talk over. together
 So. unwilling. he left them.
 Caine and Lefty strolled slowly up the walk The night was cool for June.
 So. ignoring the lounging chairs on the veranda, they passed into the house.
 This is one of the last evenings we
 can sit indoors commented Lefty.
 Its hard to realize that summer is so near. I suppose this week will wind
 
 cept in old-fashioned Granite. it must
 have ended weeks ago.
 "'Yes. We're old-fashioned here in Granite" said Caine seating himself
 on the arm of the chair into which she had thrown herself "I think some body once left an 1860 calendar in this town. and we've all been living by it ever since. We're like the scalys finny Oldest Inhabitants in the poem, who dreamed away their lives in the coral grove while a seven stapza stofm roar
 ed across theocean overhead. When the storm of progress cuts little be- low the surface we Granite folks blink upward from our dreams in pained dis
 approval. I think that's why we look askance at Conover. He represents-2
 "Oh. am I to have that dreadful creature's name forever dinned into my ears?" complained Lefty. Isn't it enough that Father makes us ask him here to dinner. Friday; without your talking forever about him in the little while people leave us alone together. In another minute Aunt Lydia will be pottering in to play propriety. And