Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1909-10-02

Restante. Ostend. Now, that will save
me heap of trouble 1t was so nice OF
you to come in at the right moment. You
have saved me lot of trouble"
The groom grinned as he pocketed half
a-crown. Some ladies We're easy pleased
enced hunter of gilded brides, was be.
wildered by Mrs Laings excited man
ner
Seems to me I've made a killin'," he
unused, when she guShed herself away. u
s'pose old Baumgartner can be relied on
He is all there as rule when he talks
dollars an cents. but he's a perfect rotte'
every other way. BY gad I'll kid him
into wearin' kits before the end of the
month"
arctic and stroled out through the open
door. A glorious sweep of moorland and
forest spread beyond the loch. whose
wavelets Tapped the verges of the slipping
lawn and gardens. A little to the left
the Sans Souci lay at her moorings. a
steam launch was tied to neat landing
stage. A string of horses and moor
ponies returning from exercise crossed a
level pasture at the head of the loch. The
letter-carryfng groom was gathering
distant station, and couple of gardeners
were cutting and rolling the green carpet
of grass in front of the house.
He talks of buyin' this property com
muned the Hon. Billy who was thirty
five and had never earned penny in his
life. Cant be ten years older than me.
though he looks sixty. bein' podgy. Now,
why can't I have stroke of luck an
rake in stack? Then I might have d
cut-in for the giddy widow"
Evelyn's trim figure emerged from q
ree-shrouded path. She walked with "a
1.-the elegance that pleased Mr.. ThrinS' :
sporting eye.
"Or marry a girl like that" he added.
The wild improbability of ever achieving
any part of this fascinating program
some, vacuous face.
He strobe up to one of the gardeners. Il
red whiskered Caledonian, stern and wild.
Where the devil is everybody?' he.
vawned mo shootn', no yachtin', not a
soul in the billiard room-where's the
bloomin' crowd?''
The dour Scot looked at him pityingly.
"Aiblins some are i bed he said. IAN
there's ithers wha ocht to be i bed"
Bully for you, Rob Roy" cried Thring
who never objected to being scored off.
"Aiblins some people are cuttin' grass
wha ocht to be under it. because they
don't know they're alive. ell what?"
Man. but we're sharp .ahI It, the day re-
there's guild pig-jobber lost in you,
Master Thring.'
Pig iobber. you cateran! Why pigs
Have ye no heerd tell that fowk q
bit saft l. the held have d wonderful way
Wi animals, an pigs are always a fine
market"
"A bit heavy. McToddy. Trem yer
whuskers an change yer trousies for ii
kelt, an mebbe yen crack a joke Wi less
deeficulty.'
Hon. Billy could initiate the Scots dia-
lect with an JUNCTION that was decidedly
mirth-provoking.
MA names no McToddy," began the
other.
well, then McWhusky 1 ken the moo
from Yer rib reb that there's MIGHTY lit
tie waiter in yer composition.
Snorting defiance, but not daring to
pour forth the wrath that boiled up i'll
him. the man pushed moving machine
Savagely across the lawn.
Routed" smiled Billy. "Bannockburn
is avenged"
What is amusing you. Mr.. Thring?"
asked Evelyn, who had walked over the
grass unheard
Il have just discovered my lost voca-
tion,'' he said. Il am buffoon. Miss
Dane, an idle jester. The only difference
between me and d music-hall comedian Is
that my humor is not remunerative'
why, when I left you last night you
were on the verge of proposing TO MIS-
Laing. most serious undertaking.
Jolly nice woman, Mrs. Laing. No
nonsense about her. We've bin together
the last half hour, an I'm under the
starters orders. at any rate
''Why not go in and VIM" demanded
EVELYN, taking a kindly interest in the
honorab le ones matrimonial prospects.
If he and Mrs Laing made a match of it.
that would provide a very agreeable close
to a disquieting incident.
I'm afraid it'll only be to make the
runnin' for some other. Johnny" sighed
he. Il was gettin' along like house
a-fire when all at once she remembered
She hadn't said what she wanted to say
T., :. letter to Cant Somebody at OStend
an, off she waited to her room. She's
probably writin' sweet nothings to him
now. Same old story-Billy Thring left
at the post. Cad, that's funny! See it,
eh. What?'
Thring was SO amused by his own Wit
that he did not notice the expression of
pain and fear that drove the brightness