The Mena weekly star., 1909-06-17

.nihg m the world for him to hesitate. ne thought with astonishing rapiditv. ana ne formulated his answer whila HIS lnterlocutor talked; before the epeech was over the answer was ready' Another trait of his had struck 'he soldier namely, the laborious cor. Iecthess of his speech; 1t was often iormai and oldfashioned; Amt Re- Decca said that he talked like Daniel Weosters speeches; but it had none ol the homely and pungent sayor ono h''ght expect from a man whose bov. mood had scrambled through miners camps into San Francisco stock of- nee; who had never gone to school fin ms life by daylight; who had been mine superintendent. small speculator ana small director in California urtil ne became big speculator and Die rsliway controller in New York
 fou m'ght begin on the norma ma'L keatcham continued. Let ,ns sort them first" He merely glan. .e,, at The inscriptions On the envelo,as opening and taking out one which h. read rather carelessly. frownng a fit iie before he placed 1t 10 one side
 A number of the letters conceraed the endowments of the exnerimental chairs at the universities. Keatcham's attention was not lightened by any ray of pleasure. Once he said: "That fellow has caught my idea" and once:
 mats right" but there was no api- nation in his voice, no interest in his paliid face Stealing a furtive scru- tiny Of 1t, now and then, Rupert Win. ter was impressed with it's mystical likeness to that of Cary Mercer. There was no physical similarity of color or feature; it was a likeness of Inc snirit rather than tho flesh. The colonels eyes flashed.
 '1 have it!" he exclaimed within. T have it; they are fanatics. both of lhem' Keatchara's a fanatic of finance and Mercer is a fanatic of another sort; but fanatics they both are ready to go any length for their principles or lhelr ambitions or their revenge, Tai trouve le mot d'enigme, as Aunt Becsy would say--I wonder what she'll say to this sudden psychological splurge of mine"
 The business hour is up"-it was Miss Smith entering with a bowl on a white-coyered tray; the sun glinted the lump of ice in the milk and the silver spoon was dazzling against the linen-'your biscuit and milk, Mir keatcham. Didn't you have it when you were boy?"
 T did, Miss Janet'-and Keatchan actually smiled. q used to think crackers and milk the incest thing ir the world
 That is because you never tasted corn pone and milk; but you are go ing to-"
 When you make 1t for me. I'm glat you're such good cook It's one O your ways I like. My mother was { very good cook She could make bet ter dishes out of almost nothing thar these mongrel chefs can make witl the whole world"
 1 'T reckon she could" said Mis- | Smith; she was speaking sincerely.
 When my father didn't strike pa, | dirt, my mother would open her bah cry and make pies for the miners
 she could make bread with potat yeast or 'salt-emptins you mak salt-rising hrcad?"
 q can-shall I make you some tc morrow"
 I'd like it. My mother used to mak more money than my father; some | times when we children were low il clothes and dad owed bigger lot o money than usual. we had laundr, | at our house as well as a bakery Yet in spite of all the work, m. l mother found time to teach all of us and she knew how to teach. too: fo she was principal of a school wheI my father married her. She was [ | New Englander; so was he; but the, l went west We're forty-niners. I sav the place where our little cloth-and | board shack used to stand. After th' | big fire, you know. It burned us al up we had saved a good deal ans my mother had nice bakery. Sht worked too hard; it killed her. Worl 1 and struggle and lCsing the children.
 They died?' said Miss Janet.
 "Diphthe;ia. They didn't know any thing about the disease then. We all had it; and my little sister and both my brothers died; but I'm tough. l lived. My mother fell into what they called a decline 1 was making lit tie money then--I was 16; but couldn't keep her from working. Per haps it made no difference: but 1t did make a difference her not having the the right kind of food. Nobody knew anything about consumption then. used to go out in the morning and be afraid I'd find her dead when l got back. One night I did He stopped abruptly. crimsoning up to his eyes q don't know why I'm telling you all | this"
 q call that tough"-as the colonel blurted out the words, he was con scious of a sense of repetition. When had he said those very same words before. 10 whom? Of all people in the world, to Cary, Mercer Mighty tough" murmured he softly.
 Yes" said Keatcham, it was. He did not say anything more. Neither did the colonel Keatcham obediently ate his milk and biscuit; and very shortly the colonel took his leave.
 The next morning after an uneyent full hour of sorting. reading and an swering letters for Miss Smith to copy 1 IA 4rn unlinrr trnewrifer Keatchan