The Hattiesburg news. (Hattiesburg, Miss.) 1908-1917, 1910-01-08

structions might beguile the guest,
Mrs. Henly spread out the pink bit of
paper on the table under her hand
and read: Miss Carew arrives
at three. Make her welcome, give her
books and papers. l shall be up by
the express"
Which means" Mrs. Henly ex-
planned. "he left London at six this
mornin'; it's nine hours run. I've
sent the motor to Billings poke-it's a
bit shorter b. rail. Mr.. Basil does
hate rail travel"
Miss Carew did not remark that
with apparent ease he took IS hours
out Of the "a for the matter of a short
time in town! The dispatch with its
minute instructions read in itself a
welcome to her, and it was a charm
ing place in which to wait.
Craven's empire morning-room omen.
ed on a terraced fiower-garden, where
to trees already nearly leaf1ess a few
November roses chung The walls.
hung in yellow brocade, extended to
the dullest day sense of glow and
light. The few pieces of furniture
veritable treasures even in their old
epoch, indicated the faultless taste
and virtuosity Of the selector. Before
the fire In the same yellow satin a
small divan with bronze reliefs on
shining legs and back, a few stiff. dig.
nified fauteuils, a long comfortable. a
mirror screen. On the mantel a clock
and candelabra whose graceful in
fantile subjects suggested the design
to have been intended to please the
little king Of Rome, a biscuit group. q
candle-lamp with vivid green shade
these were all.
ITS . pretty little room" Mrs.
HeAly said indulsently. "All the sun
there ever - comes here, but to-day
It's bit chilly. isn't 1t? So had ths
Gre lit early"
She was before It with the bellows
urging the fame. As she raised her
natronly self up she said: ITS Lady
Ormond's style; she was never con-
tent until Mr.. Basil had torn the old
things out. It's Ike q sweet-box to
my thinkin' and 4 bit bare. 1t needs
people to set 1t o." she criticised, un-
consciously paying the proper artis-
tic tribute to the style of the period
the room represented-create to dis
play and to serve as background for
the First Empire elegance and sim
plicity.
But Miss Carew only caught at the
name. Lady Ormond! She had seen
it often in the peapers.
"You know her ladyship-no," Mrs.
Henly took for granted. In a frame
on whose mahogany border buzzed the
Napoleonic bee in bronze was the
photograph of lady in ball dress
| Mrs. Henly lifted it.
Lady Ormond at the last court
ball"
| The girls eyes were met by a pair
of eyes handsome and hooking, hard
and cold as her own were soft and
sweet.
"A professional beauty" Mrs. Henly
ranked her. But" and she connected
her with the room as she glanced
around Lady Ormond's creation e
trifle cold"
Miss Carew replaced the picture
The proud beauty, her cape OF velvet
and sable falling from one bare shoul
der, seemed to reign over the room
Miss Carew no longer felt the warmth
of its greeting. It had assumed q
personality in which she had no part
The personages had come to people
tit suffocated her. and she walked
mechanically over to the window and
aspect of bare trees, the whirl OF
withered leaves along the garden
paths. and the few last roses, more
wintry and melancholy in their desola
tion than the specteY leaves that
had already passed through death.
She said hesitatingly: "sinee Mr.
Tempest has telegraphed, l suppose
It will DO best for me to wait q lit
to-"
But Mrs. Healy interrupted her
Wait! Why, Mr.. Basil wouldn't
hear Of you not waiting, miss! He'd
think had not made you comfortable
Whist can get you" She fingered.
Perhaps Miss Carew understood
something of the woman's interest in
herself-her natural curiosity perhap.
Lady Ormond Id her frame, the bold
ness Of her sway at Craven, made the
American say, lifting to the placid
English face her clear dark eyes:
I'm here for the first time in Eng
land. l came from my country ex
pressly to write study of Mr. Temp
est for America"
The old housekeeper smiled. "A
study of Mr.. Basil," she echoed
Why, my dear, had him at ter
years old for my own. as might say
and couldn't study him! It's like
learnin' new language every day
He's never the same"
TITS his charm"
"Oh, daresay!" Mrs. Henly was
doubtful, there being moods she had
right to remember as not possessing
that characteristic. But he'll, moi
tell you anything, miss. He won't be
written. I've seen them who woulf