The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1910-03-12
WHEN \ AIM RICH
 by Roy Mason. Copyright, G. w Dillingham; Company, 19O9)
(Continued.1 CHAPTER XXXIII.
Memories.

Chester lit a joss stick and stuck it in the bowl before the altar.
 'I owe that much at least to him end his gong," he murmured.
 ''She say all lite,' announced the priest.
 The Dream Lady was gazing at him steadily. Chester squarely met her glance, and the little woman of an alien race turned away again. She gave a little sigh of relief as if she were satisfied. There is a language which needs no grammar. She checked him with a motion as he started to follow her, and let her de- part alone. The priest was burning a prayer at the altar.
 'He seems to realize it too," meet those two long Chinamen again in a hurry
 Half an hour later Chester again pushed up the scuttle opening from the pitch black hall. The Dream Lady was there. She motioned him to follow her into the pagoda. A bench of warped gray boards occu- pied one side. Through the half open door into the higher building behind, Chester caught a glimpse of a vague vista of si1ken red and vel low banners. ornaments of shell and glass, and perceived an odor as if of sandal wood. A billet of wood lay at one end of the plank bench. Ches- ter smiled as he surveyed his quart CTS.
 What's that I was saying a few days ago about becoming a sybarite ?''
 The Dream Lady was standing ir, the doorway at the back. She made g. little friendly gesture, and disap- peared within her apartments.
 During the ensuing week Chester became known at an adjacent pawn shop. He was at the end of his re- sources. He had applied everywhere for position, even returning to the newspapers. After he was forced to exchange his clothes for much worn suit he had neglected the Wall Street district. He felt as if hG~were up against a great blank wall, and strive as he would he could not get out. Each day he went to the Stock ton for mail, but no longer visited the park. He spent his nights on the hard plank bench, striving to soften his wooden pillow by the in- deposition Of his folded coat, and awoke in the mornings with sore and stiffened muscles. By means of 9 Chinese Laundry where the prices ranged in pennies he managed to maintain his se1f-respeet so far as cleanliness was concerned. The Dream Lady had supplied him with an ever of water, and he performed his ablutions over the rusty iron run way, in the midst of his grotesque from poor and scanty food, and life real.
 The nights were hot, ands at first Chester had the roof to himself ex- cept during the daytime. But one stifling evening, in the latter part of the week, the Dream Lady came out after her return from the theatre. Chester arose to meet her with diff cuIty. She peered at him for a mo- ment through the half darkness Of
  her hand on his sleeve.
 'tIt feels,'' he said wearily, ''lilze the touch of a water lily.''
 The Dream Lady pointed to her mouth, and then made a gesture striking1y suggestive of his own on the occasion of their first meeting.
 Chester made a sign of assent.
 ''Yes, Water Lily,'' he said, q am famished.''
 The Chinese food that she set be- fore him tasted much better than a t sat near him as he consumed it, and crooned an interminable song of many modulations.
 The scuttle grated slightly on it's tin-clad hatchway. Chester sprang on top of it. There was the sound of retreating feet shuffling along the hallway.
 Next morning Chester spent his re- maining change on a stout paddock and some heavy staples. They ar raigned in sign language that three rapid knocks should be the signal for his admission.
 While Chester was meeting his Waterloo down in the offices of Gold l smith & EIkins, Edith was inspecting herself critically in the looking glass in order to discover wherein she so differed from other girls that she had been singled out from all the rest. She looked straight in the eye in the and found that it gave her @ queer sensation. She was trying to discover the real state of her feelings. l Hitherto the glass had been a means of inspecting her hats and her hair, her furbelows and f1ounces, but not her emotions. How often does it oc-