The Press., 1910-12-21
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 EpIlr aims ! Luck
 A Cat and a Girl Both Win !, By EVELYN WINTHROP , Copyright, 1910. by American Press [
Copyright. 1910, by American Press
 Association.

which dangled the ifeless remains of a promising young broiler.
 Another one?' queried her sister disconsolately. 'That makes-let me see-seventy-two chickens killed in the last six weeks. At a dollar q pair those broilers would have fetched $3G"
 Ut is an outrage" sputtered Amy, f1inging the defunct chicken far from her sight. "Ihat cat must be killed at once"
 "Did you send Mrs. Beemer bill for the chickens?' asked Louise, intent on her needlework.
 Amy nodded. ''Sent it Monday"
 'Heard from her today?
 "Ye-es."
 "Did she say she was a soldiers widow and that the gray cat was her only solace?" Louise smiled mischiev- ously.
 Word for word. Laugh, if you must, young woman," went on Amy gloomily, but remember, please, that I am not a talented female artist who can earn the price of gown with a few daubs of paint. am mere, commonplace plodder, and 1 haven't a talent in the world save for poultry raising, and now I begin to doubt my ability to succeed at that"
 ''I'll see Mrs. Beemer myself" an nounced Louise, arising and folding her work with an air of decision. "She must either pay you $36 and promise immunity from further annoyance from the cat or she must kill the beast"
 "She won't do either," mourned Amy from the piazza as Louise passed out of the gate and crossed the street to the abode of the Widow Beemer.
 Louise Wallace found the Widow Beemer seated on the back stoop in the act of placing a saucer of milk before the huge gray cat, Ephraim.
 "Evening, Louey," remarked the widow amiably. Its some warmer today''
 "It is," agreed Louise coldly. Mrs. Beemer, that cat has got to go."
 "You mean Ephraim?" quavered the 1 widow.
 "Of course.''
 "I'm a soldiers widow began Ann Beemer in the melancholy tone she reserved for that oft repeated statement, but Louise lifted slim finger warningly
 "And Ephraim Is your only solace," " added the girl dryly. "We know all ! that, Mrs. Beemer, and we are very sorry. but you must see that we can't continue to lose chickens at this rate. It's preposterous. Ephrlim seems to kill just for the mere pleasure of the deed. He's a cold blooded old mur1 derer.'
 The pale gray Ephraim turned a light yellow eye in her direction, and faint sheer lifted his black lip. Then his red velvet tongue darted in and out of the milk, and his eyes were hidden.
 Ann Beemer sighed. "Very well, . l she sniffed tearfully. "I'll have to give him up, I guess. He's the only comfort I've got now. But you can just take him away and kill him, Louey. I'll kiss him goodby if you | don't mind.''
 "If you will put the cat in bag, Mrs. Beemer, I'll find somebody to dis pose of him." interposed Louise i'm patiently.
 With hard little glitter in her black eyes, Ann Beemer brought covered basket and thrust the scratching, spit ting Ephraim within. She tied the cover securely and gave the basket into Louise's hands. Then she threw her checked apron over her head and rocked mournfully to and fro.
 Louise paused at the gate and, look ing backward, felt pang of pity for the old woman. Then she thought of the mournful Amy across the street and Epbraims bad reputation in the community as chicken slayer and passed through the gate.
 "I'll run around to Latimer's and sec if one of the boys won't chloroform the cat. Amy will be relieved, indeed when I return and tell her that Eph raim has gone to join his forefathers,' 2
 It was no light task to carry the shaking basket within which the big gray cat fought tigerishly for escape Her hands were quite sore when she reached the Latimer place and found herself in the midst of a curious grouI of boys and girls at the back door Mrs. Latimer came out and joined them.
 "I want somebody to chloroform c cat" said Louise. "It's Ephraim, you know; he's been killing off our broil CTS. I thought one of the boys might I'll give dollar"
 Mrs. Latimer shook her head. "l don't want any of my folks to kill 2 cat, Miss Wallace; it's awful bad luck you know. Perhaps Peter Swanson'i folks will do it for you. Swedes don't believe in luck and such things
 "Very well,'' said Louise wearily twill you let Billy carry the basket for me? Ephraim's very heavy
 q guess there won't be any harm in that-and he was wishing this morn. ing that he could earn a quarter" in. sinuated Billy's shrewd mother.
 "I'll sle that he gets quarter foH the job,' smiled Louise. And then fol. lowed by the curious Billy and trailed by the remaining Latimers, they sought Peter Swanson, the blacksmith.
 T couldn't kill no cat, miss," said Il Peter apologetically, when Louise had told her story. ''They tell me 1t brings bad luck. Yust now I can't afford no bad times. Maybe the Eyetalians in l the Holler might''
 Louise sought the Italian settlement n the Hollow. Pietro Roncaglia aycrred that Ephraim possessed the evil eye and crossed his brown fingers shudderfngly. Even the rattling crisp ness of greenbacks failed to break his | resolution.
 Old Abraham Johnson's black face expressed mingled greed and alarm when approached by Louise and her funereal train. He gazed longingly at the money and then elutched the voo-