The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1911-02-14

the governors footsteps sounded
along the hallway did she venture
to return to Mrs. Dunmeade. The
youngest child, a little boy just
learning to walk, was rubbing his
eyes sleepily, and Eleanor, taking
him into her arms, crooned
slumber song to him, while Mrs.
Dunmeade sewed.
81 always make the little ones
clothes myself" Mrs. Dunmeade
explained.
Eleanor nodded understanding
ly. Il know. l would myself, if
| had babies of my own. And |
wouldn't leave them to a nurse"
She held the little sleeper closer.
81 understand now how you could
leave your beautiful home and all
your old friends to come here"
1T was a little hard at first"
Mrs. Dunmeade said softly, so as
not to disturb the baby's slumber,
but 1 soon got over that. We've
been here six years now and I'll
hate to leave it. I've had John
and the children, and our old
friends, the best of them at least,
visit us often. Occasionally, too,
we meet very interesting people.
By the way, we are to have one
such for dinner this evening"
"a personage?"
81 think we may call him that"
Mrs. Dunmeade smiled. lone of
your eity's politicians, Robert Nc
Adoo."
Eleanor almost dropped the
child in her establishment. Rob
ert McAdoo!"
You know him. then?" Mrs.
Dunmeade's question convicted
her of duplicity, since Paul REM
ington had written her, conffding
to her a little of his trouble.
The child stirred uneasily, and
Eleanor hummed a few bars of
the slumber song before she an
swered.
Yes. I've met him three times
in my life And he hates me-"
''He hates you? Why?"
Eleanor laughed shortly. He
thinks I'm in love with Paul
Remington and am trying to break
his-Mr. McAdoo's, l mean-iD-
fluence over MIN.
well, are you?"
which"
sin love?"
If the question had come from
any one else or at another time,
Eleanor would probably have
laughed it off. But she was in a
mood for condolences. She
shrugged her shoulders.
I'D like to be-"
"And the other?"
Eleanor nodded vindictively.
'I'd like that, too. He's so sure
of himself and so arrogant. He
stirs all the wickedness in me-
there's a lot of ito life. I'd
like to hurt him. Or, at least, I'd
like to prove that / could if
chose. Isn't that childish?'
Mrs. Dunmeade shook her head
gravely. MY dear, never tempt
a man you love to dishonorable
act, even though you hate an
Iother."
but I'm 1fot sure I love the
Lone-in fact, I'm almost sure 1
don't--and ! really dislike the
"Then why do it?"
"Sheer deviltry, / suppose. It's
all his fault" she added, almost
Ipetulantly. "If only he would be-
whave as a normal man and with
draw his gratuitous enmity, /
should be willing to leave him in
peace. l confess my vanity"
"Then by being normal you
mean succumbing to your charms
like other men? But, my dear,
Mr.. McAdoo isn't a normal man.
Which is proved by the fact that
he, an ex-mill-hand, receives so
much thought from woman who,
remember, as a girl judged all
men by the standards of gentil-
lity," Mrs. Dunmeade smiled into
her sewing.
Eleanor WINGED. 1--WE been eff
fectually cured of my snobbery,"
she laughed contemptuously. mo
American who has ever lived
fabroad, and especially we nou-
veauX riches trying to break into
society, can comfortably hold to
his reverence for breeding and
pedigree.
still, Robert McAdoo leaves
much to be DESIRED" Mrs. Dun
meade demurred.
Continued Tomorrow