The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1911-09-28

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 -Br1ng him along by all means. He would be a welcome addition to our goodly company. I've mentioned the matter to him myself, but he refused. owing to an unfortunate nnisapprehen. sion of my motives. Perhaps he might be persuaded to reconsider his refusal"
 Paul shook his head. You don't know McAdoo."
 as Eleanor had predicted. For few minutes Paul dutifully tried to fix his attention on the discourse, but he soon gave over the effort and fell to watch ing her. He noticed her looking queer ly toward a retired corner in one of the galleries. He followed the line of her gaze and gasped in astonishment.
 "Ye gods, Kathleen has brought Bob to churchp'
 "Is Miss Film with him?" she whis- pered. awhich one7"
 ITO the right. I'll let you into a secret. Kathleen is in love with Bob"
 s.Indeed!' she said indinerently.
 But several times during the service she caught her gaze stray1ng from the pulpit to the man in the gallery and the sweet faced woman beside him.
 As he was leaving her Eleanor said:
 .wil1 you take me to call on Miss FlinnY
 'GladlyI I'm sure you and she will become good friends"
 For the next few days Paul saw Eleanor. daily. She was very kind to him, and he was therefore lifted into the seventh heaven He took Eleanor to can on Kathleen early in the week. His prophecy that they would become good friends was not fulfilled, at least immediately. Kathleen, with self consciousness foreign to her. saw in Eleanor's honest efforts to please her only patronage, and Eleanor. chilled, was convinced that the older woman disliked her. Kathleen returned the . call a few days later, but at that time Eleanor had left the city to spend the week end with her cousin. Mrs. Dun- ] meade.
 Twenty-four hours in the governors mansion made Eleanor regret her visit. The beautiful sympathy and simplicity of the Dunmeade household. by their very contrast recalling her own unhap- py marriage. made her life seem unut- terably empty. The afternoon of her sec ond day at the capitol she had gone to Mrs. Dunmeade's sitting room and had surprfsed the governor there romping with the children while his wife looked smilingly on.
 Eleanor, tnnoticed and feeling her presence in the pretty little group a proclamation, tiptoed back to her room, where she brooded disconsolately on her loneliness. Not until the gover- nor's footsteps sounded along the hall- way did she venture to return to Mrs. Dunmeade. The youngest child, lit- tie boy just learning to walk, was rub bing his eyes sleepily, and Eleanor. taking him into her arms. crooned a slumber song to him while Mrs. Dun- meade sewed-
 q always make the little ones' clothes myself" Mrs Dunmeade ex- plained.
 Eleanor nodded understandingly. 'T know. would myself if I had babies of my own, and I wouldn't leave them to nurse" She held the little sleep CT closer. q understand now how you could leave your beautiful homo and all your old friends to come here"
 'Tt was little hard at first" Mrs. Dunmeade said softly, so as not to disturb the baby's slumber. but - ---- ---5---- -~-- -.=s-s---a-->- A~-> sfx 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. one of your city's politicians. Robt1s Nc tdoo." Eleanor almost dropped the child in her as.. nishment .'Robeft McAdoor' You know him. thenT Mrs. Dun- neade's question convicted her of du- plicity. since Paul Bennington had
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