The Owosso times. (Owosso, Mich.) 1897-1926, 1912-08-30

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and oddly pleased.
II would like to-" she retorted.
"Then l would like very much to
have you go to the theater with me,
tonight"
"As you like" she conceded, her
heavy lashes sweeping her cheeks.
The first step was made. For the
next two weeks they saw each other
frequently. Twice Stanton brought
one of the Mercury cars and took Jes
sica for sedate afternoon drives. Sew
eral rainy days she gave him sweet
chocolate and sat opposite him before
the bright little hearth, listening or
talking with the equable sunniness so
like Floyd's. Indeed, Stanton soon
came to feel with her the sense OF
companionship and certainty of being
understood that he felt with her broth
er. But he never was rough to Jes-
sica.
During that interval he did not
meet Floyd. Jes was busy thirty miles
up the Hudson valley, at the Mercury
factory, Jessica said, and as Stanton
of course knew from his mechanician's
own statement. Only 1t impressed him
as rather strange that Floyd could not
get away even once or twice to see
his sister.
Meanwhile the Cup race was ap-
preaching. On the last evening before
Stanton went out to the Long Island
course, he called on Jessica.
1T is possible to come into New
York, of course" he said to her. "But
I shall stay out there until after the
race. After that, after Floyd and I
come back, shall / see as much of
you? Or won't you want me around
when you have him?"
Startled, she met his eyes, then
turned away hurriedly to the piano.
"Jes and l do not tire of our
friends" she rebuked. "But beyond
that, how can any one tell what will
happen? We can just live our best
every day and wait to see further.
Sometimes things get twisted wrong"
what is the matter? What is twist
ed wrong, Miss Floyd?"
She shook her head, smiling across
her shoulders at him.
"Nothing-nothing but me. Only I
feel disgustingly gloomy tonight; as If
Jes and l We're very far apart Never
mind, wish you all good luck and
victory for the race"
What was that song you were sing
ing on the first day l came here?" he
asked irrelevantly.
She hesitated, then struck few
chords upon the piano. "That?"
Eyes. Will you sing it to me,
now?"
With her charming trick of prompt
obedience, she at once seated herself
at the instrument.
1t was no ornate classic, no love-
song that the velvet-and-gold central
to voice braided into Stanton's men,
DRY, to be In the near future torture
more acute than physical pain and per-
sonal grief.
loft, in the Silly night
Ere slumber's chain hath bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
OF other days around me-"
That was the quaint stiff melody of
fifty years before, that Jessica Floyd
sung to Stanton before they parted.
On reaching home an hour later,
Stanton found a letter awaiting him
from the assistant manager, Green. 1t
was dated from Long Island, and re-
minded him that the course would be
open for the last-day's practice next
morning during the early hours.
"The car is at last ready, and IL
you see Jes Floyd, tell him that we
can not get along without him any
longer" ran the concluding sentence.
Stanton put down the letter, frown-
ing at 1t in irritated establishment.
Had not Floyd gone to prepare for the
race, with Green and by his direct Or
der? How then could he, Stanton,
know anything about his mechanician
and why did not Green know every
thing? Possibly Floyd had been kept
at the Mercury factory; but in that
case Green would surely have sent
there for him, instead of trusting to
the faint chance Of Stanton's encoun-
tering him. OF course Floyd must be
ready to go out for the delayed prac-
tice work next morning-Stanton rose
impatiently; of course he would be
ready.
A thought like a needleprick halted
him when halfway across the room, a
wild fancy. Could 1t be conceived
credible that Valerie Carlisle did wish
to prevent the Mercury car from rae
ing, and, failing to reach the driver,
might attempt to keep away the mech
anician she knew to be SO valuable?
He recalled his own strange illness on
the eve of the Massachusetts, race.
On an impulse beyond restrain, he
turned to his telephone; there would
be some one to tell him of Floyd at
the factory, for It was working night
and day to fill its orders.
"Yes, 1877 Frenchwood." the thin
voice finally came along the wire.
Eyes, Mercury. Mr.. Stanton? Wait"
H. L. IL q