Baraboo weekly news. [volume] (Baraboo, Wis.) 1912-197?, 1912-10-03
No Fortune drew back. 1T is

Law - %. but you speak OF go
ing out into the world to earn your
own bread and butter. What do you
know about the world? What could
you do! You have never done any
thing but read romantic novels and
moon about in the flower garden. Fool
ISL chit! Harm Mr.. Jones? Why?
For what purpose? | have no more
interest in him than If he were one
OF those mummies over in the muse
UNI. And certainly meant to repay
him. should have done so if you
hadn't taken the task upon your own
broad shoulders. I am in a hurry.
| am going out to Mena House to tea.
I've let Celeste off for the day, so
please unlock my waist and do not
bother your head about Mr.. Jones'" She
curneu ner PACK upon ner uaugnUer,
quite confident that she had for the
time suppressed the incipient rebel
lion. She heard Fortune crossing the
room. What are you doing?" petu-
lantly.
IL am ringing for the hall-maid."
And Fortune resumed her chair,
picked up her Baedeker, and became
apparently absorbed over the map Of
Assuan.
Again wrath mounted to her moth
er's head. She could combat anger,
tears, protestations; but this indiffer-
ence, studied and unfilial, left her
weaponless; and she was too wise to
unbridle her tongue, much as she
longed to do so. She was beaten. Not
an agreeable sensation to one who
counted only her victories.
Fortune, later you will be sorry for
this spirit" she said, when she felt
the trem0r of wrath no longer in her
throat.
Fortune turned page, and jotted
down some notes with pencil. Sad
as she was at heart, tragic as she
knew the result of this outbreak to
be, she could hardly repress smile
at the thought of her mothers dis
com1ture.
And SO the chasm widened, and
went OF widening till the end of time.
Mrs. Chedsoye was glad that the
hallmaid knocked and came in just
then. 1t at least saved her the ig-
nominy Of a retreat. She dressed,
however, with the same deliberate
care that she had always used. Moth
ing ever deranged her sense Of pro-
portion relative to her toilet, nothing
ever made her forget it's Importance.
"Good-by DEAR" she said. 81 shall
be in at dinner" If the maid had
any suspicion that there had been a
quarrel, she should at least be i'm
pressed with the fact that she, Mrs.
Chedsoye, was not to blame for it.
Fortune nibbled the end of her pen
Gil
The door closed behind her mother
and the maid. She waited for a time.
Then she sprang to the window and
stood there. She saw her mother
driven off. She was dressed in pearl
grey, with Reynolds hat of grey
velour and sweeping plumes: as hand
some and distinguished a woman as
could be found that day in all Cairo.
The watcher threw her Baedeker, her
notebook, and her pencil violently
into a corner 1t had come to her at
last, this thing that she had been
striving for since noon. She did not
care what the risks were; the storm
was too high in her heart to listen
to the voice of caution. She would
do it; for she judged it the one thing,
in justice to her own blood, she must
accomplish. She straightway dressed
for the street; and If she did not give
the same care as her mother to the
vital function, she produced an effect
that merited comparison.
She loitered before the porter's bu-
reau till she saw him busily engaged
In answering questions of some wom-
en- tourists. Then, with a slight but
friendly nod, she stepped into the bu-
reau and stopped before the key-rack.
She hung up her key, but took it
down again, as IL she had changed
her mind. At least, this was the por-
in the midst Of the verbal lombard
ment. Fortune went upstairs. Ten
or fifteen minutes elapsed, when she
returned, hung up the key, and walked
briskly toward the side-entrance at
the very moment George, in his fruit
less search of her, pushed through
the revolving doors in front. And all
the time she was wondering how it
was that her knees did not given I'M
der. It was terrible. She balanced
between laughter and tears, hysteri-
cally.
She had gone scarcely hundred
yards when she was accosted by a
tall Arab whom she indistinctly recol-
lected having seen before; where, she
could not definitely imagine. 1t was
the ragged green turban that cleared
away her puzzlement. The Arab was
the supposed beggar over whom Perci-
val Chow easily she had fallen into the
habit of calling him thatD had STUN
bled. He stood so tall and straight
that she knew he wasn't going to beg;
so naturally she stopped. Without a
word, without even look that eX-
nrnSs4d aOvtbin0 ho c1innod mite