Charlevoix county herald. (East Jordan, Mich.) 189?-1953, 1912-09-28
CHAPTER XIII.
THROUGH n Tunnel.

travelled much abroad and learned In
England the habit OF smoking In the
corridors OF expensive hotels, had &C
quired also the habit, as travellers do.
OF calling England freer than Amer
lea. She determined to do her share
toward the education Of her native
country. and chose, for her topic, to-
bacco as a feminine accomplishment.
She had grown Indifferent to stares
and audible comment and she could
fight protesting head waiter to
are ever erected to the first woman
who smoked publicly In this place or
that. Mrs. Jimmie Wellington will be
variously remembered and occupy a
large place In historical record.
The narrow confines OF the women's
room on the sleeping car soon palled
on her, and she objected to smoking
there except when she felt the added
luxury OF keeping some other woman
outside-fuming, but not smoking
And now Mrs. Jimmie had staked out
a claim on the observation platform.
She sat there, pulling like major
general, and In one portion OF Me-
braska two farmers fell off their agri-
cultural vehicles at the sight OF her
cigar-smoke trailing after the train.
In Wyoming three cowboys followed
her for a mile. yipping and bowling
their compliments.
Feeling the smoke mood coming on,
Mrs. Wellington invited Mrs. Temple
to smoke with her, but Mrs. Temple
felt reminiscent qualm at the very
thought. so Mrs. Jimmie sauntered
out alone, to the great surprise OF
Ira Lathrop, whose motto was, Two
heads are better than one" and who
Anne Gattle's head grew on his
shoulder.
Il trust l don't intrude," Mrs. Well
ington said.
"Oh, no. Oh. yes" Anne gasped in
fiery confusion as she fed into the
car. followed by the purple-faced Ira,
who slammed the door with a growl:
That Wellington woman would break
up anything"
The prim little missionary toppled
into the nearest chair: "Oh, Ira, what
will she Think"
"She can't think" Ira grumbled.
in little while she'll know"
Don't you think we'd better tell
everybody before they begin to talk?''
Ira glowed with pride at the
al h.
ardor of a senile Romeo: Il suppose
so, ducky darling. I'll break it-l
mean III tell 1t to the men, and you
tell the women"
"All right, dear, I'll obey you." she
answered, meekly.
"Obey mel" Ira laughed with boy
ish swagger. And you a mission
aryl"
We'll, I've converted one heather,
anyway" said Anne as she darted
down the corridor. followed by Ira,
who announced his intention to go
to the baggage car and dig up his old
Prince Albert"
In their flight forward they passed
the mysterious woman in the state
room. They were too full OF their
own mystery to give thought TO hers.
Mrs. Fosdick went timidly proving
toward the observation car, suspect.
ing everybody to be a spy. as Mallory
suspected everybody to be a clergy
man in disguise.
AS she stole along the corridor
past the mems clubroom she saw her
husband-her here-and-there husband
YEARLY counting the telegraph
posts and summing them up into
miles. She tapped on the glass and
signalled to him, then passed on.
He answered with look, then pre-.
tended not to have noticed, and wait.
ed a few moments before he rose with
an elaborate air OF carelessness. He
beckoned the porter and said:
Let me know the moment we en-
ter Utah, will your"
"Yassah. Well be comm along
right soon now. We got to pass
through the big Aspen tunnel, after
that, befo' long, We splounce into old
Utah"
Don't forget" said Fosdick. as he
sauntered out. Ashton perked up his
ears at the promise OF a tunnel and
kept his eye on his watch.
Fosdick entered the observation
room with hungry look in his
luscious eyes. His now-and-then wife
put up warning finger to indicate
Mrs. Whitcombs presence at the
writing desk.
Fosdick's smile froze into a smirR
of formality and he tried to chill his
tone as II he were speaking to a total
stranger.
Good afternoon"
Mrs. Fosdick answered with equa
ice: Good afternoon. Won't you SIT
DOWN."
Thanks. Very picturesque seen
cry, isn't it,"
isn't it?" Fosdick seated himself
looked about cautiously. noted that
Mrs. Whitcomb was apparently alb
sorbed in her letter, then lowered his
voice confidentially. His face kept VI
a strained pretense OF Indifference
but his whisper was passionate with
| longing:
| HAS nv moor little wiley missed