Evening star., 1912-11-17

man who does not actually mean it and is
really full of sympathy. But, while Jimmy
Sylvester looked at her gratefully and flut-
| teringly, and she looked back at him, liking
his admiration, he remembered that he had
not yet told her his name. He had sudden
distaste for the task of saying that he was
Jimmy Sylvester, and an equally sudden in
tuition that if he did not soon tell her who he
was she would ask him. He wanted a little
more time Why he did not know. Sooner
or later he would have to give himself a
name, unless he could remember who he
really was. He had already called himself
Jimmy Sylvester to DR.. Bonnard and to the
nurse; but that was different: they were
only foreigners. If he gave name to his
own countrywoman, he would be irrevocably
committing himself. He began to talk quick
". He had already OWNED that Mrs. Bel
don was rather a chatterbox and he felt
that if he could only get her to talk he could
stave off explanations little longer.
THE nurse tells me that you have been so
: good as to inquire after me, Mrs Bel
don, and even to come IN and see me, he SAID.
at was kind of you to take the trouble.
ooh, troub'e!" she cried. "I was so very
sorry for you! Besides, it was partly selfish
ness. My poor friend was SO very dolefuly
i'll that it was relief for me to see some other
kind of illness. At least you did not have
| melanchola. Whatever you said was-l can
hardly say cheerful but at least full of action"
"My nurse says used strong language
"A little, l am afraid; and you muttered
about shipwrecks and pearls"
Il must have been reading Robert Louis
Stevenson. Did say anything else?'
| Mrs. Be'don dropped her eyes Nothing
| of importance, she said.
| He looked at her sharply. Instinctively
he felt that she was not telling the truth:
| that he had sad something. Perhaps this
woman knew more about him than he knew
| himself But, whatever she may have over
| heard, he felt instinctively that she would
not repeat it to him. He was uncomfor-
| table and more disinclined than ever to call
| himself Jimmy Sylvester.
Nevertheless, he said, "you were very
good to stranger.
Not stranger, she said sweetly, "when
| you are my cOuntryman.
"Wont it be good to go back?' he said.
"Are you returning soon, Mrs. Beldon?'
| Her pretty dimples came into play, and
he relaxed in his chair. He knew that she
had embarked on little rush of talk.
"Oh, yes she cried, "as soon as | can
pack my companion back to her home in
England, and that will be in few days. l
can scarcely wait to get across to my dar
| ling little devil-child.
"Your WHAT" he demanded.
Have | shocked youo Are you surprised
that | could have a child, or that having
| her, could leave her, or that could call her
devi-childo But you don't know my Frances
Helen"
| Explain her" he begged.
| "She is five years old, and as [ think of
her, said Mrs. Beldon remorsefuly, Il Won
der how | could ever have left her. But,
though she looks like a Sunday school pic
ture with big, blue, saints eyes, and soft,
cloudy, blond hair, she is nevertheless a
devil-child The worst of her is that her
wickedness is 50 elusive She never screams.
or stamps or tears her clothes or breaks the
furniture; but she simply fastens on you
like vampire and sucks your life away. |
have to part from her at least least once a
year, to get myself back to sanity. We adore
each other, .and she's all | have; but al
ready | am pitying my son in law
"On whom is Frances Helen vampiring
now" he asked.
Il have an aunt, dear soul who looks
like fashion plate; but she has a feather
pillow kind OF temperament. Frances Helen
can sink right into Aunt Clara without max
ing a dent But Aunt Clara has evidently
found the most wonderful governess in the
world. Her name is Angela Give. Doesn't
that sound like poem"