Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1913-07-20

HE certainly doesn't look bit like ones
idea of a farmer" she said. IF you hadn't
told me so-and of course, you know
should have said that he was a soldier. SIT
down and tell me about the farmer 1 like to
take an interest in everyone who happens to
live where I may be staying"
ooh, thank you, m, murmured the gratifed
woman, gladly subsiding into chair. :
Let us begin with his name" said Betty
smiling with immense condescension.
"Hashley, m" said Mrs. Weeks.
"Hashley? Quite an uncommon name, at
any rate"
mo, m, Begin your pardon Not Hashley
but Hashley"
"Oh, Ashley. I sect"
Mrs. Weeks smiled at her 1odger indulgently.
yes, that's it, m, Hashley. E were called
young Mr.. Hashey until is father were took
-leastways, e weren't took, as you may say.
Properly speakin' e went"
Betty Blundell looked politely puzzled. 81
don't think I QUITE
"'E shot ITSELF, m on the day as 'ow e got
letter with mournin' band from far-off
parts"
"Why?"
"Ah, no one knows, m, nor dared arst Mr..
John, who spoke not a word of any sort or
kind to living creature for two months an
four days"
"Oh, there is a mystery about that, is there?'
Not wot you may call a mystery, m, but a
natral anxiety. The departed did arrive at
the furrm twenty-five years ago with Mr. John
do d DdDy. ludI uOI Q6nlSQ, anu lOES IalK
there were at the time. that's true seein' as
'ow hold Mr.. Hashley bought out Mr.. jenkins,
whose family 'ad bin there getttn' ON fer two
undred year, an all, an g did call the infant
my SON; that I know for f1rstIand fact be-
cause Mrs Stoke, as done for EN- up at the
furrm from the first, is my haunt on my Alrs
side, as a-tOld me many time, not a soul
ever crossin' the threshold these 1vean'-
twenty year, an only letter once In a way
so as to make 1t the talk O. the village"
all NV
polishing, some female relations Of the father
pald visit at one time or anotheri"
Never suspicion of a LADY were known 30
enter that there 'ouse m. can vouoh," said
Mrs. Weeks firmly
And So" said Mrs. BlundeIl, "yonR MI
Ashley has never met "a person Hike myself
in all his life, take it,"
Like you, m" cried Mrs. Weeks, her voice
filled with genuine admiration, never! Poor
Teller, l don't RELY believe as O. whe dreams
as such creatures are-meanin' creatures In
its best sense. m that l do assure you-ahy-
ing RELY have said ladies in their own right
If you ask me, IN, l do think that the sight
OF you would fairly rumple young Mr.. Hashley
yes. even i'm, as looks so determined and
closed in, as I call it, an always in bearin'
reins, so to speak"
Mrs. Blundell laughed a ripple of effortless
laughter in which there was a note of excite
ment, and half turning her back to her land.
lady, commenced touching things on the BAN.
boo table, in the way civilized women have of
letting one know that they have had enough of
one. With that peculiar instinct which Is born
and not bred in women, Mrs. Weeks murmured
that her iron would be getting cold, and made
her way to the door.
Little Mrs. BundeH put her letters into the
pocket of an expensively-simple muslin frock
and crossed the sloping floor of her oak-bearn.
ed sitting-room into her bedroom. She emerged
from it, after quite little while with a smile
on her lips, and a very clever popuy-covered
hat set upon head of hair which rivaled the
rpest corn.
NO" she said aloud, standing on a chair to
get full-length glimpse of herself In the
square OF cheap looking glass over the narrow
mantel board-"no don't fancy il will be so
difficult to kill time here after all" ,
Continued Next Sunday
Copyright by Ess Ess Publishing Co, and
Breatano&