The weekly times-record. (Valley City, N.D.) 1912-1922, 1913-08-14
CONTINUED from Last Issue.)

] made q wrong turn on leaving the
Prescott Arms, and came out pres
emily near Katonah village. l got my
bearings of a shopkeeper and started
again for Hopefeld Manor, but the
midafternoon was warm. and the hills
were steep, and as Miss HOLSTERS ad.
mirable cob showed signs Of WEAKNESS,
l drove into a fence corner and loosen.
ed the mares check. On sunny slope
several hundred yards above the high
way lay an orchard. advertised to the
larcenous eye by the ruddiest Of red
apples. Not in many years had ! rob
bed an orchard. and l felt irresistibly
drawn toward the gnarled trees, which
were still. in their old age. abundantly
fruitful.
drew down bough and pluckel
my first apple. tasted and found Il
good. At my palate's 6rst responsive
Utilization something whi1zed past my
ear, and, following the flight of the
missile, saw an apple Of goodly size
fall and roll away into the grass.
had imagined myself utterly alone,
and even now as looked guiltily
around no one was in sight The ap-
pie had passed my ear swiftly and at
IN angle quite un-Newtonian. 1t had
been fairly aimed at my head, and the
law Of gravitation did not account for
it. As continued my scrutiny Of the
landscape l was addressed by a voice
whose accents were not objurgatory.
Rather, the tone was good natured
and indulgent II not indeed a trife
patronizing. The words were these:
Soup Of the evening. beautiful soup!
1t was then that. lifting my eyes,
beheld. sitting lengthwise Of the wall.
with her feet drawn comfortably un-
der her, girl in white sweater.
baEeheaded. munching an apple. There
was no question Of identity. 1t was
the girl whose head behind the cash
ier's grill Of the Asolando had inter-
ested me on the occasion Of my sec.
ond visit to the tea room. In soliciting
my attention by recitin0 a line Of
verse she had merely followed the
rule Of the tea room in like circum-
stances. The casting Of the apple at
my head possessed the virtue Of nov
city. While tried to think Of some.
thing to say l pecked at my own up
pie, but kept an eye on her. She con-
cluded her repast calmly and flung
away the core.
II mentioned SOUP" she remarked.
'"The courses are mixed. We have
partaken Of fruit. Are you fish, flesh.
fowl or good red herring?'
Daughter of Eve. will be any
thing you like. I'm obliged for the ap-
pie, and l apologize for having enter
ed Eden unlimited"
Its not my Eden. Nobody invited
me. But it's not too much to say that
these apples are grand"
I'm glad we're both in the same
boat I'm trespasser myself. don't
even know the name Of the owner.
But If you have had only one apple
two more are coming to you If you fol-
low Atalanta's precedent"
II don't follow presidents, and I've
forgotten the name Of the boy who
threw the apples in the race. It
doesn't matter, though. Nothing mat
ters very much"
Her hands clasped her knees. Her
skirt was short, and was conscious
that she wore tan shoes. She con-
tinued to regard me with lazy curl
osity. She seemed younger than at
the Asolando. Not more than eight
cen times had apples Redeemed on the
bough in her lifetime. She was even
slenderer and more youthful in her
sweater than in the snowy vestments
Of the Asolando. Her hair, which in
the glow Of the lamp at Asolando cash
desk had been golden. was today bur-
nished copper and was brushed straight
back from her forehead and tied with
q black ribbon.