The Prince George's enquirer and southern Maryland advertiser. (Upper Marlborough, Md.) 1882-1925, 1914-04-10
CHAPTER X.

There was another than? the foreman
who was happier than ordinary words
would have expressed, now that jack
son Jones had stated, with what
seemed to be finality, that he intend
ed to continue at the business which
had made his fortune and had made
Jonesville. But Josie felt a strange
need for reserve in her young employ
er's presence, need which she had
not felt the night before and one which
she could not explain.
Her impulse was to rush into ex-
travagance of praise after he had sent
the foreman out into the works to tell
the men that he should not sell his
patrimony to the. trust, but for some
reason which she would have found it
difficult to explain fully she said not
word about it. Instead, she turned to
him with matter-of- fact expression and
the words of commonplace occasions
did you have a good nights rest?"
He felt like saying something full
of emphasis, whether in access of Joy
or sorrow he was not. certain, but he
knew that any words which he could
use to her would be inadequate to fur
nish him relief, and so hailed her COM
monplace question with a,thrill Of real
relief.
'My back is broken" he said with an
expressive grimace and a writhe.
"Who named that .hotel?''
"The Grand?"
He nodded with, another serio-comic
facial antic.
She laughed. "Ts it as bad as ,that?"
There are men in prison for doing
less than running hotel like that!"
Almost he made the revelation of their
startling midnight wanderings, but
caught himself in time.
why don't you open your uncle's
home?"
my uncle's homer he said, little
startled. -.
He had not thought of that. The
suggestion probably did more to drive
home definitely to his inner mind the
true significance of his decision to
take up the business than anything
which had previously occurred. His
uncle's home!
After his fathers death it had been
his home; it had been the only semb-
lance of a home which he remembered,
and his memories of it were harsh
enough, in some details almost repel-
lent. His uncle had been hard; he had
had but little understanding of boy na-
ture; the house had been a sort Of
prison from which he could escape at
intervals each day.
He had not even thought of opening
it; it never had occurred to him that
he could ever live another day of his
life there.
But, now she spoke OF it, why not? =?
The place was grim, old-fashioned, in
hospitable, forbbdding, as so many old
New England houses are, and as SO
many more New England houses were
ten. years ago; but that atmosphere
was more that Of it's occupant than
that of the old place itself. 1t must
have been a joyous and free-minded
Jones who chose the site for it, for it
was very beautiful; it must have been
an artist Jones who chose the plans
for it, for it's design was of that beau
tiful, pure old colonial which (barring
skyscrapers) is the only architectural
merit America has yet originated, and
than which nothing is more truly
beautiful; it must have been a social
Jones who added the great wing to It.,
for in that wing were bedrooms, sit
ting rooms, and great dining-room
quite plainly meant to welcome many
guests.
His memories Of the house were
gloomy and unattractive, for from it
both his father and his mother had
been taken to their final resting places,
and in it he had spent few joyous
hours. All the happiness of his youth
in Jonesville were associated with the
homes of others, public places, out-of-
doors; he had heard very little laugh
ter in the old homestead. But might it
not house happiness? He realized that
it would make an ideal setting for
pure joy. Still, it was in Jonesville!
That made him vince.
You don't think it will be necessary
for me to live in this town, do your"
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