The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1914-06-11

Ito assume that be at in this seat, be-
ling an old man unused to difficult
|stairwayA He"
"Buy it, Orson,'' said his wife, with
authority. "Well take q chance on
Iit. If it ism the right thing, we can
sell it to the seeond-ha dealers.
What's the pricei"
GA thousand dollars to you, madam, "
said I.
They were at once suspicious. While
they were busiiy engaged in looking
the seat over as the porters shifted it
about at all angles, stepped over and
iordered my workmen to resume their
operations. was beginning to get
sour and angry again, having missed
lmy coffee. From the culinary regions
there ascended a most horrific odor
of fried onions. If there is one thing
1 really resent it is fried onion.
1 do not know why I should have felt
the way l did about it ON this occa-
sion, but ! am mean enough now to
confess hat hailed the triumphal en-
| try of that pernicious odor with mean
ness of spirit that leaves nothing to be
Explained.
"Good eracious!" gasped the aris-
tvcratic Mrs. Riley-Wer,>heimer, hold
! ing her nose. "Do you smell thatf'
"Onions! My Gawd!" entitled
Maude. GLOW I hate 'em!"
Mr.. Rocksworth forgot his dignity.
"Hate 'em'" he cried, his eyes roll
iEg. 81 Just love 'eml"
"Orson!' said his wife, transfiying
him with glare. "What will people
think of yous"
II like 'em too,o admitted Mr.
Riley Werkheimer, perceiving at once
whom she meant by "people. (" He
puffed out his chest.
AT that instant the carpenters,
plumbers and stone masons resumed
their internal racket, while scrub
women, polishers and painters began to
move intimately among us.
"Here!" roared Mr.. Roeksworth
stop this beastly noise! What the
deuce do you mean, sir, permitting these
scoundrels to raise the dead like this
lConfound 'em, stopped them once
Here! You! Let up on that, will youY'
moved forward apologetically. 81
am afraid it is not onions you smell
ladies and gentlemen. had taker
my cue with surprising quickness
"They are raising the dead. The place
is fairly alive with dead rats and"
"Good Lord!" gasped RileyWerk
iheimer Gwen get the bubonic plague
HERE
"Oh, I know onions" said Rocks
worth calmly. "Can't fool me oI
onions. They are onions, amt they
lCarrie9'
"They arel" said she. "Wbat ,
pity to have this wonderful old castl,
actually devastated by workmen! 1t il
an outrage crime. I should thinl
the owner would turn over in hi
grave"
Unhappily, am the owner, ;
madam" faid I, slyly working my foo
back into an elusive sliporr.
"You ousht to be ashamed Of your
self" che said, eyeing me coldly will
a hitherto unexposed lorgnon.
"I am," said I. "You quite tool
me by surprise. should have mad
myself more presentable if l hat
KNOWN"
| "Well, let IS move on upstairs" sal
Rocksworth. Addressing the porters, h
said: "You fellows get this lot 0
lstuff together and IT take an optiol
on it. I'll be over tomorrow to clos
the deal, MIMI Now, where is tn
old Florentine mirror tho Count wa
t>hing us about"
"The Count" said I, frowning.
| eyes, the real owner. You can
stuff me with your talk about bein
the proprietor here, my friend. Yo
isee, we happen to know the Count"
They all condescended to laugh a
|, me. / don't know what / should hav
Isaid or done if BrittoL had not re
turned with box Of matches at tina
, instant-sulphur matches which adde
subtly to the growing illusion.
Almost simultaneously there appeare
in the lower hall a lanky youth of eigf
{ teen. He was a loud voiced, imperiou