The Newport plain talk. (Newport, Tenn.) 1909-1939, 1914-02-26
weeks and finally landed her in a

lomatically. Once, once long ago,
he had not stayed his hand, and the
memory Of the resultant episode
fingered yet. Little Compton had
risen swiftly and deftly and prompt
ly foored him. And even the model
had laughed. 1t was not pleasant
memory. Therefore LIE Breton
stayed his hand and drank of the
ice water.
The next day LIE Breton vanish
ed from the atelier at quarter of
3 precisely, but his intentions were
public.
The windows of Pasquale's were
occupied by an absorbed audience
long before the whir of the white
auto sounded on the still hush Of
the midafternoon. By leaning from
the windows one could catch
glimpse of figure standing on the
corner, a patient, noble figure I'M
der the quaint wrought iron street
lamp, the figure of the knight err
rant, in paint daubed velvet blouse,
cap rakishly, Economically wary and
in the hands the most beautiful,
enormous, languishing bouquet of
Parma yiolets that LIE Breton could
find. A beauty it was, regal Of
fering, with silken tasseled cord of
gold, and the stems, the tender
young stems, prisoned in tin foil
violet dyed.
Presently there was the sound Of
the chariot celestial, the cream
white automobile, with the tiny
gold monogram on one side, so
vague, so unreliable, SO divinely
mysterious to the faces that crowd
ed one above another at Pasquale's
windows, like cabbages in the mar
ket stalls.
"She comes, mon Dieu; she
comes" gasped Pasquale ecstatical-
ly. "Now, Jules, now brave boy,
may thy aim be sure as Eros DART"
The white auto purred softly,
swiftly down the pavement. LIE
Breton raised his cap, raised his
hand to toss his offering, and, 10,
he tossed not, for beside the slender
figure in the white suede cloak sat
Little Compton, severe, masterful
and totally oblivious of either LIE
Breton or the windows of Pasquale.
1t was the deadly blow, but lie
Breton showed his ancestry. A LIE
Breton had been in Bayard's band
of vagabond free lances and had
won a marquisate for deeds heroic.
So LIE Breton in the velvet blouse
stayed not his hand. Neither did
he remember the lesson of the spill
ed ice water. He threw the violets
fairly, and they fell in the lap OF
the widow in white. Out from Pas
quale's window went up a smother
ed cheer. The yelled head bowed,
oh, but SO slightly, in LIE Breton's
direction. Still it bowed. And
Little Compton raised his Ameri-
can panama in grave salute of hero
ism undaunted.
The next morning Pasquale was
prepared for the challenge. Pas.
quale himself announced he would
present the challenge the instant
after Compton from Delaware
showed fight. Even the model with
the spring boughs trembled when
the double glass doors opened and
Little Compton entered. He was
whistling. Ye gods, the airy ar
rogance of the assured American!
unused Pasquale's crowd and waited
for the blow.
1t fell.
Straight over to LIE Breton's
easel walked Compton from Della
ware. His hand and gait were reso-
lutte, his eye steady. There was
even a smile on his lips. As he
stood pace away LIE Breton sprang
to his feet, and Pasquale's held its
breath for the onslaught of the love
champions.
But Little Compton smiled. More,
he slapped LIE Breton upon the
shoulder in the manner Of Harvard.
'Old man, you're all to the
merry" he said. 81 didn't think
you had the grit. I have the hon.
or to be the bearer of a message
from Mrs. Henry B. Germaine, my
dearly loved sister. She requests
your presence at afternoon tea to-
day." He paused to light ciga-
rette while LIE Breton nursed his
mental agony. Then finally he
handed over the medicine for spring
fever in these cheering words:
"The violets are on her boudoir
table, Jules, and she's been widow
four years."