The Parker post., 1915-12-11
HER CHARM
BY CLARIsSA MAcKIE.

Observation-Disclosures:
The village streets rang with merri-
ment as crowds Of young people in
fantastic costumes wended their way
to the Hendryx home, large colonial
structure crOwning a wooded slope.
The guests were masked.
Dorry Hendryx, garbed as a Puritan
maiden, was without a mask, and she
gave gay greeting to her unknown
guests as they filed before her. Some
she recognized by voice or gesture.
Henry Tuttle she knew by familiar
ring on his little finger; otherwise she
would never have distinguished him
from Ned Allen, for they were both
of the same height and general appear
ance, and by a singular coincidence
both had chosen to assume the dress
of a century ago.
There was another stranger pres
ent, mender, whose identity no one
could guess.
Then came Ned Allen, holding his
head with the same confident air that
marked his bearing before papers had
been missed from the bank and Ned
Allen, the cashier, had been accused
of making way with them. The Tut
tles-Mr. Tuttle was president of the
bank and Henry was vice-president-
had exonerated Ned, but he had not
been reinstated, and the finger OF sus-
picion still pointed at him and the
tongue of gossip still babbled about
him.
Masquerade parties are much alike
and Dorry's was no exception to the
general rule. They played the same
old games and danced the old-fash'
ioned dances to the playing OF th1
Hecker family.
The old umbrella mender created a
diversion by stepping into the middle
of the floor and lifting his hand.
81 am a fortune teller, friends" he
cackled shrilly. "Who consults me
may receive charm against good or
evil fortune, and / will read the past
and the future for him.
At once he was surrounded by the
gay crowd and his fortune telling was
so wittily enlivened that the room
rang with laughter. Once he came
close to Henry Tuttle and whispered:
please point out to me young
man named Tuttle."
And Henry coolly nodded toward
Ned Allen, who stood near by. Five
minutes afterward Henry Tuttle had
disappeared from the rooms.
Dorry Hendryx had heard question
and answer, and Henry's duplicity had
startled her Who was the umbrella
mender and what did he want OF
Henry and why had Henry lied?
The umbrella mender was gradually
making his way toward the spot where
Ned Allen, brave in knee-breeches and
coat Of blue satin, was waiting his
turn to have his palm read by the
quasi-fortune teller, who was giving
tiny metal trinkets right and left.
A little silence fell upon the room
as the fortune teller bent low over
Ned Aliens hand. Perhaps curiosity
prompted some to wonder If the for
tune teller might not reveal the guilt
or innocence of Ned Allen.
"Young man." said the fortune tel
Ter briskly, 81 can see that you are
going to propose to some charming
girl before the clock strikes mid
night-you will live long and happily
-and-just favor me with your thumb
print, sir you know | am making a
collection of them-a hobby Of mine
even an umbrella mender may ride q
hobby Thank you, sir-ah!"
Amid subdued laughter the um
brella nender held strip of glass tC
the light, and turned and stared at
Ned Allen through the eyehole of his
mask, then hastily tore off his own
mask and revealed a nut-cracker face
convulsed with anger and surprise
Henry Tuttle,'' he commanded
sternly remove your mask"
Ned tore off the mask and faced the
room.
Med Allen!" A score of voices
breathed his name convincingly.
'Where is Henry Tuttle?" demand
ed the umbrella mender
ne Is IlOL mere, Salu MIS-. f10nuryX
with much displeasure. MAY I in
quire who you are, sir."
The little man whipped out a card
and gave it to her.
Mrs. Hendryx gasped "A-a de.
tective?".
yes" he said brusquely. 81 want
Henry Tuttle-for the theft of the |
Waybrook securities
Somewhere outside was the throb i
bing Of a motor engine.
"Then you better beat it," laughed |
a masculine voice. That's Hen Tut |
ties automobile and it's a racer, tool"
The detective disappeared and after
while excitement was subdued and |
the dancing went on. Suddenly Dorry
found herself standing in a curtained |
bow window with Ned Allen.
Look, Dorry,' said Ned quietly.
Dorry looked at the tiny object In |
his extended palm.