Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1915-03-25
CHAPTER III-{Continued).

Ma,9 IS TOO young to know things, |
you're Off YOU base"
My SON., I'm sorry to hear YOU use
such an expression. Off my base?j
What do You mean, sir?'
shes onto things all right" an
nounced the boy eagerly. "She knows
a good deal more than you think she |
Goes; You ought to her some of the
words she uses"
Incredible" cried Mr.. Presbrey,
plainly distressed, n without knowing
what words she had used.
Horace studied the figures in the !
carpet for a moment. You may ask
put Martha had departed. Ring the
bell. please. my dear"
The bell was tangled once more and |
Martha came into the room, somewhat
out of breath.
hadn't got half way upstairs.
maam,' she announced rather sharply.
You ma bring Mary downstairs.
also. Martha ordered Mrs. Blagden.
fIiteen minutes passed before Eric
Gus, presented themselves In the Ii
brary. Eric, while dressing, had given
himself up to reckless speculation DIS
TO the cause of the On the
way downstairs he confided his conclu- |
sions to the mystified Mary. His eyes
glittered with the JOYOUS hope that
lurked in his soul.
TN bet they're going to send US off
10 boarding school," he whispered. She
gave an ecstatic gasp, and clutched at
his arm.
oh, Eric. do you really think SO? Oh,
IT can't be true,"
We'll. it's something" he argued ex-
citedly. 1T must be important, or they
wouldn't be getting us out of bed"
Mary was of ain heart. She pulled
a WY face. And Mary's dark, flower
IKE face was of an exquisite modelling
that could not be wrought into any
thing unpleasant to the eye, no matter
how hard she tried. Her very worst
faces" We're fascinating, You would
have loved every inch of her. believe
me.
Tisn't boarding school, she de-
clared. That could wait till break
fast time. It's something else. Mr..
Presbrey's still there"
Eric pondered. I'll bet it's about you
and me skipping Sunday school two
weeks ago-the day of the fire down
IN Front street.
Maybe someone's left US a fortune"
whispered she, just as he was about to
turn the knob of the library door. 'Oh,
my! What If someone has"
Eric's Gee" was a great potential
declaration OF resolve.
The Blagden library, like all other
rooms in the big house. was stiffly re-
spectacle. The rows of books, in the
oiiSIHcl &iolli DlIolllSS, covered lUS
wall space on fou sides of the room
from floor to ceiling. III glass door
of each section was locked, and Mr..
Blagden carried the key in his trousers
pocket. The only portion of the vol
umes accessible to the reader was the
title stamped on the back. Dust was
not the only thing hat was denied ac-
cess to the shelves. Most OF the vol
umes were first editions and uncut. and
they possessed q value that was not to
be disturbed by the ordinary mind.
Sometimes Mr.. Blagden himself looked
into them, but to no else was this
privilege extended. There was no book
there, you may be sure. that the most
innocent boy OF girl could not have
read without contamination. They We're
q particularly clean lot Of items to
use the professional term.
Once, by mistake, an English edition.
in u volumes. of the Memoirs of Casa
nova Joined the solemn and sedate
company, quite without discussion, for
the simple reason hat the master of
the house had taken the books In part
payment OF a debt incurred by a real
literary chap, who had been in college
with him. The erotic Casanova re-
NAMED there for many months, ouch
ing hides with a carefully bound set of
Ruskin, before someone who knew
came along to enlighten Mr. Blagden
as to their salaciousness. The owner,
hSldSl, "ouiu nave CdSL IlS OllGlCIDb
volumes into the fire had not MS
friend advised him that a good set of
Casanova would bring something like
800 IL the right party came along.
SO Mr.. Blagden kept them a year long
er. waiting for the right party to come
along. He sold them at last to he
cashier in his bank, and ever afterward
looked upon that gentleman as a per-
son Of perverted taste and not to be
wholly trusted.
But ] am diverging. The two Mid
thornes, O n entering the room, paused
irresolute just inside the door, gazing
IN no little diSrnay pom the four stern
visRged persons ranged about the long
library table. Chetwynd had partially
effaced himself by sitting upon the
small Of his back In the great arm
chair in the corner.
Close the door, Eric" aid his uncle.
Now, come here. You, too, Mary" The
children approached t~imorously. Let
me see your lip. You turnbled off the
fence?"
Eric fell into the trap. Yes sir" he
replied.
four pairs of condemning eyes trans
fixed the boy.
Eric. it is wrong to tell fibs,' said
his aunt, in hurt tones.
The boy saw his mistake. He felt a
hot, furious wave Of humiliation shoot
ny Ills lIiIOdt liu up " Ills DIdlIl.
1T isn't q fib," he cried stoutly. 81
did fall off the fence last week"
You were attempting to deceive us"
declared his uncle. fastening his cold
grey eyes upon the boys ace. "It is
quite as a as lying. Why could you
not have told the truth, and said that
Chetwynd struck you?"
Because I'd sooner lie than tell
tales" declared Eric boldly. My moth
er used to punish me If 1 came in cry
ing and told her some boy nae hit me
and father always said I ought to be a
man and fight back instead of -"
THAT will dc. that will do" inter
rupted Mr.. Blagden in some haste. Mr..
Presbrey coughed, with a delicate re-
gard for the feeling sof his unfortunate
friends.
Poor boy, poor boy" he sighed. LAS
the twig is bent!"
"Er-ahem, Your aunt and 1 nave
come to the conclusion, children, that
ii is high time you were brought to a
realization of what is before you. II
is not a pleasant task, my lad-not a
pleasant task"
Far from it, said Mr.. Presbrey.
"Sit here on the sofa. both of you
That's right. Now. please do not in
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