The Monte Vista journal., 1915-05-08

/ sullen rebellion there.
Il have fought against this trait In
you, Rita. have prayed for victory.
should not have blamed you so
harshly. My prayers shall yet win
victory for me- victory over the van
ity you inherited from your poor,
weak mother
THE same slippers-the same rib,
bon, Rita! You were Just a child
then, that day your mother brought a
doll dressed as a dancing girl. The
doll wore slippers just like these.
Just such a ribbon was bound about
her hair. And your mother gave them
to you, placed them in your innocent
I, hands. You were hugging the doll to
your baby breast when | entered the
room. The seed was being planted by
your foolish, dear mother should
not blame you so much as myself.
did not discover the horrible blunder
in time. l was a few minutes late.
Il took the doll away, took it to my
study, Rita. l consigned it to the
flames, and burned it to ashes.
Your poor mother died shortly after
that. 1t was a judgment upon her,
judgment of which I have meant to
tell you. Remember Rita, God frowns
upon adornment and pleasure. Re-
member and repent, my child, and
shall pray for you when l burn these
things"
Burn! Impulsively she reached out
as though to save the precious arti-
cles. Then she nodded her head
meekly, averting her eyes to hide the
CLINT that leaped there For. as her
father turned away from her, her
sharp ears caught familiar whistle,
the whistle that her sweetheart had
used more than once to bring her out
side the house
The door had barely closed behind
Reverend Deane than she was at
the open window, searching the moon
represented White.
Swiftly she detached the note from
the weight, devouring it at glance,
obedient to it instantly. Auto at cor
ner. It's the only way out"
Carefully, with smile upon her
lips, cruel little smile at thought Of
the hurt she was giving in return for
the one just received, five minutes
later, with her grip in hand contain
ing all the tawdry, cheap reminders
of the life she was leaving, she pinned
her sweetheart's note to the little
cushion on her dresser, then stole soft
ly down the stairs and out into the
night. Nor did she deign to give one
glance back at the prison house.
where, sir?" queried the driver
again.
| Reverend Blacks parsonage-op-
posite end of town, you know, on Car
son street"
White smiled happily to himself as.
lost in the pictures painted by the
flames in the library crate, he visual
lied the happy hours that had been his
since that night in the comfortable,
little parsonage when Rita Deane be-
came Mrs. James White.
A man worth while, young man
whose shoulders had not bowed be-
meath the weight Of handling great
wealth unloaded upon him immediate
ly he quit college, man submerged
in business, at the age OF thirty he
found the happiness which his ma
ture had craved when he soon wearied
of the laborious efforts at winning
;,, nj 10
had placed him.
He could not exactly analyze the
sensations of delight it had given him
to please her. And she was so easily
pleased.
And never an emergency but Mrs.
James White met it firmly and con-
trolled it. The Rita Deane OF Mary
James and shabby attire had assumed
leadership Of the youngest and gayest
set of the city.
Arm in arm they moved down the
long, winding gravel path to the ga
rage. Rita was prattlins over the ae'
tails of novel entertainment she pui'
posed giving the following week.
His ewes wandered dreamily over
the level lawns, the beautiful garden
ing. the gorgeous flowers. then matt
ed. and a tender, almost longing eA'
preston deepened them, as ne
watched his chauffeur playing WIN
his baby. He glanced furtiveiy a.
Rita. almost fiercely trying TO ilhu
some reflection in her eyes OF the
light dwelling in that OF Mary tne