Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1915-03-05

cast suspicious eye on all matters
through which he could trace the trail
of William Parrish, and now. when
Farbish saw horton. he eyed him with
an enigmaticai expression. half-quiz-
zical and Acknowledgment.
After Adrienne and Samson had dis
appeared, he rejoined his companion,
stout, middle-aged gentleman of
ford complexion. whose cheyiot cut
away and reposeful waistcoat covered
a liberal embonpo!nt. Farbish took
his cigar from his lips, and studied
its ascending smoke through lids half
closed and thoughtful
Singular" he unused; very singu-
lar!"
What's singular?" impatiently de-
manded his companion. Finish. or
don't start"
That mountaineer came up here
as George Lescott's protege." went
on Farbish, reflectively. "He came
fresh from the feud belt, and landed
promptly in the police court. Now,
in less than year, he's pairing OF
one supposed, meant to marry Wilfred
Horton. This little party tonight is,
to put 1t quite mildly, a bit uncon-
ventionaI"
The stout gentleman said nothing,
and the other questioned, musingly:
by the way, Bradburn, has the
Kenmore Shooting club requested Will
fred Horizons resignation YETI"
mot yet We are going to. He's
not congenial, since his hand is raised
against every man who owns more
than two dollars" The speaker owned
several million times that sum. This
meeting at an out-of-the-way place
had been arranged for the purpose
of discussing ways and means of curb
ing Wilfred's crusades.
well, don't do it."
"Why the devil shouldn't we? We
don't want anarchists in the Ken
more"
After awhile, they sat silent, Farbish
smiling over the plot he had just de-
vised, and the other man putting with
a puzzled expression at his cigar.
That's all there is to it," summar-
lied Mr. Farbish, succinctly. III we
can get these two men, South and
Horton, together down there at the
shooting lodge, under the proper condi-
tions, they'll do the rest themselves,
think. I'll take care of South. Now,
it's up to you to have Horton there
at the same time"
How do you know these men have
not already met-and amicably?" de-
manded Mr.. Bradburn.
81 happen to know 1t, quite by
chance. 1t is my business to know
things-quite by chance!"
| Indian summer came again to
Misery, Haunting woodland banners OF
crimson and scarlet orange, but to
Sally the season brought only heart
achy remembrances of last autumn
when Samson had softened his stoi
| cism as the haze had softened the hori
zon. He had sent her few brief let
ters-not written, but plainly printed
| He selected short words-as much
like the primer as possible, for nc
other messages could she read. There
were times in plenty when he wished
to pour out to her torrents of feeling
and 1t was such feeling as would have
| carried comfort to her lonely little
heart. He wished to tell frankly OF
what a good friend he had made. and
how this friendship made him more
able to realize that other feeling
his love for Sally. There was In his
mind no suspicion-as yet-that these
two girls might ever stand in conflict
as to the right-of-way. But the letters
he wished to write were not the sort
he cared to have read to the girl by
the evangelist-doctor or the district
school teacher and alone she could
have made nothing of them. However
Il love you" are easy words-and those
he always included.
The Widow Miller had been ailine
for months, and, though the local
physician diagnosed the condition as
being right porely," he knew that the
specter of tuberculosis which stalks
through these badly lighted and ven.
tilated houses was stretching out its
fingers to touch her shrunken chest.
This had meant that Sally had to fore.
go the evening hours to study, be-
cause of the WEAKNESS that followed
the day of nursing and household
drudgery Autumn seemed to bring
to her mother slight Improvement,
and Sally could again sometimes
steal away with her slate and book,
to sit alone on the big oowlder, and
study.
She would not be able to write that
Christmas letter. There had been too
many Interruptions in the self impaired
education, but some day she would
write. There would probably be
time enough. 1t would take even Sam.
son long while 20 become an artist.
One day, as she was walking home
ward from her lonely trysting place,
she met the battered-looking man who
carried medicines in lis saddlebags