Evening star., 1915-02-13

said with a giggle: That's what the
children call your Uncle Smith,"
"What?" Mary came out of a fit of
abstraction.
THE Raven" Mignon closed her
book definitely. You amt mad, be
you, Mary? He does look like one
He goes hop-hopping round on his
cane, and he always wears black and
his coattails is so long. Sally Brent
is afraid of him. But I amt. Be
you?"
Mo-" answered Mary. She color
ed painfully. She would not own that
she was afraid of him, but the thump-
| thump of his cane always set her heart
to beating wildly.
She heard it humping now and she
saw him turning toward the house.
Pausing she watched him. The Raven!
Reluctant as she was to own 1t the
| likeness was there. Smith Tate was a
hideous old man. He had crooked legs
| and walked with a squatting gait. tab-
bing Eiciously at the earth with his
cane for support. He wore boots and
a shiny black suit. with ample skirts,
and a great broad-brimmed black hat.
His eyes were black and his beard had
only just begun to turn gray, al
though he was past seventy-four.
When Mary's father died two years
J her He had his pension and Mary had
the house. He needed roof and she
needed money, and so he insisted that
they live together. From the moment
he came Mary was not happy. He was
cruelty exacting. In little while he
was master of the place. She came and
went as he bade- At first she had de-
ferred to him out of respect for his
age and for the fact that he was her
fathers brother. Latterly respect had
given place to aversion and something
which she would not yet own to her
self was fear.
Mary! Look.
Mary started. Mignon was pointing
to the forgotten flatiron, which had
burned a brown imprint of itself on
the black shirt.
You'll catch it. won't you?" Mignon
said. "Oh. Mary, 1 wish you'd run
awav and come over and live with pa
and me- We both want you. Pa
Says
Mary was pale now and futtered.
| "Mignon. dear. l guess you be.ter run run
front. He don't like little folks" she
Little folks don't like him." Mignon
retorted as she fled with nine-year-old
MARY snatched the shirt out of sight
inst as her uncle entered. He glanced
sharply about.
Hey! You been screening some
thing, ne ehCldititu DO iie s'iiAiiSa eAc
| air "You better look out l don't want
anv o. my clothes burned full of holes"
| He flung q letter down upon the BOARD
before her Read that.
Mary took the letter. She was
trembling. ITS from Cousin Nettie,"
| she said, family.
He chuckled. You oet ye. she
coming visiting
| Mary stared at the letter aghast
| From her past experience with COUSIN
Nat-fe she knew what to expect HOW
| could she live with both Cousin Nettle
! and I7ncle Smith in the house?
NOW, don't put up your lip, said
the old man. brutally: ou get ready
| for her That's what
M,rv did not dare answer.
'They were sitting down to dinner
| when they heard the front door open
and a shrin voice sounding through
| the house:
Mary started up pale as ashes just
| as Cousin Nettie appeared: She was
| a widow of sixty, who tried to look
| like twenty. She wore wine-colored
| 1T a hat with white plumes, a white
, veil and gloves and great deal OF
: iewelrv. She carried suit case.
"After / wrote my letter | got i'm
! n,tient to come, SO started" she pro-
| clained. gayly. She sat down, raised
| her veil and pulled off her gloves.
what you got for dinner, Mary? Cod
| dsh? never eat it. You can make
some toast Well, Smith, dear. you
| seem to be at home here"
II am at home. Who's got better