The herald-advance. (Milbank, S.D.) 1890-1922, 1915-07-02

Chetwood. II you want to thank a7.y.
body, thank her" Warrington missed
the searching glance. which was not
without its touch Of envy. You'd bet
ter be off. Hustle back as soon as you
can" Gilmore offered his hand now.
Cad. but you haven't lost any of your
old grip"
I'm a bit daZed. The last six
months have loosened up my nerves."
"Nobody's made of iron"
I'D sound hollow if | tried to saw
what | feel. I'll be back a week from
today"
IN look for YOU"
AS the door closed behind Warning.
ton, the young millionaire sat down.
scowling at a cubby hole in his desk.
He presently took out a letter post
marked Yokohama. He turned it about
in his hands. musingly. Without read
ing it (for he knew its contents webb,
he thrust it back into the cubby hole
Women were out OF his sphere. He
could build a bridge within a dollar of
the bid; but he knew nothing about
mn beyond the fact that they were
always desirable.
A few monosyllables. a sentence or
two. and then, good day. The average
man would have r%ecounted every Incl.
dent OF note during those ten years.
He did not admire Warrington any the
less for his r~eticence. 1t took a strong
man to hold himself together under all
these blows from the big eud of for
tunes horn.
Paul was a born engineer; Arthur
had entered the office as a makeshift.
Paul had taken eight thousand one
day. and decamped. Arthur had re-
FUNDED the sum, and disappeared. Ell
more could not understand, nor could
! his father. Perhaps some of the truth
would now come to light. Somehow,
Paul, with his blond beard and blonder
head, his bright eyes, his tan. his big
shoulders. somehow Paul was out OF
date. He did not belong to the times.
And Elsa had met him over there;
practically ordered Though she had
no authority that he should be given
2 start anew; that, moreover. she
would go his bond to any amount.
Funny old world! Well, he was glad.
Paul was a man, a big man, and that
was the sort needed in the foreign
bridge building. He rolled down>the
top OF his desk and left the building,
He was in no mood for work.
The evening of the third day found
Warrington in the baggage car, feed.
ing'a dilapidated feather-molting bird.
who was in a most scandalous tenn
per. Rajah scattered the seeds about,
spurned the banana-tip, tilted the wa
ter cup and sw~ashbuckled generally.
BY n by, above the clack-clack OF
wheels and rails. came a grooming
song. The baggageman looked up
from his waybook and lowered his
pipe. He saw the little green bird
pause and begin to keep time with it's
head. 1t was the Urdu lullaby James
used to sing. 1t never failed to quiet
the little parrot. Warrington went
back to his Pullman, where the porter
greeted him with the information that
the next stop would be his. Ten min.
utes later he stepped from the train,
a small kitbag in one hand and the
parrot cage in the other.
He had come prepared for mistake
on the part of the natives. The single
smart cabman lifted his hat, jumped
down from the box, and opened the
door. Warrington entered without
speaking. The door closed, and the
coupe rolled away briskly. He was
perfectly sure of his destination. The
cabman had mistaken him for Arthur.
It would be better SO. There would be
no after complications when he de.
parted on the morrow. AS the coupe
took a turn, he looked out of the win. !
dow. They were entering a driveway,
lined on each side of which were chest.
nuts. Indeed the house was set in the
center OF a grove of these splendid
trees.
Warrington went up the broad
veranda steps and pulled the old-fash.
Toned bell cord. He was rather amazed
at his utter lack Of agitation. He was
as calm as if he were making a call
upon a casual acquaintance. His
mother and brother, whom he had not
seen in ten years! The great oak door
drew in. and he entered unceremoni-
ously.
why, Marse A'thuh, l di'n't see yo'
go QUIT" exclaimed the old negro serv.
ant.
Il am not Arthur; | am his brother
Paul. Which door,"
Pop-eyed, the old negro pointed to a
door down the hall. Then he leaned
against the banister and caught des.
perately at the spindles. Fol- the voice
was not Arthur's.
Warrington opened the door, closed
1t gently and stood with his back tn it.
At a desk in the middle of the room
sat a man, busy with books. He raised
his head.
Arthur, don't you know me-"
"Paul?"
The chair overturned; some books
thudded DULY upon the rug. Arthur
leaned with his hands tense upon the
desk. Paul sustained the look, his