The Carlisle independent., 1915-04-29

work in hand, and therein lay the gen tie shrewdness Of the man. She was better off busy. There were times when he studied the face of Lydia mother for signs that might show how her thoughts ran in relation to the conditions that were confronting all of them. But more often he searched the features of the boy who called him father
 Always, always there was music in the house. Behind the closed doors of the distant study, James Brood lis tened in spite of himself Q the per sistent drumming of the piano down. stairs. Always were the airs light and seductive; the dreamy, plaintive com positions of Strauss, Ziehrer and oth- CTS of their kind and place. Frederic, with uncanny fidelity to the prefer ences of the mother he had never seen but whose influence directed him, af- fected the same general class of music that had appealed to her moods and temperament. Times there were, and often, when he played the very airs that she had loved, and then, despite his profound antipathy, James Brood's thoughts leaped back quarter of century and fixed themselves on love- scenes and love-times that would not be denied
 And again there were the wild, riot ous airs that she had played with Few erellt, her soft-eyed music master! Ae- cursed airs-aecursed and aceusingi
 He gave orders that these airs were not to be played, but failed to make his command convincing for the req son that he could not bring himself to the point of explaining why they were distasteful to him. When Frederic thoughtlessly whistled or hummed fragments of those prescribed airs, he considered himself justified in com manding him to stop on the pretext that they were disturbing, but he could not use the same excuse for checking the song on the lips of his gay and inn pulsiye wife. Sometimes he wondered why she persisted when she knew that he was annoyed Her airy little apolo- gies for her forgetfulness were of no consequence, for within the hour her memory was almost sure to be at fault again.
 
 'Is there anything wrong with my hair, Mir Brood?" asked Lydia, with a nervous little laugh.
 They were in the study and it was DFo ;r,b q z late, he had required her to spend the evenings with him in strenuous ef- fort to complete the final chapters of the journal. He had declared his in- tention to go abroad with his wife as soon as the manuscript was completed Lydia's willingness to devote the extra hours to his enterprise would have l pleased him vastly if he had not been afflicted by the same sense of unrest and uneasiness that made incessant l labor boon to her as we'll as to him.
 Her query followed a long period of silence on his part. He had been sug- gesting alterations in her notes as she read them to him, and there were ire quent lulls when she made the changes as directed. Without looking at him. she felt rather than knew that he was regarding her fiXedly from his position opposite The scrutiny was disturb ing to her.
 Brood started guiltily. Your hair?" he exclaimed "Oh, l see. You women always feel that something is wrong with it. I was thinking of something else, however. Forgive my stupidity. We can't afford to waste time in think ing, you know, and am a pretty bad offender It's nearly half-past ten. We've been hard at it since eight o'clock. Time to knock off will walk around to your apartment with you, my dear. It looks like an all night rain.
 He went up to the window and pulled the curtains aside. Her eyes followed him.
 He was staring down into the court, his fingers grasping the curtains in a rigid grip. He did not reply. There was a light in the windows opening out upon Yvonne's balcony.
 q fancy Frederic has come in from the concert" he said slowly. "He will take you home, Lydia. You'd like that better. eh?"
 He turned toward her and she paused in the nervous collecting of her papers. His eyes were as hard as steel. his lips were set.
 Please don't ask Frederic to-" she began hurriedly.
 They must have left early" he muttered, glancing at his watch Re turning to the table he struck the big, melodious gong couple of sharp blows For the first time in her recol- lection, it sounded dangling. diseord- ant note, as of impatience. Ranjab ap- peared in the doorway. Have Mrs. Brood and MT. Frederic returned, Ran jab?"
 Yes, sahib. At ten o'clock"
 "If MT. Frederic is in his room send him to me"
 He is not in his room, sahib."
 The two, master and man, looked at