The Mena weekly star., 1916-12-21

| a machine that needs fepdlf. W ny did that inner voice so often whis-
 per. through the following days and weeks. Louise. bewaret7
 On Colonel knobers return from fishing he was told of the accident, the rescue of the child, also the un- fortunate condition of the rescuer
 Poor old man. How he stormed and ragged He just knew some thing would happen to cheat Louise out of her vacatiOnl' Such are never the dangerous men; they often prove the most generous and forgiving. Finally he resigned him. self to casting his troubles to the fish from morning till night and to the phantoms of DreamIand from night till morning Sometimes, in the evening he brought in a basket of sparkling trout. sometimes water haul. The finest of his catch he would carry to Louise for her patient.
 The responsibility of such case as that of Mir. Adams was truly great The time had been when Louise would have shrunk and pos sihly refused to be responsible for critical case Then. she met it calmly and competently. Oh the reserve forces in that sweet facel As she leaned over her patient, through the long days and nights following, what a ministering angel Thus the days passed with Louise continually on duty. Always the look of longing in those appealing eyes when she left the bedside; al- ways the smile of welcome when she returned The women on the Nerandas, over their crocheting, over the tea cups, and in the priv acy of their budoirs were asking, Has Mir. Adams a mother? Is he married man? Did you notice how frantically he clung to that little girl?" Let a woman remain silent as to her past, and she will become an object of suspicion; let man and he will become an object of interest-such is the irony of fate!
 The only personal question Lou ise had asked her patient was, 'Is there anyone you would like to have me notify of your condition?" His answer was, There is no one to notify Further questions would have seemed presumption. Some faces there are so fine one can not fail to recognize their superiority, and respect to their wishes. It is the unconscious difference paid to Ia noble character.
 During the long, hot afternoons Mir. Adams was carried out on the narrow gallery, and there in his faVorite nook, under the caves of the old building, watched the com ing of twilight. as he talked to Lou ise of the things he had read, the music he enjoyed, and the master pieces of art he had been privileged to see.
 When more than fortnight had passed, and after very strenuous day, in the patients first effort to walk, while leaning heavily upon the shoulders of Louise and gen tleman who had supported him across the hundred yards between Saints Rest and the inn, he seemed far more tired than usual. During the early part of the night the white hands groped about, the big eyes were filled with intense longing. Not word had been spoken by either for more than an hour. Al clock in a remote part of the build ing struck three. Louise thought he was sleeping at last. From time to time she listened to his regular breathing. Still she sat reading by dim light.
 Suddenly, and so near it seemed an invisible presence, there came voice singing in weird tones. I've no home I've no home I've mol homel
 Her very hair stood on end! She shot her eyes into the wide-open eyes of her patient Not a sound was he uttericgl
 After a few moments again came the pathetic words this time more softly, but very near at hand
 Nerves? Louise wasn't nervous Hadn't she stood at the surgeons side during the most difficult oper- ations? She was perfectly ealml Were those shadows on the noun tain sides shielding some disturbed spirit that had returned to earth to make it's final appeal? Not word had she spoken while trying to gain self mastery her patient all the while watching her with earnest gaze
 Again the third time as a sleepy echo, came the mysterious words I've no home I we no h-o-m-e, | ] We n- 0 h-o m e. Louise sprang to the bedsidel The white hands reached out to the big eyes looked up into hers, speak ling palmer than the Voice of the Night
 What is it2 she gasped.
 "l do not know where it came from dear, but this | do know -it is the voice of my Hearty Still grasp ing her hands, he whispered, 70 let 'me interpret. Louise For days my very Soul has been crying out toI youl know fun well I've mo right to speak, I'm still a helpless invalid. hut only tell me Chat you will love me anH ! kuOv thaf shall aoau