The Monticellonian., 1916-05-25

i ported. But he can send to the country and dig up plenty of red-and | black ones"
 That will do," returned the Ad- Visor. Tell him to have two or three hundred here tomorrow morning"
 Bertram bent severe gaze on his 1 friend Meaning that you're going to follow ut this freak affair."" he in quired.
 Just that. I cant explain why, but well, Bert, it" a hunch. At the the beetles should be worth the money"
 Thus is was that, on the morning after this dialogue, clean built young fellow walked along West Six teenth street. He was rather shabby looking On the evidence of the band l box which he carried, his mission should have been menial; but he bore himself wholly unlike one subdued to petty employments. His steady, gray eyes showed a glint of anticipation as he turned in at the gate of the high OlCebd, OIOWh hOuoV SlclldluB DeiSht aloof and indignant, from the roaring encroachments of trade. He set his burden down and pulled the bell.
 The door opened promptly to the deep, far-away clangor. A flashing impression of girlish freshness, vigor against a background of interior gloom. The girl glanced not at him, but at the box, and spoke trifie im- patiently.
 If it's my hat, it's very late.'
 Tt isn't, miss. It's the insects" The What?'
 The bugs, miss"
 He extracted from his pocket a slip of paper, looked from it to the num- bered door, as one verifying an ad- dress, and handed it to her.
 From yesterdays copy of the Ban her, miss. You're not going back on that, surely" be said somewhat re- proaehfully.
 She read and as she read her eyes widened to lakes of limpid brown. Then they crinkled at the corners, and her laugh arose from the mid tone contralto, to high, birdlike trill of joyousness.
 Tt must have been uncle" she gasped finally. He said he'd be quits with the real estate agent before he left How perfectly absurd! And are those the creatures in that box?"
 The first couple of hundred of 'em, Miss Ackroyd."
 The girl looked at him with suspi cion but his face was blankly inno- cent
 I'm not Miss Ackroyd," she began with emphasis, when a querulous voice from an inner room called out: Whom are you talking to, Sylvia ?"
 "A young man with a boxful of beetles,' returned the girl
 Average Jones mutely held up the box In one hand and the advertise ment in the other.
 Very we'll" said the girl. in demure tones, though lambent mirth still flick cred, golden, in the depths of the brown eyes. If you persist. can only suggest that you come back when Judge Ackroyd is here. You won't find him particularly amenable to hu- nor, particularly when perpetrated by practical joker in masquerade
 Discovered" murmured Average Jones.
 'I don't ask any real reason for your extraordinary call" pursued the girl with a glint of mischief in her to steal my dog She thinks that of everyone lately
 "Auntie? Your dog? Then you're Sylvia Graham. I might have known it."
 T don't know how you might have known it. But I am Sylvia Graham if you insist on introducing me to yourself"
 Miss Graham, said the visitor promptly and gravely, "let me present A. V. R. E. Jones. friend"
 Not the famous Average Jones," cried the girl. That is why your face seemed so familiar. I've seen your picture at Edna Hale's You got her blue fires back for her. But really, that hardly explains your be- ing here in this way, you know"
 Frankly, Miss Graham it was just as a lark that I answered the adver- tisement But now that I'm here and find you here, it looks-er-as if it might-er-be more serious"
 A tinge of pink came into the girls cheeks. but she answered lightly enough:
 Indeed, it may, for you, if uncle finds you here with those beetles. ]"
 Never mind me or the beetles I'd like to know about the dog that your aunt is worrying over. Is he here with you?"
 The soft curve of Miss Grahams s lips strengthened little. 'I really think" she said with decision, that you had better explain further before questioning
 Nothing simpler. Once upon a time there lived crack brained young Don Quixote who wandered through an age of buried romance piously searching for trouble. And, twice upon time, there dwelt in an enchanted stone castle in West Sixteenth street an en- chanting young damsel in distress"
 I'm not damsel in distress" in terrupted Miss Graham. passing over the adjective
 The young man leaned to her. The half smile had passed from his lips, and his eyes were very grave.