The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1916-01-26

goin' to make a prediction. You don t
 know it, but you'll be married before
 long. I'll bet my hat on it. You are
 a woman'S man. You are a sly old duck with that slick suit, white tie an
 pleated shirt on. I've a good mind to
 rub some O my hosshafrs off on you.
 Oh my! Who clipped yore whiskers ?
 Dang my old hide ef you hain't got
 powder on yore cheeks. It's a wonder
 you hain't got white burial gloves on
 like the rest O the boys.''
 "Oh, jest lowed I'd fix up little to
 do honor to them two. They are so
 happy an popular with everybody.
 I've heard plenty of good news today.
 Abe Fulton's case is in tiptop shape.
 Even the district attorney admits it. Moreover, the town. is on a boom,- an' me an Howard will have our hands full Wait fer supper anyway, Pole You helped put this thing through, an 1 don't feel right about the way you are actin'.''
 "I've been paid-more'n paid, Uncle Ab." Pole put his foot into the heavy wooden stfrrup and swung himself ints the saddle. "Fust Howard shuck hands with me am thanked me with tears in his eyes, Then some'n' else happened. Il was down at the spring below Trum- ,bley's yesterday, an Mary come to me. thought she had somen' to say about some'n' or other-my wife am the chil-- dEen or somen' like that-but she didn't speak a word She jest come up to me, so she did, an put Ter arms around my scrubby old neck an kissed me. Then she trapped 'er head on my shoulder an cried like a happy child. Great God, Uncle Alb, you kin dyke up; you kin bow. an sorape an. cavort lbout to that music in thar, with all he women under the sun eff you want 70, but I wouldn't swap places with you. The war didn't kill out slavery, fer I'm slave to that gal an will be IS long as I live.'
 ,s When Pole had ridden down the un- lighted street Abner turned back into he hotel. 'Poless all right now,'' he
 bought, |but wish I'd passed my land over his hip pocket. He's apt to git drunk when he's plumb happy, an 1e's been sober quite a spell now Well, eff he does I'll look after i'm God bless his soul!''
 The evening was wearing away to the batter of feet, gay laughter, merry talk and music. Mrs. Langham lay in her bed trying to sleep. Suddenly she heard the door of her daughters room creak as it opened. She decided that it was Cora who had come up for something pertaining to her toilet, and she listened for further sounds from the room, but none came. Mrs. Lang ham lay still for several minutes; then, hearing nothing more, she rose won deringly and softly opened the door between the two rooms. Her eyes first fell on the bureau, but Cora was not at it. Next she looked at the bed. It was smooth and untouched. There was no light in the room save what was shed by the moonbeams which fell upon the floor, and on the sill of the window looking out, silent and still, sat Cora.
 t'why, daughter! What does this mean?'' the mother exclaimed. Has anything happened? Are you sick?''
 "No; Pm simply-simply tired, moth er,'' Cora said. tDon't bother about me. I'm going to bed in 8 few min utes."
 ITO bed?" Mrs. Langham repeated in surprise. "'Why, the dance is not more | than half overt. Supper has not been served
 ''I don't care,'' Cora answered.
 
 like face in the white light; then, talk ing deep breath. she drew up chair and sat down close to her daughter.
 'I may as well confess it, she half faltered. 'I'm worried over the way you are acting. Nothing interests you here lately. I know from the way you | tMlk-from the remarks you drop-that you don't read the letters through that come from our friends at home. You are not the same, darling
 There is only one thing left for me to think, and that is that you are really ] in love with Howard Tinsley."
 :sNo, no, I'm not-that is, I don't | think am really, really in love with | him. I don't think I could love a-a man wHo loves some one else as-as he | does Mary Trumbley. But-but, moth |
 Cora's voice seemed to lose itself in | the clinging moonlight
 s'But what?' Mrs. Langham demand l ed. "Go on, go on I want to undeF stand this thing. Pm worried to death.
 t'I may as we'll Ee frank" Cora turn ] ed her face directly toward the grim one in the shadow. Mother, as I look l ed at Howard and Mary tonight and read their faces I realized what life can mean to persons who look at 1t right They are alive; am dead They have something to look forward to that is worth while, but have nothing-ab- soluteIy nothing! You expect me-fa ther expects me-to go back to Atlanta and take up the sort of thing I have been through every season since came out in society. I am willing to do it for your sakes, but myself shall be in mummy's body Life means more than our set thinks it does I know what real love and genuine self sacri- fee mean, for have seen examples of them here in the mountains. I know what another thing means too I've had even a closer view Of that. l know what fear of an empty worlds opinion will bring to one. 1 know the black curse of spiritual cowardice. Mother, I know what I have lost and what better woman has gained. ]