The St. Mary banner. (Franklin, Parish of St. Mary, La.) 1889-1931, 1917-12-08

| Wurr1nt" Wtnlnt commented
with an ambiguity lost upon Lydia,
who accepted the response as one Of
simple concurrence, whereas the wOm-
an at her feet was hiding an ironic
smile.
| In point of fact, this Tad Craven of
Mrs. Beggarstaff's acquaintance was a
conspicuous figure among transatlan-
tic travellers, one who crossed fire.
quently, and, lacking any other title to
notoriety, would have made himself
remembered by his lavish tips. More
over Winant read American as we'll as
English newspapers, and knew q vast
deal more about Craven than that man
would have cared to credit-who,
when all's said, wasn't lightly to be
termed man Of retiring disposition.
Thus the discovery that he had a
daughter (and why not wife living,
as wellO was one tremendously IT'LL
lating; for trade in gossip about nota-
bilities goes on as briskly between
decks on fashionable Atlantic steam
ships as below stairs in fashionable
homes on either side Of the water.
But Craven's daughter, forgetful of
the serving woman, sat with eyes Sc
rene in face radiant with the glow
Of happiness in her heart. Never
doubt troubled her ardent anticipa-
tons. That ominpus note which had
been sounded in the brief conversation
outside her window was now forgot
ten-at worst could not have shaken
her faith in his loving kindness. That
was something always to be counted
upon, something that had never
failed her. And if his attitude of late
might have seemed inconsistent with
truly sympathetic affection. Lydia
knew better: her father had not so
much opposed her wishes as he had
underestimate the sincerity Of her
mutiny against the rule of Agnes Hicks
LOrrimer.
How could it be otherwise, with
gap of five long years in their associa-
ton, five years Of separation, change
and growth?
His thought aroused appreciation Of
the great changes time had wrought:
so great that it wasn't difficult to fancy
Craven failing to recognize his daugh-
ter, whose memory with him must be
that Of hobbledehOy Of fifteen, long
legged and awkward, with perpetually
freckled snub nose, mouth too wide,
and eyes too large for her thin face,
and her hair in plaits-twO wrist-thick
cables Of it falling below her waist,
carrOty red, and bound with broad but
terfly bows of stiff blue ribbon.
Mrs. Hicks Lorrimer's idea, that of
the butterfly bows-the final touch of
ignolniny! Lydia dated her hatred Of
the woman from the hour when she
had been compelled to submit to those
decorations.
But today-Lyda smiled tenderly.
No; Craven wouldn't know his girl
not until she told him-unless. to be
sure. she had grown somewhat to -
semble her mother who had been IA
nous beauty-Or so Mrs. Grummle Of |
the bloomsbury lodgings had asser-
so Craven himself. under |
pressure Of persistent questioning, had
once admitted.
Winant, rising from her knees, dis
PEELED reverie. rs that all, Miss Cra-
ven?"
Lydia smiled brilliantly. "That's
right" she affirmed with decision. 'Let
me be Miss Craven from now on. Do
you think you could find my father for
ne, Winant?"
"Oh. surely miss" Winant preserved
, straight face. "WOuld you wish me
o send i'm to you 'ere?'
ooh, no. I merely want to know
where to look for him. But to send
hin here to find me-why-don't you
,ee?-that would spoil 1t all!'
"Quite so, miss. l won't be q min
lto :" |