Williams news., 1917-10-04

"Noi" she insisted when Craven promptly ranged himself at her side 'Let me go for tonight, Tad. I'd pre- fer to be alone to think things out Tomorrow, perhaps" Her smile flashed uncertainty toward Lydia as she disappeared round the shoulder of the deckhouse. Craven delayed, however, barely long enough for a word, "Wait here-l sha'n't be long,"
 Lydia said nothing, but watched him go with eyes confused with pain, she who had found herself suddenly rele' gated from the status of a well-beloved child to that of a stumbling block in the path of her fathers ambition, who could no longer doubt that he had planned to keep her existence secret until his marriage to this Mrs. Merri. lees of the fabulous fortune should be a conSummated fact.
 She stood desolate amid debris of illusions, who had never known a moth. CT, and now had lost a father. Her eyes filled. He hadn't even kissed her after five years separation! Resting arms upon the taffrail, she turned a forlorn face to the night-clad sea, her mood fraught with vast disconsolation.
 A footfall sounded behind her, and she wheeled sharply about to join issue with her father. But it was Peter Trait who, briskly rounding the deck house, pulled up short at sight of that tense young person, Lydia, with her shoulders back, her chin up, and def- ance a-glimmer in her eyes.
 "I beg your pardon" He peered eagerly to make certain; for the moon was just then thinly yelled in cloud '1t's Miss Carteret, isn't it?"
 "Yes, MT. Trait" said the girl qui. etly, relaxing. Good evening"" He seemed puzzled by her manner started to say something, reconsidered sharply, then ventured with engaging deference, 'It's good to see you up and about again."
 "It feels pretty good, thank you,' she said, with a smile that gave him courage.
 Hope I didn't startle you, galumph- ing into your solitude without warning Fact is, was looking for old Tad Cra- ven. We're needing fourth. I don't suppose you know Craven, thought"
 "Oh, yes, I've known MT. Craven 8 long time."
 Really? He's a wonder, isn't he? Trait exclaimed with enthusiasm "Everybody's friend-not an enemy in the world. I don't believe there's @ hnffnr-1iHo6 in Noxr Vnrly- New York, that is." "Your New York? You see, I've al. ways lived in England, and have lots to learn about-home." "Sheer snobbery on my part" Peter admitted cheerfully. '1 meant the very small part of New York that we infest, whom my friend MT. Martin likes to call the idle rich.' If he only knew!"
 "But are you?"
 "Pm afraid I'm idle enough; but as for riches, I'm poverty's poor relation "But what do you do?' "Oh, play a good hand at bridge fair racket at tennis, and am always on hand to fill in when somebody doesn't show up for dinner" The least trace of bitterness favored this gratu itous account of himself, and the per oration was accompanied by an uneasy laugh. ''In short, I'm what your Eng fish friends call waster. But please don't think that I'm bidding for serious consideration"
 q understand" the girl said quietly | '1 didn't mean to bore you, either.'
 "You didn't; but you made me think and wonder"
 "Why I'm content to be-so use less?"
 She nodded, with her shadowy smile
 A wry grin answered that. "Yor certainly take the curse off of it" Traft averred. "Candor like yours is gooi for the egotism. The register of my self-esteem is now subnormal."
 q didn't mean to be unpleasant, MT Trait"
 Don't, please. Thus far you've done me good; but if you say more, betray the least real interest in me, I'll ge chesty and need taking down again And Pm forgetting Craven"
 "He was here only a few minute. ago, and promised to come back before long,
 "Then may I wait? You don't mind ?
 'No," said the girl. Indeed, Pv' something to tell you. You've praised him to my face, and that makes m, want to tell you. I'm not Lucy Car teret, really, MT. Trait. My name i. Lydia Craven. Thaddeus Craven il my father"
 "Oh, say!" Peter stared incredu lously. 'Not Tad Craven's daughter You're serious?"
 "Quite.'
 He nodded. q see you are. But well--you have surprised me. I don suppose a soul who knows him woult believe Tad Craven anything but