The Lamar register., 1917-09-19

rode her horse Montrose. When her
errnnds had been attended to- she sud
denly decided TO call on Paloma Jones.
1t was years since she had voluntarily
done such thing; the very impulse
surprised her.
Paloma, it happened, was undergoing
that peculiar form of feminine torture
known as "ftting;" but insecurely
basted. pinned and tucked as she was,
she came flying down to the gate TO
meet her visitor.
Alalre was introduced to Mrs.
Strange the dressmaker, a large, acid
uous brunette. with n mouthful OF
pins and then. when Paloma had CIV
IN herself once more into the seam
stress hands the two friends gossiped.
II don't know what dad will say
when he gets the bill for these
dresses" Paloma confessed.
''Your father is a mighty queer
man." Mrs. Strange observed. "I
haven't so much as laid eyes on him."
Paloma nodded. Eyes. And he's get
ting more peculiar all the time; l can't
make out what ails him"
Where is he now?" asked Alaire.
Heaven knows, out in the barn
or under the house" Taking advnn-
tnge of the dressmaker's momentary
absence from the room, Paloma con
tinued in a whisper: 81 wish you'd talk
To dad and see what you make of him.
Hes absolutely-queer. Mrs. Strange
seems to have peculiar effect on him.
Why, it's almost as If"
"What?"
"Wer. / suppose I'm foolish. but
I'm beginning to believe in spells. You
know, Mrs. Strange's husband is a sort
of-necromancer."
'How sillyi"
There was no further opportunity
for words as the woman reappeared at
that instant; but a little later Alaire
went in search of Blaze, still consid-
erably mystified. AS she neared the
farm buildings, she glimpsed a mans
figure hastily disappearing into the
barn. The figure bore suspicious re-
semblance 10 Blaze Jones, yet when
she followed, he was nowhere to be
seen.
"Mr. Jones - Alaire called. She re-
peated Blaze's name several times;
then something stirred. The door Of
harness closet opened cautiously, and
out of the blackness peered Paloma's
father. He looked more owllsh than
ever behind his big, gold-rimmed spec
tacles. 'Whnt in the world are you
doing in there7" she cried.
Blaze emerged. blinking He was
dusty and perspiring.
"Hello, Miz Austini' - he saluted her
with poor assumption of breeziness.
81 was fixin' some harness, but I'm
right glad to see you
Alaire regarded him quizzically.
"what made you hide?" she asked.
Hide? Who. me?"
81 saw you dodge in here like a
| gopher"
Blaze confessed: 81 reckon I've got
the willies. Every woman l see looks
| like that dressmaker.'
"Paloma was telling me about you.
/ Why do you hate her so?'
81 don't know 3 | hate her, but her
and her husband have put n jinx on
me. They're the worst people 1 ever
see, Miz Austin
"You don't really believe in such
! things?"
Biaze busted off seat for his visi-
| tor, saying: Il never did till lately,
but now I'm worse than plantation
| niger l tell you there's things in
! this world we don't sabe. l wish you'd
| get Paloma to fire her. I've tried and
failed | wish you'd tell her those
/ dresses are rotten"
but they're very nice; they're love
| ly; and I've just been complimenting
her. Now what has this woman done
to your"
II seemed impossible that a man of
Blaze Jones' character could actually
harbor crude superstitions, and yet
/ there was no mistaklng his earnest
ness when he said:
! 81 amt sure whether she's to blame,
or her husband. but misfortune has
folded me to herself"
"How?'
/ "Well, I'm sick"
"You don't look it"
81 don't exactly feel IT, either, but
I am. l don't sleep good, my hearts
actin up, I've got rheumatism, my
stomach feels like I'd swallowed some
thing alive"
You're smoking too much" Alaire