, 1918-10-10
Iachesis
@0
By r. RAY BAKER

Things happen just by accident,
sometimes. But does the accident hap
pen by accident? Not while Lachesis
Is holding down that destiny job on
Mount Olympus.
Lachesis, you know, is one of the
three Moerae who NEEDLE in the af-
fairs of mortals from the time they
are born until they pass into other
realms. Three Moerae, or Fates, have
a room all TO themselves in the big Of
flee building of the gods, and they run
things with a high hand.
One would think that, in these days
of progress, Clotho would get some
thing to take the place of that old
spinning wheel ON which she spins
the thread of life, and that Atropos
could find an instrument less unwieldy
than that long pair of dull shears
h has been using to cut the thread
when she decides it's long enough.
However, they seem to have got along
so far without modern improvements
and they ought to know their business
by this time.
Anyhow, this story concerns Lach-
esis, who works without instruments.
She simply stands near the spinning
wheel and dabs veal and woe on that
thread and twists it about her fingers
and ties knots i'll it, to suit her W
pleasure. 1t has been said that Clotho
u Lachesis and Atropos are old and
ugly. OF course, as mortals reckon,
these fates are old; but years don't
count on Olympus. And as to ugliness
well, I'm willing to allow that
Atropos has a hideous face, and it's
possible Clotho is not beautiful. be-
cause her back must be lame INT her
eyes faded and her forehead wrinkled
from bending over the spinning wheel ;
but Lachesis-there's no reason why
h should be ugly, because her job
furnishes lots of variety. Moreover,
she's one of the herOines in this story,
so she has just got to be beautiful.
h hero is Jack Watson, a mere
mortal who defied Lachesis. She had
decided, soon after Clotho began TO
spin the thread, that he should be mar
ried before he became tw~enty-eight
years old, and she had picked for his
bride a girl named Esther Richards.
They were born in the same little town
in Ohio and had one of those school
kid" romances; and then, when Jack
was only eleven and Esther eight, it
ended.
Jack moved with his parents to Co
lumbus, where they resided three years.
Jack and Esther wrote occasionally, as
children sometimes carry on n CORE.
~spondence, but they were too young tC
understand about affinities and such
things, and gradually they forgot about
each other.
When Jack was fifteen his mother
died and he moved with his father to
New York. The boy obtained a job as
office boy with a broker and held it
two years. Then he was promoted,
and about that time pneumonia claimed
Mr.. Watson.
When Esther was ten she went with
her parents to Vancouver, British Co.
lumbia, and there they remained until
she was twenty-five.
Lachesis stood in the workroom of
the Moerae one day, holding Jack Wat
Esther Richards in the other. MY,
how far apart they have drifted," she
murmured. This will never do. I
have decided differently"
Jack was leaning back in his swivel
chair with his fee on his desk, In his
own real estate Office In Melbourne,
Australia. Was he thinking about
Esther? Decidedly not. His mind was
full of business, of how to travel still
farther on the path of prosperity,
which he already had found.
Esther was reclining on n lounge in
her home in Vancouver, reading a Red
Cross magazine. Did lack hold any
place in her thoughts? No, not even a
small corner They had forgotten about
each other, as 1 have said.
That evening Jack went to the Mel
bourne Business club for dinner with
three other prosperous young business
men. all of them married. When the
meal was finished the conversation
turned to matrimony.
How comes 1t you never got mar
ried. Jack?" asked George Clifford as
he passed cigars. you're old enough
and have enough coin to make some
girl comfortable and happy"
Jack laughed as he lighted the weed.
Not me-" he said as he pulled plac-
Idly. "I1l never get married. I'm go
ing to be a hermit. Do you know, fell
lows, it's a fact that I've never been
interested a bit in the fair sex? I'm
all for business. I'm sincerely opposed
to marriage-for myself, at least"
Clifford, who was five years older,
looked over the rims of his glasses
with a slight grimace and inquired:
Don't you believe in love? Don't
you believe that every II was made
for some oDe?"
Another laugh. this time louder and
longer, from Jack.
81 should say not!" he retorted.
There's no such thing as love. Mar
rlage is n matter of business. When q