The Tabor independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1913-19??, 1918-12-26

hesitatlngly, followed her. Thcy
crossed the great hall, and, going
through a reception room and the
delightful sun parlor, came to the
warm, heavily scented conscrva-
tory.
"Poor old Charlier!" said Hav-
Hand, as the pair disappeared;
"he's in for it now Do you sup
pose the palms and orchids will
bring him up to the scratchf
Nita, I'll bet you a box Of gloves
against a box of simple little Gig
arets that he doesn't propose to
the lady tonight"
"Done!" cried Miss Frayne,
who was sparkling again, now
that the dread presence was re-
moved. II doubt he can help
himself. She has him at her
mercy. And he's too good man
nered to disappoint her wish"
Hell propose" said Pauline,
with an air of conviction. Hes
a typical fortune hunter, that
man. Indeed, / am not surc-he's
account at all. Do you know, Mr..
Illsleyf"
II know almost nothing of the
man, save that he s a guest of the
Frothinghams. That's not en-
tirely in his favor, l think"
"Right you are!" agreed Havi-
land. "Those people are-well,
They're to be queried. But l say,
Polly, if the two do hit it off,
it's grinding poverty for us, ehf'
ut may be a blessed relief,
Gray. She'll give us something,
of course, and send us away from
here. L, for one, shouldn't be
sorry to go. She is getting too
impossible
"She isl" put in Anita; "every
day she pounds us worse! I'd
like 70 kill her!"
The fierce words and would-be
menacing glance of the little
blonde beauty were about as con-
vincing as a kitten declaring him
self a war lord, and even the
stately Pauline smiled at the
picture.
"She ought to be killed" de-
clared Haviland, "and [ say this
dispassionately. / wouldn't do it,
because killing is not in my line,
but the eternal fitness Of things
requires her removal to another
sphere of usefulness. She makes
life a burden to three perfectly
good people, and some several
servants. Not one would mourn
her, and"
ooh, stop, Gray!" cried Paul
inc; "don't talk in that strain !!
Don't listen to him, Mr.. Illsley.
He often says such things, but he
doesn't mean them. Mr.. Haviland
loves to talk at random, to make
a sensational hearing"
"Nothing Of the sort, Polly. I
do mean it. Lucy Darlington is
a misery dispenser, and such are
not wanted in this nice little old
world"
"But perhaps" Pauline looked
thoughtful, "the fault is in us.
We don't like her, and SO we see
nothing good in what she does.
Now, Darlington Loria adores
her. She had a letter from him
today"
eyes, Loria adores her!" in
terrupted Haviland, "because he
doesn't live with her! She sends
him love letters and money, and
he doesn't know the everlasting
torture Of living under her roof,
year in and year out . But he
caught on a little the last time
he was here. He said-well, in
his quaint Oriental fashion, he
said: Gee! she's the limit! =
That's what he said"
"Well, she is" pouted Anita.
"I can't do a thing to suit her.
Today I wrote a letter over six
times before she was satisfied.
And every change she wanted
made was so foolish she wanted
it changed back again. She
nearly drove me crazy!"
"But l have to put up with her
morning, noon, and night"
sighed Pauline. "You have your
hours off, Anita, but / never do.
She even wakens me in the night
to read to her, or to help her plan
her new gowns.
"It is awfully hard for you,''
began Mr.. Illsley, and then all
stopped short, for the object of
their discussion returned to the
room.
1t was plain to be seen Miss
harrington was in a state of sup.
pressed excitement. She giggIed
almost Historically, and tapped
n - 49,