The Mount Holly news. [volume] (Mount Holly, Burlington Co., N.J.) 1891-1942, 1918-01-22


write up some stuff for his American
paper. Bett was usually too busy in
the morning to indulge in day dreams
or curl herself in an armchair for a
grand read" as she called it, but
somehow today the sun swept glorious
ly over the little garden back of the
chateau. Even the underground of
tangled vines looked fresher than the
greenest of French grass, as Bett de-
cided, work or no work, out she had
to go for tramp in the sunshine.
AS she bolted the door shut with a
bang, down clattered a small but
sparsely clad Venus to the floor, and
Max's papers, which she had so care
fully assorted In a stray mood of tidi-
ness, whirled over the rugs like the
settling Of flock of white pigeons.
A years hard work hadn't worn off
the enthusiasm Bett still felt as she
strolled along the busy thoroughfare,
drawing in that intoxicating atmos-
phere of Paris one feels but can't de-
fine, while weekly, across the ocean,
letters went home; wild, crazy letters
Of their housekeeping in Bohemia, gay
evenings at the cafes, jaunts to Yer
sailles, occasionally a night at the
opera. They quite forgot to mention
Max's midnight work, long after the
last reveller had struggled home from
the artists ball at the Ballier or Belts
merry-making despite the slim viands
Henri was ordered to bring. Mean
while the small, black stocking, Belts
National Savings Bank, grew heavier
and heavier with money to go home.
1t was this very morning, the same
that Belts upward spirit would prowl
around the Luxembourg Cor take a
peep for the fiftieth time at the Nike
Apteros, with the luxury of lunch at
the cafe) that at o'clock to her dis
may, she remembered Max was to re-
turn al hour earlier and she had quite
forgotten her promise to copy his "cor-
that must get off in the
outgoing steamer, and poor Max would
be so tired, Bett thought. With her
usual impetuous rush she ran wildly
after a vanishing train, finally land
ing on the step. In close relationship
to the astOnished conductor. whose lit
tie black moustacbio curled up higher
than ever when he discovered very
flushed and pretty young girl flung
suddenly his way. The chateau soon
came in sight and still rushing Bett
ran up the dark old stairway, three
steps at a time-when thud down
the stairway with terrific noise clat-
tered a curiously black mass which
never stopped humping till the ground
floor was reached, Bett stood par
alyzed and then with grasp of fright
hurried down. There, between dismay
and surprise, she picked up man. A
strange man in the chateau, and Max
had never told her, thought Bett in
an aggrieved way. While she called
for the concierge and lifted him as
tenderly as she could to an old couch,
there flashed through her mind visions
of a slenderly clad pink-robed damsel
who careered over the house frequent
ly by day, but more frequently by
night, peering out of the various win
dows, sometimes hauling fruit up from
the street with rope and basket, not
to mention such unromantic things as
a beefsteak, onions or carrots. Then
how she did walk around in all the
unused rooms and-horrors-she and
Max sometimes would roar and sing
coon songs far into the night, or Max
would harangue an imaginary audi
ence with criticisms on his last bril-
liant novel. All these wild carousels
and she never knew there was soul
in hearing distance.
Aided by the distracted concierge
they carried him as best they could to
his rooms-Bett mentally noting she
had been in this room on several Oc-
casions-where he lay groaning for
days with broken arm, which to Bett
was anything but soothing as she had
knocked him down the steps. There
never was better nurse than Max;
day and night he stayed with the I'M
known ledger, never tired of reading
or writing for him, lifting him with
the ease of child, caring for him as
a lifetime friend might have done.
Bett, with a very low ebb of moral
courage, hung on the outskirts of the
sick room, usually planning her vigils
when he was too fast asleep to see the
destroyer of part of his anatomy.
Max and the victim of the "back-
stair plot" as Bett always called the
invalid, had many a laugh at her ex-
pense, for with daily protestations she
vowed she was growing thin with re-
morse, and corded in Max her dread
of seeing tn MANNED ledger face to
face.
Summer had come. The chestnut
trees along the Champs-Elysees had
long ago blossomed and now stood in
all their wealth of green; up and down
the Seine steamed the crowded mouchs
and hirondelies, through the Rue &c
Rivoli thronged happy tourists on
great shopping expeditions, the Louvre
too, overlooked with eager-eyed stu
dents, art lovers and pessimlstic con-
noisseurS. Even the Avenue de
POpera groaned with creaking cab
wheels, moving pedestrians, sightseers
and the insistent stream of street ven.
doris. The titled, the rich, those for
their health and those without health
had all left Paris-still Max and Bett
worked, played, lived and loved on
in this gay little Bohemia of their OWL
making, and at home, their little
Maryland home, fabulous checks from
those children" kept the small house
hold together.
1t was now June, throbbing fragrant
green June-only Paris has it, only O
dreamer can feel the delight of it.
Max's invalid stood at the vine
covered balcony looking out toward
the Isle de la CITE, just a glimpse here
of Notre Danes trim spires, a flash
there of the new Hotel Dieu-a break
between some house unfolded the
bright colors of the flower market
such q glowing Paris, beautiful, tur'
bulent, lovable.
He had grown used now to lister
for Belts hurried step on the landing
and listening, often smiled as hel
laugh rang through the house. He
knew just where two early strands OF
hair ought to lay on Belts forehead
&C $40 chooly her haad like a child t(