The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1918-11-15
CHAPTER v. .

When at last he alighted at the
door, and was shown into the recep-
ton room. he felt that he was almost
trembling with eagerness.
He looked uncertainty about him, at
the group of young officers, the ladies,
at Mrs. Howard, and then at the styl-
ishly dressed young woman at her side.
And, forgetting his manners, he ap-
preached her in stupefaction, ignoring
his hostess for the moment.
Eleanor
"Uncle Mark! It's never you, Uncle
Mark !" cried the girl. 'Why, / should
never, never have known you'll"
But would he have known her, had
he not looked closely into the clear
eyes to discern the face Of the little
waif beneath the beauty Of the woman?
He had often and often imagined her,
grown to womanhoOd, and dressed as
he would have dressed her, but some
how she had always had the look and
aspect Of the child, blended with the
schoolgirl. A sudden chill went through
his heart at her self-mastery, the we'll
bred welcome that had in it little Of
real eagerness. And he realized that,
though he had always looked on her as
lost, at the bottom Of his heart he
must have hoped to find her again.
He stood, graying-haired, uncOm-
Portable, almost middle-aged man, try
ing to feel at home. He saw Keller
man looking at him across the room, as
If there was some message in his eyes.
II hope haven't changed so much
as all that" said Mark, trying to
/ smile.
"No," she answered, looking at him
with searching, direct gaze. "Not
really-on!y at first appearance. Why,
Uncle Mark, your hair is turning gray.
What have you been doing with your
self?"
He felt that the unconscious shaft
had gone well home. He only answer
ed vaguely. There was little in
formal dancing, and, as he felt befitted
his age, he waltzed few turns with
Eleanor and sat back with Mrs. How
ard. surveying the gay crowd, and re-
calling memories-about the most dis
heartening thing that he could have
done.
"What do you think of Eleanor"
asked Mrs. Howard. "You didn't ex-
pect to find the little schoolgirl grown
up like this, did you?"
"Nor she me-like this" answered
Mark humbly. But the ColonePs wife
missed the allusion.
"She has been crazy to see yOu,"
Mrs. Howard continued. "She gave
the Colonel no rest after he told us
that he was trying to get you for the
| war Office. believe she had always
had sort of romantic recollection of
you. and looked upon you as sort of
| guardian, although, of course, it was
fortunate thing for her and us-and
you, too-that Colonel Howard did
succeed in inducing you to let us take
her. She has been everything to u.s."
"Of course" said Mark mechanic
| ally.
SIT would have been a terrible life
for her out in the DESERT" sighed Mrs.
Howard. 81 think that you were very
wise, Captain Wallace. And what
dreadful burden and responsibility you
you would have had"
This time Mark did not attempt to
answer.
"She has been a daughter to both Of
u.s." pursued his hostess. sand now
I'm afraid-we're both afraid, Captain
| Wallace, that we cannot hope to have
her for long. She was quite the rage
in New York last season."
Wallace followed the girl with his
eyes. She had just been dancing with
a young officer; it had been two
step, and as the band of three pieces
broke into the widest and merriest
| part of the piece he saw her, with
| flushed face and laughing eyes, accept
Kellerman's arm and surrender herself
| to the dance.
Kellerman caught Marks eyes across
the room. He looked straight back
with a meaning challenge which was
unmistakable. Mark knew at that
moment that his antipathy to Keller
man had returned, although he was In
clined to believe the other was not
aware it had ever existed.
Kellerman was splendid figure,
even in his civilian evening clothes.
Fully six feet tall, with the chest and
limbs of an athlete, ford, with crisp
black hair and sense of the posses
sion of power, he looked at least five
years Marks Junior, though they ha6
been born in the same year. Gland
some KelIerman" had been his sObri