The Connecticut labor press., 1919-11-15
CHAPTER XVI.

Breakfast was brought to him in his
room as usual; but he did not make
his normal healthy raid upon the
dainty tray: the food remained I'M
touched, and he sustained himself
upon coffee-four cups Of it, which
left nothing of value inside the glis-
tening little percolator. During this
process he heard his mother being
summoned to the telephone in the hall,
not far from his door, and then her
voice responding: Eyes? Oh, it's you
Indeed I should! OF
course Then I'll expect you
about three. Yes. {.
Goodby till then" A few minutes
later he heard her speaking to some
one beneath his window. and, looking
out, saw her directing the removal of
plants from a small garden bed to
the Majors conservatory for the win
ter. She laughed gayly with the Ma
jor's gardener over something he. said,
and this unconcerned cheerfulness of
her was terrible to her son.
He went to his desk, and, searching
the jumbled contents of a drawer,
brought forth large, unframed pho
tograph of his father, upon which he
gazed long and piteOusly, till at last
hot tears stood in his eyes. 'Poor,
poor father!" the son whispered bro
kenly. "Poor man, I'm glad you didn't
know r.
He wrapped the picture in a sheet
of newspaper, put it under his arm,
and, leaving the house hurriedly and
steadily, went downtown to the shop
of silversmith, where he spent sixty
dollars on q resplendently festOoned
silver frame for the picture. Having
lunched upon more coffee, he returned
to the house at two o'clock, carrying
the framed photograph with him, and
placed it upon the center table in the
library, the room most used by Isabel
and Fanny and himself. Then he went
to a front window Of the long ''recep-
| ton room," and sat looking out
| through the lace curtains.
George looked often at his watch,
but his vigil did not last an hour. At
| ten minutes of three, peering through
the curtain, he saw an automobile stop
in front of the house and Eugene Nor
gan jump lightly down from it. The
car was of a new pattern. low and
long, with an ample seat in the ton
neau, facing forward; and a profes-
sional driver sat at the wheel,
| strange figure in leather goggled out
| Of all personality and seemingly part
| of the mechanism.
Eugene himself, as he came up the
cement path to the house. was a fig
Of fhA oh tn
| to be so disastrous to stiff hats and
| skirted coats; and his appearance af-
| fOrded a debonair contrast to that of
the queer-looking duck capering at the
ANDERSON ball in an old dress coat.
and next day chugging up National
avenue through the snow in his night
mare of q sewing machine. Eugene
this afternoon was richly clad in new
outdoor mode: his motoring coat was
soft gray fur; his cap and gloves were
| of gray suede, and though Lucy's hand
may have shown itself in the selection
of these high garnitures, he wore them
easily, even with a becoming hint of
| iauntiness. Some change might be
seen in his face, too, for a successful
man is seldom to be mistaken, espe-
cially If his temper be genial. Eugene
| had begun to look like a millionaire.
But, above everything else. what was
most evident about him, as he came
up the path, was his confidence 10 the
| happiness promised by his present
| errand; the anticipation in his eyes
could have been read by a stranger.
| His look at the door Of 1sabel's house