The Connecticut labor press., 1919-09-13
By Booth Tarkington

l ways puts me in mind O funerals" he kept telling his niece, Fanny Minafer, who was with him; and he seemed to | get great deal of satisfaction out of this reminder. His tremulous yet stri- | dent voice cut through the voluminous sound that filled the room. and he was heard everywhere.
 Presently Georges modification was 1 increased to hear this sawmill droning l harshly from the midst of the thick l ening crowd: "Ain't the dancin' broke out yet, Fanny? Hoopla! Les push l through and go see the young women l folks crack their heels Start the cir I GUS! HOopsey- -daisy!" Miss Fanny Minafer, in charge of the lively vet eran, was almost as distressed as her nephew George, but she did her duty and managed to get old John through the press and out to the broad. stair way, which numbers of young people were now ascending to the ballroom. l George began to recover from the deg radiation into which this relic of, early settler days had dragged him. What restored him completely was a dark eyed little beauty, of nineteen, very knowing in lustrOus blue and jet; at sight of this dashing advent in the line of guests before him George was fully an Anderson again.
 Remember you very we'll indeed !" he said, his graciOusness more earnest than any he had heretofore displayed. Isabel heard him and laughed.
 'But-Xou don't, George!'' she said. You don't remember her yet, though of course you will Miss Morgan. is from out of town, and I'm afraid this is the first time you've ever seen her. You might take her up to the dancing; I think you've pretty we'll done your duty here." formally, and offered his ,arm not with a flourish, certainly, but with an impressiveness inspired partly by the appearance of the person to whom he offered 1t, partly by his being the hero of this fete, and partly by his youth | fulness-for when manners are new l they are apt to be elaborate. The little beauty intrusted her gloved fin gers to his coatsleeve, and they moved away together.
 As he conducted Miss Morgan through the hall toward the stairway they passed the open double doors of a cardroom, where some squadrOns of older people were preparing for ac- ton, and, leaning gracefully upon the mantelpiece of this room, a tall man, handsome, high-mannered and spar klingly point-device, held laughing converse with that queer-looking duck, the Sharon girls uncle. The tall gen. tleman waved a gracious salutation to George, and Miss Morgan's curiosity was stirred. "Who is that?"
 q didn't catch his name when my mother presented him to me-" said George. You mean the queer-looking duck"
 "I mean the aristocratic duck"
 ''That's my Uncle George. Honor able George Anderson. thought ev- erybody knew him."
 "He looks as though everybody ought to know him." she said. "It seems to run in your family"
 If she had any sly intention it skipped over George harmlessly. "Well, of course, I suppose most ev- eryhody does," he admitted-"out in this part of the country especially. l b0SIu0S OuCIS OSOL SS IS HI COLSISSS , the family like to have someone there"
 "Why?"
 "Well, it's sort of a good thing in one way. For instance, Uncle Sydney Anderson and his wife, Aunt Amelia, they haven't much of anything to do with themselves-get bored to death around here, of course. Well, prob ably Uncle GeOrgen have Uncle Syd- ney appointed minister or ambassador or something like that, to Russia or Italy or somewhere, and that'll make it pleasant when any of the rest of the family go travelling. or things like that. I expect to do a good deal of travelling myself when I get out of col lege."
 Sydney was an Anderson exag- 2 g.rated-more pompous than gracious i; DO portIy, flushed, starched to a shine, lis stately jowl furnished with an Ed ward the Seventh beard. Amelia, like wise full-bodied, showed glittering blond hair exuberantly dressed; a pink, fat face cold under a white-hot tiara; a solid, cold bosom under a white-hOt necklace; great, cold, gloved arms, and the rest of her beautifully upholstered. As George ascended the broad stairway they were precisely the aunt and uncle he was most pleased to point out to a girl from out of town, as his appurtenances in the way of relatives. At sight of them the grandeur of the Anderson family was instantly conspicuous as a perma- nent thing: it was impossible to doubt that the Ambersons were intrenched, in their nobility and riches, behind polished and glittering barriers which were as solid as they were brilliant, and would last.
 CHAPTER w.