The Hope pioneer. [volume] (Hope, N.D.) 1882-1964, 1919-05-08

3AA .SAiAS WOuIu appear ID UC reason.
ably definite were 1t not for the note
regarding the color Of his hair. It
leaves to me the simple task Of com.
plotting the very admirable. description
Of Mr.. Barnes by announcing that
Miss Tflly's hair was an extremely
dark brown.
Also it is advisable to append the
following biographical information:
Thomas K%ingsbury Barnes, engineer,
born in .Montclair, N. j.. September
26, 1885. Cornell and Beaux Arts,
Paris. Son Of the late Stephen s..
Barnes. engineer, and Edith Walen-
tine) Barnes. Office, Metropolitan
building. New York city. residence,
Amsterdam mansion. Clubs: (Lack
of space prevents listing them here),
R~ecreations, golf, tennis and horse.
back riding. Fellow of the Royal Geo.
graphical society. Member Of the
Loyal Legion and the Sons Of the
American Revolution.
Added to this, the mere announce.
ment that he was in a position to in.
dulge a fancy for long and perhaps
aimless walking tours through more
or less Out-of-the-way sections OF his
own country, to say nothing Of excur-
sions in Europe.
He was rich. Perhaps not as riches
are measured in these Midas-like days,
but rich beyond the demands of ava.
rice. His legacy had been an. ample
one. The fact that he worked hard at
his profession from one years end to
the other-not excluding the six
devoted to mentally productive jaunts
is proof sufficient that he was not
content to subsist on the fruits Of an
other mans enterprise. He was a
worker.
The first fortnight Of a proposed
six weeks jaunt through upper New
England terminated when he laid
aside his heavy pack in the little bed
room at Harris Tavern. Cockcrow
would find him ready and eager to be-
gin his third week. At least so he
thought. But, truth is, he had come
to his journeys end; he was not to
sling his pack for many a day to come,
After setting the mind Of the land.
lord at rest Barnes declined Mr..
Rushcroft's Invitation to "quaff" a cor
dial with him in the taproom, explain
ing that he was exceedingly tired and
intended to retire early.
Instead of going up to his room i'm
mediately, however, he decided to
have a look at the weather. His un.
e~asiness concerning the young woman
of the crossroads increased as he
peered at the wall of blackness loom
ing up beyond the circle of light. She
was somwhere outside that sinister
black wall and in 1.-THE smothering
grasp of those invisible hills, but was
she living or dead? Had she reached
her journeys end safely? He tried to
extract comfort from the confidence
she had expressed in the ability and
integrity of the old man who drove
with far greater re~cklessness than one
would have looked for in q wild and
irresponsible .youngster.
He recalled with a thrill the imperi
GUS manner in which she gave direc-
tons to the man, and his surprising
servility. 1t suddenly occurred to him
that she was no ordinary person; he
was rather amazed that he had not
thought Of it before.
Moreover, now that he thought Of it.,
there was, ven in the agreeable re.
jotnders she had made to his offerings,
the faint suggestion of an accent that
should have struck him at the time
but did not for the obvious reason that
he was then not at all interested in
her. Her English was so perfect thai
he had failed to detect the almost i'm
%perceptible foreign flavor that nov
took definite form in his reflections
He tried to place this accent. Was
it French or Italian or Spanish? Ger
tainly it was not German.
He took a few turns up and dowr
the long porch, stopping finally at the
upper end. The clear, inspiring clane
Of a hammer on an anvil fell sud
denly upon his ears. He looked at his
watch. The hour was rine, certainly
an unusual time for men to be at WORK
in a forge. He remembered two men
in the taproom who were bare-armee
and wore the shapeless leather aprons
Of the smithy.
Harris tavern is. enter
taininu|v Seri0.cOmic. when