The Dolores star., 1919-11-21

my daughter" explained my host.
has gone to the town on an errand.
She will be back at any moment.
Meanwhile. shall Introduce you to a
cooling drink of my own manufacture.
with basis of that coconut milk
which I need not ask you whether you
appreciate, recalling the pleasant
circumstance of our first acquaint-
ance."
Motloning me to a seat, and pushing
toward me box of cigarettes, he went
indoors, leaving me to take In the
stretch Of beautiful garden in front of
me. the trees Of which seemed literal
ly to be hung with gold-for they were
mainly of orange and grapefruit
ranged round a spacious beautifully
kept lawn with the regularity Of
sumptuous decoration. In the middle
Of the lawn. a little rocky fountain
threw up Jet of silver. falling with
tinkling murmur into q broad cir
cular basin from which emerged the
broad leaves and splendid pink BIOS
SONS Of an Egyptian lotus. Certainly
1t was no far-fetched allusion of my
classical friend to speak Of the gar
den of Alcinous; particularly connect
ed as 1t was in my mind with the white
beach of a desert isle, and that marble
statue in the moonlight
AS I sat dreaming, bathed in the
golden-green light of the orange trees,
and lulled by the tinkling Of the foun-
tain. my host returned with our drinks,
his learned disquisition on which l
will spare the reader, highly interest
ing and characteristic though it was.
Suffice it that 1t was a drink, what
ever its ingredients-and there was
certainly somewhere powerful
stick" in it-that seemed to have
been drawn from some cool grotto Of
the virgin earth, so thrillingly cold
and invigorating 1t was.
While we were slowly slipping 1t, and
smoking our cigarettes, In an unwont-
ed pause of my friends fanciful ver-
bosity. almost jumped in my chair at
the sound of voice indoors. 1t was
instantly followed by a light and rapid
tread. and the sound Of woman's
dress. Then tall. beautiful young
woman emerged on the loggia.
"Ah! there you arel" cried my host,
as we both rose; and then turning to
me. this is my daughter-Calypso.
Her real name l assure you-none Of
my nonsense-doesn't she look It? Al
low me, my dear, to introduce-Mr.
Ulysses l"-fOr we had not yet e1-
changed each others names.
am a wretched actor, and I am
bound to say that she proved herself
no better. For she gave a decided
start as she turned those glowing eyes
on me, and the lovely olive of her
cheeks glowed as with submerged rose
color. Our embarrassment did not es-
cape the father.
"Why, you know each other al
ready" he exclaimed, with natural
surprise.
Not exactly"-I was grateful for
the sudden nerve with which / was
able to hasten to the relief of her love
ly distress-''but possibly Miss-Ca-
lypso recalls as naturally as do, our
momentary meeting In Sweeney's
store, one evening. had no expecta-
tion of course, that we should meet
again under such pleasant circum-
stances as this"
She gave me grateful look ms she
took my hand, and with it-or was it
only my eager imaginatlon?-as shy lit
tie pressure, again as Of gratitude.
I had tried to get into my voice my
assurance that, of course, l remem-
bered no other more recent meeting
though, naturally, as she had given
that little start in the doorway, there
had flashed on me again the picture
of her standing, moonlit, In another
resounding doorway, and Of the wild
start she had given then, as the golden
pieces streamed from her lovely sur
prised mouth, and her lifted hands.
And her eyes-I could have sworn
were the living eyes Of Jack Harka-
way! Had she brother, wondered
Yet my mind was too dazzled and con-
fused with her nearness to pursue the
speculation. =
As we sat down to luncheon, waited
upon by the little barlegged black chill
dren-waited on, too, surprisingly
well, despite the contortions Of their
primitive embarrassment-my host
once more resumed his character of
the classic king welcoming the storm
tossed stranger to his board.
Far wanderer," he said, raising his
glass to me. "eat of what our board
affords, welcome without question of
name and nation. But If, when the
food and wine have done their genial
office, and the weariness Of your jour
neying has fallen from you, you should
feel stirred to tell us somewhat of
yourself and your wanderings. what
manner Of men call you kinsman, in
what fair land is your home and the
place of your loved ones. be sure that
we shall count the tale good hearing,
and. for our part, make exchange in
like fashion Of ourselves and the pass
age of our days In this lonely ISLE"
yUn all In o,,oh "a - ho o-Hnl