The Tomahawk., 1919-09-11

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connection by marriage with the Am
bersons he never had worn and never
would wear a swaller-tail coat. Mem
bers Of his family had exerted their
influence uselessly eighty-nine
conservative people seldom form rad
ical new habits. and old John wore his
Sunday suit of black broadcloth to
the Anderson bail. The coat was
square, with skirts to the knees: old
John called It a "Prince Albert" and
was we'll enough pleased with it. but
his great-nephew considered It the
next thing to an insult.
The large room had filed, and so
the other side Of the hall, where there
were tables for whist. The imported
orchestra waited In the ballroom on
the third floor, but local harp. cello,
violin and flute were playing airs from
"The Fencing Master" in the hall. and
people were shouting over the music.
Old John Minafer's voice was louder
and more penetrating than any other,
because he had been troubled with
deafness for twenty-five years, heard
his own voice but family, and liked to
hear It. "Smell o. flowers like this al
ways puts me in mind o. funerals" he
kept telling his niece, Fanny Minafer.
who was with him: and he seemed to
get a great deal of satisfaction out of
this reminder. His tremulOus yet stri-
dent voice cut through the voluminous
sound that filed the room. and he was
heard everywhere.
Presently Georges modification was
increased to hear this sawmill droning
harshly from the midst of the thick
ening crowd: "Ain't the dancin' broke
out yet, Fanny? Hoopla! Les push
through and 60 see the young women
folks crack their heelsl Start the cir
cusl 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.
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 well indeed !"
he said. his graciousness more earnest
than any he had heretofore displayed.
Isabel heard him and laughed.
"'But you 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"
BE d1ighted," George responded
formally, and offered his arm, not
with flourish, certainly, but with an
tmpressiveness 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
they are apt to be elaborate. The
little beauty intrusted her gloved FIN
gers to his coatsleeve. and they moved
away together.
A he conducted Miss Morgan
through the hall toward the stairway
they passed the open double doors OF
q cardroom, where some squadrons OF
older people were preparing for &C.
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 q gracious salutation to
George, and Miss Morgan's curiosity
was stirred. "Who Is that?'
II didn't catch his name when my
mother presented him to me-" said
George. "You mean the queer-looking
duck"
II mean the aristocratic duck"
'"That's my Uncle George. Honor
able George Anderson. I thought ev-
erybody knew him."
He looks as though everybody
ought to know him." she said. 1T
seems to run In your family"
II she had any sly intention 1t
skipped over George harmlessly.
swell, of course, suppose most ev-
erybody does," he admitted-"out In
this part Of the country especially.
Besides Uncle George is in congress;
the family like to have someone
there"
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