The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1920-08-26

who read his Bible on occasion, that
Mr.. Fitzrandolph shows very keen
wisdom. Furthermore-well, there is
a verse in Saint Matthew, which runs:
'Ye are the salt of the earth.
Jonas, the valet, touched his sleeve.
"a special delivery letter, sir"
Taking the square envelope from
the servants salver, without observ-
ing the superscription, the secretary
opened it and perused the contents.
He knitted his brows.
"Puzzling,' he murmred scratching
/, the back of his head. "It's anonymous,
has neither beginning nor end He
with an apology, handed the message
to his employer. II didn't notice it.
It's marked personal
| One glance at the sheet of note
paper, and Daniel sank into his chair.
With his strong fingers he pinned the
note to the table, breathing rapidly
through dilated nostrils. Hunt, sitting
next to him.. recalled afterward that
it was the only time in all the years
he had known him that he had ever
seen the mans hand tremble.
Daniel looked up, stared blankly
moment at the two silently questioning
faces. His lip quivered slightly.
! Boys, I've received startling news.
I've changed my mind about giving
everything away. I'll go ahead with
| those houses. But I'll go little saner.
In a little saner manner, you under
stand. And, boys, am going to do
that big thing!"
| He sprang up.
Jonas Call good livery stable.
/ want their best saddle horse at
twelve sharp. Craig, make an appoint
ment for tomorrow morning with
Stanley Graham, the architect. Phone
for the head barber downstairs, Jonas.
Mention ten dollars to him."
Then, without any of them know
ing what it was all about the specu-
lator the secretary, and the valet. had
their hands seized and wrung with a
vim that crushed their fingers.
Hunt burning with curiosity, per-
mitted his eye to rest momentarily
upon the opened note lying on the
table. He could make nothing out of it.
1t began without preface and was I'M
| signed. 1t consisted of two questions.
written in flowing, girlish hand:
do you remember our last appoint
ment? Will you keep it today?"
AS the superbly 1.-THE, red-haired
young woman mounted with cool COM
posture on the sorrel horse, cantered
serenely past the Grant monument in
Lincoln park she glanced at her watch
and saw it was one o'clock. A garden
err spading the soft ground beside the
bridle-path stopped his work, as well
anyone might, to follow her with adj
miring gaze. There was delicious
"earthy" smell of spring in the air,
vernal quickening all about.
Presently-she had passed the end
of the hillock just north of the monu-
ment-she turned in her saddle, and
perceived far to the south dark
shape growing rapidly larger. She jerk
ed the reins precipitateTy, wheeled
about, started back in alarm. Her adj
mirable tranquility had vanished.
Goose What did he mean? He was
full hour early.
Escape was cut off. Quickly she
guided her horse into the concrete
arch monument-and waited. Her per-
turbation increased. Her gloved hand
toyed nervously with her riding crop.
Her heart pounded against her side.
She smoothed for the fifth time her
stylish riding-llabit, adjusted for the
tenth time the pointed hat atop her
Titan hair.
What did he mean? He was an hour
early
Now she could hear the rhythmic
thud of the hoof-beats. They were
coming with break-neck speed. Louder
and nearer, louder and nearer, louder
and nearer
A form shot past. Her heart leapt
to her throat.
Then the scuff1e of horse checked
in a headlong gallop, swiftly return
ing sounds, and the archway was dark
ened by a broad-shouldered, athletic
man astride heaving, foam-1lecked
steed
His age sat lightly upon him. He
looked much younger than he was. He
had swept off his hat, and his thick
black hair, matted damply against his
forehead, showed never trace of
gray. He was distinguished rather
than good-looking, and the skin of his
newly-and wholly-shaven face was
as fresh, as clear, and as glowing as
her own.
Stirring within the minds of these
two. who had beyond question proved.
their love for one another, who had
known sorrow and bitterness and de
spair. who had travelled years to reach
this moment, treading long circle
to fuse it at last, were-who shall say
what thoughts and emotions?
But suppose I tell you what the
gardener, spading the soft ground be-
side the bridle-path, overheard?
Well, Kate, how are you?
! - Al.