The Bienville Democrat. [volume] (Arcadia, Bienville Parish, La.) 1912-1980, 1921-03-24
IA |.
By George Agnew Chamberlain
Copyright The Merrill Company
PART |II-Continued.
Copyright The Bobbs. Merrill Company

When all the rubbing is done, evan
to the last rite where they divide the
fragrant food into two waves falling
over the bosom and mercilessly knead
the damp ends between folds of the
dryest bit Of the towel, she drops that
implement and runs into the big room
where the dying open fire blinks its
red eye as though it had been waiting
up for her.
The writer-who is privileged, for
the benefit Of a large and growing
public, to see her in his minds eye
as her pink bare feet pad up and down
the room, racing every time they come
to the home-stretch between the I'M
peOpled grandstand of the couch and
the fire, and then doubling suddenly,
so that her wide eyes may catch her
hair still on the wing, for all the world
like kitten chasing its tail-does
herein affirm, by the collective man
hood Of the earth, that she was alto
gether lovable and beyond the reach
Of sullying thought. Now let her
curl up in the bed and sleep.
Slumber meant nothing in Pamela's
life. That statement should be taken
not in the sense of the common slang
Of the vulgar, but at its literal face
value. What is meant is that when
this young lady slept, it was like TAX
ing chunk bodily out of life and
putting it in warm storage. AS con-
sequence, when the old-fashioned clock
on the mantel buried warning that
it was thinking of striking the hour
of nine in about two minutes, she
opened her eyes and wondered through
what magic night had been suddenly
replaced by broad and smiling day.
Not for long did that lifelong and
accustomed miracle hold her attention,
for scarcely had it occurred, through
force Of habit, to her awakening
thought than her startled eyes fell up
on the tall, stopped, gray-headed figure
of a man, clad in livery, and standing
unstably poised in the doorway of the
room. His eyes, naturally deep-set,
actually protruded from his face as
though they were determined to come
halfway to meet Pamela's wondering
orbs. He looked like a solemn raven
which has carelessly alighted on a live
| wire.
"He hello" stammered the young
lady.
Woodworking, MISS" said Tomlin.
son, in sepulchral and censorious
tones. "Where is Master Roberto
"You mean Mr.. Randolph asked
Pamela, a little breathlessly.
The old man steadied himself BY
! seizing the door-jamb and bowed con-
firmation of her supposition.
II don't know where he u.s." said
Pamela, more calmly. "The last time
| / saw him he was limping west" A
twinkle came into her eyes. "Why do
you ask" j,
"Why do I ASK" he exclaimed.
miss, do you mind telling me who you
are and what you are doing in Mr..
Randolph's apartment at nine o'clock
on a Friday morning?"
TN November" supplemented Pam
Ella, as though she were supplying a
very important addition to the facts IN
the case. II am Miss Thornton" she
added, with as much dignity as a
maiden, tumbled of hair, flushed Of
cheek, and cuddled in a young mans
big bed, could summon.
The effect of her words on TOmlin.
son was electrical.
Miss Imogene Pamela Thornton!
he asked. as he suddenly Strengthened
and let 60 of his supports. +
eyes," said Pamela, gazing at him
in undisguised surprise. 'How did
| you knOW?"
"Why, MISS" said the old man, I'm
Tomlinson. Excuse me for saying So"
he added, a pale flush in his Fithered