The Washington times., 1922-10-29
(Continued from L Last Sunday)
CHAPTER xxi.

Clny Wnlle slp O1 ToOih
which had been appointed
hers, and the austerity of which
was already softened by subtle
feminine touches and various ar
ticles of luxury, Sarah Mary Ellen
Hicks sat frowning beneath the
shaded electric light, composing,
laboriously, letter, in the inter-
walls of sucking the tip of her PEN
Gil and biting the end of it.
Her red hair flowed about her
shoulders unconfined; white
woolen rest gown of extreme SIM
plicity wrapped her about. Va
rious articles of clothing, family
redolent of lilies of the valley were
folded neatly upon the chair be-
side her bed. She had folded them
herself, with reverential fingers.
She eyed them now with an uncon-
trollable little shiver of delight.
For an instant her nostrils dilated;
she drew a long breath; then she
bent above her writing pad again.
Later, being a cautious young
person, she deleted part of that
letter. Some of its many pages
she scrapped absolutely. But, in
the writing of it, she found vent
for the emotions and excitement
which surged and seethed within
her. After the first few lines she
forgot it was a letter, and that she
was writing it to Ethel Elcome.
1t became just a record of the
most marvellous twenty-four hours
she had ever known.
The spelling left much to be de-
sired, the punctuation was more
often than not remarkable for its
absence; there were many ex-
clamation marks, frequent dashes,
and much underlining-but the
whole expressed her feelings and
impressions with striking vivid
ness.
"Kerrigan Place.
"Dear Ethel,
"I'm here. l got here yester-
day evening, about tea-time. i
hadn't any money, so had to walk
it-and of course it came on to
rain in torrents. | was pretty
near soaked through when l got
here-about the legs, anyway. My
shoes were nearly pulp. But that
doesn't matter now!!! Oh,
Ethel! don't know how to begin
to tell you! The whole thing is
for all the world like the pictures
not a bit real-awfully fascinat-
ing-and sort of takes your
breath away when you start think
ing it over. I've felt like Mary
Pickford in 'M'liss' ever since /
got here-I think that's the one /
mean, though I've seen so many l
half forget the names Of them
anyway, one of those where she's
all shabby and poor, and finds her
self suddenly among the aristo-
cratts-I don't know ii there ought
to be two rs in that-but IT
doesn't much matter. Only, of
course, | don't look like her-wish
| did. Perhaps then-Oh, well, j
mustn't begin in the middle, or
III make an awful muddel. Well,
as | was telling you, got here
moderately carly in the evening.
The caretaker told me Mr.. Fan
shave was away, and he didn't
know when he was coming back:
but he seemed to think ] might be
expected, and took me up to the
fat and let me t.. Give dis
covered since that Mr.. Fanshawe's
valet had been ordered to get in
servants at once, and | rather
imagine the caretaker took me for
one Of them!!! It's funny-now;
but I'd have jolly well given him
something. to go on with at the
time, If I'd known. Though,
suppose - remembering what ]
looked like-it wasn't so surpris-
ing. Except that the servants
here are a great deal better dressed
than most of the ladies you and
I've ever seen. look quite diff
ferent now-you ought to see
mel! All wrapped up in q queer
woolly gown that just clings, and