The Elk Mountain pilot., 1922-07-20
HIS MISTAKE
BY JACK LAYTON

1t was not the rector's fault that he
became an eavesdropper. The two
who provoked his disapproval had
taken the vacated seats opposite his
at the restaurant table.
The woman, decidedly pretty, he
remembered having been at service
the past Sunday. He recalled hav-
ing wondered, even under the thrall
of his studied address, whom she
might be and where she had come
from. She was not, he was certain, a
resident of Pembroke.
The man who so courteously re-
moved the charming woman's fur
cloak and placed 1t across the back Of
her chair, was familiar but unknown.
Rev. Peter Brooks passed him fire.
quently in the streets. He recalled,
now, the fact that Mrs. Meader, the
mans wife, was said to be out of
town. Peter Brooks was just decid-
ing that Mr.. Meader's companion was
in all probability a visiting relative
when that little lady shattered his
Illusion.
'This is better than working in that
stuffy office, isn't itr' she said.
Jack Meader nodded with a smile.
'Yet If had not coaxed you out"
he told her, "you would still be at
your desk. Now, won't you let me or
der for you something very good and
extravagant7"
The woman held out her hands with
q pretty gesture Of surrender, you
are so kind" she agreed.
"Typing," Jack smiled, "or working
overtime does not seem to trouble
your happy patience. What a joyous
old place this world would be, Eleanor
Gall, II all women were like you"
"What an impossible place, rather"
she laughingly replied, II will tell
you a secret. Every one conspires to
spoil me-to make things easy for me.
yourself, for instance; consider the
amount of work from which you re-
lieye me-"
"This afternoon" Jack Meader
said, "you are to be forced into holi-
day. was fortunate in obtaining
tickets to the Shakespearean matinee"
Eleanor Gail regarded him over her
frozen fruit. "Tickets7" she asked.
headers nodded. II think deserve
4 holiday, too." he replied.
Uncomfortably Peter Brooks moved
In his chair. So It was another case
Of going out to lunch with the stenog-
rapher. All right. perhaps. to one
who had not heard to what lengths
frail little Mrs. Meader was obliged
to economize. An extravagant lunch
con Jack Meader had suggested to
his companion, and undoubtedly he
had ordered such, while tickets for
the Shakespearean matinee could not
be procured cheaply. Reverend Peter
cleared his throat.
"Nr. Meader, believer he said.
pleasantly. II wanted to inquire for
your wife. She is away7 under
stood that she was in poor health"
Jack Meader stared; the stare
seemed almost hostile.
"She is in poor health" he an
swered.
Rev. Peter Brooks walked thought
fully homeward. Here Was q case
present day altogether too little re-
gard for Appearances sake. He In
tended to make this one laxity the
subject for a sermon. So intent was
he on his theme that he had almost
passed his bishop without rocogni-
ton. That important and smiling
parsonage greeted him cordially.
"Hello, Peter; where are you hurry
ing7 Time 50 valuable that you can't
spare me moment7 I'd like your
advice in a matter"
Peter wheeled about, following his
superior across the street and into an
impressive old house.
"You were sayingT he absently
asked the prelate.
about that history Of mine. Why
the church should desire 1t 1 cannot
understand; the fact remains. And
they have engaged a clever historian
the thing is readable even to me-"
The big man leaned back smiling
Peter murmured congratulations. He
was eager to be at his purposeful
sermon. It occurred to him to dis
cuss 1t with the wise man at his side
they were both In accord with the
theme. Peter, his handsome head
resting against the back of the bish-
ops favorite chair, hoped sternly
that the charming and unconcerned
sinner would be there to hear his SER
mon eloquently delivered. Then sud-
denly the resting head was lifted, for
the object of his thought and worthy
effort stood smiling in the doorway
Of the bishops study, while the bish-
op himself arose to welcome her.
Permit me. Miss GALL" he said,
ITO present Rev. Mr.. Brooks. Miss
GAIL" the big man explained, "is very
busy writing the history Of q tire
some old man."
Eleanor Gail briskly removed coat
and jaunty turban. ''Mr. Meader,-
she explained to the bishop. twas de
termined that an afternoon Of enter