The Newark journal., 1922-04-20

"I thought, madam, we had made no
 mistake. I was sure you would deem
 1t a privilege. And as for us, your keen appreciatiye sense of the fitness
 of things will-er-will make it
 favor to us if you comply with our l request" said he, 1oundering in help- less confusion for moment But Mrs. Livingstone did not notice. She went through the rest of that in- teryiew in dazed eestatic wonder. 1 She only knew at its conclusion that
 she was to go up to Vermont to care l for His house. to live in the rooms that He had lived in, to rest where 1 He had rested. to walk where He had
 walked, to see what He had seen. And she was to receive pay-money
 for this blissful privilege. Incredible It did not take Mrs. Livingstone l long to make all necessary arrange | ments.
 AS they stepped from the train to l the platform at the little country sta 1 tion, Mrs. Livingstone looked about her with awed interest. He had been
 herel The bouncing yellow stage 1 coach became hallowed golden char 1 tot, and the ride to the house sacred pilgrimage.
 "Only think, Mabel, He walked here.
 and sat here" said the woman ador-
 ingly, suiting the action to the word 1 and sinking into great Morris chair. Mabel sniffed her disdain. T presume so; but l should like to know where he ate-maybe he left something!" !"
 Mrs. Livingstone rose In despairlng l resignation.
 The next few days were a dream of I bliss to Mrs Livingstone. The house l was a handsome mansion set well back from the street, and surrounded i by beautiful grounds which were kept
 in order by a man who came two or three times week to attend to them.
 Mrs. Livingstone had but herself and
 Mabel to care for, and she performed l the work of the house as a high 1 priestess might have attended upon
 the altars of her gods. It was on the
 fifth day that growing wonder in the
 mind of Mrs. tLiYingsstt99ne found voice.
 Mabel. there isn't one of His "orks in the housts-not one. I've been everywhere! Said the woman. plaint- l lively.
 "Well, mother" laughed the girl saucily, 'that's the most sensible thing I ever knew of the man. I don't won 1 shouldn't"
 "Mabel !'
 "Well, I shouldn'ti" And Mabel
 laughed wickedly while her mother l sighed at the outspoken heresy. It was plain that Mabel had no soul Mrs. Livingstone was furthermore
 surprised at her idols taste in art
 some of the pictures on the wall were
 distinct shock to her. i The house was to be sold completely 1 furnished, with the exception of the | books and pictures. The price was
 high, and there were but few prospec-
 tive purchasers. Occasionally people
 came to see the property; such Mrs. l Livingstone conducted about the house
 with reverent impressiveness,
 1t is something to buy house l owned by so famous man." she insin-
 uated gently one day, after valnly I trying to awaken a proper enthusiasm I in a prim little woman who was talk
 ing of purchasing.
 "Indeedl' replied the other, frigidly.
 Do you think so2 1 must confess 1t l is somewhat of drawback to me"
 And from that time Mrs. Livingstone
 wore an injured air-the young moth- CTS baby had been snubbed-griey-
 ously snubbed.
 | Toward the last of the summer q wild plan entered Mrs. Livingstone's
 brain; and after some days of trem- 1 bling consideration, she determined to 1 carry 1t out. The morning mail bore letter from her to the Inimitable One | through his publishers. She had | learned that he was to be in Boston,
 and she had written to beg him to
 come up to his old home and see if 1t was being cared for to his satisfac- ton. The moments dragged as though weighted with lead until the answer
 came. When at last 1t was in her
 hands. she twisted a hairpin under
 the flap of the envelope and tore out
 the letter with shaking fingers.
 It was from the mimitable Ones
 private secretary The Inimitable One
 did not understand her letter-he was
 the owner of no house in Vermont
 there was doubtless some mistake,
 That was all The communication
 was wholly enigmatie.
 The letter fiuttered to the floor, and
 Mrs. Livingstone's dazed eyes rested
 on the gardener in the lawn below. In a moment she was at his side. Peter, isn't this house owned by l very famous manf'
 "Indade it is, ma'am."
 "Who is her. she demanded shortly,
 holding her breath until that familiar
 name borne by the Inimitable One passed the others lips. "Well, Peter, isn't he the writeri | What does he do for a liylng7" she l faltered, still mystified.