New Britain herald., 1922-08-01
GO ON WITH THE STORY
 CHAPTER II.

whether Mark Ablett was bore o, not depended on the point of view but 1t may be said at once that he never bored his company on the sub oect Of his early life. However stories get about. There is always somebody who knows. It was said that, as boy, Mark had attracted the notice, and patronage, of some rich old spinster of the neighborhood, who had paid for his education, both at school and university. At about the time when he was coming down from Cambridge, his father had died.
 Mark went to London, with an al- lowance from his patron, and made acquaintance with the money-lenders. Sc was supposed. by his patron and any others who inquired, to be writ Ing" but what he wrote, other than letters asking for more time to pay. has never been discovered.
 Fortunately (from Marks point of voew) his patron died during his third year in London, and left him all the money he wanted. Sc settled accounts with the money-lenders, abandoned his crop of wild oats to the harvesting or others, and became in his turn a patron. He patronized the Arts.
 Editors were now offered free con- fr1butions as well as free lunches: promising young painters and poets dined with him; and he even took a theatrical company on tour, playing host and Head" with equal lavish ness.
 His patronage included Matthew Cayley, small cousin of thirteen. He sent the Cayley cousin to school and Cambridge
 Cayiey at twent- three, looked after his cousins affairs. By this time Mark had bought The Red House. Cayley superintended the necessary staff. He was not quite secretary not quite landagent, not quite busi- ness-adviser, not quite companion, but something of all four.
 Cayley was now twenty-eight, but had all the appearance of forty, which was his patrons age. Systematically they entertained good deal at The Red House. Let us have a look at them as they came down to that breakfast of which Stevens, the par lormaid, has already given us a glimpse.
 The first to appear was Major Rum bold, a tall. gray-haired, gray-mus- tached, silent man, who lived on his retired pay He had got to work on a sausage by the time of the next ar rival. This was Bill Beverley. a cheerful young man in white flannel trousers and a blazer.
 Halo, Major" he said as he came in, "how's the gout?"
 Tt isn't gout," said the Major srufly.
 well, whatever it is."
 The Major grunted
 "I make a point of being polite at breakfast" said Bill, helping him self largely to porridge.
 well, we've got good day for our game It's going to be dashed hot, but that's where Betty and score. Hallo; good morning, Miss Norris. Do you want any assistance, or do you prefer choosing your own breakfast?"
 "Please don't get up,' said Miss Norris. "1ll help myself. Good morning, Major" She smiled pleas antly at him.
 The Major nodded.
 "As I was telling him. began Bill that's where-Hallo, hers Betty Morning, Cayley'
 Betty Calladine and Cayley had come in together. Betty was the .,,h+.en-vear-oId daughter of Mrs John Calladine, widow of the painter who was acting hostess on this occa- sion for Mark. Ruth Norris took herself seriously as an actress and, on her holidays, seriously as golfer She was quite competent as either.
 By the way, the car will be round at 1o:3o." said Cayley, looking up from his letters. You're lunching