The Ely miner., 1922-09-22
A Weather
Breeder
By H. IRVING KING

A~A~ESSAssR.sAtR~A ~A*EssAssA"A*A"s
20 by Mcclure Newspaper syndicate)
With Philip Holt and Helen Carew
the course of true love was running
altogether too smoothly-there was
not ripple on the surface, not a
shadow in the depths. They were
deeply enamored of each other, her
parents were pleased with the match,
Philip had good position, money of
his own and expectations from his
great aunt an aged spinster, one
Catherine Geoghan. In short, the con-
ditions were abnormal.
Any one at all weatherwise will tell
you that there are sometimes days
so superlatively beautiful that se-
we're storm may be looked for In the
near future. Such days are called
weather-breeders. One day Philip,
who was calling upon Helen-he spent
good share of his time now at that
occupation-said suddenly: There! l
forgot to write to Aunt Kate today.
This was my day for writing her; but
my head is so full of you that l forgot
everything else, you dear girl y
"Sit right down there at my desk
and write her now," replied Helen.
"I'll play you some of that Harrigan
and Hart music you like so well while
you write"
A word about this rich Aunt Kate.
A part of her time she spent on a
farm she owned in New Hampshire
and a part of her time In New York.
Except that she was rather eccen-
trio body this was about all that
Philip had told concerning her. Kate
had never seen her; but they were to
visit her on their wedding tour.
Helen seated herself at the piano
and began those airs once so popular !;
presently breaking into song with
Love, bring out your orange bios
SONS, put on your snow-white veil" !"
from "Cordelia's Aspirations There
was in the living room one of those
dinky little writing desks which wom-
en- adore and men execrate. Philip
seated himself at 1t and wrote He
had completed his letter, put it In the
envelope, sealed it and directed 1t when,
so awkward was he In handling
Helen's foolish little ivory-handied
pen, a great glob of ink dropped on
the face of the envelope. He tore off
the ruined envelope, crumpled 1t up
and threw it into the beribboned little
wastebasket by the side of the desk,
substituted another envelope, directed
it, pressed it on the blotting pad,
sealed the letter and put it In his
pocket.
There, that's donei Now come and
talk to me-" he said 1t was late when
Philip left How desolate the living
room looked to Helen after his de
parture.
''Dear Philipp' she sighed Then her
eye caught the discarded envelope
she had happened to be looking when
he threw 1T away-and she picked it
out the basket and smoothed 1t out
And this is what met her eyes: Miss
Fife La Tour" with the addition of
New York address.
Fife La Tour! If that name did not
suggest the footlights then nothing
did. And he had said he was writing
to his aunt Out of the shadows
which the piano lamp left lurking in
the room the green-eyed monster
crawled and seized upon Helen. She
crept up to her room like a wounded
dove with broken wing.
During wakeful night and the
dreary morning hours that followed
Helen did lot of thinking, her mood
alternating between fearful despair
and righteous indignation.
Helen took a resolution. She In
formed her mother-her father was
away on business trip-that she was
going to New York. She packed
travelling bag, pat her months allow
ance in her purse and departed. Ar
irving In the big city, she took a taxi
and drove to the address of Miss Fife
La Tour, from whom she proposed to
wrest the truth. The cave of the siren
proved to be an old-fashioned dwell
ing stranded in that part of the me-
tropolis once known as Chelsea Viii
lage. A neat housemaid admitted her
when she frigidly demandeds to see
Miss La Tour.
1t was an old-fashioned parlor into
which she was shown, with "tidies" on
the chairs, CHASTITY enlarged crayon
portraits" on the walls and a gilt
basket of wax fruit under a glass on
the marble-tipped table.
'These chorus girls do get up the
respectable In a thorough manner"
thought Helen. II suppose there will
be a respectfully got-up guardian to
match the parlor."
There was considerable delay, and
then entered, to her, the most aston.
ishing person upon whom she had
ever set eyes. 1t was a little,
bird-like old woman, dressed in many
colors, befiounced and befurbelowed.
From an obvious wig yello,y curls
hung down to her shoulders, and keen,
merry old eyes looked cut over