The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1922-05-22


 group of men whose duty it is to see to it that no stranger ap- breaches the house by night by day. At a dinner given in honor of the arrival of Peggy McGufre, daughter of Jonathan K-, Beth Cameron, a beautiful girl living in the neighborhood, !, helps her aunt, the housekeeper, | in ''dishing up," and while there d stranger, who has managed to \ fool the guards, secs the house. keeper and frightens her badly. Mcclure is feverishIy excited, and Peter tells him to calm himself.
 AND HERE TT CONTINUES "PnT afraid you make him very unhappy" he ventured.
 That's his lookout" she finished Peter was taking a great delight in twatching her profile, the blue eyes shadowed under the mass of her hair, eyes rather deeply set and thoughtful in repose, the straight nose, the rath- fer full underlip ending in a precipit- ous dent above her chin. He liked that chin. There was courage there and strength, softened at once by the curve of the throat, flowing to where it joined the fine, deep breast. Yes terday she had seemed like boy. Today she was a woman grown, fem mine in every graceful conformation.
 
 But there was "happer" here. tWhat she lacked in culture was made in refinement. He had felt that yes terday-the day before. She belong ed elsewhere. And yet to Peter it would have seemed pity to have changed her in any particular. Her lips were now drawn in a firm line and her brows bore a curious frown You don't mind my calling you Beth, do you?"
 She flashed a glance at him. That's what everybody calls me" My name is Peter
 Yes, I know" And then. That's funny"
 "Funnyi"
 ''You look as if your name ought to be Algeron."
 ''Why?" he asked, laughing.
 "Oh, I don't know. It's the name of a man in a book read-an Eng lishman. You're English. you said.'' | Half English" said Peter.
 Whats the other half?'
 Russian He knew that he ought to be lying to her, but somehow he i.couldn't.
 Russian. I thought Russians all had long hair and carried bembs." some of 'em do. I'm not that kind. The half of me that's English is the biggest half, and the safeist.' |, 'Tm glad of that. I'd hate to think of you as bein' a Bolshevik."
 'H-m. So would I.'
 But Russia is where you get your music from, isn't it? The band lead CT at Glassboro is a Russian. He can play every instrument. Did you . learn music in Russia %
 Beth was now treading dangerous ground and so it was time to turn the tables.
 Yes, a little" he said, "but music has no nationality. Or why would I find voice like yours out here?" Twenty miles from nowhere" she added scornfully.
 How did you come here. Beth |? Would you mind telling me? You weren't born here, were you? How did you happen to come to Black Rock?"
 Just bad luck I guess. Nobody'd ever come to Black Rock just because they want to. We just came. That's , all"
 ? Just you and Aunt T1llie? Is your father dead?" he asked. She closed her eyes moment and : then cIasped her knees again.
 T don't like to talk about family matters
 And then, gently. she added:
 T never talk about them to any one"
 "Oh, I'm sorry" said Peter aware of the undercurrent of sadness in her voice. 'I didn't know that there was anything painful to you--''
 1T didn't know it myself, until you played 1t to me just now, the piece with the sad. low voices. under the melody. It was like somebody dead speakfn' to me. can't talk about the things I feel like that
 Don't then Forgive me for asking"
 He laid his fingers softly over hers. She withdrew her hand quickly. but the look that she turned him found his face sober. his dark eyes warm with sympathy. And then with a swift tnconsequential impulse born of Peters recantation-
 T don't s'pose there's any reason why I shouldn't tell you" she said more easily. Everybody around here knows about me-abOut us Aunt TlNe and I haven't lived here al- ways. She brought me here when I was child-''
 She Naused again and Peter re- nained silent, watching her intently. As she glanced up at him, something in the expression of his face gave her courage to go on.
 Fathers dead. His name was Ben Cameron. He came of nice people, she faltered But he-he was nc good. We lived up near New Lisbon He used to get drunk on Jersey light in Land tear loose. He was all right between whiles-farmin'-bu whisky made him crazy. and then-then he would come home and beat us up
 'HorribleI"
 Tt was I was too little to know much, but Aunt Tillie's husband came at last and there was a terrible fight Uncle Will was hurt-hurt so bad cut with knife-that he never was the same again. And my-my father went away cursing us all. Then my mother died-Uncle Will. too-an6 Aunt TflHe and I came down here tC live. That's all. Not much to bt proud of," she finished ruefu1iy-
 Peter was silent. It was a harrow ing. cordid story of primitive passion