The Holbrook news., 1922-07-28

I Say! Y'betcha, by jollies, I've got Ger the very onel You're d-n-you're sure whistlin'. We got a lady friend, Clay and me, the finest little pilgrim in New York. She's sure there when the gong strikes. You'd love her. I'll fix 1t for you-right away. got to go to her house this afternoon an do some chores. I'll bet she comes right over to see you"
 ter wait and speak to Mir. Lindsay about it." she said.
 No, ma'am, you don't know Miss Beatrice. She's the best friend. Why, I shouldn't wonder but that she and Clay might get married one O these days. He thinks a lot of her"
 "Oh," Kitty knew just little more of human nature than the puncher. Then I wouldn't tell her about me if I was you. She wouldn't like my bein' here"
 "Sho You don't know Miss Beatrice. She grades way up. I'll bet she likes you fine"
 When Johnnie left to go to work that afternoon he took with him res Olution to lay the whole case before Beatrice Whitford. She would fix things all right. If there was one per son on earth Johnnie could bank on without fail it was his little boss.
 It was not until Johnnie had laid the case before Miss Whitford and restat- ed it under the impression that she could not have understood that his con- fidence ebbed. He had expected an eager interest, a quick enthusiasm. Instead, he found in his young mis- tress a spirit beyond his understand ing. Her manner had a touch of cool disdain, almost of contempt, while she listened to his tale.
 She asked no questions and made no comments. What he had to tell met with chill silence. Johnnie's guileless narrative had made clear to her that Clay had brought Kitty home about midnight, had mixed a drink for her, and had given her his own clothes to replace her wet ones. Somehow the cattleman's robe, pajamas and bedroom slippers obtruded unduly from his friends story. Even the Runt felt this. He began to perceive himself a helpless medium of wrong impressions. "I suppose you know that when the manager of your apartment house finds out she's there he'll send her pack ing" So Beatrice summed up when she spoke at last.
 "No, ma'am, I reckon not. You see we done told him she is Clay's sister jes' got in from the West" the punch CT explained.
 "Oh, see" The girls lip curled and her clean-cut chin lifted a trife. You don't seem to have overlooked any thing. No I don't think I care to have anything to do with your arrange ments."
 Beatrice turned and walked swiftly | into the house. A pulse of anger was beating in her soft throat. She felt sense of outrage. To Clay Lindsay she had given herself generously in spirit. She had risked something in intrOduc- ing him to her friends. They might have laughed at him for his slight so- cial lapses. They might have rejected him for his lack of background. They had done neither He was so genuine ly a man that he had won his way in- stantly.
 Pacing up and down her room, little fists clenched. her soul in passionate turmoil. Beatrice went over it all again as she had done through sleepless night. She had given him so much, and he had seemed to give her even more. Hours filled with a keen-edged delight jumped to her memory, hours that had carried her away from the falseness of social fribble to clean. wind-swept, open spaces of the mind. And after this-after he had tacitly recognized her claim on him-he had insulted her before her friends by de- serting his guests to go off with this hussy he had been spending weeks to search for.
 Not for moment did she admit, perhaps she did not know, that an in- sane jealousy was flooding her being. that her indignation was based on per sonal as well as moral grounds. Some thing primitive stirred her-a flare of feminine ferOcity. She felt hot to the touch, an active volcano ready for eruption If only she could get chance to strike back in way that would hurt, to wound him as deeply as he had herl
 Pat to her desire came the oppor- tunity. Clay's card was brought in to her by Jenkins.
 "Tell MT. Lindsay I'll see him in a few minutes" she told the man.
 The few minutes stretched to long quarter of an hour before she descend ed As soon as his eyes fell on her, Clay knew that this pale, slim girl in the close-fitting gown was a stranger to him. Her eyes, star-bright and burn- ing like live cOals, warned him that the friend whose youth had run out so eagerly to meet his was hidden deep in her today.
 "I reckon 1 owe you and Mir. Whit ford an apology" he said. 'No need to tell you how I happened to leave last night. I expect you know"
 "Why take the trouble? I think l understand" She spoke in an even, schooled voice that ct him at a dis tance. "Your friend, Mir. Green, has carefully brought me the details I didn't know"
 Clay flushed. Her clear voice carried an edge of scorn. You mustn't judge by appearances. I know you wouldn't