The Birmingham age-herald., 1922-11-19

ofs e1y cus t1s2 tialo liAo bd}ido oii ANA shoulders, only with the intent of steadying her.
 Are you i'll, Marry" he cried.
 No. Just little dizzy. What has happened?"
 T want you to come to my room and meet my father. He's found me. and has come to take me back home, where l belong.' Nr
 "Your father but look at me.' she cried, suddenly remember ing that she was woman.
 q am looking at you. Come alongl"
 She hadn't the will to resist him. To meet his father, who had found him and was going to take him home! She permitted him to lead her across the hall and into the room. She saw a middle-aged man standing by one of the windows.
 Father and son got in each others way to offer her the nearest chair. She sat down, dazed. What they really wanted of her was beyond the leap of her imagination.
 Now, then, Herb. suppose you start the ball rolling?'
 How did you find me?'
 Put your photograph in the hands of detective-he's below in taxi and he went the rounds of the mag azines and discovered you"
 (Which is more than any editor will ever do," retorted the son, smil- ing. Mary, my name is Herbert Sands Hazelmere, and my father owns a large part of the United States. About a year ago I ran away from home. I had to-"
 Stole away in the night, Miss Clin- ton. without ever telling me what he was up to; and I've grown some gray hairs since then. Not a word, not line; didn't know whether he was dead or alive; just packed up and cleared out. Strikes me. it wasn't quite fair
 .I had to do what l did the way did it. On June 1, which is only few days off. was going to write you. Anyhow, knew all about you I told pr. Henderson, under oath, and he wrote me once a week.
 Tn fact, I got letter from him just the other day saying that you were here in town looking for me You got here a good deal quicker than thought you would. It was pretty hard. sometimes, not to throw up the whole thing, when henderson wrote me how it had hit you"
 "So you had Henderson keeping tab on me? Well. son, that wipes out lot. But, Lord love you, why couldn't you have done your scrib- bling at night, in our own library? I'd have had no objection to that.
 T had to do it this way. l had promised"
 fhp world on fire?"-with gentle irony.
 The son laughed. Father I haven't even struck a spark. Somehow, l knew that l shouldn't Mary knew, didn't you, Mary? You wanted to tell me a hundred. times that l. was wasting my time; your courage wasn't up to it, though But l had to go on."
 Mary wasn't very keen mentally, inst then. She was vainly trying to solve the significance of her pres ence at this singular reunion Of father and sen.
 ..There you are,- Miss Clinton" she heard the father saying, He inherits that from both sides of the family. If an idea goes into our heads we have to see through. Now, son, I'm going to say something that'H hurt d we won't have any misunderstand- ing in the future. Herbs mother. Miss Clinton, was the dearest and most lovable woman man ever had for mate; but l left a boy in her hands just a little too long"
 Mary's glance flew to the son, but the expression ln his face was untranslatable.
 No pig iron for Herbert" the father went on. 'No grime or smell of rust. He was going to have career. He was destined to become great writer. I know a lot about human beings but sometimes 1 find myself up against stone wall.
 Well, poets and painters and au- thors were always visiting my house. Mind you, they were always the real stuff. I've got to admit that; and found some of them as sensible and companionable as most men.
 But I began to find myself on the outer edge of things, shunted tC one side because ton of pig iron was worth commercially a million tons or sonnets. I was only after the money. No one gave me credit for being after anything else.
 And though we loved each other, my wife and l, we just naturally went two ways. Son, you're getting your fathers point of view for the first time."
 Empty the bag, father. I've got some understanding"
 You were away at school and col lege, so you couldn't see. And when a1. .als hA