New-York tribune., 1922-07-09

green, instead of their present mildewed hue
it seemed then, and it seems now, that the
house was peering through half-closed lids
down the dusty length of Elm Street, ashamed
or afraid to meet wayfarers eye to eye, but
nevertheless spying upon them, watching their
goings and comings and speculating upon them
within its cobwebby mind.
An Arisfocrut in Its Youth,
Was This House
1t had its day, did the house on the hill. 1t
was the day when Dalesborough was mill
town, before the bleachery was moved-the day
when coal instead Of water power was king.
The president of the bleachery built the house.
He took pride in the austere scowl with which
it's windows scanned the village under pointed
brows; in the lordly way in which its cupola
reared itself above the lesser dwellings and
glared at the bowed heads of the elms.
In that day the house had an honest pride,
the pride of wealth and success, OF social DOM
nance 1t mellowed little as time went on
and children played about its steps and on the
terraced lawn before it, but before anything
approaching graciousness dawned in the for
bidding countenance of the house on the hill
the bleachery moved. So did it's president and
30 did his children.
The house stood aloof, deserted, until Old
Liz came to dwell in it, and now, in its sly
senlity, it is known only as Old Liz's house.
The man who built it to typify his place in
the community did not put the stamp OF his
individuality upon it as successfully as did Old
Liz, the tragic, ridiculous figure, whose dream
as we'll as whose person it housed. But per-
haps tragedy, particularly ridiculous tragedy
clings closer than mere pomposty and is re-
membered longer.
There was time when Old Liz was Betty
Dickinson, probably the prettiest girl in Dales-
borough. There is a penalty for being the
prettiest girl in any Dalesborough in the
world. The penalty is friendlessness Betty
Dickinson paid the penalty, and for few
brief years deemed it light one.
Lightest of all it seemed the day she was
married in her fathers home to Millard Fill
more Whitcomb. Her marriage by no means
alleviated the penalty, however. Millard Fill
more Whitcomb was the catch Of Dalesbor-
ough. He was the youngest member of the
state Legislature and his luxuriant brown
whiskers curled with graceful exactness to his
mustache, making it perfectly enhancing
mystery as to where the extremities of either
were to be placed. Such marriage is not
one to make feminine friends for bride who
had none before.
Millard Fillmore Whitcomb failed to live
up to the grandeur Of his whiskers, however.
His first term In the Legislature was his last,
owing to the fact that certain negotiations Of
q private nature which he was making with
the c., N. & T. Railroad became public. The
result was disappointing to both parties to the
negotiations. 1t made it impossible for the c.,
N. & T. to get through the legislation it de-
sired and it made it impossible for Mllard
Fillmore Whitcomb to be reelected to the
Legislature. Worse still, he hadn't yet re-
ceived the money.
At about the same time Betty's father, her
only surviving parent, died, and it was dis
covered that he had been living up to his in
come and little beyond it for long time.
In fact Bettys old home had to be sold to
satisfy creditors, and quite likely the cottage
which her father had owned would have been
sold, too, had it not been his wedding gift to
his daughter.
AS the Bettys of this world generally do,
she had made the cottage over to her husband,
who had accepted it with the grace invariably
exhibited at such crises by the Miard Fill
more Whitcombs of this world 1t probably
is only just that they do, for it is doubtful
whether the Millard Fillmore Whitcombs of
the next world get any such opportunities.
y It was after the transfer of the cottage that
PMillard began to call her Liz. The cottage,
you see. was Ke.ty's only dowry.
The Waning Influence
OF Whiskers