The Birmingham age-herald. [volume] (Birmingham, Ala.) 1902-1950, 1924-10-13
CHAPTER Hi
nSHAW," remarked Rupert after
80 rur;finn for q few minntRa

m
80 writing for a few minutes,
this won't do. l want an
advertisement that will attract some
really nice woman. + don't want any
more housekeepers, Rosanna can man
age that end all right. What need is
some, one to look after the boy and give
an eve to the comforts of the home"
Once again Rupert wrote hurriedly
and after destroying a few more sheets
of paper he finally leaned back in his
chair. Holding the sheet before him,
read aloud:
WANTED: Cultured woman to
care for small boy and direct affairs Of
a household of three. Residence upstate.
Rupert Ransome, Hotel Gilmore, New
York"
al think that should bring some re-
plies and when I'm in the city can in
terview the applicants myself. That
will save Moberly. Poor chap, he's had
hard time trying to help me out, and
Rupert smiled as he thought OF the
times that Moberly had tried to find
the perfect housekeeper for him.
Knocking the ashes from his pipe,
he put it in q small alcove in the stone
fireplace, then gathering his letters to-
geteher he slipped them into the mail
bag. He went to the front door and
stepped on the porch for few minutes.
1t was a gorgeous moonlight and as
Hearts Desire was on the top OF hill
he had a wonderful view. The far-off
houses which nestled in the deeply
wooded hills sent out their little flicker
ing lights. A gentle wind waited to him
the pungent smell of the newly ploughed
.kak hA Vax,ft
Of Pegs iron-shood feet as the mare
stamped on the floor. Once more Ru-
pert's. eyes swept the horizon. East
ward he glimpsed the lights OF train
coming from New York. Would he
find what he wanted there? a.
Meantime, Joan, realizing that all her
hopes about inheriting some Of her
uncle's money were shattered, was work
ing night and day on her novel, for
she was determined to finish it. As
she worked over the last pages Sylvia
burst into the studio with tube OF
white paint. Good heavens" she ex-
claimed, as. she looked at Joan, what
ever's happened to you? suppose you've
writing on that precious story ever
since left you"
II guess you're about right" yawned
Joan, 'sbut it's nearly finished"
Are you going to let me read itg''
questioned Sylvia.
I'm afraid you won't have time.
I'm taking it to the publishers tomor-
row." answered Joan lanquidly. -
whats the rush? Anything new
about your fortune?"
mo, but must get something to do
as I'm almost broke and Of course ]
won't get a cent Of Uncle Toms money,
answered Joan.
You're joking about work, aren't
you" queried Sylvia as she looked at
her with incrdulous eyes.
"No, I'm serious, and what's more,
must rent my studio for at least six
months. Do you know of any one who d
be interested in itT'
Meg Farley was looking for place
a short time ago. She might take it.
I'll call her up. But do you really
mean what you say?" Intercepted
Sylvia,
rIndede, do" responded, Joan as her
blue eyes sparkled.
."Weli you dear old thing, all ] can
say is that it was q downright shame
of your uncle to make such restric-
tions. He should have felt so honored
at having you for a niece that he would
have left you everything unconditional
w." Sylvia clenched her fist and
brought it down on the table with a re,
sounding thud as though to emphasize
her statement. =
"Never mind, Sylvia, when / win
through I'll have the satisfaction OF
knowing that I did it without the aid
of his beastly old money" said Joan be-
,on.o hos old epilinV self
you're a jewel" said Sylvia as she
walked towards the door. ~ know
you'll make good and wish you luck
Thanks" replied Joan as she
picked up the Sunday paper and Sc
lected the section which contained the
classified ads. Spreading it upon her
desk, she slowly looked down the seem
ingly interminablc columns of "Help
Wanted" Disguested for the moment
as she was with the world Of literature
end art, she did not even glance at the
list Of opportunities in the realm of
artistic endeaVor. Her eyes sought the