The Ely miner., 1924-02-08
By HENRY KITCHELL WEBSTER


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men at all even with this opportunity,
and 3eatrice's attempt to Introduce
the topic was, as her instinct had
warned her it would be, blank fall
ure.
81 think Henry Crayen's a peach -
Beatrice had volunteered, apropos OF
something that had been said about
Margaret II had lot of fun with
him at dinner the other night" Then,
uneasily aware that both the other
girls were looking a bit blank, she
added. "You know him. don't your
"Ratherl" the Williamson girl an
swered. He's my cousin. Yes. he's
lamb"
Beatrice flushed and looked away /;
it was as If a door had been shut in
her face.
There broke over Beatrice wave of
something like homesickness. Home
had never been a place she'd con-
sciously loved. She'd never found
much sympathy or security in ii: nor
anything better than meager and un-
satisfying spiritual fare in the world
that surrounded 1t. Bur its inhab-
ltants and their codes and standards
were, after all, familiar and Ineligible
to her. These people were aliens.
They left her out, not so much from
malice as from the lac,- of any con-
necttve medium. She glanced round,
desperately, at the clock; it would be
almost an hour before Burns would
call for her with the car. Luckily, the
other guests went earlier, and she ex-
perienced a certain relief at being left
alone with Miss Craven.
Just as she was leaving, an invita-
ton for visit to the Cape Cod cot
tage was extended in a way to show
that II was meant and lust be. In
some fashion, dealt with.
''Why, it's frightfully kind = you,"
Beatrice said. II don't think father
means me TO go away again as soon
as this, I've Just come, you see.
But I'll speak to him about it."
Dor said Margaret. "If he's go
Ing to be away himself any time this
summer, up In the Northwest where
they're building their fax factories, 1t
might just fit in."
Beatrice awaited his return from the
office that evening with an emotion
that was more filial and domestic than
anything she had felt toward him be-
fore. She'd hoped he would be early
something he'd said that morning had
led her TO think he might be-but the
better part of an hour passed before
she heard Arson letting him in, and by
then she was ON the verge Of tears.
Unluckily, too, he came TO her full of
something of his own. He was very
jovial about 1t, whatever it was, and
the hug and kiss he gave her, though
vigorous and enthusiastic, lacked the
tenderness she, for the first time, want
ed. She released herself with a move
ment of petulance which caught his
attention
Whats the matter with your" he
asked. Getting lonesome?
''T'll make it up to you now, though"
he went on. "What can you think of
that 1t would be fun to do? 1 guess
we've seen most of the shows, but if
you want TO repeat on any of them,
I'm game. AID there's still time TO
go downtown to dinner. We won't
stop TO dress; you look great just as
you are"
"You hate that red dress Of mine
know you do,' she said. "I guess
you're ashamed of me In It." Her
voice broke over that and betrayed the
fact that she was crying.
There was long moment before he
made any response at all. She had a
sense of him, for she didn't turn to
look, standing unnaturally still and
not looking at her. Then, without
warning, for he moved lightly and the
rugs were soft. she felt his hands upon
her. OF her weak resistance and her