Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1927-08-28

! with n distant English relative-he
had gone to. Africa on "A lion hunt.
And from that adventure he had
brought one theory, never put into
practice. Personally conducted lion
hunts, The sport. as he had found it,
was lacking in danger. The teeming
population Of Africa fetched you n
lion, handed you a gun, pointed it
for You. if necessary. II you didn't
hit the lion, somebody else did. And
what a thrill, You became a hero, in
your own estimation, if not in the
lions.
Now, suppose--so he had dreamed
this We're organized on a sightseeing
basis. What wealthy, obese lady
would not give a large sum to carry
home a lionskin married by her own
identified bullet? Armies of blacks
To carry ladies', by easy stages, from
the headwaters of the Nile into the
beast haunted desert beyond. Lux
urious camps along the way! For
such as did not care to shoot, com
Portable platforms among the trees.
For the more adventurous, guard of
unerring sharpshooters and trained
negro to aim the lady's gun and pull
the trigger for her.
WALDO ANCASTER turned from
w his ecstacy and summoned his
secretary.
Her name, if that matteretl. was
Peggy Brown. She had a face. no
doubt. but as far as Waldo was con-
cerned that ornament was noneXiSt
ent. Subconsciously. when she en-
tered the room. he had an impression
of something softly blue and sweet;
had he taken the slightest interest in
her, he might have known that it was
the look in her eyes.
But what more was there to be said
for Peggy Brown? A rather thin lit
tie body, straw-colored hair, a passion
for work, and no desire, apparently,
further than to be with a quiet little
mother. What Peggy felt she didn't
show. She did her crying at night,
and only when she imagined that Mr..
Ancaster hadn't appreciated what she
was doing to help. He was so ador-
able. so full Of his dreams. If she
could do something really heroic for
him! And he never looked at her.
There's a lady on the telephone,
Mr.. Ancaster." she said that after
noon.
Ancaster came out of his cloud.
''Put her on the wire" A crisp Eng
lish voice began: "Mr. Ancaster? I'm
Phyllis Chumley. OF course. you
wouldn't bother about me- But Lady
Daragh. Possibly you remember"
"Of course" chimed Waldo heartily.
He raked his memory.
Ever since we got to New York,
she's wanted to see you. You see,
Aunt Victoria is bit of a hunter.
OF course, you'd know that She re-
members that talk she had with you
about Africa"
"Oh, yes" Waldo had talked to go
many people about his lion-hunt
plans.
And she asked me If coundn't
interest you in a plan-dear me! It's
dreadfully awkward to explain over
the wire"
I'D love to see you, Miss Chum-
ley or Lady Daragh. Any time you
say"
but our plans are so uncertain.
Lady Daragh will be at liberty to-
morrow at tea time. Couldn't we
have tea at Tanquay's at 50"
II shall be charmed" Miss Brown
was annoyed by his unconscious
imitation of the English accent
Waldo Ancaster sat back. Luck had
sought him out. He was beginning
to recall Lady Daragh, notable in the
to seei
" X y
WALDO changed his clothes during
w the lunch hour next day. His
new gray suit became him, and the
gardenia in his buttonhole gave him
a look OF gayety. His beauty hurt
Peggy; she had a vision of a church
door swinging wide for Ancaster and
a lacy cloud of English girlhood.
Rats" said Peggy; then the tele-
phone tangled, and that London ac-
cent was in her ear.
This is Miss Chumley-Phyllis
Chumley." The voice seemed to relish
its name. Would you mind telling