The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1939-07-27
CHAPTER HI-Continued

Lynn Harding had been becoming
troublesome. The skillful tyranny
of Aunty's moneyed fostering had
forced Lynn to postpone the natural
rebellion of youth to an age at which
some girls are steadying down.
Lynn's rebellion had hardly more
than begun. Aged twenty-five, she
had been denied the democratic
grace of college education.
Aunty, who held the purse-strings,
knew that colleges corrupt; and
what Aunty knew, was so. No one
could change Aunty's opinions. Lynn
hadn't tried to change Aunty. But
she had learned to be strategic and
even diplomatic. She had assented,
without enthusiasm, to become en-
gagged to a decadent F.F.V. But
there, Aunty's first reverse had
caught her completely off-guard. An
immovable will and an irresistible
explosive met. Lynn blew up. She
didn't merely break the engage
ment. She smashed it. She scat
tered its splintered fragments reck-
lessly.
So Aunty beat a strategic retreat.
She decided on a world tour. 1t
had been fairly successful, barring
occasional incidents on shipboard
and in hotels. The almost incredi-
bly, beautiful Lynn had received
enough attention from unpedigreed,
or at any rate uncertifed, strangers
to keep Aunty on the war-path.
The British officers in India had
given Aunty plenty to worry about.
So the invitation from the Maha-
rance of Kadur had come like
godsend. It gave Lynn romantic
outlet for enthusiasm in impeccably
respectable surroundings, where
there were no undesirable men to
ruin Aunty's dream of correct and
socially influential marriage.
So this Prince was a staggerer.
He had been absent when the Hard
ings arrived, frequently mentioned
but not expected to return for sew
eral weeks from what was spoken
of as vacation. Aunty had had
good look at him in the full glare
of the headlights of the Rolls-Royce.
He was a worse shock than the I'M
dignified bruise and the twisted an
kle. He resembled one of those
young Argentine plutocrats who
used to corrupt Paris until the price
of beef and wheat reduced them to
the level of common mortals. A
splendid figure of a man, perfectly
tailored. Manners that only money
can buy and cynicism support.
Beautiful eyes, without trace of
effeminacy and not yet betraying
signs of having lived too furious
ly. An all-conquering male. Heir
to a throne as old as England's.
With astonishing strength he lifted
Aunty from the earth and placed her
on the soft-springed cushions that
made her sigh with physical relief
and mental horror. Aunty knew she
was up against it. The Prince drove
her with skill. He avoided bumps.
He damned the guard at the palace
front gate with the voice of Gull
tured gentleman and vocabulary
that Aunty instinctively knew was
scurrilous. At the arched entrance
to the guesthouse patio, he lifted
her out. He caused servants to come
like firemen to a burning house. He
sent Immediately for his private
Bengal doctor, member of his
own household.
Competent, Mrs. Harding, as
sure you. Discreet, I guarantee.
Almost simultaneously with the
arrival of the Bengal doctor, who
looked devilishly discreet and more
afraid of Aunty than if she were
the devils own widow, the Maha-
ranee's carriage drew up, with its
horses noses snorting on top of the
RollS-Royce.
Out got Lynn, too full of excite
ment and alarm and fun and SYM
pathy to remember she should veil
her face. She could hear her aunt
through the open guesthouse win
dow. Lynn came running into the
glare of Rundhia's headlights.
''Who are you? What is wrong
with Aunty?"
''Your aunt has hurt herself. My
physician and some women are ex-
ploring for broken bones. ! believe
it is nothing serious"
Aunty, it was obvious, thought 9TH
erwise. She wasn't liking the doc
tor. She was calling him a fool,
and she could make the word sound
like description of turnkey caught
stealing.
The Maharanee had to be cere-
monially helped out of the carriage.
She, too, had heard Aunty's yells.
She was overlooking with eagerness
to overwhelm an injured guest with