Northern Weekly Gazette. — 1910-01-22 (Stockton-on-Tees, Cleveland, England)

KORTIIERN WEEKLY GAZETTE.  paint too," he adds dryly, with a twinkle in his eye. But Aileen has scarcely listened to the latter part of his speech, so relieved, so overjoyed is she that it is not Dick who had caught her after all. "Oh, lam so glad, dear Sir Jim," she cries, springing out of her chair with a radiant face, "I am so thankful to you indeed." "Very pleased to have obliged you, I'm sure, dear girl," Sir Jim murmurs politely. "But now, my dear Aileen "2 -he leans forward in his chair' and now speaks earnestly and impressively —"if I have in any way merited your gratitude would you oblige me by sparing me any more such lightning-change dramatic performances? I confess to you "—Sir Jim sighs here—"l confess that when I invited you and your charming sister under my roof I anticipated a lively time but I must confer% that you two girls have made the time even livelier than my anticipations, and I tell you plainly that my nerve and my digestion rebel against these exciting scenes. Therefore, I warn you, if anything further unpleasant, such as suicide, etc. occurs among any of the young men with who ,m you two seem to have been playing ball, I wash my hands of all responsibility. I will not act as witness in Court—l will not ideirtify bodies nor assist in any proceedings whatever in connection with breach of promise suits, so now you know. Don't come to me!" Sir Jim finishes sternly with a dramatic flourish of dismissal. "And as for the American business —."  "Oh, I think I'll inaile America myself now," Aileen says flippantly, as she disappears through the door of the library. * • * * • •  "But all the same I don't believe I've told you the worst of it all yet, Vera!" In Vera's room before a blazing fire the two girls sit talking, though the small hours have long been chimed in by the little white clock an the mantelpiece and idle rest of the house is long hushed in silence and in sleep.  "Haven't you?" she says mechanic-A ly ill reply to the other girl's remark.  "No 1" Aileen 's eyes are fixed also upon the the fire, her round white chin rests in the cups of her palms, and she is sitting in a dejected listless attitude upon the big white rug at Vera's feet. "I wonder what you'll think when Ido tell you? I expect you'll say I'm a disFrace to my sex, though,' she adds gloomily. It's the sort of thing you wouldn't have any sympathy with, I know, for you never could have been guilty of it yourself. Vera startled at last from her reverie, looks curiously down at the other's flushed face. "Why, what is it ?" she says wonderingly. "Well," with a resigned sort of sigh, "it's a pity I've got to tell you, but somehow I feel I must. It's this." She pauses a moment, and pulls a hairpin thoughtfully from her hair. "Well, it's this. I believe that lam as as proposed to Dick Burton, and he—" '.ere she clenches her teeth and suddenly throws the hairpin into the fire rather irrationa ly, "and he refused the honour politely! No, I don't believe he even did it politely, but firmly refused the honour. Now, it's out; you can say all the despising thing; you can think of, Vera, for I deserve them all. Well, why don't you?" looking up quickly in keen surprise for Vera says never a word. As AUeen had made her hasty confession, the slender figure in the big basket chair had made a slight startled movement, otherwise she gave no comment on Aileen's words. "Why don't you say something, or are you too shocked 'for speech?" demands Aileen in a frightened tone.  Then Vera speaks, but at first hearing her words seem to have little relevance to the occasion. "Do you remember, Aileen," she says musingly, "a saying of an old Scotch nqnse of ours, something about 'a pot calling a ketth3 blarli face' ?" It meant, I believe, when one person is as bad as another. Well, if I said the things just now which you expect of me, it would be a ease of pot and kettle ancl----" "What do you mean?" cries Aileen, starting up amazedly and staring into Vera's face as if she had gone crazy.  JANUARY 22, In°.  "I mean, my dear," returns Vera c,omposeAlly, though her fac,e grows paler, "that if you did as you say to Dick Burton so I to Geoff Wargrave ;" she pauses, than adds deliberately in a low tone, "and was refused!"  " lint why—why ?" stammers Aileen bewilderedly.  "Because he—the believes me to be the millionaire," replied Vera; "and why, may I ask, did Dick— ?"  "Because he believes me to be the millionairess," cries Aileen, excitedly and astoundedly. Then the two girls stare breathlessly at one another for a moment or two, till Aileen at last flings herself suddenly weeping down on the rug again. "Oh! Vera! were ever girls in such a position before," she mewls. Two millionairesses rejected actually! Just think of itt Oh! I wonder if father over contemplated this result of his scheme? If he ever imagined that his millions would frighten men away from us, instead of attracting them? And now!" she continues sobbingly, "we shall live to be called the old maid millionairesses, I daresay, Vera, for of course I shall never, never, never—no never— marry anyone but Dick and you—" Suddenly Vera started violently and eyes a slender crouching figure, whose ten rs are dropping through her fingers on to the soft mat, with a strange gaze. She had not meant to reveal to Aileen that Geoff had confessed knowledge of her identity, but now dare she spoil four lives by concealing this fact. She had not dreamt it would matter so to Aileen. Now, in an instant, Vera makes up her mind. Dick and Aileen.'s lives shall not be spoiled by any tragedy of broken hearts. She leans forward and lays a hand on Aileen's shoulder. "Aileen!" she says quietly, "there's no need that Dick and you should also be unhappy. Geoffrey knows for certain that I am the millionairess!" There is an instant's astounded silence. Aileen's tearful face, like a rain-washed rose stares blarnkly into the sad beautiful one above her, then the next moment she has sprung to her feet and thrown her arms round the other girl. "Oh! you poor, poor ,millionaiiress! I am so sorry for you!" she cries. "So very sorry for you. What will you do, Vera! 'What will you do with those wretched millions?" Oh, Vera!" with a little hysterical laugh, "couldn't you—couldn't you give them all away in organs and free libraries?'  But Vera had no heart for jokes; her sad thoug:lts are too far away for laughter. She is thinking of that last farewell between herself and Geoffrey in the moonlit garden last night..