'i- -
'u.
V'v
1
€»C^V iV*"'* K7
i*«- ■ v«l • 'j^^sf ’*13:. ■?; . >4X_, ■ ■■■ •?»%
m'\v- il\ tr. niorc' iluin t:
.i'. 'I'l’per hmmI ;:i:in' .
shonej' M;... Milu rcl
■ i.’’; ■ VO ' "' ;':i:! i likifK\'.
But ' If !K't nnv
jK ..“li'Kj; I'rartion of
niotor-coals
nu ct'cdeci in
li . ^ .in.! llli every one, and he did not seem
vl'.: I ilo.l: c' i.
i '\' ir.oon vus risinif when he started rc-
l'uiani!_\ io lie ho])cd to be allowed
’u Loinc a^aiii soon - he had spent buch a
p!oa '-ant e\ enintj; -and would Miss Shannon
c;irv' to go to the theater with him some
next weei; ? She would indeed. She
did not olTer him the rose in her belt.
Alter he had t; >";e >he sal a long time
\Liy still, with her efnn in her hand. *
.\nd that summer, like youthful dreams,
SC) s\veel. so fleeting, sped deliciously away.
Mr. Burke was a fre(.(uent visitor, and when
he wasn’t ealb’ng he was taking C'hristabel
somewhere. Hut he did not take her to
cencc of the building to which her inspection her more than words were ever ma.de to ex-
of a drug-store city directory leti her. She pr^3s. All that he had and was and hoped
dil not come dovni-town very often. Aiul to be were hers to juggle as she would.
she had selected Judge Stillwell becaase li
*seemed so much more tangible thiin tliat
Co.” She was still undaunted when
she had been whisked up in an clc\'ator and
“Oh, Christabei, I love you so—will you
marry me.''
‘‘A'es," she whispered, and her fresh
young lips \vere Jiuike's.
■IK:
in
nu
■It
■!. ret’irned h/r parting smile Prices where they would be likely to meet
the city's smart set.
This did not appear to be designedly,
however, and Christabei did not allow her
self to wonder about it. Mr. Burke’s inten
tions would seem to be evident enough;
Christabei in her twenty-two years of life
had seen enough of men not to be in the
"r. e- ^ie ! t«
w ii!i nv' -MU .ird iiint c:
e’- 'v;;-. me.
I > hv! e-e 'r^^
l!v ni'xt cust'mer
{ , !,;.;p heart.
Mi.'- Millard com-
t'.'iile maliciouslv.
UU n'>!p]'e.''rcd
!'v vour manlv
1
; Vi'
a beautv-
M\ hat! what de-
w.
"c
n
V p.c w ;;
ArJ peach
■ ••r-(juoied
-i T i lb’ng or uiher.
wi'iatir.g eyes'."
renarkvvl that tlie wind was com-
• I'our ii'clock that afternoon, a mes-
se.ig T-li.'V cj.nH in with ;i note for Miss
liri>tai)(‘l S'lar.noii. She received it in
C‘’n^illv."a’.!ie mvsiiiication -and read ——
Mr. \'aleniir.e I’urke desired very much
1.’ r.iake il e ac;;U;iiiUance of Miss Shannon,
and a:- i!\e}' sv-.Ti'ed to h:i\e no mutual
irie.’.d v he was \ e’nuring to ask pormis: ic!ii
!' ini.n duce h::V;?e!i.
He wi>ul>l refer her ti) the lirm of Millard
tS. Co. : - I-' his standing ar.d cl racier, or
to Ju;i-:e ti'ic II('n. Janies F. Siillv eil.
\‘ i i’'d ^he d'. iiim the vcrv irreat honor
()
\ V
I i
ii;
y^ .'r.c: Midard. from ieast doubt about his symptoms. Not that
she tried to dissect him, only sometimes she
was a littie frightened at her own happiness.
I'o have e\erythins^ come out in this
fairy-tale fashion was not in accord v.-iih
the world she knew. Time was when, tired
and cynical, she had expected her liberating
millionaire to be old and unattractive. 0;ie
can't ha\'e everj.’thing, she reminded herself,
and she had made un her mind that she
would be able to marry old Eaton himself
for tlie leisure and pleasure his money would
buy. Xow slie doul)ted it. Think of
P.urke! so young and tall a.nd good to look
all and a millionaire, too!
Tlie fatigue and monotony of store life
she bore uncomplainingly (not that she had
e\-c" v.h’ned ;il;out it), but now she could
f ;Mldrev-!ng him at the Jonathan Club? i that it was a task soon over, a trial that
Chri>t ' i).I Ica^ic.l '-ather lieavily agr.inst ^vould soon be forgotten in new joys,
ai'ini’r. Christn.l:>el was rather uncommunicative
•• W'-.!!. he hurried:" she smiled to herself. liad not been made at once
' ’■ i ivn !''intion ihe circumstance of Burke's status and uncon\entional
o\e-i 1:) M;.- M C/ui-e. ddiat evcring -he approach. She had taken him at first for
. , nt a i-if j'-Mr. F>urke at the Jona- j^-'-^ another of Christabel's young men,
1 C lu!), p.!':'h’t to.a good many sheets and more the gentleman, she
of ^aii\--!i()Ught notcp;ijier to say hnallv thought. V/hen she saw how things were
Mi- .^h.annon w. )ul(l be glad to see "^''ing with them, hov.’ever, she began a little
Mr. Hurke an}- Th”:-'Iav evening. This ‘'iiiectionate probing. And received certain
■. •e- ’^'u .''-lay. She he-iiated f|uite a while
o\-e.- any \\'edne.Aia_\ e^■ening.
She made no inquiries of Millard & Co.,
or t'f Judge the lion. J. F. Stillwell, in re-
rard to t}ie character and standing of Mr.
iJurkc'. It is I’-.e eternal feminine, not to
r.' ii_, '.'..I'.it t' k'y»w. He.-ides she needed
no en ii r^cment' to her ce^-tainiy that her 1 niost of them young mil-
niir'lv)nair;- h'.id ;.t last arrived. * , lionaires’ll bear watchin’. Sure a pretty
Ot co.irse there wa.s nothing positive t^ice will draw moths just like a candle, only
aI:oi;i i,i.> caiiing the fir : 'I'hur.^day, still she P'^il is usually 'tother way about, worse
put on a lu'W gingham dross that was very luck I”
^!n■^‘!■‘ and becoming. Then she went out ‘‘'Tis not his social position I’m afraid
t -i 'ect a rose f('.r her belt,sitting afterward of/' assured herself with spirit. “Sure
or, iht'front })orch. which was screened with '"’e've Brian Boru’s own blood in our
( "inson Ramblers and William Allen veins!”
ivichard.-^ons. She felt the situation to be full of danger
I le ei'.me striding briskly down the street and her.self powerless to cope with it.
i -k in trie mir- from the car, instead of chugging up in an Though ’twas no vronder Christabei liked
uut('moIjile, and he snatcheci off his straw the young man, Aunt Ellen liked him her-
.n fjrr'x weary
'V- )>anks while
v.id
p.TU.
rhat il i
, , .. V
i. n he
il '-.t
Ifot
e at
i e ill,a
. I nti . e
liji^ hi.--
information with ratlier diiYerent feelings
from those with which it was imparted.
'‘Dear, dear I” she said to herself as she
washed the breakfast dishes. “A million
aire! and I thought he was such a nice
young man! Christabel’s only a pOor girl
for all her beauty and s})irit. the darlin’!
,1.,.
h.‘
' l)einx
t t^
hin.-..-
o‘ n.illi'*n-
lt:l "ng i.f
’’nf-r that
rr, >hou!d b('
raig h-r o\\!i
i t^
IV
t ■
'I
m
t I'. 1
h‘>m‘
ini
len
Mi.s :\ic-
■'t -.Tve about
rhi- i- -ure the
that just
. viits and then
■ ! ‘'ee v.’hnt we
this grind.
' China-
t
H
It;
M
'"I?
M
put you to wo^k
■ • ’ remarked Chris-
in that mofMl
W'lii.tt.n on the wav
i l.-t him call that evcn-
What’3
hir>"” ^he
2f-ii
1 of bothering v.'ith
inercenarily. ‘‘He'll
nev’er make ihan t \\cnt)-five or thirty
a week. ’
fi was the very ne.-it morning that turn
ing over to Mis. M(Quire a blonde lady
who wanted something plain and quiet in
red -.vitQ plenty -)f u.,ld braid and bras^ but
ton .. Chn.'>tiibef 'i'|\#*(| j> youn"
woiDaii and two young men v.dio were look-
inp; about.
.Something for you?’ >he incjuired in her
I »ol contralto, anfl had ^aken them all in to
t:;‘ ir heels during the t’.irep word^^
\Iiss Agnes milliard, inflef(J^ ^he re^'og-
ni/.ed at once from previo\: meeting-^; she
.\as sociei.y belle, the daughter f>f a mil
lionaire, and one of !h )^e most admired and
envied by her lowlier siNters. Mi:,., Mil
lard was interesting enough, but her cava
liers were of a type that made ('hristabel
see—check-books and palaces. Young,
irLstocriitic, smooth-shav'cti, immaculate
with their gloves and their sticks, it was
obvious that they belonged to that spnere
in which the weary cea.-^e to work.
One.it was soon apparent was young Mr.
Millard, the other they called Val. Both
eyed ('hristabel with distinct a)>proval. *
And Christabei realized with a little pang
that if she had met them in an of>era box or
upon the deck of a yacht she could very
I
hat when he saw her sitting there at the end
of the little nasturtium-bordered walk*
She rose to greet him w'ithout embarrass
ment. “ How do you do, Mr. Burke?” she
said. And
“This is awfully kind of you,” he replied,
taking her proffered hand, which was cool
and white and well-manicured
He decided against going into the house,
and presently Aunt Ellen in a clean white
apron came out to her favorite rocker.
Aunt Ellen M’as plump and white-haired,
with a twinkle in her blue eyes and the w’qe-
est bit of a brogue on her quick tongue. She
and Mr. Burke got on famously.
Neither she nor Christabei put on any
extra airs and graces for Mr. Burke’s bene-
lit. He saw them just as they were every
self, she could not free herself from the sus-
]:»icion that he might smile and smile a^d be
a villainous millionaire still.
She, to be sure, was not above a little
corroboration. Remembering the -great
names Christabei had proudly mentioned,
Aunt Ellen’s lips set with sudden resolve.
“I don’t think so much of this reference
business,” she reflected somewhat disdain
fully. “Sure only a fool would refer ye to
them that thought ill of him! Still, I think
I’ll just take a look at that judge!”
As soon as her work was done, she dressed
herself in her black silk (it wasn’t quite so
old as Christabei, but there was a silk with
7vear in it), put on her best bonnet, and pro
ceeded dow'n-town.
She was spmewiri^ wed by the magnifi-
nr*
t; f Is-'"''4;;# I ^
" '^1 IS %
mrs
m
(
rnvr
i)ri
THIS IS ITNirilPOF-TAXT. THE Gli’IIAT THIN’G IS THAT
YOU MAKRtED JUST ME r'
\.ir. nOI’Kl^ TO BS AM.OWED TO COME AG.MV SOON HE HAD SPENT SUCH A PLEASANT EVENING
■directed into a big room full of importn,nt-
looking people.
“ Tell the judge ’tis J^Irs. Ellen Shannon
would speak v.ith him,” explained Aunt
Ellen to the pleasant young man w’ho ad
dressed her. “And tell him ’tlsn’t exactly
business, ’tis just a little personal matter
that won’t take a minute.”
“All right,” said the young man, very
pleasantly indeed, “I’ll tell him.” He
went away, and presently beckoned her
into an inner room. .
An elderly gentleman with a mop of white
hair and eyes that tv/inkled very like Aunt
Ellen’s own rose to greet her within.
“’Tis only a minute of your time I
want,” began Aunt Ellen, “to ask you
about a young man named Burke.”
“No hurry at all,” smiled the judge.
“Valentine Burke? He was here himself
a little while ago and spoke of you, Mrs.
Shannon.” And the judge’s eyes twinkled
more than ever.
“Did he now! You know' him well?”
asked Aunt Ellen'eagerly.
“ Since he was a boy.”
“ Well, is he a good boy is what I want to
know?”
The judge’s deep voice held the merest
hint of amusement. ‘‘Why, yes, I think he
is. A very good boy I think I might safely
say.”
“That’s all I want to know,” declared
Aunt Ellen. “My Christabel’s getting
fond of him, I can see, and I wanted to know
something about him.”
“And w’hether he can support a wife, I
suppose,” twTOkled the judge again. “I
think he’ll be able to do that all right, too,
if she doesn’t ask too much.”
“He isn’t rich, then?’’ put in Aunt Ellen,
quickly. “I heard he was, but I’m not
caring at all about the money if he’s a good
boy himself.”
“That sentiment does you credit, Mrs.
Shannon. I’m sure Val w'ould be pleased
to hear you, say it. Riches often take
wings, but good qualities seldom, you
know.”
“Right you are, judge,” agreed Aunt
Ellen, earnestly. “I won’t keep you any
longer. Thank you for botherin’ with me
and good-day to you. ”
She dropped him an old-fashioned curt
sey ana hastened out.
On s^ond thoughts she said nothing of
this to Christabei, whose dream only grew
sweeter with the passing days.
Afld at last the love and the question in
Uurke s eyes became articulate. He loved
They did not talk that night of houses
anu lands, or oi stocks and bonds, or money
in^ the bank. They whispered of rarer
things: of Christabel's eyes and Burke’s
heart; of the dimple at the corner of Chris
tabei s mouth and Burke’s reverent belief in
love at first sight. ^ Oh, they wxre fathoms
deep in lo\ e! she with a prince out of a fairy
tale and he with the sweetest and most
w'onderlul girl that e’er the moon shone on.
The next day he brought her a ring whose
cost v;as somewhat masked by its good
taste. And he prayed that the wedding
might be very soon so she could quit the
store at once. Both these prciyers Christa
bei very joyously granted.
Aunt Ellen, quite re-assured as to the
young man's honorable intentions, was
ha])py, too, though sad as v.tII that she
must give up her lamb.
Now, Burke had never had much to say
about himself or his position in life. Not
that he seemed secretive, he liad more the
air of taking that part of it as a niatter of
course.
lie had spoken casually of working at
“the office'-’ (that of Millard & Co.), and
that he was not much acquainted in the
city, as he liLd been traveling about so
much.
IVIuch as Christabei had dreamed of his
wealt’n, she had admired him for not flaunt-
ing it in her face as a bribe. He had always
done things so nicely and she had ahvays
been so happy in his companv that she only
occasionally realized that he was not lavish
ing much more wealth about than Mr. Wil-
liston himself had done! After they became
engaged she had expected things to be dif
ferent, and she had taken his recommenda
tion not to bother much with a trousseau to
mean great things.
One evening they were sitting blissfuUy
together on Aunt Ellen’s little porch be-
lund the screening Crimson Rambler.
“Charley Millard’s going to be married,
n come
oft till Christmas, so they’ll have time to
!ndZb.d«!.— 1 hate all that agony
“Do you?” murmured Christabei.
ously^^^ Charley!” he shook his head dubi-
^*“Why >or Charley?’” she smiled,
ried?- ^ mar-
Most adorable thing in the woricl—to
e marned to you,’' he whispered. “ But it’s
not such joy being married for your money.
Charley’s being m-arried fwr
it’s as plain as dav.''
“Is it?’’
“I suppose I’m a ronu.:i
went on softly, 'i-.ut 1 can t
thing that would hurt me inor
that' the woman 1 loved had r
money. That's what feli(
ha\-e to contend wiih. an.) ri
Nov.’, —he stopped to ki.--
The awakening doul)t in
mind, the startled fiuicl v?n’;-
seemed to put only an
her lips. She clung b) 'li:- ,•
with an intensity that hn u ii' :
joy to his eyes.
“^.loney,” he breathed icnf!;-'-!-.
to us, is it. honey?'
“No,’' she w]ii.;j)ered f.;:inilv f ■
The talk drified a-iield, tiu
he said;
“Aunt Ellen -v.ill be lone!}- he
you. V\ ould she came v.'iih i;s, u
pose?’’
“I'm afraid she couldn't
leave the little old }>lace," (
lie\'ed. “She s live 1 here so i'.r:;'
“I wonder how she'd like u:. i': . ■
live with her?" laughed Hj.r,-..'. I
joking—or was he?-—bul ];Vr
sank.
When he left her: “Do \ )u l{)-v c r-.,
asked deeply.
“\ou know it,” answered lii^ Cir'.,
of the sho])s.
‘‘Tlien i'm richer than Millard
many million-," said Burke. ,\n i li- ■
gaily homeward.
The face that Christabei saw in Iv-r :
ror was white, there were shadovcs in
eyes that had lately looked back with
frank happiness. Burke was not ^vh.'
had thought him; he was poor. >or ;
as she was perhaps, but poor in i (H:!;).-
with what she had promised lier^eii'.
There are women v.’ho are born fo;- I’r
as certainly as there are women
born to be cooks. No matter wlietlv. i ;
ever attain it or not their desire's for j ii
and fine linen, the delicacie.^ an '
of wealth and station. ' And tl:' n
sarily from indolence or snoi'’;':.line-
virtue rather of tastes and aml)it-^'a,-.
are inborn.
Christabei, a g'rl who had never 'k.
anything but poverty, knew herself e(ju
any elevation, and v;iih the coiuicl.' .>
true ambition she had cxjx'cte,] li
the desired heights. To tind iur ;’i
ceived vras a bhnv indeed Shr- !
been deceived by Burke—.-h( h;ul ie:
herself. Burke ’u.d made no orr?/”'
had no reason togiiess her exalte, i ie ■
cerning him. The link betwce>->
young Jklillard v:as hkelier tliat "i' :
friendship than of iinancial e(iu;.i:.\-.
True, in marrying Burke, she ...
vance some steps. They would \ \ '
have a pleasant apartment, .
vant, her own life would l)e ea--;..r i
anter—but this itiediocrit)' h:'.i 'ii i ■
dream. Sick of poverty and It - li"
upon her love of beauty and i' cr-,
had asked of life wealth and i iv. p; ■' ^
it gives, wdth her barter ready in her
youth, beauty, capacity, and a '
to be had for the winning. A.Il
Burke!
W’ell, all was not over—what li ’ , •
was not irrevocably final. Sli^' :
turn her catch to the stream of ■
cast her line again. More c..im '
time. Slie could give Burke ;;;■ l
Burke!
She flung a glance in the
laughed.
Next morning all traces of ih.
had received were erased. Sl'e v
more serene, gayer, than before, i ■
wedding preparations went • r: v.ii'
creased ardor. Aunt Ellen v\as h
Burke was jubilant.
Neither guessed that once m
Triumphant wore the added je- ;
nunciation.
They were married quieth’ i^
neighborhood church. Minar i an
Stillwell, Aunt liillen and Mis >
Avere the only witne.sses. Mr. MilK
tomobile conveyed them t - \u'
for the wedding supper, a j:rocei-
pleased her more than gifts oi rul
They were to take a little trij c.
and good-byes having been
house, Millard’s car again carri'
the station.
Burke at last lifted her into
lighted car that was a fairyland
that gleamed with silver and r
that shone with mirrors, hung v. e'
ous lace, and carpeted with ^
stood looking at her wonder, Iki
lous joy, tenderly.
“I—don’t understand.” sh(‘ i '
lifting those pure eyes question;- v
He took her in his arms.
“This is unimportant.” he said-
great thing is that you married ju: ’
As their lips met, a voice soiuu -
tinctly through an open window.
“No, sir. This is Millionaire i-e
private car.”
he
die
in:it
■ ”n
u lO
r r-
■i.. ■ ...y * i. . ^ .
Another
'■>t c>t .
1)111 'li
18e
25c
25c
A big red
to go
qualv •
■"-''vern.
Othei
4'ic Fine'
Xain
Xain
-necial 1
Pique
I