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Claim her for the invariablartners, but

Wish of icehe table, waiting," thround

"I'll come home early with the chil- other acquaintances for partners, but dren,Mrs. Stanton said, turning Mr. Troy would invariably come to toward her husband, her foot on the claim her for the following dance. running board.

Later when she was the merriest of As she settled in the only vacant a gay party partaking of ices, her seat, that next to Mr. Troy, she caught daughter, Dottie, came with a new, his more or less conscious gaze of ad- shy expression in her eyes, and halfmiration and felt like a woman who whispered, “Mother the Browns are had been denied her rights. Her hus- starting for home. Are you coming ? band waved good bye, but she wasn't Sonny and Willie have gone home allooking that way.

ready." Mr. Troy was in a jolly mood. “No, dear," the mother replied, Much to his nieces' enjoyment he let while Mr. Troy playfully stole her the machine out on the descending dish of ice cream and hid it under a grade and in an incredible short time paper on the table, "run along." reached the entrance to the grounds. “But papa'll be waiting," the girl

The twilight was dim; night was vouchsafed timidly, her arm around hovering near. Lights isolated, in her mother's neck, her shining brown clusters and in rows, sparkled head pressing her cheek. among the tall trees. The notes of a “Run along," the other commanded piano and a violin and numerous blithsomely, dismissing the subject, voices shouting and laughing floated turning and laughing at the missing out to them. Summer clad girls, ci- ice cream. vilian and uniformed boys and men However Dottie's remark troubled were thickly scattered over the her a little: "'Papa'll be waiting.'” grounds.

The joyousness was beginning to pall. Going in they were met by a group To the rear she heard some one reof young men. And soon Alice and mark, "How handsome Mrs. Stanton May were being conducted toward the looks tonight.” “Yes,” another voice music. A party of hilarinus old peo- assented, “and I never thought of her ple sitting on a bench claimed Mrs. as handsome before." Troy. And then as though there was Thereupon she banished the unnothing else to do, Mr. Troy and Mrs. pleasant thoughts and her spirits reStanton, bowing and smiling to ac- vived. The hours dashed swiftly by. quaintances, strolled toward the open Mr. Troy and Mrs. Stanton were more tree-embowered dancing platform. and more inseparable, mingling with

For an interval they loitered under the crowds around the ice cream and the row of globeless electric lights lemonade booths, when they were not strung saggingly on the outer edges of dancing, or promenading with others the platform. The music pealed forth along the starlit paths. "Nights of Gladness.” Mr. Troy's arm Then when it was near twelve encircled her waist. Simultaneously a o'clock and they were waltzing near half-breathless murmur of amazement the railing, Miss Larkin, the school and incredulity ran through a group principal, who was noted for being of neighbors, sitting below the plat- very outspoken, said sighing, “The form, at her roses, the kaleidoscopic ancient story of the husband old while scarf and her dancing.

the wife is still young, Mrs. Stanton." She did not hear it. Her buoyant She walked dutifully, primly away vitality thrilled through every nerve with a straight held head. and fibre as under Mr. Troy's skillful Mrs. Stanton blushed furiously. A guidance, she quickly mastered the sharp retort surged in her throat. But never-before attempted hesitation her tongue was not trained to sharp waltz.

retorts and Miss Larkin was a disThey circled the crowded floor time tance away before it was ready to be and time again. Occasionally she had uttered.

But he

“Ha, ha,” Mr. Troy chuckled. He was interrupted by a boisterous “Funny old maid.”

friend who slapped him on the back Self-consciousness arose. She bent and pulled him off the path. There the her head to hide her burning face and friend gleefully related something. torturing thoughts and down the For a moment she had only a vague length of herself she saw nothing but realization of the meaning of his undarkness, the black silk dress.

finished sentence. And then as she The rainbow throw was no longer knew, her heart flamed with regret draped over her shoulders. She felt and anger, anger not so much with the alien here in the night among the man as herself. whirling couples, the music and chat- Unnoticed she disappeared among ter. This evening of dancing, laugh- the thinning strollers. Without glancing and jesting seemed no longer a ing to the right or the left she swiftly part of herself; it belonged to a pic- threaded her way out of the glimmer turesque stranger, with brilliant of the artificial lights and close air cheeks, roses in her hair and clothed into the sheltering starlit highway. in a rainbow. She became again the In the small tight slippers she quiet, commonplace wife, the mother teetered painfully along the ruts of of three children.

the road. As she trudged on in the She stepped aside from the mass of dust she felt relieved as the music and couples. "l've lost Dottie's scarf,” she the clatter of feet grew fainter. Then murmured distantly.

she heard Mr. Troy's voice coming "Must have become unpinned,” he nearer. said, not noticing her changed mood. She slunk in the shadow of a tree "Fell on the floor probably.”

and waited for him to pass. But he He took a few paces to where he evidently returned to the park as could get a better view of the entire nothing near her broke the silence but floor. He shook his head. “Isn't here. the hoot of an owl. Let's search along the paths."

After she had gone a mile on the So they hunted within the glare of ascending road and made the first the lights and without the glare of turn, her heart fluttered as she dislights, but with no results.

tinguished the pat of a horse's feet Near the candy booth Mr. Troy put and the roll of a rubber-tired buggy. his hand on her arm, arresting her In the darkness she waited. Shortfootsteps. “What's the use hunting ?” ly the moving carriage lamp threw a he suggested. "I'll write a notice and dim yellow flicker over her. put it up here offering twenty-five dol- Her old husband pulled up and lars reward for its return."

smiled out to her. "Is that you, Min“I object to any such thing," she nie?” protested, drawing away. “It's of no "Yes," she answered. consequence. I wonder if your "I reckoned you'd be getting lonemother's ready to go home?”

some for home about now." His voice "Oh, mother,” he grinned. "I let Bob broke off trembling. “So—I so—1—" Smith take the machine to run the He leaned over and handed out her others home. He hasn't returned yet." great coat. “It's chilly. Fog's coming He took her arm again. “There's an in through the cut. It'll soon be here." other hesitation. Let's not miss it.” Her lip quivered, and tears sprang

I don't wish to dance again.” to her eyes. He watched until she

"What's the matter," he coaxed fa- had put on the coat. Then he held out miliarly in the unruffled tones of a a scarf. As she took it she sensed it man sure of his ground, and his eyes was silk. She brushed away her tears said more than his voice. "Life is just and held it close to her eyes. It was beginning for you. I have no ties that the rainbow scarf. bind; and surely your husband under “Why_” she faltered, "how_" the circumstances can expect—"

"Dottie," he interrupted carefully

the hoot near her bror to the

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gentle, "didn't think you looked good in it. So she took it and the roses off of you just before she came home — when you were eating ice cream.”

Her head dipped. Her forehead pressed against his arm.

“But, never mind-wear it, dearie, all you want to."

"Bowery Buck"

By Alan George

(Geo. J. Southwick and Alfred S. Burroughs)

Yes, pard, it's a rough lookin' fiddle an’ not very useful, I know,
But there ain't enough gold in the diggin's to tempt me to part with it, though.
As long as I live I'll jest keep it right here in my cabin with me,
For to me its more precious than jewels, no matter how costly they'd be.
You're right, there's a story about it, an' one I don't mind to relate,
For it calls to my mind a true hero an' a noble an' brave cabin-mate.
To start at the first o' the chapter, I'll state what most people don't know:
This camp isn't now what it was then—some forty-odd winters ago.
The mines they was new an' a-boomin', and I was the head foreman then,
But I didn't put on any airs, pard, though bossin' a hundred-odd men.

Well, one day a strappin' young feller came into the camp huntin' work,
An' said he was right from the Bow'ry—a city chap fresh from New York.
Good lookin'? Well, no, pard; his front teeth were big an' so far outward stuck
That the boys in the diggin's fixed on him the high-soundin' title o' Buck;
An' as he had come from the Bowery, the name “Bow'ry Buck" seemed to fit,
But the chap took it all in good natur' an' seemed not to mind it a bit.
In short, he was one o' them fellers that take the world jest as she goes,
An' makes friends o' everyone 'round 'em an' never are bothered with foes.
An' that's how the chap came among us, an' somehow it fell to my luck,
To have a stray bunk in my cabin that just seemed to fit "Bow-ry Buck.”

Nights, after our day's work was over, down here to this cabin we'd go
An' Buck would take down this same fiddle an' rosinin' up this same bow,
He'd play what he said was a two-step—the finest tune ever was heard-
An' I would jest sit there an' listen for hours without speakin' a word.
There was somethin' about that sweet music that made my heart happy an' light,
An' tired as I was, an' rheumatic, I was achin' to dance ev'ry night!
No matter how blue an' down-hearted, no matter how things would go wrong,
That “Bowery Buck Two-Step” would cheer me an' life would be all a glad song.
An' oft when the boys got to drinkin' an' started to wrangle and fight,
That soul-stirrin' tune from Buck's fiddle would settle all arguments right.

One night-I will never forget it—while we were both sittin' in here,
An' Bowery Buck was a-playin' the two-step I loved so to hear,
We heard a great yellin' an' shoutin' jest down at the foot o' the hill
Where some o' the tumbled-down cabins are ling'rin in evidence still.
We rushed to the door o' the cabin an' the first thing that greeted our sight
Was the glare of a roarin' big fire there that lit up the shadowy night.
"Come on," shouted Buck; " 'tis the hash-house, an' it's bein' burned up fit to kill,”
An' away we both sped like a whirlwind, zig-zag down the dark, rocky hill,
Where scores of the miners had gathered, a-yellin' like imps o' old Nick
An' shoutin' about a child lyin' upstairs in the buildin' an' sick.

Buck questioned the miners around him an' learned it was Widow Smith's child, Who still was upstairs in the buildin', an' then his grief nigh drove him wild. "She must not—she shall not be burned, boys," he cried in most resolute tones, "I'll rescue that sweet, tender flow'r, if I char up my own worthless bones!” An' though the flames swept o'er the buildin' an' scorched ev'ry beam with their

breath Brave Bow'ry Buck dashed through the doorway—just actually courtin' his death! Stout-hearted men there were a-plenty, who'd brave the old Nick in his lair, But there wasn't another among 'em who'd dare to plunge into that glare; And while their bronzed faces grew pallid an' hearts became icy with dread, They raised a hoarse cheer for the hero, tho' feelin' they'd next see him dead.

An' higher the flames leaped an' crackled, with awful an' furious roar,
Till that weak, wooden shell of a buildin' from roof to the undermost floor,
Was simply a wild roarin' furnace whose heated an' torturin' breath
Was addin' new proof ev'ry second that Buck had but rushed to his death.
Widow Smith, the poor agonized mother, who kept the bedoomed boardin' house,
We'd carried, half dead, to the spring near, as helpless an' scared as a mouse;
Yet midst her bewailin' an' moanin' she oft murmured Bow'ry Buck's name
An' prayed that he'd bring back her darlin' unscathed by the death-dealin' flame.
An' mebbe 'twas this mother's prayin', o'erheard 'bove the din and the roar,
That kept his brave heart beatin' in him an' guided his feet to the door.

For while the poor mother was prayin' there 'rose all at once a great yell
An' Bow'ry Buck reeled from the buildin' a minute before the wreck fell.
He staggered, half dazed, from the doorway, his clothin' all spangled with flame,
An' with the child wrapped in his own coat, toward the glad mother he came.
He laid the child safe on her bosom, though speechless an' weak an' distressed,
Then tottered an' fell; an' we miners, when quickly around his form press'd,
Beheld that our hero had perished, that a little wee child he might save-
Had met the fate others have suffered who tried to be helpful an' brave.
Look, pardner, he lies where that pine tree stands there like a lone sentinel
To show us where sleeps a true hero and show us the spot where he fell.

There, now you have heard the whole story—a sad one, you'll call it, no doubt-
But its always to me kinder cheerin'-a deed good to tell men about;
An' though 'tis a mute, rusty fiddle, I feel that its melody lives
For the memories waked by its powers sweet solace an' comfort still gives.
The whispering pine bendin' o'er him seems often to whisper to me
An' bid me to guard my rare treasure with loyal an' true constancy.
With his pulseless old bow an' mute fiddle that here in my cabin are laid
I cherish the soul that inspired 'em with strains that no other have played.
An' long as I live I will tell it, that the richest vein ever was struck
Was when thro' this rough-lookin' fiddle breathed the soul o'brave Bow'ry Buck.

Betty---The Story of a Brave Heart

By Elizabeth Huebner

D IRCH CROFT lies near the head and arranged in a soft coil at the back

of the lake, just within the arm of her head, framed a face, which al

of the second point on the East though of regular features, carried Leland side. In steamboat and rail- more of sweetness of expression than road guides it is listed under hotels, of beauty. She was eager and fully but upon nearer view and in its own alive to the joys which came her way, setting it reminds one of a great cot- though her young shoulders had been tage home. Its usual summer guests forced to carry burdens far too great are, in the expression of the North, for one of her years. "Illinois People," but in this year of One day about two weeks after 19— there were three people who their arrival they were spending the had traveled greater distances in the morning as usual in the shady arbor. hope of finding quiet and rest. One The lake lay a wide expanse of clear was a man from the far West, the crystal, with not a ripple stirring its other two, a woman and a girl from surface. It was one of those warm, somewhere in the East.

humid days when it is simply imposOut under the trees on the north sible to concentrate one's thought upside of the cottage there is a small on work. Betty's thoughts in particvine-covered arbor, which overlooks ular were wandering, following in the Lake Leelanau and stands only a few wake of each group of people as they feet from its shore. It was here that strolled through the grove on their "Auntie Fay" and the girl, Betty, way to the dock or the tennis courts. spent their mornings, and at times the Listlessly she followed them in greater part of the day, for although thought, until finally her attention was they had come north to rest there were attracted by a lone figure threading still proofs to be read and correspond- his way in and out among the green ence to be taken care of. They both trees. loved the great out-of-doors and made “Auntie Fay,” the girl's tones were the most of their retreat, which took in keeping with the listlessness of her them quite away from other people mood, “don't you think the 'Silent and still allowed them to feel their Man' may be brooding over some senearness.

cret trouble ?" Auntie Fay a great many of you un- “Whom are you talking about, doubtedly know — if not personally, child?” Auntie Fay looked up from you at least know her through the her book, and following the direction books she has written. Betty was just of the girl's gaze, saw the man from a girl, like many another girl, without the West just entering the cottage any particular distinction in the world. door. “Do you mean Mr. Howard ?” She was of medium height, but when “Yes, Auntie Fay, I have given him not being measured against other the name of 'Silent Man' because I people, her youthful slenderness gave think it suits him better. He impresses one the impression that she was much me as a person who is afraid to talktaller. Her soft, light brown hair, afraid to laugh; his only happiness which she wore low over her forehead seems to be in wandering away from

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