Pittston Gazette

              WoUm: Established UiO. J TOL*lVmNo.JO I Oldest Newspaper in the Wyoming Valley. PITTSTON, LUZERNE COUNTY, PA., FRIDAY, MARCH u, 1898. A Weekly Local and Family Journal. OO » Vear in*ACl v»ee. And stop they do, finding the broker magnate still there, though in evident ■trait*. la it possible lor a man in lore to look pleased at the coming of visitors in the midst of even s prolonged ttete-a-tete? Swinburne doesn't. He looks infinitely distressed, and Parry fail to remark it. "Ulullo.Swinburael Who'd 'a' thought of seeing you here at this hour? I supposed you never missed a day like this for a drive, yet your team isn't at the matter hnrt been referred to dim ss post commander. Merriam was confounded. He had seen and talked with one of them only a few weeks before, and no such action had even been hinted »t. Nor did he know that any one of their number was aware of his indebtedness to the others. Frankly he had told Miss Fan of these matters before he told her of his love, but it made, apparently, no impression on her. "Let them wait." she said. "You'll soon be able to pay them ten times over." Frankly he had talked of it to one or two of his intimates, and later to Parry, who had grown to like him, and who, as a lawyer, thought his little inheritance could not be much longer withheld. It would free him: it would very prettily furnish their quarters aod yill leave a few hundreds to the fore. He remembered, too, that Uncle Mellen had made some inquiries of him. and that In perfect frankness he had replied. And now. Just at the moment when he *"as full of hope and happiness, came this cruel mortification. Such action on the part of his creditors was unaccountable. but, as the superintendent said, it wag a solemn fSct. Deeiply chagrined. he told the colonel the whole *tory, and the colonel was full of sympathy. but as full of sense. Ing, all in one. Many women in society, old and youug. eu.vied her. and everybody appropriately congratulated him and wished her Joy. Mac's plan for the honeymoon included a yachting tour through the Scottish isles and soon to North Cape, but Fan surprised him. .She had seen so much of Europe, abe said, and so little of their own country. Couldio't they go to Chicago for the world's fair, and then- to Niagara and down the St. Lawrence, and throuifi the White mountains andDtheCatskllla? So this they did, coming back to Gotham for a round of receptions and social gayeties In the late autumn, then going to Florida and thence to New Orleans for the Mardi Gras, and then Fah begged to be taken to Coronado and Monterey. She longed, she said, to see more year, seta rne teacoers, dot it couldn't be, Tremaine had listened to the tempter. Invested his scant savings in a Colorado mine that for one year gave dividends galore, and then—gave out. There could be no separate establishmept maintained on the pay of a captain of infantry, who was keeping op a heavy life Insurance. Florence and her mother were recalled to the Bifleri, and, to still further promote the economy demanded by their misfortune, Capt. Tremaine begged to be allowed to go to the cantonment on the Catamount, relieving with his company a like force that had been there in exile over a year. People at headquarters thought it absolutely heartless in him to take tfrs. Tremaine and dear Florence to such a desert, ao near the Navajos to the north, and so exposed to danger from predatory bands of Apaches from across the Arizona line. But neither Mrs. Tremaine nor Florence shared their views. Floy was to have her books, her "birds, her horse; her mother could direct her reading, and, aa for companionship, there was Mrs. Lee, the wife of their first lieutenant; she was barely 25, and a charming young matron; and Jimmy Crofton, their junior sub, was engaged and wonld soon bring hia bride fat to join, 8he didn't doubt that they would have a perfectly lovely time, hunting, fishing, exploring in the mountains, and riding races down the Catamount. Florence's face would glow with enthusiasm; It would become transfigured, radiant—yes. almost pretty, ssid some of the ladies—so proud did she seem to feel at sharing her father's lot. So, though few agreed that Florence waa a beauty, all decreed that she waa a tramp, a fond and dutiful daughter, a sweet, sonny-natured child, who would make a lovely woman and wife one of these daya. "Only," said Mrs. Hayne, wltfc a world of tenderness in her tone —"only I hope it may be the right man. (Hrls with those big brown eyes love so deeply." And tuere at tbe rear door sue covered until the clouds of chcking dust drove her within. It was the men's end of the car, and fragrant cigar smoke was drifting from the room in which her husband and bis cronies were playing whist. If only the long car were turned end for end! If only she could get her bag and reach the women's toilet-room unobserved. Let him, and his —and that girl—see her looking as she was now?—not for worlds! Get to that toilet-room and wash away the grime and dust and cinders, get out her alcohol lamp and curl that rebellious, ■tringy "front," and prink and powder and retouch those faded lashes and brows—all this she must do before facing him and her. But how to get there without being aeen. She must pass them so close as almost to touch his shoulder. No! A furtive peep from behind the brown curtain into the dim Interior revealed the broad gray shoulders bent far over to the girl's end of the seat. He wag leaning over her, lwto her eyes, talking earnestly to her. There was no comfort In the sight. It stung her to instant action. They were running swiftly down grade now, following the windings of the San Mateo, but she made a rush for her seotion, grabbed the handsome silver-mounted bag that lay juit within reach, and with bowed head and bent form was hastening on. when the forward trucks struck a sHarp euTve, the big ear gave a sudden lurch that tumbled her Into the section directly in front of the blissful couple, and sprawled her Ignominiously upon the front seat. The occupant of the other was a snoring commercial traveler. Her bag dropped in the crash, fell to the floor, and burst open, and before she could recover herself or its contents, the man in gray had sprung to her aid, had btradled an escaping scent-flask and other trifles back into the receptacle, ahut its silver lips with a snap, and. bowing courteously, endeavored to restore it. Averting her face—covering it almost with her handkerchief— she strove to rise and go her way, but the car still swayed and swung. He put forth a helping hand to lift her to her feet, but she did not see it. Scrambling out. still hiding her face, she seized again her satchel, and, never looking, never speaking, hurried past him and disappeared at the forward end of the car, leaving Merriam gazing blankly, fixedly after her. a general court-martial. Merriam was a frequent visitor at the Haynes' quarters, and everybody knew that in hia own regiment he had no warmer iriends than Capt. and Mrs. Lawrence Hayne, of the Riflers, and Merriam had had a long talk with Hayne before calling on the coloneL Bat no one who knew cither Hayne or his C*harmit% wife ever thought of trying to extract from them information as to other people's personal affairs. Old Buxton, the dragoon-ofthe-old-army-sort of a lieutenant colonel, did try to pump the captain, but was most coolly and civilly snubbed for his pains. Buxton was a man Hayne never spoke to except in the most formal way. There had been some trouble between them ever so long ago, when Hayne was a young sefcond lieutenant and "Bux" the senior captain of the —th cavalry. The softening touch of time had effaced mudh of the bitterness of that old, old story. Hayne had twice been stationed at the same garrison with Buxton, and found it awkward to preserve the rule of nonlirtercourse with a field officer who was frequently In command, so he spoke respectfully and courteously to his senior whenever they met, but the courtesy was as cold and the meetings as rare as he could make them. Bux, however, "bore no malice," as he said, and was quite ready to be magnanimous and forgive Hayne for what had transpired in the past, but then Buxton, had been the offender. Indeed, Buxton was a pachyderm on whom snubs had little effect. He believed Hayne knew why Merriam had asked for his most undesirable detail, and so importuned him with eager inquiry—all to no purpose. Harrison blissfully wetrt on to Chicago and Merriam out to the Mescalero, and was no more heard of or from for several weeks. Then the news came that he was seriously ill with mountain fever at the cantonment on Catamount creek, and Bill Whittaker was hurried thither to take over the command. tor the far west, and Tremaine met tlfrem at Santa Fe Junction. Then, after one brief week at Sedgwick, they had started for the canitoniment, and there had led their uneventful until the ooming of Randy Merriam, prostrate, with the days of another June. And now, while Florence was in tears and hiding in her pretty room above stairs, this errant, erring, invalid warrior, with no word or sign of being himself sorely heart-smitten, was determinedly talking of going back forthwith to the mountain trails. Tremaine would not let his beloved helpmeet speak, either to Florence or to Merriam, but he fully meant to say more words than one to Vferriam himself, and then he bethought him of Dalrymple, and tihe famous frock that doughty major douned whenever he sallied forth to ask the intentions of O'Malley's dashing light dragoons, and this reflection gave him pause. If, either by accident or design, the heart of his precious child had become wrapped up in Merriam. then Aferriam should not leave the post without ap explanation. But there was yet time. It might be that the poor fellow . was really sore smitten himself, and that the tender but unconquered heart of his daughter waa touched with pity 'or his suffering. door.** Y'*°—er—I had baaineas to diacuss with Mrs. McLane before her etart for the west—a Journey which I had much hoped to hear Mrs. Parry hae dissuaded her from taking." fCopyrtfbt tlg». by F. Tennyson Nccly.] CHAPTER L of the big office, "what am 1 to do? Fan ia actually packed and ready to start for Fort Sedgewick—where Mr. Merriam is stationed!" "Oh, bless you, no!" responds Parry, cheerfully. "The doctor advises change of scene and air, doesn't he. Fan? And Sedgwicjc"* the very place for botCh. There's no scenery within ten miles of it, and there's more air than they know what to do with ten hours out of 12. It blows a blizzard there six times a week, doesn't it. Fan?" There was more than one reason why Fanny McLane should not have accepted the Oraftons* invitation to visit them M Fort Sedgwick. Perhaps that waa why abe sever mentioned the matter to her sister, Mrs. Parry, ootii that lady •urprissd her In the midst of the pack- Southern California, and the "Sunset Route" bore tbem within three miles of old Fort Sedgwick on their westward way. Ned turns slowly toward her, trying not to show in his deep-brown eyes how pleased he is at the sight of his handsome helpmeet. "The first thing you have to do, Mrs. Parry, when you come to this office for advice ia to pay the enstomary retaining fee," he responds, aa be takea her carefully-gloved hand in hia and benda forward for a IdM. fehe recoils, pleased, yet provoked. He should have been startled at her revelation, even though he did wish for her Idsa. The Graftons were still at West Point. There was only one officer at the post whom she knew, aDd none who were known to her husband. It was five o'clock of a soft, sunshiny February afternoon, one of those matobless days for which the valley of the Rio Bravo fs famous. McLane was playing "dummy" in the smoking-room. The young wife was yawning over a book. She was looking, it must be owned, not only bored, but somewhat dusty and disheveled. and she was conscious of the fact, which made her look still worse. She was remarking bow baked and dry and dreary and monotonous was the landscape, and wondering where they were and what was the name of Ohoae far-away blue mountains under the fiery path of the sun—geography was not one of her strong points—when the train slackened speed and rolled slo«wly into a station that seemed more populous than any recently passed, and there stood another train, almost the counterpart of their own. aDd on the station platform of what was evidently a connecting road were groups of swarthy, cigarette-smoking Mexicans, a few stolid, silent Indiana, and tfaen—was it possible? — stylishly, fashionablydressed women, and officers In riding garb, and there at the platform stood waiting ambulances and orderlies with led horses, and the sound of merfyehat and laughter came floating in at the open window, and people occupying seoD tlona on the left side of the Pullman crossed over to her side gazed with all their eyes. "What's the name of this station?" some oije asked the porter. "Santa Fe Junction." was the answer. "Yawndnh's Foht Sedgwick, three miles out there on the men a." ing. are yon going. Fan?" waa the 4«*J7. half-aggrieved, hah-aggreasive—the tone in which an elder often addresses a younger Sister who tSs evidently presumed to contemplate some journey without previous consultation and oonaent. "Then I presume the residents of the post must be unusually charming to C*f»et such monotony of landscape and such objectionable climate," says Swinburne, stiffly, and looking ruefully at the fair young widow. "I have not the honor of anybody's acquaintance there," he adds. "I'm sorry, Merriam," said he, "but • here's only one thing for you to do. Vhere's no telling when you'll ever get that inheritance. When lawyers once ?et hold of an estate it's dollars to dimes nobody else ever does, and by the time Judgment is awarded in your favor it will be eaten up in fees and innumerable charges. You cannot count on a cent of it. You cannot save anything to speak of bare. Just capitalize thosedel_ts of yours; borrow the money from soiFe business man on reasonable time and interest, get your life Insured in bis favor, and go out and join our troop. We ran have you relieved as at yotir own request, and once out on the frontier you can save so much a month, and little by little pull yourself out." **I? Why I thought you knew. Go- Ing to spend a week or two with the Grsftona" Meantime the culprit officer himself had been carefully lifted into the doc- buggy, and with that excellent praotitioner was enjoying a drive. The one thing Wells could not understand was that, while his patient rapidly gained !n health, flesh and appetite, he seemed satodroop,in spirits. Notone word had he been told of Merriam's broken engagement, beyond what Mrs. Tremaine had imparted, and she could give but Dcanty Information. Merriam was grateful for all the care and attention lavished upon him, grateful for returning strength, for suiuftine, fresh air, and the brisk drive along the shores of the winding Catamount, but Merriam was silent, smiled but seldom, and laughed not at all. Merriam was plainly troubled, and that night, when Mrs. Tremaine asked her friend, the doctor, how hia patient enjoyed the drive, that gentleman replied that if it did him good he gave no sign. "I believe," said he, **that Merriam's in love, and that's why I cannot understand his eagerness to get baok to his troop." And the mother leaped with hope. She, too, had had other plana for Florence than t&at she should marry a subaltern officer; but If by chance Floy had chosen foff herself an6 fallen in love with one, i6 oould not have been without some persuasion, some pleading on his part. It must be. that he was the first to love and to plainly show it. "Is that the customary retaining1 fee, sir?" she asks, demurely, forgetful for the moment of the portentous news she brings. "I heard you had quite a number of feminine clients." "So?" says Parry. "Why. there's CapU and Mrs. Grafton, old friends of Fan's, you know—that is, Mrs. Grafton is, and there's Lieut. Merriam—splendid fellow, tihatl We knew him so well when he was on duty at the Point. And there's Mintum. of the artillery, there with his battery. He used to visit us often when Merriam was philandering about Fan here. Oh, yes. there's a raft of pleasant people there." "TheGraftonsI Fanny McLane! Tou don't mean you're going to Fort Sedgwick?""Thai's their station," answered Mrs. lfcLane, with slight access of color. "So many that my partners find it difficult to straighten out their accounts as I do their stories. Pardon me, Mrs. Parry, did you say I waa retained? If sc*" and the junior member of the distinguished firm of Groeme, Ray burn & Parry again bends downward toward the glowing face. Mra Parry bad not yet seated herself. She was still standing at tbe open doorway, glancing quickly from trunk to trunk la tbe sunshiny bat littered room. Now she took a step forward, hesitated on* BOtncBt as she looked at the maid servant bending busily over a great 8arfctoffa. and In dumb show Intimated to her slater that she wished that openeyed. open-eared domestic elsewhere. Mrs. McLane's pretty face at this juncture ie a situdy. She is flushed, aln*oat tearful; ready to pull Ned Parry's hair In wrath, yet hardly able to restrain her merriment at sight of Swinburne. who sits in open-mouthed dismay. For-downripht mischief a brother-in-law has opportunities accorded no other mortal, and Parry is at once ber torment and her delight. Mrs. McLane has been known to say that Charlotte took a very mean aC9rantage of her In having met him first and "landed" him before be ever «aw the sunshine of her own lovely blue eyes. "You're absurd. Ned, if that's what you mean," replied Mrs. Parry, secretly delighted at the lover-like -ways of her lord. "I've a mind not to pay—anything. You shouldn't charge members of the family." But Mrs. McLane was blind to any signals. Indeed she seemed at the moment to And It necessary to supervise aome of Annette's work, noting which symptom Mrs. Party's scruples vanished.And leaving his pretty sweetheart, his chosen friends and pleasant sur- In a week there came a letter from him to Capt. Hayne, and this was what it said: The cantonment tamed out to be something of an Eden aa an army poat. Four companies had onoa been stationed there, so there was lota of room, but after the last lot of Apache Tnft. raudera had been translated to the shores of the Atlantic, matters aboriginal quieted down in Arizona and western New Mexico. The cavalry were needed elsewhere, and could not easily be supplied at so isolated a post; so the two troops were marched back to the valley of the Bravo, and then, soon after Tremaine moved thither, it was decided to recall one of the two infantry commands maintained there; that sent Capt. Thompson back to headquarters, and left only the Tremainea, the Lees and Dr. Wells, for Jimmy Crofton's fiancee's father had got hi™ away on detached service; and this waa the commissioned society left at Catamount when Randy Merriam, borne in a litter, delirious and wearing the willow for Fanny McLane, was brought in to be nursed and coddled back to health again, and Tremaine made ready for him a big, airy room under hia ova roof. "I don't," he answers, reflectively, "in all cases. There'a Aunt Mildred, for instance, and Aunt Charlotte and grandma, but you and Fan now—" round ings, this wan exactly what Randy Merriam did. .Ned Parry, with a puzzled look on hi* face, had listened to his mournful recital, bad promptly offered his service* and hia bank account, and made but one atipulatiom "Don't you go near thoae fellows. Merriam. Let me have the bills and I'll send you the receipt®," for Parry had a theory of hiB own. "I found the dear old boy convalescing, but woefully limp and weak. "Fanny, you know perfectly well that's the last placc on earth you should go to now. snd Mr. McLane not a year la his gravel" "FanI Why ahould ahe k—consult jrou?" "Why, do you know. Lot, I've never once asked her. She might select some other fellow in the firm and k—consult him." A redder spot barns in each fair sheek. as tbe yonng widow turns quickly and faces ber accuser. Very little alike were these two sisters, despite the fa.-t that they had lived most of their life together. Educated ■broad by a benevolent aunt after the leath of their devoted mother, the girls bad returned to America the great year of the Columbian fetes, and Charlotte, tbe elder by two years, had met Ned Parry, a rising and successful young lawyer, before they had been home a month, waa engaged to him before the autumn leaves were falling—before Fan even dreamed that anything of the kind wah in contemplation, for she, at the moment, was having what she termed a simply deliriously delightful time at tbe Point. Harriet Palmer, her especial friend at school, both at home and abroad, had married Capt. Grafton early that spring. Fan making almost her first appearance in society aa one of the bridesmaids on that occasion, and being much impressed with the devotions of tbe groomsman assigned to her, a handsome, soldierly fellow by the name of Merriam. He waa an officer several years the junior of Capt. "Didn't she speak to you at all?" asked the bride, a moment later, as Merriam, with a strange, dazed look on hi8 face, returned to his seat by her aide. "I'm afraid she's dreadfully hurt, for her knee struck the seat-arm ever so hard." "Ned. you're, simply horrid now. I never did like you when you tried to bo Sedgwick was as dreary a post, so far as aurroundinga were concerned, aa could be found In the west. It stood on a pebbly mesa, flat and barren, overlooking the narrow, tortuous, shallow canyon through which rippled the watera of the San Mateo. Across the western horizon bung a low, jagged curtain of distant blue mountains. Far away to the northweat a anow peak ahimmered in the dazzling sunshine, but north, eaat and seuth the low rolling contour of the prairie, like the ground swell of the ocean, wxi lost in illimitable monotony. The only treea were some willowa down in an arroyo that emptied ita rivulet after a rainatorm into the stream. The only green things were the blinds and vinea upon the plazas of the officers' quarters. Yet Sedgwick waa a big post, an important post, for a great Indian reservation lay only 20 miles away toward the mountains. Two linea of railway met at the Junction three miles down atream, and by riding a few milea westward one came suddenly upon a fertile valley, where grass and trees abounded, and where all nature seemed to amile, and where by rights the old poat should have been located; but all that waa Indian reservation when Sedgwick was built, and not until long after did the territorial officials succeed in getting it lopped off from Lo'a allotment and thrown open to aettlement. Along the bowery shadea of the Santa Clara were now ranches-, by the dozen, and a hundred or mort of enterpriaing settlers, and between them and the thronging garrison at Seflgwick was peace and good will and every kindly relation, when Randy Merriam came ost in the December of the Columbian year, determined to take his punishment like a man. He had sworn off cigars and extravagances of every kind. For a time he even declined to aubscribe to the hops, which were charming affaira, for the band waa excellent and the regiment blessed with many lovely and lovable women. "Merriam spends all of hi* money In stamps," was the comment of the garrison wits, for he wrote day after day to his distant darling in the east. That winter Ned Parry accepted ths junior partnership in the great Arm of Graeme A Kay burn, in Chicago, and moved thither with his lovely wife, while Fan remained with /\unt and Uncle Mellen In Gotham, pin* ipg. presumably, for her far-away soldier boy, and yet writing much less frequently than be did, for the demands of Bociety were incessant and auntie kept her "on the go." "And why not, pray? The Graftons ars ths oldest, dearest friends I have— at least ahe la" "And Randy Merriam—isn't there, I suppose—nor his plain wife?" "Mr. Merriam's whereabouts la a matter of entire Indifference to me. as you ought to have ths decency to know, Charlotte." Fanny McLane's heart gave a sudden jump. The train, which had stopped And atill Merriam could not speak. That night Florence was veTy quiet. She read aloud to her father, as was her costom, and oking to him as he kissed her good-night. Merriam had gone early to his room, as though fatigued by the drive or rendered drowsy by the unaccustomed motion in the air. Somewhere about three in the morning there was an unusual sound of voices in excited talk near the guardhouse, and Tremaine awoke and waa dressing hurriedly, when rapid steps came up the walk, and the sergeant of the guard, with a djist-covered courier, stood at hia door. They bore a note from Whittaker. A serious row had occurred between some of the troop and a party of miners and prospectors who had been camping near them for three days,' Pistols were drawn, with the result that one miner waa killed, two troopera and one prospector were seriously,' perhapa mortally, wounded, and several others were injured. Could Dr. Wells come out to tlhem at once for a few hours, at least, and was Merriam able to ride? The young prospector who was so aeriovisly wounded had hcgsed to ae* lum, aa he had important information for him, and bade them tell Mr. Merriam -that his name was McLane, a son of the man who was about to marry Miss Hayward. A penciled note in a olosed envelope accompanied the verbal message for Merriam. "What is it. Randy?" ahe whispered, after a moment'a anxioua atudy of hia face. "You look ao—unlike yourself." /r— — "Ought to be matters of indifference, 1 concede, but 1 have grave doubt* aa t« whether they are. as yon say." With an effort he pulled himself together. "Did you aee her face, Floy, dear? What waa she like?" " TlonoM nwto to him by tha hour." Tremalne says he was wild as a loon when the men brought him in. They saw that he waa burning with fever for days, and begged him to go to the cantonment for medical attention, but he bade them mind their own business and obatinately stuck to the work. The gentlemen of the survey soon saw tliat he waa going flighty and. later, dAirious, and they took the responsibility of. *Tb*a k'*p your doubts and suspieions to yourself. Charlotte," said Mrs. Me Lane. with brimming eyes and burnto* ebeeka "This is no place to speak of such matters," and the brimming •y**—which their owner tried hard to loduce to blase instead of brimturn significantly toward Annette, busily packing and assiduously feigning unconsciousness, and then almost defiantly turn back to her sister. "Why. ahe'a a blonde with—I only got a glimpse. Randy—ahe'a a blonde with light hair and blue eyes. She might be pretty. Why, dear?" And the dear came ao timidly. **I thought—I had seen her before, but It's impossible—absurd. Go on and tell me what Mrs. Grafton wrote you, sweetheart. Never mind the capsized Not for six weeks waa Bandy able to ride again, and atatea have been lost and won in less. There is little need of dwelling on the progressive stages of the unpremeditated aiege. Billy Whittaker got there comparatively early in the game, when convalescence had just begun to be assured—when Florence, ahy and soft of voice, waa juat beginning the daily readings aloud to her patient—readings which, aa auch, began soon to shorten, though reader and audience remained long and longer in each other'a presence. By and by the book waa but a superfluity. It lay unopened in her lap, aa she sat, with downcast eyea and flushing cheeks, beside the hammock wherein her hero patient lay, and the anxious mother noted how, little by little, the girl's soft, silvery tones would become hushed—how his voice, deep and strong again, yet tender and subdued, would take up the thread of some old, old story; and one day in alarm she fled to her husband'a study, for Florence waa weeping in her room. blonde just now." But he himself could "mind" no one else when, half an hour later, there came tripping down the aisle from the ladies' toilet-room a slender, graceful, stylishly-draped figure with such a radiantly-pretty girl-woman face—a fair, sweet blond*, with lovely curling hair, the brightest of big blue eyes, the rosiest of tiny mouths, with glimpses of snow-white teeth as she smilingly approached and, with Infinite grace, held out a prettily gloved hand. "To thmk that I should have been here In time to tender my congratulations! Won't you present me to Mrs. Merriam?" telling the sergeant he must be sent thither. They made a fore-and-aft litter by lashing saplings together, hitched on a couple of packmulea, roped Randy inside the thing, and made a fourday march of it. Luckily, Tremalne had a capital medical officer and Randy a splendid constitution. The fever had a big atart, but Dr. Wella and Tremaine's people were utterly devoted to him, and pulled him thfough, but you never saw such a living skeleton Dr. Wells say* he will mend rapidly now, as he eats about six square meals a day and is hungry between times. Mrs. Tremaine nursed him Hke a mother. Heaven bleas her I and now Miss Florence reads to him by the hour." "I know perfectly well what you Frances." responds the elder, and Wlita and "Frances" were adopted Instead of "Lot" and "Fan" it meant that the sororal relations were mors than strained. Grafton, but, being' of the captain's regiment and conveniently stationed at West Point, be bad been called into requisition with others of bis cloth, and a very pretty wedding they had had. And then, as luck would have it, Grafton himself was offered a detail at the academy, and rather than take his bride to the far frontier so soon after their marriage be accepted it, and there they spent the summer; and there, in July, Miss Frances Hayward joined them at Mrs. Grafton's urgent request, and there did Randolph Merriam fali deeply and devotedly in love with her, and no one wondered. By far and away she was the prettiest girl at the Point that summer, and Merriam was conceded to be a mighty lucky fellow when, very soon after the announcement of Charlotte Hayward's forthcoming marriage to Edward Parry, he allowed himself to be congratulated upon his engagement to her youngeT sister. •• WH»* unite dor- Stw tuwtUr low»r»_ Uu Mute funny. You know I never interrupt you here unless I'm troubled about something, and you're just laughing at me instead of sympathizing," and Mr*. Ned pretends to pull away her hands, but conspicuously fails. an lnatant before crossing the other track, moved slowly on, and then under the grip of the air brakes came to a stand beside the platform, and, conscious that she was looking her worst —looking yellow, in fact—she drew bock from the window and hastily lowered the shade. Then merry voices and laughter, and light, bounding footsteps were heard at the head of Ibe car, and in came a joyous party.officers aud ladies. A tall, slender girl seemed the object of general interest, and her bundles and wraps were deposited la the opposite section by one officer; anofher bore a brand-new bag, another a bnnch of beautiful roses, and ten women hung about the girl and kissed her and eooed over her; and. with the experienced eye of her sex, Mrs. McLane needed only one glance at the pretty, stylish traveling suit, at the jaunty little hat, at the slender, tapering boot, all so new and glossy, to reilize at ones that here was a bride—an army bride— and one beloved of her kind, for one woman after another clung to her as they kissed, and many eyes were wet, and all were filled with love and trust and tenderness. "God bless you. Floy, darling!" cried one enthusiastic girl. "I'm so, so glad we've got you in our regiment. 1 was so afraid the Killers would never let you go." And this. too. seemed an all-pervading sentiment among the men whose caps were decorated with crossed sobers, while others, who wore the badge of the infantry, and their wives and daughters seemed to have another song to sing. "Florence, you broke our hearts by marrying out of the regiment, but at least we'll soon havs you back at Sedgwick," was the purport of what was said by more than ons of their number. **I gave you every signal ingenuity sould rsuggeat, but you wouldn't see. Ton didn't want to see, because you thought that"— and here Mrs. Parry indicates the kneeling Annette with a sod of her very stylkhly coifed head— "that would keep die from speaking. But this Is s case whfcre duty cannot be neglected. Fanny, are you in your right "One of the first principles of my large and successful practice, Mrs. Parry, is to secure prepayment of the retaining fee in all ca*es where I have reason to believe the client will subsequently aot contrary to my advice. When you have— Ah, that will have to do. I presume, though it oame with a bad grace. And now you say Fan is going to Sedgwick ?" And Randolph Merriam, for once in his life, was utterly at a loss what to say or do. He could hardly speak. He could hardly breathe. "Floy," he finally said—and his tone was strange and cold—"this Is Mrs. McLane, of New York, an old—acquaintance," then turned away as Mrs. McLane effusively, delightedly bent over that she might shake hands with the bride. "In every one of the seven, Charlotte, 1 don't mean to listen to abuse. Too know perfectly well Dr. Mellon •aid I needed change." "Well, then, go to New Orleans, go to Bermuda, go to 8t. Augustine—go to St. Petersburg. Fan—anywhere on earth rather than Fort Sedgwick—anywhere under heaven except where Randolph Merriam happens to be—unless you would have me believe yeu lost to—'m But here, with solemn mien, enters the male biped who officiates as butler, boy and major do mo at the Clarendon fiats—a card upon the salver in hi# podgy hand, and Mrs. Parry nearly shokes in the necessity for sudden stop. Mr. Swinburne up." says Mrs. MeLane, promptly, barely glancing at the black-bordered card and evidently glad of the interruption. "Now, Charlotte. not another word, unless yon wish *e to show how Indignant 1 am to every visitor who comes in," and Mrs. McLane Is busy bathing her flushed cheeks already. "How does my hair look?" she edds, turning inquiringly toward the defeated elder, sure that whatever cause if quarrel there may be, that, at least, is subject for truce. Florence, listening at her half-open door as the captain read Whit taker's dispatch aloud to her mother, sfhrank back to her bedside, covered her face with her hands and sank to her knees. Jit «was thus she ■was found a few moments later. Merriam, aronsed by the unaccustomed sounds, had lighted his candle and, partially dressed, came forth into the broad hallway of the commanding officer's quarters, and Tremaine met and gave him the message and tie note, which latter Randy tore open and read with staring eyes. For a moment he stood confounded, then turned sharply to Tremaiiie: "Now, sir, TWe got to go, and go at once —•when Wells does," then turned and hurried to his room. And at this point in WWttaker'a innocent missive, Mrs. Hayne, wiio was clinging to her husband's arm and reading with him, suddenly looked up in bis face and said: "Oh, Lawrence! wouldn't that- be—almost ideal?" "Yes. and Randy Merriam's hardly been married a month longer than Mr. McLane's been dead." "Do not Interfere by look or word," said that wise man. "He will be well enough to rejoin his fellows in the field next week, and they'll soon get over it. If they don't—they can get married. That will put an end to it." "Astounding coincidence! But Brandy is married, isn't he?" And he had every right to consider himself engaged. She had accepted his attentions, his devotions, eventually his ring and also his presents. He had called upon Aunt and Uncle Mellen in New York, the guardians of the girls, and startled them out of all equanimity by the announcement that Miss Hayward had accepted the offer of his heart and'hand conditioned only on their consent, which he besought them to give. "Floy" Tremaine. as she was called in the regiment, was an only child, born and reared in the Biflers. Two years oi her life had been spent in the east at school, but with that exception had known no companionship or association outside the garrison that was the temporary home of her father's company. An open-air, joyous, healthful life it was, admirable for nerves, arteries and digestion, yet destructive to complexion, for at 15 Floy Tremaine was as brown as a Navajo, when they took her to St. Anne's to school, where she was promptly dubbed "the Squaw." The first six months there, despite the fact that her mother was near at' hand, took a good deal of heart out of Florence and some of the prairie tan from her face. Her big, soft brown eyes grew even more eloquent and pathetic, and her pretty mouth gained some wistful lines about its sensitive corners. She did not take to city girls, nor did they to her, until her father came in on leave, and, noting the change in his precious child, took counsel with an old Manhattan friend, ordered a •well riding costume forthwith, and bade her join the class at Dickel's academy—not that she needed teaching to ride, but the exercise and open sir to be had In the daily demure canter in the park. One or two of the girls were quite dashing horsewomen, and excited the envy and admiration of their classmates by the ease with which they took the conventional leaps at the hurdles and bars; and when one of them, flushed with triumph, after receiving the compliments of the master, reined up beside our silent Florence, on a rainy afternoon when their ride bad to be had within doors, and rather patronizingly queried: "Ah, don't you do something of this sort out on the plains. Miss Tremaine?" Florence reddened a bit and said, "The children do sometimes," which led to prompt inquiry as to her meaning, and the explanation that the cavalry horses and even the Indian ponies would take such obstacles in their stride and hardly rise to the leap at all. Asked to illustrate, she put her bay at the hurdles, clearing them like a bird; then, turning to Miss De Ruyter, she said: "You noticed even this horse hardly had to spring. Now if Mr. Dickel will let me have the bar a foot higher I can show you where he has to exert himself a bit;" and she did, and no other one of the girls dared attempt it. Then she asked to have her saddle removed and rode her horse over the hurdles bareback, and when he was going at an easy canter about the ring amazed the class by leaping lightly off and on again, her slim, strong young hands grasping the mane, yet never dragging upon the rein. This made her envied, but hardly enviable, for the erstwhile champions of the school gave it out that she had been a ''child wonder" in some far-western circus. It wasn't "until Flo's second year at St. Anne's that she began to find either friends or appreciation there. When she left at the clo6r of that second year, there was one set at least among whose members she was wellnigh worshiped. She had not finished the course. She needed st least one "Randy, Ned. not Brandy—how your mind runs to such things!" It was early evening—too early for twilight effects, yet the shadows were falling thick on Florence Merriam's wedding-day before the setting of the glowing sun. "But think," persisted his better half, "if s Florence I'm troubled about. It's she who may not soon get over it. Hers is a deep—" "Well, toward five p. m. the firm does feel like running to such things, my best beloved, and Is only deterred from doing so by the fact that a touch of the button makes It do the running. What ihall I order tor you ?" And Mr. Parry transfers her left hand to Hp mate reposing in his left, and stretches forth the right toward his desk. But here the captain arose and amazed his wife by taking her in his arms and speaking with a choking sob In his yoke: CHAPTER m. Two daya after the receipt of the announcement of Fanny Hayward's engagement to Mr. McLane and a few weeks before the marriage, Randolph Merriam had left Fort Sedgwick in command of a detachment of oavalry escorting a government survey to the Mesealero range. It was not his tour. The detail beloved to Harrison, a younger officer, who had been saving up all winter for a two-months'leave and a chance to apend his savings at the great expoaition at Chicago. A relentless colonel would allow him no leave, because it was his turn for field duty, and because so many officers wished to go to the fair that it was out oDf the question as to expect anyone to offer to take the detail for him. The detach ment would be in the field at least three months, possibly four. Harrison, consequently, was the bluest man at Sedg wick, and said more hard things about government surveys, and moreimpropei things.thancould well be recorded here Everybody had been congratulating "Don't talk of It, Dot!" he said. "I'm the one to blame. I Hever thought of Brownie as anything but a child until three days ago. I've been praying you wouldn't see it—that there'd be nothing more to see, but—" and here the gray stubble about the captain's mouth began to twitch and work convulsively, and be had to stop. "I own I never thought of her marrying In the army," said Aunt Charlotte, as do other aunts and mothers after their girls have been campaigning at the Point. The captain himself aroused his post surgeon, told him the rews, and bade him see and quiet Merriam as soon as . possible. The dawn was breaking, and the rosy light was in the eastern skywhen the doctor reached his patient, finding him fully dressed and rapidly Btowing in his saddl®-bags the simple articles of a soldier's toilet. "I Want nothing," she answered;"bat advice, and no more nonsense. Ned," appealingly, "what ought I to do? What can I dor' "Are you sure you can do just what I tellyou,Lcrt?" be asks, a/ond light playing' in his eyes, despite the hali-teae- Ing smile. "What income, if any, have you outside your pay?" was Uncle Mellen's more-to-tbe-point, interrogation. "Nothing, sir." • One day in April there came a letter from the eaat at sight of which Randy Merriam's face was radiant with joy. It briefly told him that the Long litigation was over and that some $3,500, all that was left of the original $6,000, were at his disposal. Jubilantly, confidently then, he wrote to Fanny to name the day, and in course of time there came a reply, long, penitent, miserable, but all-sufficient. The day was named, and so was the man—Mr. John Harold McLane, of New York, a wealthy widower of 55. "You know he was engaged*—toaomebody—east, and it was broken off," said Mrs. Tremaine, "and I hadn't thought of danger until just a day or two ago. Now—if he's going next week, as he sayji—and she has learned to care for him, what can w® do?" "Of course I can. Don't I—always?" "Well—ahem—1 have known instances—But you will do just what 1 say?" "Well, neither has she. That is, what she has is so small it wouldn't keep that extravagant child in gloves. You two bad better be sensible and think it over." "This won't do. Bandy. You're not fit to stir," said he. But his determination oozed when Merriam, with whit® face, turned and said: "Your bair is all right," responds her •later. With marked emphasis snd as marked a sense of baffled purpose. "I wish the rest of your head were as well balanced. You don't expect me to see Mr. Swinburne, I suppose?" "Then, your ladyship, let her go and don't worry. I don't, 1 haven't, a bit." "Yes, Ned. I wllL" Then came warnings to leave the trals. The conductor was shouting "All aboard!" and, bearing her with them, they rushed tumultuously to the rear platform. Then, very slowly at first, the car began to move, and the other occupants of the Pullman poked their heads out of the windows and looked bock along the platform, as a©- clamations followed them. But Mrs. McLane still shrank behind the lowered •hade, her heart beating strangely, sod her ears straining as though to catch the tones of a voice long unheard, last heard only with sweet emotions. Manly tones were shouting Godspeeds snd good-byes. Womanly voices were adding their inconsiderate pleas for letters. and then as Che speed increased and the voices died away the passengers slipped back to their sections and strove not to seem to be on the watch for the return of the bride. It was quite a little while before she reappeared. Mrs. McLane was conscious she was coming because of the backward glances of her fellow-travelers, and, under their long lashes, her own eyes took their eager, sidelong peep. She came slowly, a tadl. soldierly form in gray traveling garb close at her »ide. one arm half encircling, half supporting her. She had evidently been weeping a little, for a* she seated herself and looked fondly up In bis face the great lustrous, deep-brown eyes were wet with tears, but tie face was glorified by the love and trust that shone in them A broad-shouldered back, bending de-. vo«edly over the girl, was about all fanny McLane could see of the escort, but It wfi» enough to cause her heart to »tand suddenly still. She felt as though "More than my life's at stake here, doctor—it's • woman's honor, and Fm going, lira or die." Randy Merriam did think it over, but all to no purpose. The more be thought, the more he declared himself hopelessly and irrevocably in love, and as Miss Fan took kindly to his protestations, and Parry and Charlotte took kindly to him and sympathized with the soldierly fellow, who was evidently much of a gentleman and so much In love. It resulted in his being made welcome at Parry's club, received quite as Parry was at the Mellens—siDce not oftener than once a week could he get away from his duties at the Point, and when Ned and Charlotte were married, as they were in state and style early in the winter, Merriam had many a good reason for believing that, despite hit poverty, the next wedding reception held at the Mellen's beautiful home would be one In which be would be vitally Interested. "He is going next week," said Treraaine. "He told me yesterday he ought to go now, and wished to go now. It was Wells who forbade. But Grafton always liked Merriam and Hayn« be» lleves in him- Our Florence might do worse. Dot." "Why, then you have known sbe was going—she has told you?" To be oontinned. "Mr. Swinburne certainly doesn't expeet to see you. He is coming mainly oa business." "She hasn't. I learned It from Swinburne.""When?" President of the Company (puzzled)— We had all we oould do to wiggle along and pay salaries las* year, and yet 1 stnj you have a dividend figured out in youi balance sheet. Consoling. "Too might far better listen to his bnsioess. as you call it. eves this soon, than go near Randy Merriam." "Three days ago." "And you never told me, Ned!" reproachfully.CHAPTER R "But do you understand?" ehe said, "do you realise that, juat from proximity perhape, Florence may have learned to care tor him, while he is Still thinking of his loit love?" "Charlotte, I will not listen to you. If 70a cannot stay here without insulting M with every other word you would much better fro home and atay home until you ran apeak—sensibly." And with this Mrs. McLane darts pant ber slater lhto the passageway, and so on to the parlor front of ber aulte of apartmenta. ju?t as the little electric Indicator tells Wt the elevator baa atopped and that some one la at the entrance door ft Is fwinburne, a wall-preserved, rnuttop•hop whlakered, carefully-broomed fel- Ipw of 46, and Swinburne bows delight•#7 over the slender white hand of tits ftmj and yonthfnl widow and disappears with her within the cozy parlor. The wedding of Miss Hayward and Mr. McLane followed sospeedily the announcement of the engagement that elderly club men, long years the chums of the groom, barely had time to conooct suitable forms of compliment and congratulation. The reception which followed the ceremony, however, was on such a scale of magnificence as to leave little room for doubt that the Mellens had long been preparing for the event. The business relations existing for a decade between Uncle Mellen and John McLane were well understood. Indeed the match was declared' to be of Treasurer (gloomily)—Yen, but that is our nit dividend.—San Francisco Kxamlner."Fact!" says Ned, sagely and sen tentlously. "You would have protested. She wonld have been the more obstinately determined. There would have been a row, and all to no purpose. Fan has had ber own way since sbe cut ber first baby tooth, and there's nothing on earth so Independent as a well-to-do young widow, Swinburne's Ipund that out." Merriam on the final receipt oif what the lawyers didn't "scoop" of his little legacy, and for two weeks he had been as happy as Harrison was miserable. Then, to the utter amaze of everybody, just the day before it was time for the command to start it was announced that Harrison's application for leave had gone forward approved, and that Merriam had asked for and been granted the luxury of a three or four months' Jog through the roughest and most forbidding of mountain ranges. He had even got the colonel's permission to go ahead and wait for the detachment at the old mission on the Santa Clara, and bad started late at night, accompanied only by an orderly. Peoplecouldn't believe their ears, and the post commander rejoiced In the possession of a secret even his wife couldn't coax out of him —the conscienceless, crabbed old crank! as one of his garrison, not subject to court-martial, described him. The adjutant had to admit that Merriam had been closeted with the K. Q. nearly half an hour, and had looked black and blue both, but no blacker, no bluer, wben he came out than when he went In. No, he did not think that anybody else had complained of Merriam's owing him money. He did not think anybody had had a word to say against him. The Old P»an had simply sent for the adjutant right after the interview and remarked: "Mr. Blossom, you can tell Mr. Harrison he may submit thst application for leave snd I'll forward It approved. Mr. Merriam has my consent to take that escort In hia stead." But hadn't he told anybody? Didn't anybody know? were the very natural questions asked. No. Merriam's one intimate and rtium in hia regiment was Bill Whittaker, and BUI was away up at Sasta Fe at the time, a witae»» before "You mean that—you think H all Florence and not Mexriam 7" he asked, starting' back, and holding her from him, and looking with amaze and incredulity Into her eyes—straight into her anxious, tearful face. "Why, Dot, it isn't .possible! She—he—he must have learned to oar e for her. It couldn't be otherwise. Only I hadn't ihoughtof Floy except as a child, anCr I wasn't prepared." Advertising. the starry skies That, though he lived a thousand years, he'd The merchant swore by all the gods beneath never advertise. Bat are a year, despite the boast he confidently flaunted. He ran an ad. beneath the head of "Situation Wanted." "Ned, I can't bear Swinburne, but I'd rather ahe'd marry him—as soon as it's decent to marry anybody—than go out there and fling' herself in Bandy Merriam's way again. Everybody knows the story." —Denver Post. Just to Demonstrate It. Well, be was; but not in the way or manner expected. In fact, he did not attend the ceremony or the reception! Indeed, be was not bidden. A very disagreeable thing happened to him with-- in a month after the Parry-Hayward wedding, one that overwhelmed him with mortification and distress, and caused no little indignation among hia comrades. Tbe lover had been expat iating on worn an, and the cynic thought it was his turn. Uncle Mellen's making, and the whole transaction was openly referred to by younger club men as a most Mellencholly affair. Charlotte Parry w en-ton from Chicago to attend it, but Ned, her devoted lord, pleading very pressi.ng professional engagements, positively refused to go. Ho wrote a letter to Uncle Mellen. about that time, however, which gave other reasons for his non-attendance, and to which the recipient, after several attempts, found it impossible to reply. Mrs. Parry hastened back to Chicago immediately ufter the reception, and from that day neither she nor her husband set foot within the Mellent' doors. Aunt Charlotte declared the conduct of her niece most ondu^lful. ungrateful, unaccouotafele.out ber busband said nothing. I . .. . * The brld-e was a vision of girlish bean- »he we,re poking as though ste t*Chat bright June wedding day. and ave alr- ,Then ,«he hc?r volee' McLane was haodeome rtd weli- deep-toned. tender. the very preserved a feJlow of 6S as even New J0*" b" eara haCJ b"n •,rai°ir'* t0 York coultf «W. U? was evidently hear a be'ore. and the*. deeply in loveand tmmeasur&bly proufl *P« 'rom h" aeat- *er band#Vw" and happy. As for the lady, the looked ra.sed to and shrouding her lacs, to the full as joyous and radiant as any I she to°, hurried to the rear door of the lorer lord could ask. and her manner fr and «tood there clinging to the rail toward McLajie, mu«h "more than twice fo* "UPP°*- The man the ,d* her years"—nearly three times. in fact j 'oted bndegroom. was Eandolpb Mw D—w&* tweet, ahy,appealing, and truat- ' riam* - - - - "If you really think that woman is worth her weight in gold," said the cynic, "I would like to see you try to put the fat woman in a dime museum on th« Like many another father, to whom a daughter 1* as the apple of the eye, Tremaine could aee no fault, no failing in hie child. To hftn she waa the fair eat, as she waa tike beat, fondes dutiful girl in the whole army, his favorite plana had been to take to West Point the previous at: and let her, as he said to fr "paralyse the corpa." One of U dreams he had often dreamed the evening when, with Florence ann, he should reenter the o hall, which he bad not visited sine bravely decked for the 2Sth of hop, the year of hi* marriage. promised to take her thither graduating ball, and had picti aa the belle of the occasion eagerly by the cadets aa theb for waJtaor "two-st%p;" and, aa . eyes she was the most perfect ereatUM that ever lived or moved, hia one iety was lest the boys in. g**y. susceptible, should forget that Floy oniy a ehild and fall in love wl" forthwith. It never occurred to » possibility that Floy iu her  (all in love. But there waa no delicto vialt for Florence to the Point that The moment examinations we sehool her mother »lwted w "Yes. Itwasrather a public exhibition of mitten-giving, I'll admit," says Parry, reflectively, "and not two years ago, either," he added. Then suddenly— "Lot, what sort of fellow is Capt. Grafton?""How long has Mrs. McLane been packing?" asks Mrs. Parry, presently, of the maid. — matrimonial market.''—Chicago Post. t, moat  De of -1®®*  nmer, Hfer of the Globe for [rheumatism! in Mil B and timilar Complaints, I jn uw and prepared under the stringent fl MEDICAL LIWS.^ A uiruat by eminent phyrioian^B S Km OR. RICHTER'S |Kfl ANCHOR "*52 £22 fPAIN EXPELLERl i 1.1. 9 World renowned! Remarkably successful! 1 in hl« Moahr icmitne with Trade Mark " Anchor,*'■ ■r. U. Kicktei 'Co., 216 Pearl St., New York. ■ I 31 HlfiNEST AWARDS. alwaya ■ 13 Branch Hoaiev Own Qlaasworka. waa Endorsed & reeomme uded hy^B k v._ * Peck, 80 Luzerne Avenue. b** G. C. Glick, 50 North Main St.  him.aa 4 St ear. e"aT«r for | "How long, mum? Oh, two or three days only, though we got down the trnnka, mum, on Wednesday last," is Annette's reply. "A very dignified, majestic personage —a good deal older than she is, you know, but she's devoted to him and he to her. There's a woman who doesn't do as she pleases, let me tell you I Capt. Grafton will have no nonsense goingon under his nose, and I'll tell Fan that if she thinks to resume her old flirtation with Merriam, she'll have to blind Grafton first." Everybody knew Randy Merriam was In debt. He made no secret of It. He was extravagant in bia tastes, bad incurred obligations before going on duty at the Point, and found it Impossible to "catch up" there. There were three or four accounts be hsd been ssked to settle, as they had been running some time, but he put them off from month to month, hoping that he might soon be able to obtain possession of a small sum of poonpy Jfft hinj,iSy thf wUl6f a relative two years before. It' was only a few tboussnd yet even that had been contested, together with s number of similar bequests, and the legal complications had bees as exasperating as the law's t|«lay eould make thpm. One day, soop aftfr Charlotte's wedding, Merriam was summoned to the presence of the superintendent and was regretfully {old that four of his creditors bad united in an appW department, tad the "Four trunks and four daya' packing to spend a week or ao at a frontier post," aaya Mrs. Parry to herself, with Increasing wrath. Then turning, she ■weeps through the hallway with the ■den of an offended queen, passes the parlor door with barely a glance at the bright, cheery interior, lets herself oat with a snap and a slam, and stands apgrlly tapping ber daintily bootee) fcxjt on the rug in front of the cage until ike elevator noiselessly answers h#r dgnai and then lowers her to tbe mosaic pavement of the ground floor. "To Mr. Parry's office." she says to the mrhnisn. as she enters the waiting •fcirHage, and Is whirled rapidly away 4own the avenue, past the dancingj waters of the lake. "Med," she cries, 20 minutes later, as C ah* precipitates herself into Mr. Par., nt wigl— citadel a* tha "My love, you forget the oompsct. You're not to tell Fan anything except good-by. Yea—you may send dur regards to Merriam by ber. He's s particularly nice fellow, if she did throw him over for old McLane and hia fortuna. And. Mrs. Parry, I shouldn't be surprised if onr particularly pert and pretty aister were taught a very vainable lesson. Therefore do aa I say, let her go. Gal I mean let her go. AnCt talking of going, auppoae you drive me home with you. W e'U at op and see Fan " tlnute—and Swinburne."