{ title: 'Geyser Judith Basin Times (Geyser, Mont.) 1911-1920, June 30, 1916, Page 6, Image 6', download_links: [ { link: 'http://www.loc.gov/rss/ndnp/ndnp.xml', label: 'application/rss+xml', meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed', }, { link: '/lccn/sn85053135/1916-06-30/ed-1/seq-6.png', label: 'image/png', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn85053135/1916-06-30/ed-1/seq-6.pdf', label: 'application/pdf', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn85053135/1916-06-30/ed-1/seq-6/ocr.xml', label: 'application/xml', meta: '', }, { link: '/lccn/sn85053135/1916-06-30/ed-1/seq-6/ocr.txt', label: 'text/plain', meta: '', }, ] }
About Geyser Judith Basin Times (Geyser, Mont.) 1911-1920 | View This Issue
Geyser Judith Basin Times (Geyser, Mont.), 30 June 1916, located at <http://montananewspapers.org/lccn/sn85053135/1916-06-30/ed-1/seq-6/>, image provided by MONTANA NEWSPAPERS, Montana Historical Society, Helena, Montana.
GEYSER UDITH BASIN TIMES - yr s The Turmoil By BOOTH TARKINGTON (Copyright MP, by liarper & Brothers) SYNOPSIS. —5-- Sheridan's attempt to make a business man of his son Bibbs by starting him in the machine shop ends in Bibbs going to • sanitarium, a nervous wreck. On his re- turn Bibbs is met at the station by his Sister Edith. He finds himself an Incon- siderable and unconsidered figure in the \New House\ of the Sheridans. Ile sees 'Mary Vertrees looking at him from a summer house next door. The Vertrecses, pold town family and impoverished, call on 'the Sher[dans, newly -rich, and afterward discuss them. Mary puts into words her parents' unspoken wish that she marry one of the Sheridan boys. At the Sheri- dan housewarming banquet Sheridan spreads himself. Mary friapkiy encourages Jim Sheridan's attentions, t.nd Bibbs hears he is ts be sent back to the machine shop. Mary tells her mother about the banquet and shOcks her mother by talking of Jim as a matrimonial possibility. Jim tells Mary Bibbs is not a lunatic—lust queer.\ He proposes to Mary, who half accepts sscio0O0v0Oott 0 00 ( .0 0 sO00v00 Will Old Man Sheridan be able to Inspire Bibbs with his own belief in Bigness and win the young man to the business standard? Or will Bibbs prove to his practical father that there Is a place in the world for poetry and music and persuade the elder to let him devote his life to poetry and writing? CHAPTER VIII—Continued. Re seated himself In a chair at his sou's aide and, leaning over. tapped Hibbs confidentially on the knee. \This city's got the greatest future in America. and if my sons behave right by me and by themselves they're goin' to have a mighty fair share of it—a mighty fair share. I love this town. I Jove it like I do my own business, and I'd fight for it as quick as I'd fight for my own family. It's a beautiful town. Look at our wholesale district; look at any district you want to: look at the park system we're puttin' through, and the boulevards and the public statuary. And she grows. God! how she grows!\ He had become intensely grave: he spoke with solemnity. \Now Bibles I can't take any of it—nor any gold or silver nor buildings nor bonds—away :with me in my shroud when I have to go. But I want to leave my share in It to my boys. I've worked for it; I've been a builder anti a maker: and two blades of grass have grown where one grew before, whenever I laid my hand on the ground and willed 'em to grow. I've built big. and I want the buildin' to go on. And when my last hour comes I want to know that may boys are ready to take charge. Hibbs. when I'm up above I want to know that the big share I've made mine, here below. is growin' bigger and bigger in the charge of my boys.\ He leaned back, deeply moved. \There!\ he said. huskily. \I've never spoken more what was in my heart in my life. I do it because I want you to understand—and not think me a mean father. I never had to talk that way to Jim and Roscoe. They under- stood without any talk. Hibbs.\ see.\ said Hibbs. \At least I think I do. But—\ \Wait a minute!\ Sheridan raised his hand. \If you see the least bit In the world, then you understand what It meant to start one o' my boys and have him come back on me the way you did, and have to be sent to a sani- tarium because he couldn't stand work. Now, let's get rigist down to it, Hibbs. I've had a whole lot o' talk with ole Doc Gurney about you, one time and another, and I reckon I understand your case Just about as well as he does, anyway. \Now why did work make you sick Instead of brace you up and make a man of you the way it ought of done? I pinned ole Gurney down to it. I says, 'Look here, ain't it really because he just plain hated it?' Yes,' he says, 'that's it. If he'd enjoyed it, it wouldn't 'a' hurt him.' And that's about the way it is.\ \Yes Raid Hibbs, \that's about the way it is.\ \Well then, I reckon It's up to we not only to make you do it, but to make you like it!\ Hibbs shivered. And he turned upon his father a look that was almost ghostly. \I can't,\ he said, in a low voice. \I can't.\ \Can't go back to the shop?\ \No. Can't like it. I can't.\ Sheridan jumped up, his patience gone. To his own view, be had rea- soned exhaustively, had explained fully and had pleaded more than a fa- ther should, only to be met in the end with the unreasoning and mysterious stubbornness which had been Hibbs' baffling characteristic from childhood. \By George, you will!\ he cried. \You'll go back there and you'll like it! Gurney says it won't hurt you if you like it, and he says it 'II kill you if you go back and hate it; so it looks as if it Was about up to you not to hate it. Well, Gurney's a fool! Hale' work doesn't kill anybody; and this isn't goin' to kill you, whether you hate it or not. I've never made a mistake in a Serious matter in my life, and it wasn't a mistake my sendin' you there In the first place. And I'm goin' to prove it —I'm goin' to send you back there and 4 vindicate my Judgment Gurney says It's all 'mental attitude.' Well, you're goin' to learn the right one! Ile says in a couple of more months this fool thing that's been the matter with you'll be disappeared completely and you'll be back In as good or better condition than you were before you ever went into the shop. And right then is when you begin over—right in that same shop! Nobody can call me a bard man or a mean father. I do the beat I can for my children, and I take the full responsibility for bringin' my sons up to be men. Now, 80 far, I've failed with you. But I'm not goin' to keep on (elfin'. I never tackled a job yet I didn't put through, and I'm not goin' to begin with my own son. I'm goal' to make a limn of you. By God! I a m!\ Bibb s rose and went slowly to the door, where be turned. \You say you give me a couple of months?\ he said. Sheridan pushed a bell -button on his desk. \Gurney said two months more would put you back where you were. You go home and begin to get yourself in the right 'mental attitude' before those two months are up! Good -by!\ \Good -by, sir,\ said Hibbs, meekly. CHAPTER IX. Hibbs' room, that neat apartment for transients to which the \lamidal\ George had shown him upon his return, still bore tine appearance of temporary quarters, possibly because Hibbs had no clear conception of himself as a permanent incumbent. However, he had set upon the mantelpiece the two photographs that he owned; one, a \group\ twenty years old—his father and mother, with Jim and Roscoe as boys—and the other a \cabinet\ of Edith at sixteen. And upon a table were the books he had taken froni his trunk: Sartor Resartus, Virginibus Puerisque, Huckleberry Finn. and Aft- erwhiles. There were some other books in the trunk—a large one, which re- mained unremoved at the foot of the bed, adding to the general impression of transiency. It contained nearly all the possessions as well RS the secret life of Ribbs Sheridan, and Hibbs sat beside it, the day after his interview with his father, raking over a small collection of manuscripts in the top tray. Some of these be glanced through dubiously, finding little comfort in them; but one made him smile. Then he Klux* his head ruefully indeed, and ruefully began to read it. It was writ- ten on paper stamped \Hood Sani- tarium,\ and it bore the title, \Leisure.\ ... For a profession adapted solely to the pursuit of happiness in thinking, I would choose that of an invalid. his money is time and he may spend it on Olympus.... The world must be on the other aide of the wall, and the wall must be so thick and so high that he cannot hear the roaring of the furnace fires and the screaming of the whistles. Peace— Haring read RO far as the word \peace Hibbs suffered an interruption interesting as a coincidence of con- trast. High voices sounded in the lain Just outside his door; and it became \I'm Going Out.\ evident that -a woman's quarrel was in progress, the parties to It having begun it in Edith's room, and continuing it vehemently as they came out into tine hall. \Yes you better go home!\ Hibbs heard his sister vociferating, shrilly. \You better go home and keep your mind a little more on your husband!\ \Edle. Effie!\ he lienrd his mother remonstrating, as peacenniker. \You see here!\ This was Sibyl, and her voice was both acrid and trem- ulous. \Don't you talk to me that way! I canie here to tell Mother Sheri- dan what I'd heard, and to let her tell Father Sheridan if she, thought she ought to, and I did it for your own good.\ \Yes you did!\ And Edith's gibing laughter tooted loudly. \Yes you djal You didn't have any other reason! Oh no!, You don't want to break It to ho. tween Bobby Lamborn and in. be- cause—\ \Edie Ediel Now, now,\ \Oh hush up, mamma! I'd like to know if he oughtn't to come here, what about his not going to her house, How—\ \I've explained that to Mother Sheri. dan.\ Sibyl's voice indicated that she Was descending the stairs. \Married people are not the same. Some things that should be shielded from a young This seemed to have no very sooth- ing effect upon Edith. \'Shielded from a young girl'!\ she shrilled. \You seem pretty willing to be the shield! You look out Roscoe doesn't notice 'what kind of a shield you are!\ Sibyl's answer was Inaudible, but Mrs. Sheridan's flurried attempts at pacification were renewed. \Oh hush up, mamma, and let me alone! If you dare tell papa—\ \Well we'll see. You just come back in your own room, and we'll—\ \No! I won't 'talk it over!' Stop pulling me! Let me alone!\ And Edith, flinging herself violently upon Hibbs' door, jerked it open, swung round it into tine room, slammed the door behind her, and threw herself, face down, upon the bed in such a riot of emotion that she had no perception of Hibbs' presence in the room. Gasp- ing and sobbing in a passion of tears, she beat the coverlet anti pillows with her clenched fists. \Sneak!\ she bab- bled aloud. \Sneak! Snake -in -the - grass! Cat!\ Hibbs Haw that she did not know he was there, and he went softly toward the door, hoping to get away before she became aware of him; but some sound of his movement reached her, anti she sat up, startled, facing him. \Hibbs! I thought I saw you go out a while ago.\ \Yes. I came back, though. I'm sorry—\ \Did you hear mine quarreling with Sibyl?\ \thinly what you said in the hall. You lie down again, Edith. I'm going out.\ \No; don't go.\ She applied a handkerchief to her eyes, emitted a sob, and repeated her request. \Don't go. I don't mind you; you're quiet, anyhow. Mamma's so fussy, and never gets anywhere. I don't mind you at all, hut I wish you'd .it down.\ \All right.\ And he returned to his chair beside the trunk. \Go ahead and cry all you want, Edith,\ he said. \No harm In that!\ \Sibyl told mamma—oh!\ she began, choking. \Mary N'ertrees had mamma and Sibyl and I to tea, one afternoon two weeks or so ago, and he had some women there that Sibyl's been crazy to get in with, and she just laid herself out to make a hit with 'em, and she's been running after 'en] ever since, and now she comes over here and says they say Bobby Lamborn Is so had that, even though they like his family, none of the nice people in town would let him in their houses. In the first place, it's a falsehood, and I don't believe a word of it; and in the second place I know the reason she dld it. and, what's more, she knows I know it! I won't Bay what it is—not yet—because papa and all of you would think I'm as crazy as she is snaky: and Roscoe's such a fool he'd probably Milt speaking to me. But it's true! Just you watch her; that's all I ask. Just you watch that woman. You'll see!\ As it happened, Hibbs was literally watching - that woman.\ Glancing from the window. be saw Sibyl pause upon the pavement In front of the old house next door. She stood a moment, in deep thought, then walked quickly up the prith to the door, undoubtedly with the intention of calling. But he did not mention this to his sister, who, after delivering herself of a rather vague jeremiad upon the subject of her sister-in-law's treacheries, departed to her own chamber, leaving him to his speculations. Mary N'ertrees was at that moment wondering what internal excitement Mrs. Itoseoe Sheridan was striving to master. But Sibyl had no idea that she was allowing herself to exhibit anything except the gayety which she conceived proper to the manner of a casual caller. She was no more self- conscious than she was finely intelli- gent. Sibyl followed her impulses with no reflection or question—It was like a hound on the gallop after a master on horseback. She had not even the in- stinct to stop and consider her effect. If she wished to make a certain im- pression she believed that she made it. She believed that she was believed. \My mother asked me to say that she was sorry he couldn't come down,\ Mary said, when they were seated. Sibyl ran the scale of a cooing aim- ulanee of laughter. which she nad been brought up to consider the polite thing to do after a remark addressed to her by any person with whom she wns not on familiar terms. It was Intended partly as a courtesy and partly as the foundation for an impression of sweet- ness. \Just thought I'd fly in a minute,\ she said, continuing the cooling to re- lieve the last doubt of her geniality. \I wanted to tell you how much I en- joyed meeting those nice people at tea that afternoon. You see, coining here a bride, I've had to depend on my hus- band's friends almost entirely. Mr. Sheridan has been so engrossed In busi- ness ever since be was a mere boy, why, of course—\ She paused, with the air of having completed an explanation. \Of courant.,\ said Mary, sympathet- ically accepting it. \Yea. I've been seeing quite a lot of the Kittersbys since that afternoon,\ Sibyl went on. \They're really delight- ful people. Indeed they are! Yes---\ She stopped with unconscious ab- ruptness, her mind plainly wandering to another matter; and Mary per- ceived that elle bad come upon a defi- nite errand. \Mrs. Kittersby and her daughter were chatting about some of the people here in town the other day,\ said Sibyl, repeating the cooing and protracting it. \They said something that took me by surprise! We were talking about our mutual friend, Mr. Robert Lamhorn—\ Mary interrupted her promptly. \We shouldn't consider Mr. Robert Lam - hint a friend of ours.\ 'Po her surprise, Sibyl nodded eager- ly, as if greatly pleased. \That's just the way Mrs. Kittersby talked:\ she cried. with a vehemence that made Mary stare. \Yes and I hear that's the way all you old families here speak of him!\ Mary looked aside, but otherwise she was able to maintain her compos- ure. \I had the impression he was a friend of yours,\ she said, adding, hastily, \and your husband's.\ \Oh yes.\ said the caller, absently. \Ile is. certainly. A man's reputation fer a little gayety oughtn't to make a great difference to married people, of course. It's where young girls are in question. Then it may be very, very dangerous. There are a great many t!iiiigs safe and proper for married people that might be andly imprudent fir a young girl. Don't you agree, Mks Vertrees?\ \I don't know,\ returned the frank Mary. \Do you mean that you Intend to remain a friend of Mr. Lamborn's, but disapprove of Miss Sheridan's do- ing so?\ \That's it exactly!\ was the naive and ardent response of Sibyl. \What I feel about it is that a man with his reputation isn't at all suitable for Edith, and the family ought to be made to understand it. I tell you.\ she cried, with a Sadden access Of Ve- hemence, \her father ought to put his foot down!\ lier eyes flashed with a green spark; something seemed to leap out and then retreat, but not before Mary had caught a glimpse of it, as one might catch a glimpse of a thing dart- ing forth and then scuttling back into hitting under a bush. \Of course,\ said Sibyl, much more composedly, \I hardly need say that it's entirely on Edith's account that I'm worried about this. I'm as fond of Edith as if she was really niy sis- ter, and I can't help fretting about it. It would break my heart to have Edith's life spoiled.\ This tune was off the key. to Mary's ear. Sibyl tried to sling with pathos, but she flatted. \And Edith's life would be spoiled,\ Sibyl continued. \It would be a dreadful thing for tine whole family. She's the very apple of Fattier Sheri- dan's eye, and it would be a horrible thing for him to have her marry a man like Robert Lamborn; but he doesn't know anything about him, and if somebody doesn't tell him, what I'm most afraid of is that Edith might get his consent and hurry on the wedding before he finds out, and then it would be too late. You see. Miss I:ertrees, It's very difficult for me to decide just what It's my duty to do.\ \I see,\ said Mary, looking at her thoughtfully. \Does Miss Sheridan seem to—to care very much about him?\ \He's deliberately fascinated her,\ returned the visitor, beginning to breathe quickly and heavily. She was launched now; her eyes were furious and her voice shook. \Ile went after her deliberately, the way he does ev- erything; he's as cold-blooded as a fish. All he cares about is his own pleasure, and lately be's decided It would be pleasant to get hold of a piece of real money—and there was Edith! And he'll marry her! He told me so last night. He said he was going to marry her the Bret minute he could persuade her to it—and little Edith's all ready to be persuaded!\ Sibyl's eyes flashed green again. \And Inc swore he'd do it,\ she painted. \He swore he'd marry Edith Sheridan, and nothing on earth could stop him!\ And then Mary understood. Her lips parted anti she stared at the bab- bling creature incredulously, a sudden vivid picture in her mind. a canvas of unconscious Sibyl's painting. Mary beheld it with pity and horror; she saw Sibyl clinging to Robert Lamhorn. raging, in a whisper, perhaps—for Ros- coe might have been In the house, or servants might have heard. She saw Sibyl entreating, beseeching, threaten- ing despairingly, and Lamborn—tired of hers -first evnalve. then brutally let- ting her have the truth; and at last. Infuriated. \swearing\ to marry her rival. If Sibyl bad not babbled out the word \swore\ it might have been less plain. The poor woman blundered on. wholly unaware of what she had con- fessed. \You see,\ she said, more qui- etly, \whatever's going to be done ought to be done right away. I went over and told Mother Sheridan what I'd heard about Lamborn, but Mother Sheridan's under Edith's thumb, and she's afraid to ever come right out with anything. Father Sheridan'd never in the world let Lamhorn come near the house again if he knew his reputation. So. you see. somebody's got to tell him. it Isn't a very easy position for me. 19 it. Miss Yertrees?\ \No said Mary gravely. \Well to be frank.\ said Sibly. smil- ing, \that's why I've conic to you.\ \To me!\ Mary frowned. Sibyl rippled and cooed again. \There isn't anybody ever made such hit with Fattier Sheridan in his life as you have. And of course we all hope you're not going to be exactly an outsider in the affairs of the fam- ily!\ (This sally with another and louder affect of laughter.) \And It It's my duty, why. In a way, I think it might be thought yours, too.\ \No no!\ exclaimed Mary, sharply. \Listen said Sibyl. \Now sup- pose I go to Father Sheridan with this story, and Edith says it's not true; but suppose I could say: 'All right, if you want proof, ask Miss Vertrees. She came with me, and she's waiting in the next room right now, to—\ \No no,\ said Mary quickly. \You mustn't—\ \Listen Just a minute more,\ Sibyl urged, confidingly. She was on easy ground now, to her own mind, and had no doubt of her success. \Miss Ver- trees, listen! Don't you see we ought to do it, you and I? Do you suppose He Swore F -led Marry Edith Sheri- dan.\ Robert Lamhorn cares the snap of his finger for her? Do you suppose a man like him would look at Edith Sheri- dan if it wasn't for the money?\ And again Sibyl's emotion rose to the sur- face. \I tell you he's after nothing on earth but to get his finger In that old man's money -pile, over there, next door! he'd marry anybody to do it. Marry Edith?\ she cried. \I tell you he'd marry their Digger cook for that!\ She stopped, afraid—at the wrong time—that she bad been too vehement, but a glance at Mary reassured her, and Sibyl decided that she had pro- duced the effect she wished. Mary was not looking at her; she was star- ing straight before her at the wall, her eyes wide and shining. She became visibly a little paler as Sibyl looked at her. \After nothing on earth but to get his finger in that old man's money - pile, over there next door!\ The voice was vulgar, the words were vulgar— and the plain truth was vulgar! How It rang in Mary Vertrees' ears! The clear mirror had caught Its own image clearly in the flawed one at last. Sibyl put forth her best bid to clench the matter. She offered her bargain. \Now don't you worry.\ she said, sunnily, \about this setting Edith against you. She'll get over it after a while. And another thing—I guess you won't mind Jim's own sis- ter-in-law speaking of It. Of course. I don't know just how matters stand between you and Jim, but sisters-in- law can do lots of things to help mat- ters on like that. There's lots of little thinge can be said, and lots—\ She stopped, puzzled. Mary Vertrees had gone from pale to scarlet, and now, still scarlet indeed, she rose, without a word of explanation, or any other kind of word, and walked slowly to the open door and out of the room. Sibyl was a little taken aback. She supposed Mary had remembered some- thing neglected and ;would return in a moment; but it was rather a rude excess of absent-mindedness not to have excused herself, especially as her guest was talkii.g. And, Mary's return being delayed. Sibyl looked at her watch and frowned; went to a window and stood looking out upon die brown lawn, then came hack to tile chair she had abandoned, and sat again. There was no sound in the house. A strange expression began imper- ceptibly to alter the planes of her face, and slowly she grew as scarlet as Mary—scarlet to the ears. She went Into the ball, glanced over her shoulder oddly; then she let herself softly out of the front door, and went across the street to her own house. Roscoe met her upon the threshold, gloomily. \Saw you from the win - (low,\ he explained. \You must find a Jot to say to that old lady.\ \What old lady?\ \Mrs. Vertrees. I been waiting for you a long time, and I saw the (laugh- ter come out, fifteen minutes ago and post a letter, and then walk on up the street. Don't stand out on the porch,\ be said. crossly. \Come In here. There's something it's conic time I'll have to talk to you about, Come in!\ But as she was moving to obey be glanced across at his father's house and started. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes from the setting sun, staring fixedly. \Sornething'a the mat- ter over there,\ he muttered, and then, more loudly, as alarm came Into his voice, he said, \What's the matter over there?\ Ilibbe dashed out of the gate in an automobile set at its higheat speed, and as he saw Roscoe he made a ges- ture singularly eloquent of calamity, and was lost at once in a cloud of dust down the street Edith had followed part of Os way down the drive, and It could be seen that she was crying bit- terly. She lifted both anus to Ros- coe, summoning him. \By George!\ gasped Roscoe. \I be- lieve somebody's dead!\ And he started for the new house at a run. CHAPTER X. Sheridan had decided to conclude his day's work early that afternoon, and at about two o'clock he left his office with a man of affairs from foreign parts, who had traveled far for a busi- ness conference with Sheridan and his colleagues. Herr Fevre, in spite of his French name, was a gentleman of Bavaria. It was his first visit to our country, and Sheridan took pleasure in showing him the sights of the coun- try's finest city. They arrived at the Pump Works, and for an hour Herr Fevre was per- sonally conducted and personally in- structed by the founder and president, the buzzing queen bee of those buzzbig hives. \Now take you for a spin In the country,\ said Sheridan, when at last they came out to the car again. \We'll take a breezer.\ But, with his foot on the step he paused to hail a neat young man who came out of the office smiling a greeting. \Hello young fel- low!\ Sheridan said, heartily. \On the Job, are you, Jimmie? Ha! They don't catch you off of it very often, I guess, though I do hear you go automobile tidin' in the country sometimes with a mighty fine-lookin' girl settin'up beside you!\ He roared with laughter, clapping his son upon the shoulder. \That's all right with me—if it is with her! So, Jimmie? Well, when we goin' to move into your new warehouses? Monday?\ \Sunday if you want to,\ said Jim. \No!\ cried his father, delighted. \Don't tell me you're goin' to keep your word about dates! That's no way to do contractin . ! Never heard of a contractor yet didn't want more thine.\ \They'll be all ready for you on the minute,\ said Jim. \I'm going over both of 'ern now, with Links and Sher. man, from foundation to roof. I guess they'll pass inspection, too!\ - Well, then, when you get through with that,\ said his father, \you go and take your girl out ridin'. By George! you've earned it! You tell her you stand high with me!\ He stepped Into the car, waving a waggish fare- well, and. when She wheels were in motion again, he turned upon his cons - pennon a broad face literally shining with pride. \That's my boy Jimmie!\ he said. - Fine young man, yes,\ said Herr Fevre. \I got two o' the finest boys,\ said Sheridan, \I got two o' the finest boys God ever made, and that's a fact, Mr. Farver! Jim's the oldest, and I tell you they got to get up the day before If they expect to catch him in bed! My other boy, Roscoe, he's always to tine good, too, but Jim's a wizard. You saw them two new -process warehouses, Just about finished? Well, Jim built 'ens I'll tell you about that, Mr. Far- ver.\ And he recited this history, de- scribing the new process at length: iti fact, he had such pride in Jim's achievement that he told Herr Fevre all about it more than once. \Fine young man, yes,\ repeated the good Muenchener, three-quarters of an hour later. They were many miles out In the open country by this time. \He is that!\ said Sheridan, adding, as if confidentially: \I got a fine fam- ily. Mr. Farver—fine children. I got a daughter now: you take her and put her anywhere you please, and she'll shine up with any of Sem..., There's culture and refinement and ao-) ciety in this town by the carload, and here lately she's been gettin' right in the thick of it—her and my daughter- in-law, both. I got a mighty fine daughter -In-law, Mr. Farver. I'm goin' to get you up for a meal with us be- fore you leave town, and you'll see— and, well, sir, from all I hear the two of 'ern been holdine their own with the best. Myself, I and the wife, never had Hine for much o' that kind o' (loin's, but it's all right and good for the chuldren; and my daughter she's always kind of taken to it I'll read you a poem she wrote when I get you up at the house. She wrote it in school and took the first prize for poetry with It. I tell you they don't make 'ern any smarter 'n that girl, Mr. Farver. Yes, sir; take 118 all round, we're a pretty happy family; yes, sir. Roscoe hasn't got any children yet, and I haven't ever spoke to him and his wife about It—it's kind of a delicate matter—but It's about time the wife and I saw some gran'ehuldren growth' up around WI. I certainly do hanker for about four or five little curly -headed rascals to take on my knee. Boys, I hope, o' course; that's only natural. Jim's got his eye on a mighty spiendid-lookin' girl; lives right next door to us. I ex- pect you heard me joshin' him about it back yonder. She's one the ole blue -bloods here, and I guess it was a mighty good stock—to raise her! She's one these girls that stand right up and look at you! And pretty! She's the prettiest thing you ever saw! Good size, too: good health and good sense. Jim'll be just right If he gets her. I must say it tickles me to think o' the way that boy took ahoid o' that job hack yonder. Four months and a half! Yes, sir—\ 0 0 0s.)...0O0s 0000 0••• And then, at that Instant there came Into Big Jim Sheridan's life a great tragedy. Will this man, who had the courage to fight for power and wealth, be brave enough to withstand a frightful Jolt? (TO BE CONTINUED.)
