"You can't say I've ever been a slacker, Bob," Woodroffe said.


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The streets were strewn with sunshine, and Bain took off his hat and looked long and long at the blue sky.

Lad, trotting hungrily to his dinner dish, would find his food thick-strewn with cayenne pepper or else soaked in reeking gasoline.

Mrs. Munro nodded, and there was silence between the two women, who were both thinking of Trixie, aged nineteen, pretty, pleasure-loving, wilful, as the wife of a man nearly thirty years her senior; a man, moreover, who had been noted for his intolerance of feminine frailty, for his almost puritanical views where the conduct of women was concerned. How could such a marriage prove a success on either side?

After Oswald had seen the car whisk through the gates into the road, and after he had rested on his crutches staring at the gates for a time, he had hobbled back to his study. He wanted to work, but he found it difficult to fix his attention. He was thinking of Joan and Peter, and for the first time in his life he was wondering why they had never fallen in love with each other. They seemed such good company for each other....

"You mean the programming?"

The next two minutes were of interest. Shunk unslung his rope as he advanced. Five feet away from the politely waiting collie he paused and flung the noose. He threw with practised skill. The wide noose encircled the dog. But before Shunk could tighten it, Chum had sprung lightly out of the contracting circle and, at a move of Link’s finger, had backed a few feet farther onto Ferris’s own property.

He realised at the same time that he might have drawn these inferences for himself, and was slightly annoyed with his own obtuseness. He was, he thought, too much inclined to take things for granted. He had come down to Hartling with ready-made opinions and formal judgments. He had certainly been far too willing to judge the Kenyons, without knowing any of the facts of the case. But he condemned them no longer. It is true that they were not, as Eleanor might say, doing any good in the world, but they were no worse in that respect than the majority of rich people, and the Kenyons had the valid excuse that they could not help themselves.

“Oh, I like you to speak plainly,” cried Frances. “Talk to me about him; ask me anything you please.” The tears came into her voice, and she put her hands together instinctively. She had been feeling very lonely and home-sick, and out of accord with all her surroundings. To return even in thought to the old life and its associations brought a flood of bitter sweetness to her heart.

"Have they secured a subject?" Hatcher demanded jealously.

Dr. Frederick Hall, who went up the Ohio in 1839, states in his Letters from the East and from the West that “this noted cavern is styled Counterfeiters’ Cave.” He further comments that “in times gone past, never to revert, it was inhabited by counterfeiters, robbers, and murderers.” Charles Augustus Murray, in his Travels in North America, writes of his trip down the Ohio in June, 1835. He says that the current report of the country at the time of his visit to the Cave, was that when this den of thieves was finally broken up “it contained great quantities of gold, silver, silks, and stuffs, and false money, with an apparatus for coining.”

1.She in her turn was acting the hypocrite. In

2.“Then I wish it was right now!” cried the other, “because it would stampede the Turks. They’re just ready to give up, I bet you, if they


The End


“Friends, this thing has been re-tard-ed long e-nough. The time has come when those sen-ti-ments should be ut-tered; and if it is de-creed that I should go down be-cause of this speech, then let me go down linked to the truth—let me die in the ad-vo-ca-cy of what is just and right.”




between these Territorials and the Britishers. It strikes me they resemble us Americans a whole lot, being frank, hearty and breezy. Anyway, I want to say right in the start I like that Colonel first rate, and I hope he lives to go back home again to his wife and family when this cruel war is over; for chances are ten to one that he has a family.”


There were long rambles in the forests and the wild half-cleared land beyond the suburb; walks that meant as much to Jamie as to the dog, after the Scot had been driving a contractor’s truck six days of the week for a monthly wage of seventy-five dollars.

. . .