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MISS CRANE’S CHANCE: By ODESSA STRICKLAND PAYNE
SYNOPSIS.
Miss Crane’s Chance is the story of a woman who
lost all her income within the limit of a month. The
failure of her railroad dividends and mining stock
left her financially stranded except that she still owned
a heavily mortgaged home, and had a trifle over SIO.OO
in her purse. She was a highly cultured woman, be
loved, influential and useful—and more than one chap
ter is devoted to what she thought and how she acted
when fate brought to her knees under the Juniper
tree. She did not confide the story of her disaster to
anybody, but one day the president of the local bank
died —and it was discovered that he had left all of his
great wealth to her.
Mrs. More, her friend, is an original woman, and
Nell Crane, her niece, is as charming as unique
CHAPTER VI.
HE March sunshine glinted and
gleamed on the nickle-plated rods,
and polished black wheel guards
of a great green tonneau, which
stood in front of a low brick build
ing, with a roof which in its slop
ing curves, suggested Japanese ar
chitecture. Still it was only a
modern town depot, with trunks
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piled on the platform, and bales of cotton and
hay, and other merchandise of a miscellaneous
character, showing through the open doors of
the freight department. There were splashes
of color glowing in the triangular beds in the
railroad park, on the other side of the building.
Evergreen hedges that guarded the winding
white walls; and the bluebirds twittered
cheerily, as they flashed their rainbow wings
in brief flight between a cape jessamine
thicket, and a group of magnolia trees that
guarded the double iron gates.
Miss Crane and Mrs. More reclined leisure
ly on the back seat of the tonneau, and Way
land Hamilton and Mr. Moore occupied the one
behind the colored chauffeur. The party had
not been premeditated, but as Miss Crane and
her friend had stopped up-town, the two gen
tlemen had accidentally discovered them on
the street. Ascertaining that they were go
ing down to the depot to meet Miss Crane’s
niece, they had volunteered to accompany
them. Gordon had come because he knew
Nell, and since he had yielded to his wife’s de
sire to become a part of Miss Crane’s house
hold, really considered himself in a sense, a
member of the family. Wayland Hamilton,
as chief counselor to Miss Crane, had simply
considered it a graceful thing to do —and be
sides, since he had had a certain conversation
with Gordon More, he acknowledged to him
self that he felt slightly curious to meet the
girl. Gordon had told him that Miss Crane’s
niece was an unusual girl, that there were
startling contrasts in her character. That she
had led the social world of the town for a few
months and then turned her back on it com
pletely. She had been the queen of the young
er set for a time, lauded, imitated and be
loved. And then for some reason unknown to
her friends, she had suddenly elected to go into
the business world; and for two years now,
she had held a responsible position with a big
corporation in a distant state. “She is inde
pendent, ambitious and lovely, with a touch of
mysterious charm about her, that I have never
been able to analyze,” Gordon had concluded,
“but, being a lawyer and accustomed to read
ing character, you may solve easily the prob
lem.”
Miss Crane, as she quietly watched the blue
flutter of the birds in the park, was thinking
backward to the time when Nell went away.
And the striking contrast between the then,
and now, helped her to realize very vividly the
changes which had come into her life of late.
It had been at night, when Nell left, and Miss
Crane had sat alone with her, in the quiet room
of the depot. They had not talked much, but
The Go! len Age for November 28, 1912.
she had held Nell’s hand, and looked at her
with a sorrow too deep for words in her heart.
They were both overwrought over the
thought of their parting—they loved each other
so —and when the train came at last, which
bore her darling away, Miss Crane had felt
like a desolate old woman, with nothing left to
live for indeed, unless she could find away
to bring her back home. She had not found
it, but destiny had, and lo! the curtain was
being rolled up, and the stage set for the ap
pearance of her little girl again. She had
hoped for months, that Nell’s experiences in
the business world would disenchant her after
a while to such an extent that she would be
only too glad to fly back to the sheltered peace
of the home nest. But Nell had unfortunately
found out that her father had died impover
ished, and that Miss Crane, as a consequence,
had reared and educated her entirely at her
own expense. She loved her aunt more than
anyone else in the world, but she would not
consent to remain a burden upon her resour
ces, after she became aware of the facts. The
battle between the wills of the two, had lasted
long. They had argued finely and well, each
from their different points of view, and more
than once the climax of their differences had
ended in tears. But they had never reproach
ed one another bitterly, their love was too deep
for that sort of dissent. Nell had at last se
cured a position as secretary to a publishing
corporation, and in the two years that she had
been away from home, had climbed steadily
into the confidence of her employers. Her
salary, indeed, had been increased after a
year’s work, from sixty dollars a month, to one
hundred. She had had a hard fight, for she
was rather frail, and besides unaccustomed to
the exactions of the business world. But she
had stuck stubbornly to her task, until the
daily process grew lighter through daily expe
rience. And after many months, when she
began to love her work, for the work’s sake,
she felt that at last, she had conquered. Per
haps, too, she remembered, sometimes
with a thrill of pride, that she was making
enough money, by her own unaided efforts, to
support an average American family. Cer
tainly she had won, and not lost out in the
great game of life —for she played fair, and
kept sweet. Not without effort, or any battles
with the powers of darkness, for Nell Crane
had the artistic temperament, and as a con
quence victories did not come easily to her.
“The train must be delayed,” Mrs. More ob
served, at last. “I was sure it would be, you
know, for I forgot my purse and gloves, and
had to go back to the house after them, and
make Miss Crane and her dignified chaffeur
wait.”
“Superstitious little girl,” Gordon More
hazarded, as he turned and looked at his wife
indulgently. “But you must all pardon her,
my friends, for she had a black mammy, for
a nurse—and what’s bred in the bone, you
know, will come out in the flesh.”
“Invariably, and as a logical sequence,”
Wayland Hamilton affirmed, in his rich mascu
line voice, as he brushed the husk of a wheat
grain, from his blue coat sleeve. “But Mrs.
More does not twang the superstition’s string
on the life mandolin alone; for it is an uncon
trovertible fact, that everybody is supersti
tious, more or less. Friday is my bete noir,
and I do not enjoy especially sittting down to
dine, where thirteen guests surround the
table.”
“Confession number two,” Mrs. Moore de
clared gaily. “I appreciate the gallantry of
the rescue, Mr. Hamilton, and the engaging
candor of your statement. In other words, I
am charmed to discover that your supersti
tious sins quite balance my own.”
“And if a rabbit crosses my road,” Gordon
began, with a mischievous light in his fine eyes,
“when I am out on a business trip, I always
fear there is failure ahead, and I am never
disappointed.”
“And when an owl hoots,” Miss Crane af
firmed, with a whimsical smile, “under my
window, I always infer that there is some sort
of tragic disaster on the way.”
“African superstitions,” Mrs. More observ
ed, with her flash light smile, “all of them, my
friends, singly and collectively.”
“Well! we are merely being true,” Wayland
Hamilton remarked, as he took off his soft felt
hat and calmly redented it, “Madam, to our
traditions, since we all happen to be South
ern born, and Southern bred.”
There was a long shriek up the railroad track
just then, which warningly proclaimed the
speedy arrival of the long-expected train, and
both gentlemen sprang from the tonneau,.and
afterwards assisted the ladies to alight.
They all went directly to the raised platform,
where the passengers usually made their exo
dus. Mr. Hamilton noticed that Miss Crane
took her friend’s arm with a grasp, which he
interpreted as nervousness, while the train
thundered to a standstill on grinding brakes.
Mr. and Mrs. More kept critical watch while
the passengers filed down the steps of the car,
and the tension was growing acute when a tall
girl, in a blue coat suit, with a fur cap, on
the brown fluff of her hair, appeared in the
door way. Instantly she detected Miss Crane
and waved her ungloved hand with a gay, lit
tle gesture, before she began the short descent
of the car steps. When she reached the plat
form she embraced her aunt and kissed her,
and then shook hands cordially with her oth
er two friends. And then she turned a pair
of blue-gray eyes inquiringly on the tall, hand
some man, who stood erect and uncovered like
he was a part of the group, who had kindly
come to welcome her home. Miss Crane came
gracefully to the rescue.
“This is our new friend, Mr. Hamilton, Nell,”
she exclaimed, quietly.
Miss Crane bowed gravely, but before she
placed her long, slender hand into the extend
ed palm of the chief counselor, she gave him
a look as direct as a sword thrust. Apparent
ly, she was not accustomed to shaking hands
with men, indiscriminately. And Wayland
Hamilton felt that he had been taken on pro
bation, simply because her aunt had asserted,
so graciously, that he was her friend. Well,
unusual, had been the descriptive word Gordon
had employed about her, and the lawyer began
to believe in the force of its application, when
the return trip to the mansion was accom
plished without Miss Nell Crane being appa
rently aware of his existence. He had taken
the place of the colored chaffeur, and had driv
en the machine back to the house, with a swift,
gliding ease, which made one think of the
poetry of motion. Mrs. More made a comical
comment, as she descended from the tonneau.
“I feel like saying the tramp’s prayer, Mr.
Hamilton,” she observed with a merry light
in her blue eyes. “Indeed, I had no idea that
you were such a marvelous chaffeur.”
“lam not acquainted with the prayer of the
‘Knight of the Road,’ ” he returned, “and if
you will only enlighten me, I shall know wheth
er to feel complimented or not. Tell me,” he
continued, pleadingly, “and a dozen American
beauty roses are yours tomorrow.”
But she shook her head, and with her daz
zling smile, turned quietly towards the iron
gate.
Miss Crane looked puzzled, Gordon embar
rassed, and then Nell slipped into the breach,
with a gay little bow, and a gesture of rare
grace.
Thanks, awfully,” she said, in a voice that
sounded like the tones of a flute, it was so mel
low and so sweet —“for what we have receiv
ed.”
(Continued on Page 14.)
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