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THE FLOWERS COLLECTION
A i\*sjpeless Bachelor
And the Boy Who Brought the
One Girl to Him ■&
si
m
8 •*#*8.*®.«»-**«i
By ANNETTE AUSTIN.
11'..pyrisjhtotl by Ilobbs Merrill Company.)
AKRKN" SYKES. American
millionaire, globe-trotter,
high-class sport, owner of
four of the largest news
papers in tile world, anil
the intimate of kings,
lords and ladies in all the
courts of Europe, had
taken a sudden and unac
countable notion lo go
south—from New York via
the Mallory line to Key
West. thence, by fruit
steamer, to Havana. The
idea was .prompted by a desperate
desire to escape, at least for one
short week from the glare of
public notice in winch he was
constantly basking. If lie ga we a large
dinner to notables in Paris, if he ordered
a new yacht, if iie suddenly cabled home
to have all the reporters on the daily
discharged at once, if lie merely drank ice
water instead of champagne, the incident
was heralded in all tiie newspapers in
all (lie lands as the most interesting
piece of news outside the diplomatic
corps. Warren Sykes was never allowed
to escape from tile public’s observation,
and lie repaid its attention with interest;
for lie was always sure to achieve some
remarkable and unexpected feat of so
cial skill when the public had .begun to
think him an ordinary man. However,
there was one interesting performance
with which Warren Sykes had never
chosen to enliven tiie public, and that
was marriage. Warren Sykes was a
hopeless bachelor. He had 'been angled
lor in all the drawing-rooms of all the
societies of all the countries that iie had
visited; had been discussed and weighed
in the private offices of diplomats and
financiers, anxious to make an alliance
with an American billionaire. With con
summate skill he had been able to
wade them all. He sailed the calm sea
of personal comfort without the shadow
w -.ivor of even a love affair hanging
lo him.
He had sailed many seas for many
years. As be remarked to a group of dis
heveled half-sick women in the steamer
saloon; "I've traveled in English ships,
French ships. Hutch ships, Swedish
sh'iiis, Chinese ships. African ships—but
they all speak the same language when it
conies to Gtioing seasick. They all say
‘Ohi—ah—nw—ow—ow." " He groaned
long and feelingly, to the immense dis-
g is' of the unhappy ladies, and limped
uui on his stick to the deck.
It was the second day out, and Warren
Sikes was enjoying tile unusual ex
perience of being among people who did
not know who he was. His friends and
the public who saw him usually as a
morose, indifferent man. subject to fits of
caprice and sudden anger, followed by
wild spells of lavish and foolish gener
osity. would not have recognized the
Idand. jovial, talkative fellow who kept
the entire ship's company alive and de
lighted with his witty remarks, ins
sturie.s. his tricks and stunts of all kinds,
lie went from group to group, and con
sol ted with all classes. Among a crowd
of college boy just out from Sheffield,
he was the joker and best follow. They
hung on to him devotedly, as young men
will to a. man older and cleverer than
they. With another group of men and
women—shop girls on a summer's vaca
tion, and drummers with time to spare
going to Texas—he made himself most
agreeable, inaugurating games, lending
hooks, exchanging repartee, even de
scending to light flirtation. From one
company to another he flitted happy anil
gracious, leaving behind always an air
of mystery and interest in his personality.
Who was the well-dressed stranger, and
what was lbs busless in traveling on a
s'ow lob of a boat to regions remote
frum the eat til ?
To all on board "the man in the
checked .tit" was the main object T
speculation. Yet lie never revealed
a-ight for :• cl c. though one girl noted
with a smile that, when the gay crowd
of drummers and shop girls gathered in
the bow f.
caped with
The only
makers v
during tli-
ll was her ,
snap-shot group, he e.t
• laerity.
ler person not of the merry-
this girl. She sat apart
rst two days of the voyage,
rst sea trip, and she was be
ginning to feel desperately lonesome.
The women aboard were manifestly not
"her kind." and she withdrew herself a
little haughtily from their amusements,
in the evening of the second day out one
of the college boys approached and in
troduced himself. "I’m Worth Trask,
from El Paso," he said, "and the captain
told me you were from San Antonio. I
thought you must know some people that
i ki uw there. Do you know tiie Van
Tynes?"
“Of course," said the girl delightedly.
“Mary Van Tyne is one of my best
friends. I'm so glad to meet you, Air.
Trask. Won't you sit down?"
The boy sat down beside her with the
trace of a flush on Ills handsome face,
and glanced with a smile of triumph
and the faintest suggestion of a wink at
the group cross the deck, where sat his
college friends and Warren Sykes. Some
hours latsr, when they had become bet
tor acquainted, he told the girl that he
had sjioketi to her on a wager. "T ie
other fellows were afraid to," he ad
mitted. "you were so dignified and so
cold.”
The girl laughed. “I’m glad you did,”
she said. “I was Just beginning to thing
I couldn't stand the interminable silence
•••#»••(
much longer. I haven’t spoken to a soul
on board except tbat man in the checked
suit. He is very pleasant and entertain
ing. Who is he?"
"My stateroom mate," replied the boy.
“He's lots of fun. 'But lie's a queer fel
low—close-mouthed about himself. He
has traveled a good deal, though. Can
tell the dandiest talcs about the inhabi
tants of the South Sea islands. You
ought to see his luggage, lfe's a swell.
Hus his valet with him. too."
The girl looked over at Sykes and
caught the eves of the man in the
chocked suit fixed upon her. They wore
good eyes—blue, keen, close together over
a large nose. A light mustache drooped
over the mouth, while the sharp, delicate-
looking chin moved ever as if seeking to
repress a smile. He might have been 32
or 33 years old; he might have been 43
one was undecided which; but on the
days when rheumatism kept him to his
room his face showed lined with pain,
and one was inclined to the later age.
"He seems to he creating more Interest
than any one on board." said the girl,
with a half smile of amusement.
"He and yourself." answered the boy.
"T! Why. what Is there unusual about
me?”
‘'You don't associate with the other
people—yon haven't told them all your
butness—your past and future history—
in other words, you aren't an open book.
Naturally, you pique their curiosity."
“And has everyone else on board ex
cept myself and the cheek-suit man re
lated his or her biography?"
“"Pretty much so. They usually do
aboard ship, yon know, especially on a.
slow tub like this, when there is a small
crowd and nothing else to do."
"How funny people are," she said, "it
reminds ms of the time I went to a
country town to hunt for a certain plant
in botany. I 'stayed two weeks and
never informed the natives why I had
come, and they resented it as a personal
insult, and said all manner of hateful
things about me."
"Why didn't you tell them?" asked the
hoy. scanning the girl's face with frank
amazement.
"Why should T? They shouldn't have
understood any better, and would prob
ably have thought me an escaped luna
tic. Voung girls in small country towns
in the north or south—seldom go stray
ing off solitary and alone after botani
cal specimens."
The boy was interested, slightly aston
ished. a little awed. "Are you a scien
tist?" he asked reverently.
"No. not now." She smiled at the
impression she had created. "I thought T
was once. I am a medical student. I've
just finished my senior year at the New
York medical school. I'm coming down
here to study yellow fever.”
"Oil! I thought you were coming
home."
‘‘To San Antonio? Not yet. I’ve my
name to make. You see. I secured this
appointment—it’s really a government
appointment through the New A'ork col
lege—to investigate the yellow fever
germ, with a view to exterminating the
disease in the United State* I shall
have a year In Cuba and a year in Mex
ico."
"By Jove! You're a stunner!” ex
claimed the boy in honest admiration.
"But you’re awfully young to be doing
this sort of thing— and— and—too '" He
stopped abruptly, blushing f ifrio-usly.
The girl thought best to interrupt.
"f have cousins In Cuba, with whom
I shall stay while there.’ And in Mexico
i shall be in the city of Monterey most
of the time. So 1 shall be quite safe."
She smiled calmly into the boy’s eyes.
"And yourself?” she asked. "What of
you ?"
"Oh, F? I'm going home. This is just
my junior year, yo>u know, in Shef. But
those fellows over there—all of them—
are going down Into Mexico- way down
into Durango, where it’s beastly hot and
awfully dangerous, to help build a new
spur on tne Mexican Central. They're
awfully interesting fellows—wouldn't
you like to meet tme?"
"Y'es, indeed—of course,” the girl as
sented cheerfully, and young Trask lost
no time in bringing the bunch over, one
at a time, and giving them a formal in
troduction.
Mr. Warren Sykes allowed himself to
be. introduced, while he laughingly con
tended that lie ought to he allowed first
place, sine* he was the ohlest acquaint
ance.
“I consider that I kept Miss Wallace
from getting seasick by telling her in
teresting stories tiie first night—did X
r.ot, Miss Wallace'
"Indeed you did, Air. Sykes. 1 was so
busy all nlgnt, working out that puzzle
of the Hindoo and the disappearing robe,
that I quite forgot to be worried by the
pound of the engine, or even those col
ored glasses over the table in the dining
room—oh. those hideous green and yel
low things! Don’t you wish they’d dis
pense with them? How they wobble and
swim before your eyes!”
A shout went up from tiie company.
“I'll bet you were seasick, Miss Wallace.
That's why you’ve been so dignified-
yon didn't feel well."
“People aren't usually dignified when
they are seasick,” answered the girl
promptly. “At least, that hasn’t been my
observation." She surveyed the company
with a smile. "I didn’t see any of you
on deck the first day out, except Mr.
Sykes.”
“That’s because we were so busy open
ing our steamer letters,” said a curly-
headed youth, who was reported engaged
and desperately in love.
“I opened mine on deck and threw
them overboard afterwards,” said little
Trask with a sniff. "Say, can we mail
letters at Key West?"
"Yes. but they'll bo punched full of
fumigation holes. The place is epidemic
with yellow jack, you know. A’ou can't
send any souvenirs.”
"Who cares about souvenirs, i'll like
to get off and see the town, though,"
-aid Trask. "Ho you leave us there. Miss
Wallace?” Miss Wallace answered that
she did. and little Trask regarded her
with lli“ great sorrow of a great Ir.ve
just dawning. Attachments are quickly
formed on shipboard.
Tiie night was coming on. and in the
dusk Miss Wallace did not see the ex
pression. Bhe was looking at Warren
Sykes, who was contemplating the huge
red sun on the horizon, as it was being
sucked down into the hot, oily sin.
The girl's eyes followed the man's • yes
and were held, too, by the glory of
the sunset. Silence fell upon the com
pany. and the witchery of a summer
night on the southern sea possessed
them. Gradually the group fell apart, the
men straggling away, overcome by the
infinite longing,,that the sea makes for
solitude and meditation. Only Sykes and
Trask lingered beside the girl. The hoy
had wished that the man would So, and
leaned over the rail waiting, while iie
watched tiie masses of phosphorescent
spray spin off from tHe ship and scatter
into flight drops over the black s'a,
that undulated waveless and heavy far.
far away to Hie west. But the older
man had no intention of moving. He was
filled with content a vast content, that
no experience in life—surely not is
former ocean trips on great, crowded,
noisy palace steamers—had been able to
infuse into him. lie would like to go on
forever thus to eternity, with the hoy
and the girl beside him—the fresh,
wholesome boy, clever and sweet-man-
nered; the girl, pretty, sensible, grace
ful. He snuggled Into his content as a
cat snuggled into warm rug before a
bright fire, and dreamed.
The boy grew impatient, kicked the
rail, frowned, spit ijstn the water, and
otherwise marred and jarred the quiet
beauty of the scene. The man came out
of his reverie to remark that it was
time youngsters were in bed. The boy
scowled and bit his lip. He looked at
tiie girl, who was laughing. A momen
tary desire came over him to seize the
man by the colla r and cast him over
board into the molten lead below. A few
moments, however, convinced him of the
fruitlessness of the situation, and he
retreated to tiie stern, where he hung
over the rudder for a while and finally
took himself off to the smoking room.
The deck was deserted save for (he
two. No sound broke the stillness but
* h - regular thud, thud of tiie crew.
Overhead the stars flamed nig and bright
and close enough to touch. The Scor
pion sprawled its brilliant length across
the southern heavens. The man was tiie
first to speak.
"On just such a night as this 1 ex
perienced the greatest grief of my life."
he said quietly, "and isn’t it strange,
instead of feeling again the pain, as I
ought when tiie same chord is struck.
1 inii leeling the ui most happiness and
content? is it a sign of callousness that
a man forgets his deepest sorrows?”
I’iie girl answered placidly, without a
trace of surprise or wonder—so great
is the magic of tne sea that bares men's
soils to a perfect understanding: “You
have not forgotten. We do not forget
our great sorrows. We merely grow
around them. The wounds close up and
leave us better men and women for
having undergone the pain.” Her voice
floated out gently and soft and mingled
with the calm beauty of Die night.
"It was at Palm Beach," lie continued,
m a low voice, gazing absently before
hint. "eleven—twelve thirteen years
ago. We were on the water in a small
sailing yacht, one of those narrow-
beamed little race boats that turn over
with a breath if they are not handled
■tr
• ® *•*•*•*• ® *• • •»*•*•*•*•• #•••#•*•#*•*#'• '■#••• O’* • •*». q•*«
l E6e Blue Sun-Bonnet l
I*•*•*•• •*•«•••%••«!
Ey HELEN GRAY.
Written for The SUNNY SOUTH.
T was an old-fashioneil gar
den. which by chance had
been left undisturbed in
one of the busiest parts of
the city. Once it had many
<Jy\ associates, beautiful spots
like Itself. which grew
white syringas and white
yfif In ida I wreath and purple
perriwinkles and yellow
Im marigolds and ladies'slip-
JJ pers and hollyhocks and
four o'clocks and hosts uf
other simple flowers remin
iscent of the past. But today it stood
solitary in the heart of the big city.
Bertram Alison, seated at a window
in tiie third story of a newly erected
office building, looked out upon this
ancient bit of beauty with a sigh of
satisfaction. A very recent arrival in
the aristocratic oid town, now enjoying
a boom, clients had been slow in mov
ing his way. Time hung heavy.
He was an aesthete by nature. The
beflowereil scene which met iiis gaze
this July afternoon as he puffed at a
cigar, with an uncut pamphlet in his
hand: the drowsy sun. had a narcotic
effect upon his nerves. Business cas
tles flitted dreamingly through his
brain; occasionally the fact of a girl.
Homefolks. college chums. new ac
quaintances. trooped before his mental
eye.
lie couldn’t remember just- how it
was. but suddenly tie became aware of
a dainty figure working among the
marigolds. His mind was in a receptive
attitude, and a precious bit of femin-
inity it seemed to him, clad in a neat
gingham gown, with a frilled apron
tied in a bow behind. The two tiny
hands that snipped at the golden
blooms were clothed in gauntlets; tiie
face was hidden behind a bright blue
sun bonnet, stiffly starched and freshly
clean. The straight back and lithesome
waist; the graceful locomotion, seemed
familiar to him. The form of a girl
with violet eyes and a rosebud mouth,
danced before his vision.
With growing interest he watched the
fairy-like figure. The golden marigolds
flashed bright glances at him; but the
girl, bent upon what was apparently a
labor of love, vouched him no recogni
tion. Several limes lie coughed, but
there was no lift of tiie eyes his way.
Many afternoons following saw Ber
tram at the window watching for the
blue sun bonnet. He was seldom dis
appointed. At the hour when the four
o'clocks opened their eyes, it came; with
trowel and shears in hand, and other
garden utensils. At the end of a week
Bertram was ready to admit that lie
was infatuated with a girl whose face
lie had never looked Into, of whom lie
knew absolutely nothing. He tried to
overcome the spell, but without avail.
Sometimes he wondered if it could be
Esther—Queen Esther of his college
days; so closely did this queen of the
garden in gesture and form resemble
the idol of his boyhood days. But it
was scarcely likely that fate would
throw them together again, and they
had parted without regret.
A month passed, and yet Bertram leit
lie was no nearer to seeing the face be
hind the blue sun bonnet. He deter
mined to make a. supreme effort to
bring matters to a crisis. “Love knows
no bars," he quoted.
lie knew no one who could present
him to liis Juliet. The high brick wall
that hid the garden from the street
precluded all idea of a face to face
meeting from (lie sidewalk.
One afternoon as lie sat at ilie win
dow brooding over Inexorable fate,
without forethought uf Ills, the golden
moment arrived. The garden was gor
geous with color, sweet elysium, mari
gold. mignonette and lookspur. holding
high carnival. The four-o'clocks had
for an hour been awake. "She is late,
she i s late." made rhythm In Ills
thoughts.
Would she come? Was he to be dis
appointed? The clock struck five.
From around the corner of the old
brick mansion, moving slowly and un
certainly. came the wearer of the blue
sunbonnet. The trim. gauntletted
hands hung listlessly down. She lias
been ill. evidently.
Bertram’s heart gives a great thump
of sympathy. He leans far out the
window. He sees her make her way to
a rustic seat, and throw herself into it.
Once she clutches at the arm of the
seat to keep from falling.
After a while she rises and walks
slowly about the garden. Oh, if he
could but speak to her! She pauses
before a patch of mignonette bloom.
Some bees make a sudden flight up
ward. She sways backward and falls.
Impulsive and romantic by nature,
Bertram Is on his feet in an instant,
fleeing in the direction of his thoughts.
Tie reaches the pavement: He enters
the garden gate! Oh, joy. lie is stand
ing by her side offering her assistance.
Siie lifts her face to Ills, the blue sun-
bonnet slips to the ground.
Yes. the eyes that meet his are violet
in hue; the mouth resembles that of
his dream; but snowwhite are tiie
locks on the care-seamed brow, and
withered are the cheeks he dreamed
fair.
"I — thought —-I — heard —Esther.”
were the first words that she spoke.
And even as she did so a fresh young
voice was heard coming along the path.
"Why. grandmama! Why, Mr. Ali
son! Why, what is the matter?”
Allsoil, stunned, managed to stammer
out: “I saw your grandmother fall,
and came to see if I could be of ser
vice to her.”
"I'm better now, dear.” said the old
lady, turning to her granddaughter.
"Oil. how glad T am to see you, Esther.”
1 couldn’t get here sooner, grand
mama. darling.” explained the girl, who
was dressed in a neat green traveling
suit with a jounty feathered hat to
match.
”1 think I shall never leave you
again. You've been working too hard
in your garden. I suspect. T know, up
to your old tricks, forgetting you are
not ‘sweet sixteen.’ ’’
Alison looked at the charming crea
ture before him and wondered if it
were a dream.
"I can never thank you sufficiently,”
he heard her saying, “for your care of
my precious grandmother. Will you
aid us into the house? You must stay
to tea and tell me all about this un
expected meeting.”
And that evening Quen Esther learn-
V ed the whole of the ridiculous story.
“After all.” she smiled, “we owe our
happiness to grandinama’s blue sun-
bonnet.”
rightly. She was sitting on the rail hold
ing' on to the ropes at tiie side and
laughing. I was beside her, and teasing
her by pretending to fall over and catch
ing myself just in time. But I tried it
once too often. 'Here I go!’ I cried sud
denly, and sprawled over the side. With
a scream—she thought I had reaJly
fallen—she let go and snatched at me
to save me. At tiiat moment the boat
lunged, and before I could move stie was
overboard. A gust of wind caught the
sail and drove us thirty feet ahead. The
night was pitch black—like tonight—ex
cept for tiie stars, and tne water was
ink. One of the sailors jumped over
after me, and together we struck out for
tile place where she had gone down.
For hours we hunted—Oh, God, the
agony!—ant! we did not find her. * * *
They hauled me out of the water—tiie
two sailors—but first they had to stun
me with a boat hook. Then they took
me to shore. i must have wandered
about in tile brush all night, utterly
mad. though r remember nothing, except,
that in the morning a, little girl—a child
of nine or ten—tonic me by the hand and
led me to tiie hotel. And the bal'iy tried
to comfort me. I remember she said,
‘Don't cry. big man,’ witli as much
womanly pity as if she had been talking
to a little baby brother. I've often
wondered what ever became of that
child. Sometimes I think I'd like to
thank her for—for "
“For saving your life." interposed the
girl, solemnly. "You were standing on
the tip end of tTTe board landing with
four Iron boat hooks tied to your foot
when site found -you. and you begged her
piteously to let them be. One did stay:
you dragged i; after you through the
sand to the hotel; and when the men
saw it they- understood and patted the
little girl on the head and said. You
saved his life, sissy, now run tell Mrs.
1::
what you mean—just these word, we've
found him.’ ”
Tiie man raised his head and looked
at the girl long and tenderly. "You?”
he said. And then again, very softly—
"You?" After a long pause he contin
ued; "I remember now; you were the
lirtle girl who lived In the white liousts
across from the ’hotel. You used to tight
with the small son of the major necause
lie called you '.little rebel.’ and your
father had been a general in the con
federate army. You wore your hair in
two red pigtails—it was red then." he
laughed—"it’s darker now, isn’t it?"
“Shall 1 go on with the reminis
cences?" she said. "You were the
young man who wore such loud golf
clothes that the boys said the hotel
needn't keep n. band: who bought so
many’ polo ponies and roue them so
hard that they scarcely lived a week;
who one time drew a check on the bank
for forty thousand dollars and spent
it the same night on a dinner-dance
at which the favors were diamond
bracelets for the ladles and gold
watches for the men ”
“Oh, don't—please don't!” he pleaded.
"You are too hard on me. L am not
such a fool now—believe me. That
night mad* the difference. It sobered
me. You are right. I shall never for
get it. It left me with something ejse,
too. that will not go from me—this
rheumatism." He passed liis hand stiff
ly over liis thighs. “The chill tiiat got
into my blood that night has stayed."
"You suffer much from it?"
“So Intensely at times that I get su
perstitious and fancy it comes upon
me for atonement. But. pshaw!—non-
sens:!—I’m getting silly—isn’t it a
glorious night?” lie sprang briskly
from liis steamer chair and shook him
self briskly as if to get rid of melan
choly recollections.
“Will you walk?"
"No. thank you. I think r will re
tire; it is getting late. We shall have
a fine day for the Florida coast, and
I want to be up early."
“You love to think of your life
there?”
"Oh—-yes.”
Tie lielu out his hand to retain her
ns she was moving away. “You have
not let me thank you.” he said, refer
ring to the subject half reluctantly.
Was it more tiie desire to thank TIER
than the depth of feeling for what had
happened that caused him to dwell
upon their former relation? “These
long deferred thanks,” he continued.
“The first five years, i assure you, I
was anything but thankful.” He turn
ed his head away and spoke in a very-
low tone. “You know 1 loved her
very- much—I have never loved any
other woman. . . . But now—will
you take it?" He turned upon tiie girl
with both hands outstretched. She put
her lianas into them, and he clasped
them warmly, looking straigiit into
her eyes, for slip --.vs as tall as iie.
"Tiie general's daughter!” he said
with a beautiful smile. “All! why
didn't I meet you six years ago?”
“Aren’t you glad to know me?” ask
ed tiie girl, with some amazement.
"Oh, yes—yes, indeed,” he hastened
to reply. “I was only counting six
years lost.” He watched tier swing
briskly down the deck and disappear
into the cabin. Then he went to the
smoking room, where lae found little
Trask looking the picture of despair
Alone, he sat with his head pullef.
down between his shoulders, his eyes
staring straight ahead, his arms hang
ing limply over the sides of the chair,
and his feet wide apart sprawled in
front of him. Sykes put liis hand
gently- on the boy’s shoulder.
"What’s the matter, old man—sick?"
"No."
Sleepy-?"
“No!”
“In love?”
“NO!” Trask fairly howled.
“Sure thing! Nothing plainer,” said
Sykes, provokingly. “Now, see here,
my son. This is too bad. One of that
kind in your crowd is enough. Cheer
up and be lively.”
“I say-, don't run a fellow like that.
I'm not such a fool as T look. I’m
thinking', I tell you—working out a
problem.”
"Mighty despondent attitude for a
problem—must be a sad one. Funds got
low?”
“Yes, something like tiiat. You see,
I don’t want to go home yet. I’d like
to loaf about down iiere ir» the tropics
a while—see Havana, you know, while
I'm so near. But. deuce take it. L
haven't the lin!"
"I see. Sensible father supplies lit
tle Willie with a ticket and just enough
money to pass the lines from Galveston
to El Faso—eh?”
“That’s it exactly. And T want to get
off at Key West."
"And catch tiie yellow fever and be
quarantined for ten days."
"i don't care. it'll he good experi
ence."
"Not this time. Take tiie advice of
an old man, my son. Profit by tiie
having of a sensible father, and run no
risks of yellow fever—or any other fe
ver. Go straight home and in five
years marry the nice girl who wrote
you that fat steamer letter."
“Oh. I say. your remarks are too
bald."
"You'll thank me all tiie same."
Sykes laid liis hand affectionately on
the boy's and settled himself for a si
lent smoke. In the wreathes that went
up two faces mingled, one. dim, shad
owy. vague, the face of a long ago
dream, the most beautiful one in his
life: the other, vivid, distinct, strong,
crowding out the dream face and smil
ing into liis own with clear, brilliant
eyes that spoke of health and courage
and sympathy. The first was a girl,
tiie second was a woman—and yet not a
woman—not like the women lie knew
in trailing spangled robes, with courtly
* manners and brilliant repartee—but
Just a simple, straightforward, spon
taneous boy-girl; redolent with health
and strength and happiness, honest and
independent, yet gentle and gracious
and full of womanly tenderness. Then
lie remembered with surprise that her
hands were hard—strong and hard. But
—what a companion!
As he passed through the saloon,
later, on his way to liis staterooffi, he
encountered tiie girl emerging from her
room with a small medical case. She
had on a blue silk dressing gown,
heavily encrusted with Japanese em
broidery and delicately scented, lie fell
back to let her pass.
“There's a very ill baby in the steer
age. Pm going to see wliat ! can do,"
she said, as she swept past.
Warrent Sykes noted tiie burnished
glory of her hair in the lamplight. The
perfume of the Japanese embroidery
lingered in the air. Suddenly. Die man
reeled and gave a cry of pain, so sudden
and so sharp that a sailor passing out
side heard and ran to his assistance.
"Call my valet at once—tell him to
hurry.” lie said, staggering to liis state-
ion m and falling in a heap on tiie bed.
The boy returned in a moment with a
message: "He's sick. sir. awful sick,
and he says will you please to excuse
him, sir, but lie can't come.”
"Damn the man! Am T to lie here
like this all night? Tell him lie's got
to come—dead or alive! He’s got to rub
me. Oh. Lord!” He clutched his side
madly. "Is there a doctor on board?
Fetch him, boy."
“Nobody but the lady, sir."
"What lady?"
"Miss Wallace—She's a doctor, sir.”
“oh. Lord!” The man was conscious
of an inward shock as great as his
1 ain.
The boy was retreating with a fright
ened face when little Trask bolted in.
“What's the matter, partner?” he call
ed out, cheerily, “in a bad way?
"My man's sick and says lie can't
come.”
“Is that all? Why, I’ll look after you,
old man. I’m a boss masseur—football
experience, you know. Here. boy. go
tell James—Jack—whatever his name is
—that he can stay in bed. I’ll attend
to the gentleman.”
"That’s awfully good of you. old fel
low.” Sykes answered, feelingly, “but
I'm afraid I’m worse than usual. I’ve
got to have a hypodermic.”
"What—morphine? Well—let's see
why. Miss Wallace! She’s the very one.
I’ll go for her at once.”
"Here! Come back, you young cub.
Wait a minute!” But the boy was out
of hearing and speeding on his way.
Sykes was lying in a knotted heap,
liis face showing the agony of his suf
fering. when the girl entered calmly,
her eyes full of anxious pity She ad
justed her instrument, measured tiie
dose carefully, and bade Trask roll up
the sleeve. Then she leaned over and
swiftly and surely thrust tiie needle
Into the skin.
“I’m not giving you morphine. It is
only chloral.” She answered the ques
tion in the man's eyes. "In just a min
ute vou will be easier. Afterward, Mr
Trask must follow my directions." She
turned to the boy and instructed him
about the rubbing and tiie hot applica-
Fainter and fainter came the
to the man. He was conscious
of the hateful phrase, “woman doctor,
surging througii his brain. Then the
bright glow of her hair-of “the gen
eral’s daughter"—faded from Ins sight
and he slept. .. „
It was not till the morning of the
fourth day, when tiie steamer was
docking at Key West, that Sykes came
again on deck. The passengers were
gathered in the bow observing the com
ical actions of a group of pickaninnies,
who were diving into the clear water
for coins thrown from the ship. Trask
was *~»where to be seen. Miss Wallace
tions.
voice
Continued on Fourth Page