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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