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Three Men
AND
a Maid
By P- G. Wodehouse
1 Copyright by George H Doran Cos.
CHAPTER XVl—Continued..
— l6
§ljo pushed the curtains apart with
a "Vattle and, at the same moment,
fniii the direction of the door there
(.•line a low but distinct gasp which
, u;l cle her resolute heart jump and flut
ter, It was too dark to see anything
distinctly, but, in the instant before it
turned and fled, site caught sight of a
shadowy male ligure, and knew that
her worst fears had been realized. The
figure was 100 tall to be Eustace, and
Eustace, she knew, was the only man
in the house. Male figures, therefore,
that wont flitting about Windles. must
bo the figures of burglars.
Mrs. Hignett, bold woman though
she was, stood for an instant spell
bound, and for one moment of not un
pardonable panic, tried to tell herself
that she had been mistaken. Almost
Immediately, however, there came from
the direction of the hall a dull chunky
sound as though something soft laid
been kicked, followed by a low gurgle
and the noise of staggering feet. Dn-
V.-s he was dancing a pas seul out of
sheer lightness of heart, the nocturnal
vi -itor must have tripped over some
thing.
file l latter theory was the correct
one, Montagu Webster was a man
who at many a subscription ball had
shaken a wicked dancing-pump, and
no!lung in the proper circumstances
pleased him better than to exercise the
skill which had become his as the re
sult of twelve private lessons at half
ii-crown a visit : but lie. recognized the'
truth of the scriptural adage that
there is a time for dancing, and that
this was not it. His only desire When,
stealing into the drawing room he laid
I n confronted through the curtains
by a female figure, was to get hack to
Ids bedroom undetected, lie supposed
that one of the feminine members of
the house party must have been taking
a stroll in the grounds, and he did not
wish to sjtay and be compelled to make
laborious explanations of his presence
there in the dark. He decided to post
pone the knocking on the cupboard
door, wliicli had been the signal ar
rangf'd between himself and Sam, until
n more • suitable occasion. lii the
meantime he bounded silently out into
the hall, and instantaneously tripped
over the’portly form of Smith, the bull
dog, who. roused from a light sleep
to the knowledge that something was
v" ng on, and being a dog who always
lil ' l -’ | l to he in the center of the tnael
sirotu of events, had waddled out to
investigate.
by 'he time Mrs. Hignett had pulled
h'ls.if together sufficiently to fee!
'"/tvo enough to venture into the hall,
helKfer’s presence of mind and
Sm. ii ~ gregariousness had combined
'o restore that part of the house to its
Korpinl nocturnal condition of empti
j* " fibster’s stagger had carried
,lm "most up to the green baize door
■ to (he servants’ staircase, and
10 Proceeded to pass through it with
? f *wv*king Ids momentum, closely
Smith, who, now convinced
i foresting events were in prog
r '' y r n might possibly culminate in
lrl ' had abandoned the idea of sleep
'ont to see the thing through.
1 1 holed in Webster’s wake lip
• - vrs and along the passage lead
.-he latter’s room, and only
' hen the door was brusquely
n h:s face. Upon which he sat
h.nk the thing over. He was
un 'Y- The night was before
’'>rnlsing, as far as he could
J •' rom the way it had opened, ex
entertainment.
Hignett had listened fearfully
y. . uncouth noises from the hall,
giars—she had now discovered
, e " ere at ,east two of them —
' '""d to be actually romping. The
n had grown beyond her han
this troupe of terpsichorenn
j’./', 1 1 / r s was to be dislodged she
,v - assistance. It was man’s
~ >l,e niade a brave dash through
'• niercifully unmolested: found
' brs; raced up them: and fell
1 /- 1 Hie doorway of her son Eus
r ' “‘droom like a spent 'Marathon
daggering past the Winning-
Episode Two.
p ■ n °nient which elapsed before
v ~. 'G two could calm their
(% ‘‘ * itif to speech, Kustnce he
' A to, as never v etort, of the
truth of that well-known line, ‘Teace,
perfect i’eaee, with loved ones far
away!”
“Eustace!”
Mrs. Hugnett gasped, hand on heart.
“Eustace, there are men in the
house!”
This fact was just the one which
Eustace had been wondering how to
break to her.
“I know,” he said uneasily,
“You know!” Mrs. Hignett stared.
“Did you hear them!”
“Hear them?” said Eustace, puzzled.
“The drawing room window was left
open, and there are two burglars in
the hall.”
“Oh, 1 say, no! That’s rather rot
ten!” said Eustace.
“I saw nnd heard them. Come with
me and arrest them.”
“Rut I can’t. I’ve sprained my
ankle.”
“Sprained your ankle? How very
inconvenient! When did you do that?”
“This morning.”
“How did it happen?”
Eustace hesitated.
“I was jumping.”
“Jumping! But—oh!” Mrs. Hig
nett’s sentence trailed off into a sup
pressed shriek, as the door opened.
Immediately following on Eustace’s
accident, Jane Hubbard had consti
tuted herself his nurse. It was she
who had hound up his injured ankle
in n manner which the doctor on Ids
arrival had admitted himself unable
to improve upon. She had sat with
.him through tTie long afternoon. And
fibw, fearing lest n return of the pain
might render him sleepless, she had
come to him a selection of
hooks to see him through the night.
Jane Hubbard was a girl who by na
ture and training was well adapted to
bear shocks. She accepted tire advent
of Mrs. Hignett without visible aston
ishment, though inwardly she was
wondering who the visitor might lie.
“Good evening,” she said placidly.
Mrs. Hignett, having rallied from
her moment of weakness, glared at the
new arrival' dumbly. She could not
place Jane. She hae the air of a
nurse', and yet she wore no uniform.
“Wbc ore you?” she asked stiffly
“Who are you?” countered Jane.
“I,” said Mrs. Hignett portentously, 1
“am the owner of this house, and 1
should }>e. glad tp know what you are
doing in it. I am Mrs. Horace Hig
nett.”
A eharniing smile spread itself over
Jane’s finely cut face.
“I’m so glad to meet, you," she said.
“I have heard so much-about you.”
“Indeed?” said Mrs. Hignett. "And
now 1 should like to hear a little about
you.”
“I’ve read all your books,” said Jane.
“I think they’re wonderful.”
In spite of herself, In spite of a feel
ing that tliis young woman was stray
ing from tlie point, Sirs: Hignett could
not check a slight influx of amiability.
She was an authoress who received a
good deal of incense from admirers,
but she could always do with a bit
more. Besides, most of the incense
came by mail. Living a quiet and re
tired lifo in the country, it was rarely
that she got it liandcd to her face to
face. She melted quite perceptibly.
She did not cease to look like a basi
lisk, but she begari'to look like a basi
lisk who has had a good lunch.
“My favorite,” said Jane, who for a
week hud been sitting daily in a chair
in the drawing room adjoining the
table on which the authoress’ complete
works were assembled, “is ‘The Spread
ing Tight.’ I do like ‘The Spreading
Light’!”
“It was written some years ago,
■said Mrs. Hignett with something ap
proaching cordiality, “and I have since
revised some of the views I state in it,
but I st.fi consider ft quite a good text
book.”
"Of course, I can see that ‘What
of the Morrow?’ is more profound,"
said Jane. “But I read ‘The Spread
ing Light’ first, nnd of course that
makes a difference. n
“I can quite see that it would,
agreed Mrs, Hignett, “One’s first step
across the threshold of anew mind,
one’s first glimpse . . •"
• “Yes, it makes you feel . . •”
“Like some watcher of the sk es,”
said Mrs. Hignett, “when anew planet
swims into his ken, or like . .
“Yes. doesn’t it!” said Jane.
Eustace, who had been listening to
'the conversation with every muscle
tense, in much the same mental alti
tude as that of a peaceful citizen in a
Wild West saloon who holds himself
in readiness to dive under a table di
rectly the shooting begins, began to
relax. What he had shrlnklngly antici
pated would be the biggest thing since
the Dempsey-Carpentier fight seemed
to be turning into a pleasant social
and literary evening not unlike what
lie imagined a meeting of old \ assar
alumnae must be. For the first time
since ids mother had come intr the
room he indulged in tha luxury of a
deep breath.
“But what are you doing here?
asked Mrs. Hignett, returning almost
reluctantly to the main issue.
Eustace perceived that he trad
breathed too soon. In an unobtrusive
wav lit' subsided into the bed and
pullen the sheets over his heao. fol
lowing the excellent ‘acticn of lhe
„reat duke of Wellington in his Penis
sulur campaign. “When In doubt, the
the DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANIELSVILLE. GEORGIA.
I duke used to say, “retire and dig your
self in."
“I’m nursing dear Eustace,” said
Jane.
Mrs. Hignett quivered, nnd cast an
eye on the hump In die bedclothes
which represented dear Eustace. A
cold fear had come upon her.
“‘Dear Eustace’!" she repeated me
chanically.
“We’re engaged,” said Jane. “We
got engaged this morning. That’s how
lie sprained his ankle. When I ac
cepted him, he tried to jump a holly
bush.”
“Engaged! Eustace, Is this true?”
“Yes,” said a muffled voice from the
interior of the bed.
"And poor Eustace is so worried,”
continued June, “about the house.”
She went or. quickly. “He doesn’t
want to deprive you of it, because he
knows wlmt it means to you. So he
is hoping—we are both hoping—that
you will accept it as a present when
we are married. We really shan’t
want it, you know. We are going to
live in London. So yen will take it,
won’t you—to please us?"
We all of us, even the greatest of
us, have our moments of weakness.
Let us then not express any surprise
at the sudden collapse of one of the
world’s greatest female thinkers. As
the meaning of this speech smote on
Mrs. Horace Hignett’s understanding,
she sank weeping into a chair. The
ever-present fear that had haunted her
had been exorcised. Windles was hers
in perpetuity. The relief was too
great. She sat in her chair and
gulped: and Eustace, greatly encour
aged, emerged slowly from the bed
clothes like a worm after a thunder
storm.
llow long this poignant scene would
have lasted, one cannot say. It is a
pity that it was cut short, for I should
have liked to dwell upon it. But r.t
tins moment', from the regions down
stairs, there suddenly burst upon the
silent night such a whirlwind of sound
as effectually dissipated the tense emo
tion in the room. Somebody had
touched, off the orchestrion in the
drawing room, and that willing instru
ment had begun again in the middle
of a bar at the point whore it had
been switched off. Its wailing lament
for the passing of summer filled tho
whole house.
“That’s too had!” said Jane, a little
annoyed. “At tills time of night!”
“It’s the burglars!" quavered Mrs.
Hignett. In the stress of recent events
she had completely forgotten the ex
istence of those enemies of society.
“They were dancing in the hall when
I arrived, and now they’re playing the
orchestrion!”
“Light-hearted chnps!” said Eustace,
admiring the sang-froid of the criminal
world. “Full of spirits!”
“This won’t do,” said Jane Hubbard,
shaking her head. “We can’t have this
sort of thing. I’M go and fetch my
gun."
“They’ll murder you, dear!” panted
Mrs. Hignett, clinging to her arm.
Jane Hubbard laughed.
“Murder me!” she said, amusedly.
“I’d like to catch then at it!”,
Mrs. Hignett stood staring! ut the
door as Jane closed It safely behind
her.
‘‘Eustace,’ she said solemnly, “that
Is a wonderful girl!”
“Yes! She once killed a panther—
or a puma, I forget which —with a hat
pin !” said Eustace with enthusiasm.
“I.could wish you no better wife!”
said Mrs. Hignett.
She broke off with a sharp wail. . . .
Out In the passage something like a
battery o.' artillery had roared. .
The door opened and .lane Hubbard
appeared, slipping a fresh cartridge
into the elephant-gun.
“One of them was popping about
outside here,” she announced. “I took
a shot nt him, but I’m afraid I missed.
The visibility was bad. At any rate
lie went away.”
In tills last statement she was per
fectly accurate. Bream Mortimer, who
had been aroused by the orchestrion
and who had come out to see what was
the matter, had gone away at the rate
of fifty miles an hour. He had been
creeping down the passage when lie
found himself suddenly confronted by
a dim figure which, without a word,
had attempted to slay him with an
enormous gun. The shot had whistled
past his ears and gone singing down
the corridor. This was enough for
Bream. He had eturned to his room
in three strides, and was now under
the bed. The burglars might take
everything in the house and welcome,
so that they did not molest his pri
vacy. That was the way Bream looked
at it. And very sensible of him, too, I
consider.
“We'd better go downstairs,” said
jane. “Bring a candle. Not you,
Eustace, darling. Don’t, you stir out
of bed!"
“I won't,” said Eustace obediently.
Episode Three.
Of nil the leisured pursuits. Mere
are few less attractive to the thinking
man than sitting In a dark cupboard
waiting for a house tarty to go to bed:
and Sum, wlic had established himself
in the one behind the piano at a quar
ter to eight, soon began to feel as If
he hud been there for an eternity. He
could diruiy remember a previous ex
istence In which he had not been sit
ting in his present position, but It
seemed so lung ago that it was
shadowy nnd unreal to him. The or
deal of spending the evening in this
retreat had not appeared formidable
when he had contemplated It that aft
ernoon in the lane: but, now that lie
was actually undergoing it, it was ex
traordinary how ninny disadvantages
it had.
Cupboards, ns a class, are badly ven
tilated, nnd this one seemed to contain
no air at a!!: and the warmth of the
night, combined with the cupboard’s
natural stuffiness, had soon begun to
reduce Sam to a condition of pulp. He
seemed to himself to be sagging like
ar. Ice-cream In front of a fire. The
darkness, too, weighed upon him. He
was abominably thirsty. Also he
wanted to smoke. In addition to this,
the small of his back tickled, and he
more than suspected the cupboard of
harboring mice. Not once nor twice
but many hundred times he wished
that the ingenious Webster had
thought of something simpler.
His was a position which would
have suited one of those Indian mys
tics who sit perfectly still for twenty
years, contemplating the Infinite; but
It reduced Satn to an almost Imbecile
state of boredom. He tried counting
sheep. He tried going over Ills past
life in Ills mind from the earliest mo
ment he could recollect,, nnd thought
lie had never encountered a duller
series of episodes. He found a tem
porary solace by playing a succession
of mental golf games over all Hie
courses iie could remember, nnd tie
was just teeing up for the sixteenth
at Muirfleld, after playing Hoylake, St.
Andrews, Westward Ho, Ilanger Hill,
Mud-Surrey, Walton Heath, Garden
City, and the Engineers’ club at Ros
lyu, L. 1., when the light censed to
shine through tlie crack under t?>
door, nnd he awoke with a sense (St
dull incredulity to the realization thnt
the occupants of the drawing room had
called it n day and that his vigil was
over.
But was it? Once more alert, Sam
became cautious. True, the light
seemed to be off, hut did that mean
anything in a country house, where
people had the habit of going and
strolling about the garden nt nil h urs>?
l’robably they were still popping about
all over the place. At any rate, It was
not worth risking coming out of hl.s
lair. He remembered that Webster
had promised to come and knock an
all-clear signal on the door. It would
lie safer to wait for that.
But the moments went by, and there
was no knock. Sam began to grow im
patient. The last few minutes of wait
ing in a cupboard are always the hard
est. Time seemed to stretch out again
Interminably. Once lie thought he
heard footsteps, but that led to noth
ing. Eventually, having strained h's
ears nnd finding everything still, he
decided to take a chance. He fished
in Ills pocket for the key, cautiously
unlocked the door, opened it by slow
inches, and peered out.
The room was in blackness. The
house wus still. All was well. With
the feeling of a life-prisoner emerging
from the Bastille, he began to crawl
stiffly forward: and It was Just then
that the first of the disturbing events
occurred which were to make tills
night memorable to him. Something
like n rattlesnake suddenly went off
with a whirr, and his head, Jerking up,
collided with the piano. It was only
the cuckoo clock, which now, having
cleared its throat, as was its custom
before striking, proceeded to cijck
eleven timer; in rapid succession before
subsiding with smother rattle: hut to
Fair. It sounded like the end of the
world.
He sat in Hie darkness, massaging
his bruised skull. His hours of Impris
onment in tho cupboard had had a bad
effect on his nervous system, and he
vacillated between tears of weakness
and a militant desire to get at the
cuckoo clock with a hatchet. He felt
that it had done It on purpose and was
now chuckling to Itself in fancied se
curity. For iuite a minute he raged
silently, and any cuckoo clock which
had strayed within his reach would
have had a bad time of It. Then hi#
attention was diverted.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Dishonest Procedure.
The captain of a ship put into a little
harbor in Scotland to recruit two sea
men. One man presented himself with
a sheaf of excellent testimonials, and
another offered his services without
possessing a single credential. As they
were the only two applicants, how
ever, the skipper had no choice but
engage both. Before the voyage bad
gone far the two new “hands” were
Instructed to swab ine deck, and one
of them wia washed overboard to
gether with bis pail. The other rushed
to the captain’s cabin.
“D'ye remember that fellow wF the
great bunch o’ ‘characters’ you signed
on?" he exclaimed.
“I do,” replied the officer.
“Well,” said the other, “he’s awa’
wi’ your bucket.’’ —London Tit-Bits.
It Is difficult to take n good moving
picture of a lion. He becomes tera
permental as soon as he discovers he
is to appear on the screen.
KITCHEN [IS
la! CABINET Hi
(©, 1921, Western Newspaper Union.)
WEEKLY MENU
SUGGESTIONS
While the wintry winds still blow,
hearty foods are enjoyed and even in
spring an occasional hot dish is agree
able for supper that in warm weather
might be too substantial for the last
meal of the day.
If dinner is served nt night the
dinner menu will take the place of
supper.
SUNDAY—Breakfast: Fried ham,
coffee cake. Dinner: Roast chicken
with creamed dried corn. Supper:
Mush and milk, salt codfish.
MONDAY—Breakfast: Buckwheat
cakes. Dinner: Pot roast of beef with
potatoes. Supper: Creamed chicken
cn toast.
TUESDAY—Breakfast: Toast and
bacon. Dinner: St. James pudding.
Supper: Scalloped potatoes.
WEDNESDAY Breakfast: Salt
pork fried, cream gravy, baked pota
toes. Dinner: Roast of mutton,
canned peas. Supper: Waffles with
maple sirup.
THURSDAY—Breakfast: Ham and
eggs. Dinner: Pigs’ feet with sauer
kraut. Supper: Sliced roast mutton.
FRlDAY—Breakfast: Oatmeal with
top milk. Dinner: Salmon loaf. Sup
per: Milk toast.
SATURDAY Breakfast: Stewed
prunes, doughnuts. Dinner: Beef
steak, baked potatoes. Supper: Pork
and beans.
Coffee Cake.
Take two cupfuls of light bread
sponge, add one cupful of sugar, two
well-beaten eggs, one cupful of
warmed milk, tho grated rind of n
lemon, mix well; add flour to make h
mixture that will roll out. Blare In
small dripping pans, cover with
softened butter, sprinkle Ith cinna
mon and brown sugar and when very
light bake in a moderate oven. Raisins
or currants may tie added, making a
very rich, delicious breakfast cake.
Cut In Inch slices, divide in halves
when serving.
St. James Pudding.
This Is a simple, delicious pudding
without eggs. Melt three tablespoon
fills of butter, add one-half oupful of
molasses, the same of milk, one and
two-thirdS cupfuls of flour, n half len
spoonful each of soda, salt, cloves, all
spice, nutmeg and one-half pound of
dates cut In flue pieces. Steam In
pound baking powder cans for two
and one-half hours.
The 111-timed truth we might have
kept—
Who knows how sharp It pierced
and stung?
The word wo had not sense to nay—
Who knows how grandly It had
rung?
EARLY SPRINGTIME DESSERTS
To stimulate the appetite and fur
nish mineral matter und acids which
tbe system crave*
** of milk in a
double boiler until scalding hot. Add
two tublespoonfuls of cornstarch
which lias been mixed with one-fourth
of a teaspoonful of salt, nnd one-third
of a cupful of sugar, then add one
fourth of a cupful of cream. Cook
thirty minutes, stirring occasionally.
Add the well-beaten yolks of two eggs,
return to the holler and stir, cooking
until smooth and thick, using care not
to over cook and curdle the eggs. Add
a tcnspoonful of orange extract and
put in a cool place.
Cut sponge cake Into slices and ar
range in n glass dish In layers with
sliced bananas, having a bottom lay
er of cake and the top of bananas,
pour over the chilled custard, cover
with a meringue, using the egg whites
and two tnhlespoonfuls of powdered
sugar. Flavor with lemon extract
nnd heap spoonfuls on top of the cus
tard.
Cherry Sherbet. —Take one cupful
of stoned cherries, two nnd one-half
cupfuls of water, one-lmlf cupful of
sugar nnd one tablespoonful of soft
ened gelatin. Heat the cherries, wa
ter and sugar, add the gelatin, cool
and add the Juice of an orange.
Freeze to a mush nnd pack in salt
and Ice. Serve In sherbet glasses.
Pineapple Rice.—Cook one-half cup
ful of ricJ in two quarts of boiling
salted water until tender, but unbro
ken. Drain, blanch with cold water.
Cut two cupfuls of sliced pineapple
Into small pieces. Beat one cupful of
heavy cream until stiff. Fold the
cream and pineapple Into the rice.
Serve In sherbet nips with hits of cher
ries for a garnish or frebh, sugared
strawberries.