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ZEN of
the Y. D.
f7" Nvrtl of the Foothills
•8?
By ROBERT STEAD
Author of „ _
‘■'TJl* Cos Puncher " TA
( m esteedert "—“Neighbors. “ rte.
Uopytisht by ROBERT STEAD
CHAPTER Xl—Continued.
—l4
Lindyr looked for an avenue of re
treat, but Grant barred his way, and
together they went up the path. A
strange woman, with a baby on her
arm, mat them at the door. Grant In
quired for Mrs. Bruce and her daugh
ter.
“Oh, you haven’t lieard7” said the
woman. “I suppose you are just
hack. Well, It was a sad thing, but
these have been sad times. It was
when 1; abort was killed I came here
first, Pqoc dear, she took that to
heart and couldn’t be left alone,
and was working in an oftlce,
so I came here part time to help out.
Then slve was just beginning to brace
up again when we got the word about
Grace. Grace, you know, was lost on
a hospital ship. That wa3 too much
for her.”
Grant received this Information
with a strange catching about the
heart.
“What became of Phyllis?" He tried
to ask the question In an even voice.
“I moved into the house after Mrs.
Bruce died,” the woman continued,
“as my mar. came back discharged
about that time. Phyllis tried to get
on as a nurse, but couldn’t manage it.
Then her office was moved to another
part of the city and she took rooms
somewhere. At first she came to see
us often, but not lately. I suppose
she’s trying to forget.”
“Trying to forget,” Grant muttered
to himself. “How much of life Is made
up of trying to forget I”
Further questions brought no fur
ther information. The woman didn’t
know the firm for which Phyllis
worked ; she thought It had to do with
munitions. Suddenly Grant found him
self Impelled by a tremendous desire
to locate tills girl. He would set
about it at once; possibly Jones or
Murdoch could give him Information.
Strangely enough, he now felt that he
would prefer to be rid of Linder's
company. This was a matter of him
self alone. He took Linder to a hotel,
where they arranged for lodgings, and
then started on his search.
He located Murdoch without diffi
culty. it was now late, and the old
clerk came down the stairs with In
offensive Imprecations upon the head
of his untimely caller, but his mutter
■ lngs soon gave way to a cry of delight.
"My dear boy 1” he exclaimed, em
bracing him. “My dear boy—excuse
me, sir, I’m a blithering old man, but
oh: sir —my boy, you’re home again!”
There was no doubting the depth of
old Murdoch’s welcome. He ran be
fore Grant Into the living-room and
switched on the lights. In a moment
he was back with his arm about the
young man’s shoulder; he was with
difficulty restraining caresses.
Sit you down, Mr. Grant; here —
ibis chair—lt’s easier. I must get the
women up. This Is no night for sleep
tag. Why didn’t you send us word?”
‘Jhere Is a tradition that official
wonj U sent In advance,’’ Grant tried
t 0 exp aln.
Aye, a tradition. There’s a tradl-
J n that a Scotsman Is a dour body
"ithout any sentiment Well—l must
call the women.”
He hurried up the stnlrs, and. re
turning, led ] n hjg w if e , a motherly
lonian who almost kissed the young
soldier, the welcome of her greet
jn? It was a moment before Grant
lecame aware of the presence of a
Wurth person In the room.
I am very glad to see you safely
said Phyllis Bruce. “We have
; ' looa thinking about you a great
deal.”
''hv, Miss—Phyllis! It was you I
wa- looking for!” The frank confes
* ‘ n r &me before he had time to sup
,c’ a nd, having said so much, It
seemed better to finish the job.
A’es, Phyllis is making her home
:s n ow,” Mrs. Murdoch explained.
s more convenient to her work.”
" nt wondered how much of this
® rr , : .‘ cement was due to Mrs. Mur
' sympathy for the bereaved girl,
n . iiv much to the addition which
de to the family Income. No
both considerations had con
,r: ’eq to it
r : ’led at your old home,” he con
” 1 needn’t say how distressed
r ° hear— The woman could tel!
. " ’hing of you, so I came to Mur-
Q °Cii. hoping ”
“Yes,” she said simply, as though there
wore nothing more to explain. Grant
noticed that her eyes were larger and
her cheeks paler than they had been,
but the delight of her presence leapt
about him. Her hurried costume
seemed to aecentunte her beauty de
spite of all that war had done to de
stroy it. There was a silence which
lengthened out. They were all grop
ing for n footing.
Mrs. Murdoch met the situation by
insisting that she would put on the
kettle, and Mr. Murdoch, in a burst of
almost divine inspiration, Insisted that
his wife was quite incompetent to
light the gas alone at that hour of
the night. When the old folks had
shuffled into the kitchen Grant found
himself standing close to Phyllis Bruce.
“Why didn’t you answer my let
ters?” he demanded, plunging to the
issue with the directness of his nature.
"Because I had promised to let you
forget,” she replied. There was a
softness In her voice which he had not
noted in those bygone days;* she
seemed more resigned and yet more
poised; the strange wizardry of suf
fering had worked new wonders in her
soul. Suddenly, as he looked upon
her, he became aware of anew quality
in Phyllis Bruce —the quality of gentle
ness. She had added this to her
unique self-confidence, and it had
toned down the angularities of her
character. To Grant, straight from
his long exile from fine womanly do
mesticity, she suddenly seemed alto
gether captivating.
“But I didn’t want to forget!” he In
sisted. “I wanted not to forget—you.”
She could not misunderstand the
emphasis he placed on that lust word,
but she continued ns though he had
not interrupted.
"I knew you would write once or
twice out of courtesy. I knew you
would do that. I made up my mind
that If you wrote three times, then I
would know you really wanted to re
member me. ... I did not get any
third letter.”
“But how could I know that you had
placed such atest —such un arbitrary
measurement —upon my friendship?"
“It wasn’t necessary for you to
know. If you had cared —enough—you
would have kept on writing.”
He had to admit to himself that
there was just enough truth in what
she said to make her logic unanswer
able. Hls delight in her presence now
did not niter the fact that he had
found it quite possible to live for four
years without her, and It was true that
upon one or two great vital moments
his mind had leapt, not to Phyllis
Bruce, but to Zen Transleyl He
blushed at the recollection; it wns an
Impossible situation, but It was truel
He was framing some plausible ar
gument about honorable men not per
sisting In a correspondence when Mur
doch bustled in again.
“Mother is going to set the dining
room table." he announced, “and the
coffee will be ready presently. Well,
sir, you do look well in uniform. You
will be wondering how the business
has gone?”
“Not half ns much as I am wonder
ing some others things,” he said, with
a significance intended for the ear of
Phyllis.
“Come, Mr. Grant; come, every
body!” a cheerful voice called from
behind tlie sliding doors which shut
off the dining-room. The fragrac*
smell of coffee was already In the aiA
and as Grant took his seat Mrs. Mur
doch declared that for once slie had
decided to defy ail tha laws of diges
tion.
At the table their talk dribbled out
Into thin channels. It wns as though
there were at hand a great reservoir
of thought, of experience, of deep
groplngs into the very well-springs of
life, which none of them dared to tap
lest It should rush out and overwhelm
them. They seemed In some strange
awe of Its presence, and spoke, when
they spoke at all, of trivial things.
Grant proved uncommunicative, and
perhaps. In a sense, disappointing. He
preferred to forget both the glories
and the horrors of war; when he drew
on hls experience at all It was to relate
some humorous incident. That, It
seemed, was all he cared to remember.
He was conscious of a restraint which
hedged him about and hampered every
mental deployment.
Phyllis, too, must have been con
scious of that restraint, for before
they parted she said something about
human minds being like pianos, which
get out o-' tune for lack of the mas
ter-touch. . . .
When Grant found himself In the
street air again he was almost swal
lowed up In the rush of things which
he might have said. He paused at a
bridge to lean against the railing and
watch the trembling reflection of city
lights in the river.
“I have It!" he suddenly exclaimed
to the steel railing. “I have It!’’
He paused for a moment to turn
over hls thought, as though to make
sure It should not escape. Then, at a
pace which aroused the wondering
glance of one or two placid policemen,
he hurried to the hotel.
Linder and Grant had bfcfctasslgned
to the same room, and t!*sfergennt’s
dreams, If he dreamt at, were of
the sweet ha* meadows of the West.
Grant turned'on the light and looked
THE DANIELSVILLE MONITOR, DANIELSVILLE, GEORGIA.
down Into the face of his friend. A
smile, born of fields afar from war’s
alarms, was playing about his lips.
Even In hls excitement Grant could
not help reflecting what a wonderful
thing it is to sleep in peace. Then—
“l have it I” he shouted. “Linder. I
have It I”
The sergeant sat up with a start,
blinking.
“I have it!” Grant repeated.
“Them, you mean,” said Lluder, sud
denly nwnke. “Why, man, what’s
wrong with you? You’re more ex
cited than If we were Just going over
the top."
“I’ve got my great Idea. I know
what I’m going to do with my money."
“Well, don’t do It tonight," Linder
protested. “Someone has to settle for
this dugout in the morning."
“We’re leaving for the West tomor
row, Linder, old scout —”
But Linder was again sleeping the
sleep of a man four years In France.
CHAPTER XII
The window was gray with the light
of dawn before Grant's mind had
calmed down enough for sleep. When
Linder awoke him it was noon.
“You sleep well on your Big Idea,"
was his comment.
“No better than you did last night,"
retorted Grant, springing out of bed.
“Let me see . . . yes, I still have
it clearly. I'll tell you about it some
time, If you can stay awake. When
do we eat?”
“Now, or ns soon as you are pre
sentable. I’ve a notion to give you
three days’ C.B. for appearing on pa
rnde in your pajamas.”
“Make it a cash fine, sergeant, old
dear, and pay it out of what you owe
me. Now that that Is settled order
up a decent meal. I’ll be shaved and
dressed long before It arrives. You
know this is a first-class hotel, where
prompt service would not be tol
erated.”
As they ate together Grant showed
HP disposition to discuss what Linder
called ids Big Iden, nor yet to give any
satisfaction in response to hls com
panion’s somewhat pointed references
as to ids doings of the night before.
“There are times, Linder,” lie said,
“when my soul craves solitude. You,
being a sergeant, and therefore having
no soul, will not be able to understand
that longing for contemplation—”
“It’s all right,” said Linder. “I don’t
want lier.’’
“Furthermore." Grant continued, "to
night I meun to resume my soliloquies,
and your absence will be much in de
mund.”
“The supply will be equal to the de
mand.”
“Good! Here are some morsels of
money. If you will buy our railway
tickets and settle with the chief extor
tionist downstairs, I will join you at
the night train going west."
Linder sprang to attention, gave n
salute in which mock deference could
not entirely obscure the respect be
neath, and set about on Ids commis
sions, while Grant devoted the after
noon to a session with Murdoch and
Jones, but It was noted that Grant’s
Interest centered more In a certain
telephone call than In the very grati
fying financial statement which Mur
doch was able to place before him.
And it was probably as a result of
that telephone call that a taxi drew up
In frqjit of Murdoch’s home at exactly
six-thirty that evening and bore Miss
Phyllis Bruce and an officer wearing
a captain’s uniform in the direction
of the best hotel in the city.
The dining room was sweet with the
perfume of flowers, and soft strains of
music stole vagrnntly about Its high
arching pillars, mingling with the chat
ter of lovely women and of men to
whom expense wns no consideration.
Grant was conscious of a delicious
sense of Intimacy as he helped Phyllis
remove her wraps and seated himself
by her at a secluded corner table.
"By Jove 1” he exclaimed. “I don’t
make compliments for exercise, but
you do look stunning tonight t"
A warmth of color lit up her cheek—
he had noticed at Murdoch’s how pale
she was—and her eyes laughed back
at him with some, of ;tljiaij old-time
vivacity. _
“I am so glad," she said. “It seems
almost like old times —”
They gave their orders, and sat In
silence through an overture. Grant
wns delighting himself simply In her
presence, and guessed that for her part
she could not retract the confession
her love had wrung from her so long
ago.
“There nre some things which don’t
change, Phyllis,” he said, when the
orchestra had censed.
She looked back at him with eyes
moist and dreamy. "I know," she
murmured.
There seemed no reason why Grant
should not there and then have laid
himself, figuratively, at her feet. And
there wa3 not any reason—only one.
He wanted first to go West He almost
hoped that out there some light of
disillusionment would fall about him;
that some sudden experience would
readjust his personality in accordance
with tlie inevitable. . . .
“I asked you to dine with me to
nlgl.’,” he beard himself saying, “for
two reasons: first, for the delight of
your exquisite companionship; and
second, because I wo"t to talk over
with you some plans I have for the
future. The fact Is, I have been lu
a dilemma. I find that Murdoch, like
the canny old Scot he is, has doubled
my fortune during my little engage
ment overseas, and now I have to tako
up the reins again. But I am filled
with the West. Do you know what I
mean?”
"I have never lived In the West,"
said Phyllis, “but I Think I can guess.
You’re homesick for it"
"That’s it—homesick for It; for the
smell of a thousand miles of grass,
and sunny hillsides dotted with cattle,
and fellows who take you for what
you are—or don’t take you at nil. A
broker’s life, no matter how success
ful, lias notldng to offer which com
pares with tlmt. It wasn’t until last
night tlmt I saw It clearly, and then,
all of a sudden, I knew what I wns
going to do.”
Grant plunged Into an explanation
of what Linder had called ills “Big
Iden.” He was going back to the
ranching country to buy land and start
a farm on n large scale. He believed
he could make money out of it, but
more attractive was the prospect of
outdoor life and an opportunity to
offer employment to many of the boys
of ills battalion who, upon their return
home, lmd not found their fortunes
doubled-If they lmd nny fortunes to
double. Besides, it would give him a
chance to take care of Linder.
“You know, I’ve got to take enre
of Linder," lie explained, “and It’s a
business tlmt has to be done tactfully.
In some respects Linder Is as ap
proachable ns porcupine. I can buy
him a meal or so and get away with It,
but if lie thought I were supporting
him out of charity he would start an
insurrection. Now, I’m going to make
him manager of the farm; the stars in
their courses shaped him for Just that
Job. As for me, I’ll stay In the back
ground. I want time to loaf and in
vite my soul."
They many angles of the
“Big Iden,” and, even after he had
talked himself out, Grant continued to
sit at the little table, reveling in the
happiness of a man who feels that he
has been called to some purpose worth
while. Ills companion hesitated to in
terrupt ids thoughts; her somewhat
drab business experience made her
pessimistic toward all Idealism, and
yet she felt that her-, surely, wns a
man who could carry almost nnj
project through to success. Tim
unique quality In him, which dlstln
guished him from any other man she
lmd ever known, wait hls complete un
selfishness. In all Ids undertakings lie
coveted no reward for himself; he was
seeking only the common good.
“It ail men were like you there
would he no problems," she murmured,
and while ho could not accept the
words quite at par they rang very
pleasantly in It is cars.
A movement among the diners re
minded him of the flight of time, and
with a glance at Ids watch he sprang
up in surprise. “I had no idea the
evening had gonel” he exclaimed. “I
have Just time to see you home and
get back to catch my train.”
He called a taxi and accompanied
her Into It. They seated themselves
together, and the fragracce of lies
presence was very sweet about him.
It would hnve been so easy to forget—
all that he had been trying to forget—
in the Intoxication of such environ
ment. Surely It was not necessary
that he should go West—that be should
see her again—ln order to be sure.
“Phyllis," he breathed, “do you
Imagine I could undertake these things
If I cared only for myself—lf It were
not that I longed for someone’s ap
proval—for someone to be proud of
me? The strongest man is weak
enough for that, and the strongest man
Is stronger when he knows that the
woman lie loves —”
He would have taken her In hls
urnu, but she resisted, gently, firmly.
“You have made pe think too much
of you, Dennison," she whispered. . . ,
On tlie way West Grant gradually
unfolded ids plan to Linder, who ac
cepted It with hls customary stoicism.
“You are to go on with the physical
work at once,” he told him. “Buy the
horses, tractors, machinery; break up
the land, fence It, bulk’ the houses and
barns; In short, you are to superintend
everything that is done with muscle or
Its substitute. I will bring Murdoch
out shortly to take charge of the cler
ical details and tlie general organiza
tion. As for myself, after I have
bought tlie land and made the neces
sary fun s available, I propose to keep
out of the limelight. I will be tbs
heart of the undertaking; Murdoch
will be the lieud, and you are to be
the hands, and I hope you two con
spirators won’t give me palpitation."
Linder assented, laconically, “What
are you „olng to do?" he Inquired.
“I’m going to buy a half section of
my own and farm If I feel like It."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
At a Busy Crossing
Traffic Cop (to Jay walker)—Hey,
you were born in the country, weren’t
you?
Cy—Yep, I was.
Traffic Cop—Well, If you don't
watch out, you'll die In iL) cily,
LIFE’S I #
LITTLE Tg
JESTS
EXPLICIT DIRECTIONS
Several enthusiasts were enjoying a
round of golf in the gloaming. Dark
ness was setting in and one of tlte
players had to be sent ahead to shout
tlie direction of the greens.
Out of tlie blackness in front came
a voice: “Do you see the moon?"
"Aye," came back the response.
“Weel, that’s the direction, but no*
sae far."—London Tit-Bits.
Professional Accuracy
Aunt —Has auntie’s pet hurted him
self much, den?
Augustus (budding doctor)— Beyond
u bruised left deltoid and a somewhat
strained metacarpal ligament, I believe
my fall tins left me unscathed; —Lon-
don Answers.
A Predicament
First Child Prodigy—When nre you
going to publish your next book?
Second Child Prodigy—l don’t know.
My stenographer’s ill and I haven't
learned to write yet.—Stanford Chap
arral.
A Practical Saving
Black —Have you managed to reduce
expenses nny?
White —Yes, I’ve got my wife to cut
out expensive cigarettes and smoke a
pipe.
WOULD NEVER LEARN
“When are you going to leurn to
drive u cur?”
“As soon ns I can spare time from
dodging these fellows that haven’t."
Life and Hope
Life Is a believer—
Ever thinks he'll win;
Hope is a deceiver.
Hut we’ll trust him once agr'in.
Keeping Up to Date
“I thought you didn’t stuoke, Mrs
Butts?’’
Mrs. Butts—No. I don’t care for
It —it makes me sick —hut I do it once
In n while In the presence of the
children so they won't cull me old
fashioned.
Creation
Mable —Where did you get that cute
little parasol?
Elsie —My daddy says he made It
out of a rib from Ids umbrella. —Pan-
thei.
A Cautious Man
Jinks —Why did Jones withdraw
from politics so suddenly?
Bloks —The opposition dug up the
fact that ids grandmother still uses
an oil lamp.
Amounts to Same Thing
Land Lubber —Did you ever see a
sawfish?
Sailor —No; but I saw a sea fish.
WILLING TO TRY
g*TV Wl
Funny Man (entering shop)—Hey,
barber, ever shaved a pig?
Barber —Can’t say I have, sir—you’re
next.
Strain on Family Tie
Hln wife doth buy the wildest ties!
Red, orange, green and blue—
But do you think he wears this Jimkt
I'U tell the world he do.