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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.