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By special arrangement for this paper a
photo-drama corresponding to the install
ments of "Kbnaway June" may now be seen
at the leading moving picture theaters. By
arrangement made with the Mutual Film
Corporation it is not only possible to read
"Kunaway June" each week, but also after
ward to see moving pictures illustrating
our story.
Copyright, IW*r hr Serial Publication Corporation.
SECOND EPISODE
In Pursuit of the Runaway Bride
CHAPTER I.
THE runaway bride, who led (lie chaae, seem
ed to be lucky, for the trntllc opened be
fore her like magic and cloned behind her
like a wall. Aa tdiu turned Into Central
park at Fifty-ninth street, safe from Immediate pur
suit, the black Vandyked man's car was In a snarl
at Fifty sixth. As he came out of that pocket he
leaned forward, after a look ahead, and spoke crisp
ly to bis driver. They stopped at the Plaza hotel,
and the man. hurrying up the steps, suddenly paus
ed With a smile he drew from his pocket a tiny
told watch and opened it. Inside the lid was the
picture of n beautiful young girl with n handsome
collie. The black Vandyked man gazed at the pic
ture for u moment In frowning meditation. It was
the runaway bride!
As he entered the hotel Ned's taxi, with the flut
tering white ribbons, piuised nnd turned Into tin
park. Jusl ns June Warner turned out of It at Sev
euty second street, beading for Riverside drive.
At that hour ills mothering sat pouring her volu
ble sail ness Into of Hobble In the Rlether-
Ing lions- on Riverside drive. She bad been seliool
day chum itiol llic bosom friend of June Moore, but
now there e us no June Moore, only n June Warner,
and June Warner might become a stranger.
"Hot," observed Hobble “How long are they go
ing to be gone?"
"Three weeks. It's nn eternity, Hobble!” ’
"Hot." said Hobble. “Why doesn't somebody an
swer that doorbell?"
It had only Just rung, and Immediately tin- hollow
Hlet boring butler came through. lie did no' return
to anuouia e any one, however. Instead, the caller
rushed straight In and threw herself Into the arms
of Iris
"June!"
Hobble mothering stood hy nml -watched the tnb
lean for a moment; then he went to the door and
looked out.
"Where's Ned?" he quite nnturnlly Inquired.
The only answer wits a sob.
"Joule!" pleaded Iris. "Where's Ned?"
"I I I left Ned!" June walled. "I ran away!"
"Aw, I s.i.v!" protested llohble.
"What did lie do. dear?" This from Iris.
"He lie gave me money!"
He gave joii money." Iris repeated tills numbly
after awhile "1»1(1 you say he gave you money?"
-Yes," June straightened up ns she recognized
the difficulty which lay before her. Iris, while a
war ml loyal friend, was not exactly a thought
ful person nor n sensitive one nnd might perhaps
not understand the deep ethical significance of what
had happened. Hobble didn't count.
"Jun afteg the wedding breakfast mother gave
me a purse, and If I hud not left that on the library
table at home I might not have known my predica
ment until it was too late. When Ned and I were
on the train, however, 1 missed the purse. While l
was telling Ned about It be tipped the porter a dol
lar lu Ills nice, cheery way; then he turned around
nnd gave me s:«> In Just the same way! Don't you
see?" -Viol she shuddered with ttie recollection of
her humiliation. "Then 1 had a dream." went on
June, with more vigor, bound now to make them
understand. "1 saw myself being paid for being a
wife, as mummy pays the servants nnd Ned pays
Ids stenographer. 1 saw Ned giving me money ns
lie gives It to beggars! 1 saw myself always hold
ing out my hand for charity!" And she was a most
pathetic little figure as she upturned her palm. "I
couldn't stun.t 111 So I threw down the S3O anil
slipped o(T the train nnd came back."
"Hut you had no money I" said 1 rl*.
"1 got on the tialu anyhow and Bold my watch
to a funny old lady." June explained. She paused
to n-mcmls-r something- the black Vandyked man
who now had her watch. He had bought tt from
the old lady on the train, so that June could some
day redeem tt That was very nice of him. She
had tils curd nnd was reaching for tt when she no
ticed Hint Iris had gone to the telephone.
“You mustn’t telephone anybody!” the runaway
bride insisted. “You would be betraying my confi
dence!"
"Rut what do you Intend to do?”
“Wlint about Ned?" Hobble auddonly blurted.
"Ned's a darling!" And June's lip quivered. “He's
an angel! Rut 1 cannot be a burden to be carried
on Ned's bnok. 1 shall stay away from Ned until
1 achieve my own independence. Then we can walk
together hand in hand—in mutual self respect and
accepting from each other uothlug but love!
"It Is for Ills happiness as well as for mine,”
June Insisted firmly. "The world w ill not be happy
until women walk in strict equality with men. Irta,
dear." She saw by the face of her frleud that cold
logic was wasted. The two girts walked upstairs,
and iris ushered her still bosom friend into a coxy
little guest room.
Meanwhile Ned Warner began to be familiar with
the bronae panther on the overhanging rock In the
park and. casting back tn his memory, reflected that
he must have passed it about five times.
Hut why had June married him? Why had ahe
walked down the atale of the Rrynport chapel with
him that morning? Perhaps the black Vaudyked
man was married, and marriage was the only road
to June's own freedom.
He could stand this train of thought* no longer.
He whirled up lUreralde drive, past the very house
where June was then talking to Iris, and turned hts
key In the lock of the place which was to have t>een
home. Home! And this was hts return! Her*
were all the furnishings whleh they had bought to
gether. Here bad clustered all hts dreams of hap
piness.
It must hr Ufa task to find that mast
June was still June—and his June! He caught up
the portrait and pressed It to bis lips and held it in
his arms and sank down by the bed sobbing.
At that moment June and Iris were sitting in the
big walnut paneled library, nnd Bobbie wandered
In. When he saw the girls he started hack.
“Don’t go, Bobbie!" called Iris. She walked
straight up to him and held out her band. "Fro
duee!”
“What’s the price?” he asked.
“Oh, a hundred.”
“How did you guess my roll?” Inquired the cheer
ful Bobble, dragging up a handful of bills with non
chalant ease, at which June smiled In spite of bet
embarrassment / She had always been amused at
the matter of fact and open way lu which those
two discussed finances. Bobble counted his money
nnd held back a fragment of It. “Here's your hun
dred, and I'm seven to the good.”
"Oh!” gasped June, as the significance of the tab
leau suddenly dawned upon her. Why, they were
almost in the same position in which she had seen
herself when she was Ned’s piteous little beggar.
‘Thanks, Bobble,” said Iris and turned to June.
“If you want more, honey, in your struggle for In
dependence, come right buck, nnd I’ll make Bobble
give it to us.”
June shrunk away. “Oh, I can’t possibly take It!
I didn’t know you were going to nsk Bobble!”
“Where else do I get It?" blurted the bosom friend.
“Bobble’s the easiest way."
“That's Just It,” June pointed out. “Can’t yen see
what a beggar a dependent woman is? Don’t you
see that if I can’t accept a gift of money from my
husband 1 can't possibly let you accept for me u
(tfgj 4 - ■■ - B (xJelcome/ro-m Bouncer
Brrcfuljr (xJomfrt m U/her-es My Q, rl 9 * ® ® ffl
gift of money from your husband? Don’t be angry,
lrta, please. I’m fighting for a principle.
"Oh, Mr. Thomas Rot!” exploded Bobbie.
’That attitude Is at the bottom of the whole thing.
Bobble," argued June with spirit “Because the
man Ims supported the woman for ages he has
made himself the master. That destroys the wom
an's self respect, and love dies.”
“She's a fine kid,” said Bobble heartily, “but if
she's going to draw the line on money which has
Imm-ii handed from a man to a woman she’ll hare
to get tt fresh from the mint”
“What will you do, June?" fretted Iris.
“If 1 only had that purse mummy gave me,”
mused June.
"She got that from your father," Bobble was un
kind enough to remind her.
“Oh, that was daddy's money," sho brightly re
plied, no trace of concern on her brow, "and it’s the
last 1 can take from them, now that I'm married,
iris, couldn't you go out to the house and say you'll
send it to me?”
"Just the tiling!" Iris was bubbling immediately.
“You mustn't let them know I’m here,” warned
June. “You mustn't let any one know I”
Within five minutes Iris and Bobble, tn the swift
little runabout, were headed for Rrynport In the
library Juno had found n picture of Ned among
some other Intimate photographs, and it was with
constant reference to this and amid constant talk
ing to tt and constant caressing of it that she
penned her Important message:
My poor, dear boy. 1 cannot explain tn a letter what
happened today. When 1 am free, dear Nod. 1 will
make you understand and forgive. You muat not try to
find your unhappy brtda, JUNE.
CHAPTER 11.
A FNT DERBY came around the corner of the
A Moore hou*o la till her glory—stiff la veil
der dress with the red posies on it, yellow
M “ hat with the green feather, tan shoes and
blue stockings.
“Howdy, Aunt Debbyl" Bobble Blethering, with
hts chattel beside him, swung up tfc? drive tn bis
fast little ruuabout
Junto's parents came to the door, John J. Moore
tn the blue and tan smoking Jacket which he had
refused to wear until tenderness at Junle’s ap
proaching departure had brought him to tt, and
Charlotte Moore tn the gray allk dress embroidered
hv June's own hand*.
“Come right in,” heartily Invited Father Moore,
and Mother Moore, with soft eyes, shook Bobbie
by one hand nnd iris by both.
“We have only a minute to stay,” began Iris, start
ing to talk as they went into the library. “I heard
from Junie," Iris rattled on. Father Moore, in the
parlor, came straight over.
“She missed her purse,” glibly went on Iris, while
Hobble eyed her with admiration. “She’s afraid she
lost it. Did she leave it here?”
"Right on that table.” And Mrs. Moore’s eyes
jparkled. She took it from a drawer in a desk.
"That girl always was careless about money,”
laughed Mr. Moore as If it were a virtue.
Hobble glanced at Iris. She was as serene as a
plate of ice cream.
“I’ll send It to her,” offered Iris, and Mrs. Moore
smilingly put it in her hand.
“Why didn’t June wire us?” puzzled father, his
fists bulging lu the pockets of his gay smoking
Jacket
“Y’es, why didn’t she?” Mother’s voice was full
of anxiety, but as she saw the unruffled expression
of Iris Hletherlng's face she began to bridle. If
Junie could wire her friend, why couldn’t she wire
her mother?
“You have such slow delivery out here,” promptly
explained Iris.
“Just what did she say?”
"Phone mother I can’t find my purse. Did I for
get it? Extremely happy. Bushels of love to all.
Inne.”
Twenty minutes were all the callers could spare.
They drove down the boulevard. A taxicab flash
ed hy them, but they did not notice it. Ned War
ner was in tho taxi, and he was out and up on
the porch before the machine had come to a full
stop. John Moore answered the bell, and he stood
as If petrified when he saw his son-in-law's expres
sion.
"Have you heard from June?” husked Ned.
“isn't she with you?” The voice of Moore was
strained and tense.
' Mrs. Moore came hurrying out. her face ashen.
"Junie!” she cried. She ran down to the taxi and
peered in through the open window. She came run
ning back and cuuglit Ned by the arm. “Where Is
my girl?”
"Then she Isn't here?” gasped Ned.
"Come inside.” John Moore's voice had lost all Us
color. He led the way into the library. “Now,
what ts all this about? Why are you here alone?"
"1 don't know. June Is somewhere In New York.
1 was in hopes yon had heard from her.”
“We did! She telegraphed to iris that she had
lost her purse, iris left here with It to mall it to
June.”
Then that’s where she is!" There was relief in
Ned's voice.
“Sit down," said Moore. "Why are you not with
her?"
"I don’t know." There was a choke In Ned’s
voice. "She left me on the train—slipped away at
Faruville.”
"She wouldn't do such a thing without good
cause!” declared Mrs. Moore with firm conviction.
"What happened?” This sharply from Moore.
*T don't understand. She told me she lost her
purse. I gave her some money, and she went to
sleep with her head on my shoulder. I pillowed her
more comfortably on the seat by and by and went
Into the smoker. 1 dropped In to look at her about
every five minutes, and when I came back after we
had passed Faruville she was gone. She left the
money on the seat. Here It is.” And he showed
them the three crumpled bills, one partly torn.
“How do you know she returned to New York?”
demanded Moore.
“I saw her. I got off at the next station ami tele
phoned. The station master at Fnmvtlle reported
that he saw her getting on a down train. I took
an express and overhauled her as we came Into the
Grand Centtal station. 1 saw her leave the station
and get Into a taxi.”
"You nre holding something back!** Moore charg
ed. “1 want to know the truth!"
"You have all I can tell you," declared Ned. He
would not tell them about the black Vandyked man,
and June was Mrs. Warner now.
“Will you get your wraps, please, Charlotte?”
June’s father finally said, and rose. “We are going
to Iris. I’ll order the car.”
They were grim and silent as they sped away.
While they rode the black Vandyked man, in Sher
ry’s, sat at the end of a long table between a jovial
host with a gray mustache aud a ponderous man
with heavily lidded eyes and short hair.
There were a dozen pieced at the table, and wine
hissed at, every plate, bu the others of the party,
which included a half dozen vivacious and gayly
gowned young women, wei* dancing. The three
men talked in low tones, thel- heads bent together,
and the black Vandyked man was the most silent.
Finally he began to talk and grew enthusiastic, and
presently he drew forth June’s little gold watch.
Then he flashed open the lid. All three men bent
eagerly over it They gazed upon the lovely fea
tures of the runaway bride, their faces bent close
together. They clapped the black Vandyked man
on the shoulder.
It was during this time that June Warner, sitting
quietly in a corner of the library with Bobbie and
Iris and with her mother's purse still in her hand,
heard a familiar Toice in the vestibule.
“Daddy!” She dashed from her chair In a flash
and went upstairs to her room.
“Where’s Junie?” Mrs. Moore had pushed through
ihead of the men.
John Moore walked straight to Bobbie Blethering
and shook an awe inspiring finger at that young
man.
“Where’s my girl?” he demanded.
Bobble slowly straightened.
"Well, she’s here,” he said. “What of it?”
“I’ll tell you what of It!” said Iris. “June has de
cided not to see any of you just yet, and sbe won’t!”
Iris took two letters from the mantel. She gave
one to Ned and one to Mrs. Moore. Her husband
looked over her shoulder. The letter was address
ed to:
Dear Daddy and Mummy—l cannot explain In a letter
why I was compelled to leave Ned. Some day I will
make you understand and forgive. Please be good to
dear Ned and ldve YOUR LITTLE JUNIE.
"Here's the man!” shouted Ned, his voice full of
sudden fury. He held a pair of gloves in one hand
and a card In the other. "These are June’s gloves.
They were lying on the table, and this card was in
them!”
"They’re my gloves!” called Iris, but Ned laughed
at her. 'there was no mistaking those dainty, blue
embroidered bits of white kid.
“Now, I’ll tell you,” went on Ned. "This man,
Gilbert Blye, whose name I now know for the first
time, was with her from the moment she left me
until she came here. He is a tall, black Vandyked
man, and at Famville be was seen assisting June
on the down train. I saw them myself through the
car window talking together. I want to find Gil
bert Blye I Are you hiding him too?" And he turn
ed savagely on Iris.
Bobble lounged forward. “That’ll do, Ned,” he
warned. “Iris, fell June.”
“Junier They heard Iris throwing doors open
and running through tlie house, calling June. Ned
darted up the stairs. Out in the hall Iris met him
with a frightened face. “She Is gone!"
They all searched for her then, but there was no
trace of her.
CHAPTER 111.
MRS, GILBERT BLYE was In shrill voiced
converse w-ith a big green parrot, whleh,
from length and sharpness of nose and
height of eye arches, might have been a
sister to her. A maid announced that some one had
wanted to see Mr. Blye, and. since he was not at
home, would Mrs. Blye care to say where he was 7
He came to New York on an early train.
Mrs. Blye rose Instantly. She sailed straight Into
the hall and confronted the five earnest visitors.
"Did you say Mr. Blye returned on an early train?"
"Y’es." Ned tried not to speak curtly. *T saw
him."
" “I am Mrs. Blye. Is there anything I can do tot
you?” The lady was studying the group with a
screwlike penetration. Mrs. Blye began to worry
herself. Also she began to suspect! -That last was
her specialty. “If you will tell mo the nature of
your business with Mr. Blye 1 may bestble to locate
him.”
“I want my daughter!” blurted John Moore, his
lips squaring.
“Oh!” And Mrs. Blye’s voice rose. “Your daugh
ter!” She glared at them for a moment. “Will you
please wait?” she asked and sailed back through
the hall. They could hear her sharp voice telephon
ing. She had called her husband'.*- club, and they
heard her exclaim indignantly, “Where, Sherry's?"
She was back, blazing. She had her hat In her
hand. “He’s at Sherry's!” she shrilled.
An electric coupe stood at the door. She slammed
into that, turned on the lights and rolled away with
as much vigor as was in the capacity pf her ma
chine. Bobbie's runabout darted after her and pass
ed her, and then came the limousine, with Mr. and
j Mrs. Moore and Ned.
!>. Poor June! It had been hard for her to leave
1 those beloved voices down there in the library, but
she had made up her mind very firmly that neither
she nor Ned could be happy if she was always to
feel that she was a chattel. She ran back to the
desk for Ned’s photograph, then stepped lightly out
on the tiny side porch, jumped down to the little em
bankment and fled, as light as a thistledown, along
the side of the house and out at the little grocer’s
- gate.
Where now should she go? The apartments, their
home, hers and Ned’s! She hurried up in that direc
tion, but at the first comer she stopped for an In
stant and darted over toward Broadway. She had
realized three things almost simultaneously—first,
that they might come out of the Blethering house
at any instant and see her; second, that she had no
key; third, that Ned might come there. It would be
the most likely place for him to go in bis loneliness.
She suddenly held her handkerchief to her mouth
to choke back a sob. On Broadway she hailed a
passing taxi.
All was sparkling at Sherry’?, hut Gilbert Blye
had taken small share in the hilarity. He had risen
to go when a black eyed young woman, the most
vivacious of the party, called him to task for his
evening of secret .scheming. “You're up to some
devilment,” she charged, playfully tweaking his
beard. “Come and dance with me.”
“Sorry, Tommy,” he told her, with that queer
smile on his lips, “but I’ve a previous engagement.”
“She can wait,” pouted the girl. She dragged
Blye away from the table.
“Take my car, Gil!” called the gray mustached
host.
“Certainly,” replied Blye, and the three men ex
changed a smile. “I’ll dance one round with Tom
my; then I’ll go.”
Before that round was over, however, Gilbert
Blye saw an apparition in the doorway, and his face
turned cold. The apparition was a tall, angular
woman, with a long, high nose and high arched
brows, who was trying to bore Gilbert Blye through
and through with a double eyed glare of burning
ferocity. He hurried over to his wife. She had
shrilled:
“Who is that woman?”
“I shall explain nothing,” said Gilbert. “I’m
through!”
He left her contemptuously, leaving her stunned
by this unexpected revolt As he went down the
steps he heard her shrieking something after him,
and he hurried. As he dashed out of the door he
ran into a group who were coming in. They were
the Moores, the Bletherings and Ned Warner, and
he was upon them and past them and jumping into
the luxuriously furnished racing limousine, with the
little watch in his hand, before they realized that
this was the man they were seeking.
“There he goes!” cried Ned. “The scoundrel!”
Blye, moving rapidly away, saw the confusion and
blamed his wife with the scene, for now she was in
the lead of the excited group, which was rushing
toward him.
The house of the Moores at Brynport was dark
when June arrived, the dear old house. It stood
back amid the dim trees, with a dignity and beauty
which she had never before thoroughly appreciated,
and at the gate she hesitated as if, with no one to
welcome her, she had no right here.
There was a welcome, though, and a Joyous one,
a loud, hearty one, a series of delighted barks from
her dog Bouncer. He had known her very pres
ence from far back in the shed. It was the work
of but a minute for June to clamber through an un
locked kitchen window and to rush upstairs, get
her maid, Marie, seize several garments and drag
with her the astounded servant.
“Miss Junie! Miss Junie!" cried Aunt Debby, out
of breath from running, but June only waved a
hand at her as the taxi swept out of the drive.
A limousine had stopped in front of the house,
and a black Vandyked man had alighted, but in the
window of the car he saw June's face, turned wist
fully toward the house, and he ran forward.
“Miss Moore!” he called, but June’s taxi rattled
on. He jumped in his own car and gave the wco
and started in swift pursuit
The two machines were still in sight when the
runabout of Bobbie and Iris dashed around the
circle.
“Is June here?" called Iris.
“Lawdy, no!” puffed Aunt Debby. “Pat’s her
gotn' yonder!”
The runabout was gone with a whiz, and imme
diately after came the family limousine.
“Is June here?” called all three of the occupants
at once.
"She's Just done gone! The gentleman with black
whiskers has Just done gone! Mr. Bobble and Miss
Iris has Just done gone! Whooh!”
A found the corner there rolled an electric coupe.
It was brilliantly lighted, and in it sat an angular
woman with a high, long nose and high arched
brows, beneath which glittered two sharp eyes.
"Say!” shrilled the occupant of the electric.
Aunt Debby, her broad hand on her stomach,
pointed down the road.
(to be co!rrr»c*D.]