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O MARTHA OSTENSO—WNU SERVICE
CHAPTER Vl—Continued
Why had she and Bruce come to
gether again? And why had some
mischievous alchemy transmuted
them from their own independent
selves into two beings, each incom
plete without the other? That was
what she felt now, she thought wan
ly—incompleteness. That was what
she would always feel whenever she
thought of Bruce Landor. But that
would never do! She must put that
one brief, unforgettable hour behind
her forever, that hour she had spent
alone with Bruce in the cabin.
Florian had been talking idly and
she made a gallant effort now to
listen to him. She owed him that,
at least, since he was to serve a
peculiar purpose now in her strug
gle to forget her love for Bruce.
“You’ve made a great hit with
the family, Autumn,” he told her.
"Which is all to the merry, what?”
“What?” she bantered.
He frowned at her. “Are you
never going to be serious with me?”
he asked gruffly.
With an earnestness that surprised
even herself, she laid her hand on
his arm. “Do you want me to pre
tend that I’m serious?” she asked
him.
“I’d rather have that than noth
ing,” he replied.
“You are more easily satisfied
than I am, darling,” she said lightly.
He stooped and tossed a stone into
the middle of the pool. The water
rippled outward like a sunburst.
“Is there someone else?” he asked
after a long silence.
She looked directly at him. “Let’s
not be so solemn, Florian,” she
pleaded. “Didn’t I hear you say
something once about—contempt for
life?”
“You did,” he said laconically,
“and I meant—just that!” He seized
her suddenly and kissed her, then
held her close while he smiled down
into her eyes.
She looked at him with cool re
flectiveness for a momeit, then
drew away from him and turned to
ward the house. “I think we had
better go back,” she said quietly.
He followed her, and in a mo
ment she began humming a little
tune.
“Some day,” he said, taking her
arm as he came beside her, “you’ll
not treat a kiss from me so light,
you cold little devil.”
“Perhaps,” she said with a short
laugh. “But in the meantime, dar
ling, let’s play together, if you have
nothing else to do. It's so much
more fun.”
CHAPTER VII
Bruce Landor drew his car up be
side a score of others that were
paired on the graveled roadway at
the Tear of the Parr house and stood
for a moment listening to the sounds
of revelry that issued from that
great lighted mansion on the bluff.
He smiled to himself, wondering
how Autumn would be getting along
with Florian’s delightful pack of
hoodlums. Florian would undoubt
edly be in fine fettle himself, Bruce
thought, after his team’s victory in
Kelowna that afternoon. Bruce was
sorry he had missed the game, but
he had heard about it on his way
through town.
It was of Autumn herself, howev
er, as someone entirely apart from
the others, that he was thinking with
a quickened heart-beat as he mount
ed the steps of the Parr portico, hat
in hand, the cool night wind blow
i ; gently across his hair. A half
dozen dim figures were hidden
among the shadows on the porch
as he stepped to the door where he
stood for a moment and listened to
the babble of voices from within.
“Oh—Bruce!” a voice called from
a corner of the porch.
Linda came gliding swiftly toward
him out of the shadows and slipped
a hand within his arm.
“Hello, Lin!” he greeted her.
“Are you passing me up on pur
pose?” she reproached him.
He looked down at her and smiled
enigmatically. “Not likely. I didn’t
see you. How’s the little girl
friend?” he asked, patting the hand
that lay on his arm. “You’re look
ing lovely as ever.”
She shrugged her shoulders. “I’m
topping! Bored to death, though—
until this minute. I’ve been watch
ing for you all evening. Come on
in. The crowd is down in the bil
liard room playing roulette.”
“Who is here?” he asked as they
entered the house.
“The same old disgusting crowd,”
she told him. “Everybody trying to
work up the usual Saturday night
jag.”
A servant took Bruce’s hat and
topcoat and Linda slipped her hand
again into the crook of his elbow
and drew it close to her. “It was
sweet of you to come,” she said.
“How’ve you been?”
“Fine, thanks,” he replied, and
realized at once that his voice sound
ed a bit hurried. He straightened
his tie with an anticipatory excite
ment he had not felt since he was a
boy. Somehow, quite unreasonably,
he knew, he had expected Autumn
to be the first to greet him on his
arrival
“Let’s have a drink together,”
Linda suggested. “I’ve been wait
ing for you to share my first one of
the evening.’
He smiled at Linda in assent, and
together they went to the butler’s
pantry which was used by the fam
ily as a bar. Bruce paused on the
threshold and looked over the small
group of young people who were in
the pantry.
“Hello, Landor!” called one of
Florian’s friends, and three or four
others set up a chorus of greet
ings.
“Well, if it isn’t the big wool and
mutton man all the way from Cher
ry Creek!”
“Hello, everybody!” Bruce
grinned.
“Step up, Landor, and get close to
the source of supply,” another in
vited, and Linda drew him beside
her and waited while two glasses
were filled.
A red-faced youth and a corn-col
ored blonde girl were perched side
by side on the “bar,” swaying to
and fro and singing a hilarious and
not quite proper song that was a leg
acy from the war to all such gath
erings.
“Let’s get out of here,” Linda
said as soon as they had received
their glasses.
She drew him away and started
for the porch.
“Don’t you think we’d better join
the crowd in the billiard room?” he
ventured.
“And lose you for the rest of the
evening?” she retorted. “Not much!
I’m going to hang on till I’m help
less. Are you going to put up with
us for the night?”
“Impossible, I’m afraid,” he re
plied. “Mother is much better, and
I have a good nurse for her, any
way, but I’ve got to be on the job."
Linda shrugged impatiently as
they stepped out upon the shadowy
porch. “The gods are a stingy
crew,” she said.
They sat together on the porch
swing and sipped their drinks. Bruce
did his utmost to contain his im
patience and contribute a civil share
of conversation, but in spite of him
self he found his eyes roving anx
iously toward the lighted hallway.
He paid no heed to the two or three
couples who were near them on the
porch, or to their confused talk and
laughter.
Linda moved close to him and
pressed her shoulder under his arm.
Her naive boldness was familiar to
him now, and he was scarcely aware
of her nearness in his own preoccu
pation.
“Anyhow, it was sweet of you to
come all the way down so that I
could have an hour with you,” she
murmured.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get down for
the game,” Bruce returned in a mat
ter-of-fact tone. “I hear Florian
gave a good account of himself.”
“He played the game of his life,”
Linda said. “I think it was be
cause Autumn laid a bet on him
against Timothy. Poor Florian has
taken an awful tumble for Autumn.”
Bruce smiled to himself. “Se
rious?” he asked.
“The most serious thing in his
young life. He’s potty!”
“Florian has been potty before,”
Bruce observed.
“I believe it’s the real thing this
time, though. When the Parrs fall,
they fall hard, darling.” She paused,
but Bruce did not offer a reply. “I
think she likes him, too. They hit
it off together beautifully.”
“I’ll never believe Florian is in
love until I see it with my own
eyes,” he said. He harbored a warm
feeling almost of pity for Florian
as he thought of him.
“You’ll see it tonight, then,” Lin
da assured him, “though you won’t
believe it, even then. You’re blind,
my dear, quite blind.”
“I think I know the signs,” he de
clared.
Soft dance music began drifting
out to them now from the radio in
the drawing room, and presently the
couples seated about the portico dis
appeared within doors. Linda and
Bruce were left alone.
She turned her face impulsively
up to him, and he was shaken out
of his abstraction by the imploring
look in her eyes.
“You don’t know the signs,” she
whispered, “or you couldn’t be so
cruel to me.”
“Cruel?” he asked.
“Cruel—because you are so kind,”
she said, and her voice seemed to
him to be almost a stifled sob.
Bruce flushed. “Good Lord, Lin!”
he protested. “You can’t blame me
for being kind to you. I’m awfully
fond of you, girl.”
“Fond—” she said wistfully.
“That’s it—damned fond!”
He laughed awkwardly and stood
up, lifting her to her feet. “Yes, I
am—damned fond of you, Lin. Come
on—let’s go in and pick up Florian.”
“I’d rather have another drink,”
she told him.
“Nothing more for me,” Bruce an
swered as he took her arm and
started into the house.
In the doorway to the billiard
room, Bruce stood for a moment
and looked eagerly over the crowd.
In the middle of the room a roulette
wheel had been set out upon the
billiard table, and Timothy Parr was
acting as croupier for the evening.
The crowd about the table was close
ly knit, their eyes intent upon the
little ivory ball. Above the hum of
voices could be heard the snapping
of chips and the staccato clink of
By
MARTHA
OSTENSO
the ball as it struck the fins. A thin
blue cloud of smoke filled the room.
Autumn, in a diaphanous silver
dress, was perched on the edge of
the table, with Florian standing be
side her. In a moment she lifted
her eyes and looked at Bruce. He
waved to her, but her response was
a fleeting smile that was bland and
expressionless. Then she withdrew
her eyes and turned to watch the
game as Timothy set the ball spin
ning once more.
Bruce was suddenly possessed of
an impulse to lay hold of her and
carry her bodily out of the room.
But at that moment Linda placed
herself directly before him and be
gan to tug at his lapels.
“Snap out of it, Bruce Landor!”
she said. “What’s wrong with you?”
He looked distractedly down at the
subtle smile of Linda’s crimson lips.
“Nothing’s wrong, Lin,” he re
plied.
“Let’s go into the other room and
dance,” she invited.
“How about taking a crack at the
wheel now that we’re here?” he
said equably. “Dance later.”
With a little moue of disappoint
ment which he chose to ignore, Lin
da pressed forward to the side of
the table and looked on while Bruce
bought a pile of chips and waited
I =
_ U / II mF
V ___
“I’m topping! Bored to death
though—until this minute.”
for the next flip of the ivory ball.
When Timothy reached for the spin
dles again, Bruce placed three chips
on squares and offered a handful to
Linda.
“I’m not lucky,” she demurred.
He turned again to the table and
waited for the ball to drop into the
slot. While he waited he noticed a
short, plump man who had had too
much to drink pushing his way to
the edge of the table beside Autumn.
He could not help seeing that Au
tumn’s hands were clenched on the
table edge. Florian stepped between
her and the boisterous guest and
the game went on.
Autumn stood on a gilt chair be
side the crowded table and tossed
chips on thirteen and black. She
knew that she swayed occasionally;
Florian, standing below her, sup
ported her with an arm about her
slender hips. Now and then she ran
her fingers through his hair and
Florian turned his face up to hers
with an intense and meaningful look.
She lost again on thirteen and
black, and as her laughter pealed
out she looked up to see Bruce Lan
dor standing beside the table, his
arms folded, his eyes toward the
broad French windows that stood
open on the other side of the room.
Within her a dull voice repeated
over and over again, “I must not
see him—l must not see him!” He
turned his head slowly toward her
now, his mouth drawn up in a quiz
zical smile so that the deep furrow
appeared in his cheek. That furrow
in his lean brown cheek, which must
have been a dimple when he was a
child—she had kissed his cheek just
there, in an infinite tenderness, only
two nights ago. She felt a terrible
vertigo all through her being, a sud
den collapse of all her defenses. The
feeling lasted for only a moment,
however. When he looked at her
again she was able to smile with
a hard, vivid carelessness.
And then the short plump man
lurched toward her, lost his balance,
and fell heavily against the chair on
which she was standing, clutching
Florian in a desperate attempt to
right himself. It seemed that be
fore she had reached the floor,
Bruce was there, had caught her up
and was carrying her out of the con
fusion through the open French
doors and into the sunken garden.
She beat against his breast and
sobbed frantically for release. When
he put her down at last behind a
hedge of honeysuckle, he was
breathing heavily. She backed away
from him as though to turn and
run, but he snatched her hand and
pulled her back roughly to him,
placing her against the hedge so
that she was forced to face him.
“What sort of game are you play
ing, Autumn?” he demanded.
Tha silver sheath of her dress
BAKER COUNTY NEWS
seemed to quiver in the starlight.
But she stood erect before him, her
head flung back, her eyes blazing
into his.
“I’m playing — no game,” she
panted. “Let me go back.”
He eyed her coldly. “Either you
are playing a game tonight—or you
were playing one night before last,”
he told her.
Her lips quivered over her
clenched teeth. “You can judge for
yourself,” she replied.
He stepped toward her and seized
her wrist. “Do you—mean that?”
he asked. i
She released her wrist with a vio
lent jerk. “Don’t touch me—don’t
touch me!” she cried and shrank
from him.
Her voice was a shrill whimper^
not loud, not the voice of one utterly
beyond control. An incomprehensi
ble pang smote Bruce, a pang of
pity, of complete bewilderment.
“Autumn,” he said, “what’s be
hind all this? I have a right to
know.”
“Right?” Her laughter was al
most a sob. She crossed her arms
over the shimmering bodice of her
gown, and her hands clutched spas
modically at her smooth, quailing
shoulders. Beneath her arms he
could see the vehement rise and
fall of her breast. Her russet hair
fell back from her forehead, and
her eyes were so dilated as they
flared into his face that she had the
look of a person blind. He drew
back from her.
“You are not yourself, Autumn,”
he said calmly.
“I was not myself the other night,
if that’s what you mean,” she re
plied. “You see me tonight as I
really am—as I intend to be from
now on. Ask your mother what I
am—she knows what’s in the blood.”
She made to pass him and he
stepped slowly aside.
“As you will,” he said quietly.
He stood in the darkness and
watched her as she walked toward
the house. When she had gone in,
he made his way around to the
front of the house and entered by
way of the portico.
In the hall he met Linda.
“Let’s dance, Lin,” he said, be
fore she could speak to him. “Or
do we hunt up that other drink?”
She looked up at him and smiled
slowly.
“I believe you’re coming out of
your trance,” she said, and drew
him with her toward the butler’s
pantry.
CHAPTER VIH
May had passed, and June—and
now it was July, the month of the
wild-rose. Within its fortress of
mountains the valley lay besieged
by a torrid heat.
Just a fortnight ago, after a day
such as this, Jane Landor had died
quietly and unexpectedly in her
sleep. Bruce’s sorrow had been
eased somewhat by his melancholy
realization that she was spared fur
ther pain and misery from an ill
ness from which there could be no
recovery, but his grief at her pass
ing had been none the less deep and
lasting.
He had seen very little of Autumn
Dean since that night in May when
he had gone to the Parrs’ and had
encountered in her a mood which
had left him bewildered and har
assed every time he recalled that
miserable occasion. Only once since
that night had he spoken to her. He
had called on Hector Cardigan one
afternoon and as he mounted the
steps to the door, Autumn had come
hurriedly out, passing him with a
face strangely white and with only a
swift word of greeting. He knew
she had seen him from within and
had rushed away to avoid talking
with him.
That visit with Hector had been a
doleful affair. The old soldier had
been having words with Jarvis
Dean’s daughter—of that there could
be no doubt in Bruce’s mind. Hec
tor’s grumpy mood had refused to
yield to Bruce’s efforts at facetious
ness. In a moment the old man
had burst forth in a voice full of
distress. “It’s that girl! There’s no
talking to her!”
“Why get so worked up over it?”
Bruce had asked. “Why talk to
her?” Even as he spoke, Bruce had,
known that his comment had been
a defensive one.
And then Hector had looked at
him for a full minute without speak
ing, his wrath cooling gradually, his
droll smile coming. “There’s little
to choose between a young fool and
an old one—save for a trifling dis
parity in years,” he had said, and
had poured a couple of drinks front
the decanter of wine on the table.
Bruce was thinking of that after
noon with Hector now as he climbed
back into his car and started off
along the increasingly difficult trail.
The old fellow had reason enough
to be distressed, or at least gravely
concerned, if Autumn’s reputation
in the countryside meant anything
to him. And Bruce supposed it did.
Hector Cardigan had looked aftef
the girl from her earliest years aS
anxiously as if he had been hes
godfather. And Autumn Dean was
getting herself talked about rathef
freely among the gossips of the com
munity. People in Kelowna and in
Kamloops were busily recounting
her escapades with the Parrs, Flor
ian in particular, and with such oth,
ers as made the Parr home a rem
dezvous, and who flocked to theii
hunting lodge in the mountains near
Kamloops for week-ends. They had
plenty of fuel for their gossip, and
Autumn had apparently been set
ting a deliberate match to it. Ai
old Hector had said, the girl wasn’t
giving a tinker’s dam what they said
about her.
(TO BE CONTINUED,'
IMPROVED
UNIFORM INTERNATIONAL
SUNDAY I
chool Lesson
By HAROLD L. LUNDQUIST. D. D.
Dean of The Moody Bible Institute
of Chicago.
(Released by Western Newspaper Union.)
Lesson for December 24
Lesson subjects and Scripture texts se
lected and copyrighted by International
Council of Religious Education; used by
permission.
THE CHILD AND THE KINGDOM
LESSON TEXT—Matthew 1:18-25; 18:1-8;
19:13-15.
GOLDEN TEXT—A little child shaU lead
them.—lsaiah 11:6.
The children’s holiday!
Yes, Christmas is the children’s
day of days, and it is also the day
for those who have been “converted
and become as little children”
(Matt. 18:3). It is quite proper that
it should be so, for Christmas really
means nothing very significant ex
cept as we gather at Bethlehem’s
manger and there we find a child,
the Christ-child. Those who come
on the morrow to do homage to Him
in the spirit of childlike faith will
truly keep Christmas. In that spirit
the writer of these notes wishes for
you who read these lines just that
kind of a holy day of joy and glad
ness.
Let us then go first of all to Beth
lehem, and there having seen the
One who “became flesh and dwelt
among us” as a little child, we shall
be ready to go on and learn from
Him what a blessed example, re
sponsibility, and opportunity there
is in the childhood which we see all
around us.
I. The Child—Jesus Our Saviour
(Matt. 1:18-25).
The virgin mother Mary “brought
forth her firstborn son” and “called
his name Jesus”—the one who
should “save his people from their
sins” (w. 21, 25). In order that
He might be the Saviour, He had to
be both God and man. This could
only be true as God sent His own
only-begotten Son into the world by
giving to Him a human mother in
whom He as the eternal Son of God
was “conceived by the Holy Ghost”
(as we express it in the creed) and
became the Son of Man.
For anyone who believes that God
has all power and all wisdom to do
what He wills and as He wills, and
who further believes that Christ was
pre-existent as the Son of God be
fore His incarnation, there is no
difficulty in believing in the virgin
birth. In fact, no other manner of
incarnation would have been possi
ble. It necessarily follows that the
one who denies the virgin birth of
Christ thereby declares that He does
not believe in the God of the Scrip
tures and in Jesus Christ His Son
our Lord.
11. The Child—Our Example (18:
1-4).
The disciples had been having a
discussion about who was to be the
greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
This was not because they desired
their brothers’ advancement, for
each one wanted to be the greatest
(Luke 9:46).
Jesus frankly told them that they
needed a real change of heart, a
conversion. True greatness is not
a matter of worldly position or am
bition, but of a childlike humility.
Such an idea was absolutely revo
lutionary in the day of Jesus, and
in fact sounds unbelievable to the
worldly man today. But it is none
theless true that the great man or
woman is the one who knows and
recognizes himself to be utterly de
pendent on God in every moment,
every circumstance, every trial, and
in every opportunity of life. We need
to learn of our children.
111. The Child—Our Responsibili
ty (18:5, 6).
These awful, solemn words should
be considered with great care. What
a terrible judgment ^waits those
who cause little ones to stumble by
reason of their false teaching, their
failure to bring God’s Word to bear
upon their lives, improper discipline
in the home, or the influence of a
bad example. There are probably
preachers, teachers in the Sunday
School, grandparents, uncles, aunts,
mothers, fathers, yes, even friends
of little children who need to reread
these verses and then cry out to God
in repentance before it is too late.
IV. The Child—Our Opportunity
(19:13-15).
Jesus knew the real value of a
child and His loving heart reached
out to invite the children to come
unto Him in love, in obedience, and
in trust. When they came, He never
failed to bless them.
The glorious thing is that we
are privileged to thus bring little
children to Him. Someone may say,
“Jesus is no longer on earth, I can
not take my child to him.” Jesus
is not here in the flesh, but He is
here ever present with His children.
Ypu can bring your child to Him,
for the coming which He has in
mind in these verses is not in any
physical sense but rather spiritual.
The parents who teach their little
ones about the birth of Christ on
this Christmas day have brought
them to Him. Every word of in
struction, every encouragement to
pray, every example of devotion to
Christ which the child may follow
is the true bringing of that child to
Him.
Will you do it this Christmas—in
the home, in the Sunday School, in
the church, anywhere? If you do,
there will be blessing beyond your
ability to contain it and you will
have
A Blessed Christmas!
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Unforgivable Hypocrisy
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Irreparable Poverty
Lack of wealth is easily re
paired; but poverty of the soul is
irreparable.—Montaigne.
WNU—7 51—39
Earned Reward
He that climbs the tall trees has
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