Ha EternEKR
KM
7
AUTHOR OF THE
C0PYictfr 90 sr Gaa&3-stjrriu. cxx
8YNOP8IS.
The story apena on Lone Island near
Mew Tone city, where Miss Emily
Trench, a relative of Ethan Ffrench,
manufacturer of the celebrated "Mer
cury'1 automobile, loses her way. The
ear haa stopped and her cousin, Dick
Ffrench, Is too muddled with drink to
direct It aright. They meet another ear
which Is run by a professional racer
named Lestrange. The latter fixes up
the Ffrench car and directs Miss Ffrench
bow to proceed homeward.
CHAPTER SL
It was a business consultation that
was being beld in Mr. Ffrench's flrellt
library. In spite of tbe presence of a
tea table and the young girl behind It
consultation between tbe two part
aara who composed the Mercury Au
tomobile company, of whom the lesser
waa speaking with a certain anecdotal
weight
"And he said he was losing too
Bach time on the turns; so the next
round he took the bend at 72 miles
an hour. He went over, of course.
The third car we've lost this year; I'm
glad the season's closed."
Emily Ffrench gave an exclamation,
her velvet eyes widening behind their
lack lashes.
"But "the driver I Waa the poor
driver hurt, Mr. Bailey T"
"He wasn't killed. Miss Emily," an
swered Bailey, with a tinge of pensive
regret He was a large, ruddy, white
haired man. with the slow and care
ful habit of speech sometimes found
in those who live much 'with massive
machinery. "No, he wasn't killed; he's
la the hospital. But he wrecked as
good a car as ever was built, through
sheer foolishness. It costs money." .
Mr. Ffrench responded to the indi
rect appeal with more than usual irri
tation, his level gray eyebrows con
tracting. "We ought to have better drivers.
Why do you not get better men, Bai
ley t You wanted to go into this rac
ing business; you said the cars need
ed advertising. My brother always at
tended to that side of the factory af
fairs while he lived, with you as his
manager. Now it is altogether in yqur
hands. Why do you not find a proper
driver?"
"Perhaps my hands are not used
to holding so much," mused Bailey un
resentfully. "A man might be a good
Imanager, maybe, and weak as a part
ner, it isn t tne same Job. But a
!flrst-class driver Isn't easy to get, Mr.
ffrench. There's Delmar killed, and
.George tied up with, another company,
and Dorian retired, all this last sea
(son; and we don't want a foreigner.
There's only one man I like "
"Well, get him. Pay him enough."
Bailey hunched himself together
together and crossed his legs.
"Yc3, sir. He's beaten our cars
and others every race lately, with
'poorer machines, just by sheer pretty
jnrlving. He drives fast, yet he dont
knock out his car. But there's a lot
after him there's just one way wa
could get him, and get him for keeps."
"And that?"
"He's ambitious. He wants to get
into something more solid than rac
i ng. If we offered to make him man-
Ctger, he'd come and put some new
fleas, maybe, into the factory, and
race our cars wherever we chose to
lenter them. I know him pretty well."
Tbe proposition was advanced tenta
tively, with the hesitation of one ven
turing in unknown places. But Ethan
iFfrench said nothing, his gray eyes
fixed on the hearth.
"He understands motor construc
jtlon and designing, and he's been with
blg foreign firms," Bailey resumed,
after waiting. "He'd be useful around;
I can't be everywhere. What he'd do
for us In racing would help a whole
lot It's very well to make a fine
standard car, but It needs advertising
to keep people remembering. And
men like to say 'my machine la the
' same as Lestrange won' the cup race
with They like it"
"I don't know," said Mr. Ffrench
slowly, '"that It is dignified for the
manager of the Mercury - factory ' to
" be a racing driver." ,
"The Christine cars are driven by
the son of the man who makes them,"
waa the response. "Some drive their
own."
"The son of the man who makes
them," repeated the other. He turned
'his face still more to the quivering
fire, his always severe expression
hardening strangely and bitterly: "Tbe
son" ' ' i. :
The girl rose to draw the crimson
curtains before the windows and to
push an electrlo switch, filling the
room with a subdued glw In place of
the late afternoon grayneas. ' Her deli
cate face, as she regartiM ker nncle,
revealed most strongly las characteris
GAMF AND THF PAHDI.Fi
tic over.-earnestness and a sensitive
reflection of the moods of those
around her. Emily Ffrench's child
hood bad been passed in a Canadian
convent and something of Its mysti
cism clung about her. As the cheer
ful change she had wrought flashed
over the room, Mr. Ffrench held out
his hand In a gesture of summons, so
that she came across to sit on the
broad arm of his chair during the rest
of the conference, her soft gaze rest
ing on the third member.
"My adopted son and nephew hav
ing no such talents, we must do the
best we can," Mr. French stated, with
his most precise coldness. "Being
well born and well bred, bo has no
taste for a mechanic's labor or for cir
cus performances with automobiles In
public. Who Is your man. Bailey T" .
"Lestrange, sir. You 'must have
heard of him often."
"I never read racing news."
"I read ours," said Bailey darkly.
"We've been licked often enough b.y
him. And he's straight he's one of
the few men who'll stop at the grand
stand and lose time reporting a smash
up and sending help around. Every
man on tbe track likes Darling Le
strange." "Likes whom?"
Bailey flushed brick-red.
"I didn't mean to call him that He
signs himself D. Lestrange, and some
of them started reading it Darling,
joking because he was such a favorite
"He Understands Motor
and because they liked him anyhow.
It's Just a nickname."
Emily laughed out Involuntarily, sur
prised. "I beg pardon," she at once apolo
gized, "but it sounded so frivolous."
"If you try this man, you had bet
ter keep that nickname out of the fac
tory," Mr. Ffrench advised stiffly.
"What respect could the workmen feel
for a manager with such a title? If
possible, you would do well to pre
vent them from recognizing him as
the racing driver."
Bailey, who bad risen at the chime
of a clock, halted amazed.
"Respect for hlml" he echoed. "Not
recognize him! Why, there Isn't a
man on the place who wouldn't give
his ears to be seen on the same side
of the street with Lestrange, let alone
to work under him. They do read the
racing news. I That part of It will be
all right, r: I can have him."
"If it 1b neccsary "
, "I think it is, sir." "
. Emily moved slightly, pushing back
her yellow-brown curls under the rib
bon that banded them. On a sudden
impulse her uncle looked up at ber.
"Wha Is your opinion?", he ques
tioned. "If Dick had been' listening I
should have askei big, and I fancy
yours is fully as valuable. Come, shall
we have this racing manager?"
Astonished, she looked from ber
uncle to the other man. And per
haps It was tbe 'real anxiety and sus
pense of Bailey's expression that drew
ber quick reply.
"Let us, uncle. Since we need him.
let us have htm."
"Very well," said Mr. Ffrench. "You
hear. Bailey."
There was a lone silence after the
junior partner's withdrawal
"Come where I can see you. Em
ily," her uncle Anally demanded. "I
liked your decided answer a few mo
menta ago; you can reason. How long
have you been a daughter in my
house?"
"Six years," she responded, obedi
ently moving to a low chair opposite
"I was fifteen when you took me from
the convent to make me very, very
happy, dear." -
"I sent for you when I sent for Dick,
and for the same reason. I have tried
three times to rear one of my name to
fitness to bear It, and each one has
failed except you. I wish you were a
man, Emily; there is work for a
Ffrench to do."
"When you say that, I wish I were.
But I'm not I'm not" She flung out
her slender, round arms in a gesture
of helpless resignation. "I'm not even
a strong-minded woman who might do
Instead. Undo Ethan, may I ask it
was Mr. Bailey who made me think
my cousin whom I never saw, will he
never come home?"
He voice faltered on the last words,
frightened at her own daring. But her
nncle answered evenly, if coldly:
"Never."
"He offended you so?"
"His whole life was an offense.
School, college, at home, in each he
went wrong. At twenty-one he left
me and married a woman from the
vaudeville stage. It is not of him
you are to think, Emily, but of a sub
stitute for him. For that I designed
Dick; once I hoped you would marry
him and sober his idleness."
"Please, no," she refused gently. "I
Construction and Designing."
am fond of Dick, but please, no."
"I am not asking It of you. Ho is
well enough, a good boy, not over
wise, but not what is needed here.
Failed, again; I am not fortunate.
There is left only you."
"Me?" -
Her startled dark eyes and his de
termined gray ones met and so re
mained. "You, and your husband. Are you
going to marry a man who can take
my place in this business, in the fac
tory and the model village my brother
and I built around It; a man whose
name will be fit to Join with ours and
so in a fashion preserve it here? Will
you wait until such a one is found
and will you aid me to find him? Or
will you too follow selfish, idle fan
cies of your own?"..
"Not" she answered, quite pale. "I
would not do thatl I will try to help."
"You will take up the work the men
of your name refuse, you will provide
a substitute for them?" , ' !'
. Her earnestness sprang to meet his
strength of will, she leaned nearer In
ber entlMeJasm of self-abnegation,
oarcely bnderstood. i -, w ).,.
1 will find a substitute or aeoept
yours. I, indeed I wlU try not to fall."
It was characteristic1 that he offered
neither praise nor caress.
"You have relieved ray mind." said
Ethan Ffrench, and turned his fj.ee
once more to the fire.
CHAPTER III.
It was October when the consulta
tion was beld In the library of the
old Ffrench house on the Hudson;
December was very near on the sunny
morning that Emily drove out to the
factory and sought Bailey in his of
fice. "I wanted to talk with you." she ex
plained, as that gentleman rose to
receive her. "We have known each
other for a long time, Mr. Bailey;
ever since I came from the Sacred
Heart to live with Uncle Ethan. That
is a very long time." ,
"It's a matter of five or six years,"
agreed the charmed Bailey, contem
plating her with affectionate pride In
her prettlness and grace. "You used
to drive out here with your pony and
spend many an hour looking on and
asking questions. You'll excuse me.
Miss Emily, but there was many a
man passed the whisper that you'd
have made a fine master of the
works."
She shook her head, folding her
small gloved hands upon the edge of
the desk at the opposite sides of
which they were seated.
"At least I would have tried. I am
quite sure I would have tried. But I
am only a girl. I came to ask you
something regarding that," she lifted
her candid eyes to his, her soft color
rising. "Do you know have you ever
met any men who cared and under
stood about such factories as this?
Men who could take charge of a busi
ness, the manufacturing and racing
and selling, like my uncles? I have a
reason for asking."
"Sure thing," said Bailey, unexpect
edly prompt "I've met one man who
knows how to handle this factory bet
ter than I do, and I've been at it
twelve years. And there he is " be
turned in his revolving chair and
rolled up the shade covering the glass
set door into the next room, "my
manager, Lestrange."
The scene thus suddenly opened to
the startled Emily was sufficiently
matter-of-fact yet not lacking in a
certain sober animation of its own.
Around a drafting table central In the
bare, systematic disorder of the apart
ment beyond, three or four blue-shlrt-ed
men were grouped, bending over
a set of drawings, which Lestrange
was explaining. Explaining with a
vivid interest In his task that sparkled
over his clear face In a changing play
of expression almost mesmerlo In its
command of attention. The men
watched and listened Intently; they
themselves no common laborers, but
the Intelligent workmen who Were to
carry out the Ideas bere set forth
Wherever Lestrange had been, he was
coatless and the sleeves of bis outing
shirt were rolled back, leaving bare
the arms whose smooth symmetry re
vealed little of the racing driver's
strength; his thick brown hair was
rumpled Into boyish waves and across
his forehead a fine black streak
wrote of recent personal encounter
with things practical.
"Oh!" exclaimed Emily faintly. And
after a moment, "Close the curtain,
please."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Gift for Business.
Willie's father conducts a boat rent
lng business on the Jersey side of tlm
Hudson.
"I'll give you a dollar If you'll ball
out the boats, Willie," said tbe father
one morning after a rain.
There were 25 boats and Willi
wasn't keen. So be - was non-commit
tal A little later his friend Albert
came over.
"I'll give you a quarter if you'll ball
out the boats," said Willie to Al
bert "Gee! What d'ye take me for?" re
turned Albert as he surveyed the fleet
of rowboats. "It's worth 36 cents, any
way." "Well, all right, 85 then." said Wil
lie. Albert got busy and did the bailing,
while Willie looked on and, Tom Sawyer-like,
bossed the Job.
The work done, Willie collected,
paid Albert and pocketed 65 cents.
"That boy'U be a business man," re
marked the father to Willie's mother
later, but not In the boy's hearing.
New York Herald.
First of French Monarch.
History concedes that Clovls L waa
the real founder of tbe French mon
archy, although his father, Chllderlo,
beld some, sort of tribal rule over
part of the country which was des
tined to become France. Clovls was)
a progressive king and. vastly extend
ed his domains during the period of
his rule, from 481 to 611. He made
endless war on surrounding tribes
and took territory right and left by
conquest In 493 Clovls took Paris
by storm and thereupon that city be
came the permanent seat of , the
Frenom government
Just Before the Interest Quickens.
"I hope your novel ends happily?"
"Indeed It does. It ends in the mar
riage of the heroine and hero; does
not go Into their married life at all."
"very gay,
bravely
OfTFi one day.
!onO"trt umvii .
v3r vhett art wtitt
-X cannot 4Ay
FEW OLD ENGLISH PASTIMES
Truckling the Trencher la Played by
Children Sitting or Kneeling
on Floor In Ring.
Truckling the trencher this Is an
old English game. The children sit
on the floor or kneel in a ring. A
person In the center holds the trench
er (a pie tin will serve) and when
all are ready he truckles, or spins
it at the same time calling the name
of some one in the ring. The on
named must spring quickly and try to
catch the plate between both hands
before it stops spinning. If he suc
ceeds, he takes the place In the cen
ter, and the first truckler goes in
the ring. If he does not catch the
plate between both bands before It
stops spinning be 'pays a forfeit and
is counted out
Then there is the play of -'Two
and threes." The company is grouped
In twos and threes, usually only one
odd one, and the fun consists in not
being caught as the third. This keeps
each child looking over her shoulder,
for when two are behind the fore
most must slip away and find another
place to be tapped.
After a stand-up game, a rather
funny game, where nil the company
may sit, Is to have .ue person chosen
to call and the rest to repeat: One
good fat hen; two ducks; three plump
partridges; four squawking wild
geese; five felicitous oysters; sU
pairs of Roman-striped bose; seven
thousand Spanish soldiers; eight
cages of Hellogabulus paroquets; nine
sympathetic, apathetic, didactic, prop
ositions; eleven superstitious astrono
mers viewing Venus in Venice; twelve
European dancing masters teaching
Egyptian mummies to dance at Her
cules' wedding. If any one laughs
In the course of this he must pay a
forfeit. The one who repeats most
smoothly and solemnly must be the
caller out and begin gibberish over
again.
BALANCING A PLATE AND PIN
Trick Is Comparatively Easy of Exe
cution If Instructions Given
,. Are Followed.
Can you balance dinner plate on
a pin? J
Easy enough. If you do It this way:
Drive a pin into a cork In a bottle.
Take four forks and four other corki
The Plate and the Pin.
ind stick each fork Into a cork, near
its end. Then, by hanging the forks
ibout the edge of the plate as shown
n the picture you can balance the
plate on the pin.
No Relation.
"Mamma." queried three-vear-ola
Ethel as she watched the servant
aashing the windows, "is Jane myi
itepmother?" "Of course not. dear.i
replied her mother. '.'What made you-
think she was?" ."'Cause," replied).
Ethel, "she's always climbing around
n a stepladder." ;
Little Eva I wonder what
the
,muiwiuB Bium reuiiy.arer i
Little Olga Oh. I rues thT
m - '
!
!
V
rood little night lamps that have died '
tad gone to heave- , . . . ' , ,
I?,
!
.s, ,,j i..