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HOME AND TAm MAGAZINE SECTION SERIAL.
A Fool and His Money By George Barr McCutcheon
Copyright. 1013. by Ooorgo Barr McCutcheon.
HOME AND FARM MAGAZINE SECT ON
EDITOK'B NOTE.
On lug to no error the concluding
pamsruphs of "A Fool and Hl
Money," by George Barr McCutcheon,
were omitted last week. The ridicu
lous ending tliua given the story
has arouaed much comment among
Our rradera. Some were disgusted that
they had waited their time in reading
a novel that concluded ao foolishly
and others thought the conclusion .
waa merely In line with the Imprea
liinlstie trend of modern literature,
Kead on, O Reader, the conventional
and ratlafartor; "and they lived hap
pily ever after" eoncluaion.
I AS BHE?" I Inquired, wltb
sudden Interest which 1
contrived to conceal.
"Yes, She was wondering why yoj)
have never thought of marrying."
1 closed my eyes for a second, and
th piece of bread finally found the
right channel.
"And what did you say to that?" I
asked quietly.
She waa disconcerted. "I? Oh, I
think I said you didn't approve of
marrying except for love, Mr. Smart."
- "Um!" said I. "Love on both sides
Is the bettor way to put It."
"Am I to Infer that you may have
experienced a one-sided leaning
toward matrimony?"
"So far as I know, I have been
ingularly unsupported, Mrs. Titus."
"You really ought to marry."
"Perhaps I may, Who knows?"
"Aline said you would make an ex
cellent husband."
"By that she means a stupid one. I
suppose. Kxcellent husbands are In
variably stupid. They always want to
stay at home."
She appeared thoughtful. "And ex
pect their wives to slay at home, too."
"On the contrary, an excellent bus
band lets his wife go where she likes
without him."
"I am afraid you do not understand
matrimony, Mr. Smart," she said, and
changed the subjeot.
I am afraid that my mind wandered
a little at this Juncture, for I missed
fire on one or two direct questions.
Mrs Titus was annoyed; It would not
be Just to her to say that she was of
fended. If she could but have known
that my thoughts were of the day and
minute when I so brutally caressed
th Countess Tarnowsy, I fancy she
would have changed her good opinion
of me. To tell the truth, I was won
dering just how the Countess would
behave toward me, with the memory
of that unforgettable Incident stand
ing between us. I had been trying to
convince myself for a very long time
that my fault was not as great In her
eyes as It was in mine.
Along about 6 o'clock I went to my
room. I daresay I was sulking. A
polite bellboy tapped on my door at
6:30. He presented a small envelope
to me, thanked me three or four times,
and, as an afterthought, announced
that there waa to be an answer.
Whereupon I read the Countess' note
with a magnificently unreadable face.
I cleared my throat, and (I think)
squared my shoulders somewhat as a
soldier does when he is being com
mended for valor, and said:
"Present my compliments to the
Countess, and say that Mr, Smart will
be down In five minutes."
The boy stared. "The the what,
sir?"
"The what?" I demanded.
"I mean the who, sir."
"The Countess. The lady who sent
you up with this note."
"Wasn't no Countess sent me up
hyer, boss. It was Miss Tarsney."
Somehow staggered, I managed to
wave my hand comprehensively.
"Never mind. Just say that I'll be
down in two minutes."
He grinned. "I reckon I'd better
hustle, or you'll beat me down, boss."
CHAPTER XXT.
Ska Proposes,
She was still In her riding habit
when I found her alone In the parlor of
the Titus suite.
I give you my word my heart almost
stopped beating. I've never seen any
one so lovely as she was at that mo
ment. Never, I repeat. Her hair,
blown by the kind November winds,
strayed but no! I cannot begin to
define the loveliness of her. There
was u warm, rich glow in her cheeks
and a light In her eyes that actually
bewildered me, and more than that I
am not competent to utter.
"You have come at last," she said,
and her voice sounded very far off;
although I was lifting her ungloved
hand to my lips. She clenched my
fingers tightly, I remember that; and
also that my hand shook violently and
that my face felt pale.
I think I said that I had come at
last. She took my other hand in hers
and drawing dangerously close to me
said:
"I do not expect to be married for
at least a year, John."
"I 1 congratulate you," I stam
mered foolishly.
"I have a feeling thRt It isn't decent
for one to marry inside of two years
after one has been divorced."
"How is Rosemary?" I murmured.
"You are In love with me, aren't
yon, John dear?"
"Goo good heaven!" I gasped.
"I know you are. That's why I am
so sure of myself. Is it asking too
much of you to marry me in a year
from"
I haven't the faintest notion how
long afterward it was that I asked her
what was to become of that poor, un
lucky devil, Lord Amberdale.
"He isn't a devil. He's a dear, and
he is going to marry a bred-in-the-bone
CountesB next January. You will
like him, because he la every bit as
much in love with his real Countess
as you are with a sham one. He is a
bird of your feather. And now don't
you want to come with me to see
Rosemary?"
"Rosemary," I murmured, as in a
dream a luxurious lotos-born dream.
She took my arm and advanced with
me into a room adjoining the parlor.
As we passed through the door, Blie
suddenly squeezed my arm very
tightly and laid her head against my
shoulder.
We were in' a small sitting-room,
confronting Jasper Titus, his wife and
his tiny grand-daughter, who was
ready for bed.
"You won't have to worry about me
any longer, daddy dear." said Aline,
her voice suddenly breaking.
"Well, I'll be well, well, well!"
cried my late victim of the links. Is
tills the way the wind blows?"
I was perfectly dumb, ily face was
scarlet. My dazzled eyes saw nothing
but the fine, aristocratic features of
Alines mother. She was leaning
slightly forward In her chair, and a
sluw but unmistakable joyous smile
was creeping into her face.
"Aline!" she cried, and Aline went
to her.
Jasper Titus led Rosemary up to me.
"Kiss the gentleman, kiddie, said
he huskily, lifting the little one up
to me.
She gave a sudden shriek of recog
nition, and I took her in my arms.
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed I, without tho
slightest idea of what I was doing or
why I did it. Sometimes I wonder if
there has ever been any insanity In
our family. I know there have been
fools, for I have my Uncle Rilas' word
for it
Mr. Titus picked up the newspaper
he had been reading.
"Listen to this, Allie. It will Inter
est you. It says here that our friend
Tarnowsy is going to marry that fool
of a Cincinnati girl we were talking
about the other day. I know her
father, but I've never met her mother.
Old Bob Thackery has got millions
but he's only got one daughter. What
a blamed shame!"
It' must be perfectly obvious to you,
kind reader, that I am going to marry
Aline Tarnowsy, in spite of all my
professed opposition to marrying a
divorcee. I argued the whole matter
out with myself, but not until after I
was irrevocably committed. She says
she needs me. Well, Isn't that enough?
In fact, I am now trying my best to
get her to shorten the probationary
period. She has taken off three
months, God bless her, but I still hope
for a further and more generous re
duction for good behavior!
(The End.)
THE SECRET OF THE NIGHT
By Gaston Leroux
Begins Next Week
Readers of the Farm Magazine will be pleased to note that the novel by George
Barr McCutcheon, "A Fool and His Money," concluded in this issue, is to be followed
with a serial by as well-known a writer and of even more absorbing interest. In offer
ing to our readers a detective story we hope we do not offend those who scoff at the
trashy detective novel of today. Since the advent of the wonderful creation of Sir
- Arthur Conan Doyle, "Sherlock Holmes," there have been many imitators of this style
of hero, some good, some very poor. Gaston Leroux is not an imitator. He has created
a character that will live.
Joseph Rouletabille, young, boyish and debonair, ostensibly a reporter on a Parisian
newspaper, is the hero of Leroux' tale of "The Secret of the Night." Rouletabille
appeared first in fiction in "The Mystery of the Yellow Room," by the same author.
In ''The Secret of the Night" is pictured a Russian General whose life has been
declared forfeited by the Nihilists because of his particularly ruthless stand against
revolutionary forces. His faithful wife narrowly averts two attempts on his life, when'
the Czar, fearing for his servant, sends to Paris for Rouletabille, whose fame had
spread to St. Petersburg. The fight against the mysterious power of the Nihilists, and
the jealousies and passions of friends form the theme of "The Secret of the Night."
Rouletabille stands alone between the General and death.
Dont Fail to Begin With the First Installment
of This Thrilling Mystery Story
m
The First Chapter Will Begin on This Page Next Week WATCH FOR IT!