THE GIRL WITH
A MILLION
By D. C.
CHAPTER VIII. (Continued.)
"Well," said Mr. Frost. "What is up
. bow, sir?"
"I came over with Dobroski from Bel
gium this morning," said O'Rourke.
"With Dobroski?" returned the visitor,
"Dobroski has an introduction from me
to you. Unless he has to know it that
is to say, unless he finds it out by com
ing here while you and I are together
he need not know that we have met to
day. He has a plan which will serve our
purpose perfectly. With his name behind
it, I think it certain that our people
will accept it."
He sketched Dobroski's nightmare rap
idly, and Mr. Frost listened.
. "There is ability in it, of a sort," he
said. "As a fool-trap, it has merits ;
but it won't act."
V "There are great advantages to you and
to me in this plan, wild as it looks," re
plied O'Rourke; "but Dobroski must be
handled with extreme care, I send him
to you in the first place because I can
trust your' acuteness and your self-interest.
I want him to be treated with per
fect deference. I want him to be greet
ed with enthusiasm. I want at first an
air of consideration for his plan, and
then a fiery acceptance of it. I am going
back to Belgium. I have important busi
ness there, and I shall be compelled to
leave the matter in your hands. Per
haps if you manage ft to my satisfaction
I may be of service to you. I am not
altogether without influence, and I may
have something to do with the nomination
i of the auditors."
"I am at your service, Mr. O'Rourke,"
he said, "and I will do my best. To tell
the plain truth, there has been a good
deal less in the business than I looked for,
and it carries a good deal of danger
with It."
"I think we have said almost all we
have to say," O'Rourke said, rising. Frost
hooked him forward with a beckoning fin
ger. . '
"Not all on my side. Listen to this
and don't flare out, now. There's an
empty house in the Old Kent road. Now,
don't flare, out. I'm going to give you
, nothing but the number. You'll do your
self a very considerable service with the
British government, and you'll provide
something for the Times to get up and
howl about, and you'll be of the greatest
use to me on the other side of the water.
Come now, Sir. O'Rourke. It's, a capital
thing all round good for you, good for
the newspapers, creditable to the police,
and good for me. You stand secure in
the confidence of the government, and
they'll catch nobody. The stuffs there
to be .seized, and for no other earthly
purpose. I ought to know, I reckon. And
we do want a splash of some sort real
bad."
"Is everybody absolutely safe?"
"Absolutely safe. I guarantee it."
"'Very well. Good afternoon, Frost."
"Good afternoon. Shall I see you
again before you go?"
"I think not. I shall probably start
to morrow. Remember. The utmost def
erence and enthusiasm for Dobroski." Mr.
Frost nodded and took his way. "A very
finished rascal is Frost," said the patriot
to himself when the visitor had been
hown out of the front door. "But capa
ble. It took me a year to find him out,
though I was guided by that shifty eye
of his. It is surprisjng to notice how
very few of these fellows think it worth
while to study manner."
CHAPTER IX.
There was only one thing just now that
tioubled O'Rourke. He wanted to get
bark to his heiress hunt, and he did not
want to leave Dobroski in his lodgings to
bring there any mad theorists and blood
thirsty dynamiters who might choose to
gather about him. But Dobroski himself
saved him from this dilemma.
"You will not think, sir," he Baid on
the second morning of his stay, "that
I do not value your hospitality. But
I shall be more free to move il I am
away from you, and shall still, after the
publicity of our joint arrival here, be
able to communicate with you with per
fect freedom."
O'Rourke was more than politely re
gretful at parting from Dobroski, but
he recognized the wisdom of the pro
posal, and the old man took lodgings
at a quiet hotel much frequented by
Continental people who were not of the
conspiring class. This left O'Rourke free
to go back and pursue his suit, and he
had written a hRsty looking note to Dob
roski to say that he was unexpectedly
called to the Continent, when a serving
maid brought up the card of no less a
person than his friend Maskelyne.
He 'hardly knew what to make of the
visit, and could only conjecture that
Maskelyne was here to make some sort
of appeal or protest,, with respect to
Angela. But he stood with a look of
friendly expectancy on his face, and hold
the door of his room back with one hand
while he reached out the other In welcome
to his friend. 1
"Why, Maskelyne, old fellow, what
brings you in London. Come in, old
chap, come In."
Maskelyne shook hands cordially
enough, but with extreme gravity, a grav
ity unusual even for him.
"Dobroski! -staying with you, I be
lieve?" he said, questloningly. "I have
an important message for him. I follow
ed him t Brussels, but could learn "noth
ing then until I found out last night
that 70a a&S he bad oema over together,
Murray
and that he was actually staying with
you."
"He was, until this morning," said
(J Kourke. "I wanted to show these peo
pie here that an Irishman isn't afraid
of sympathizing with him. They were
talking about- our getting into holes and
corners at Jnnenne, and seemed to think
that I dare not own the grand old fellow
in London."
"Where is he staying now?" Maske
lyne asked. "I want especially to find
him."
"What?" cried O'Rourke, gayly, sitting
down at his desk td write the address.
"Is Maskelyne also among the anarch
ists?" "No," said Maskelyne. "I'm an out
sider there as elsewhere." If this speech
expressed any Inward bitterness, neithe!
voice nor manner declared it.
"You're going back to Ilonfoy, I sup
pose?" said O'Rourke, in a casual friend
ly tone as he wrote.
"Well, no," said Maskelyne. "I fancy
not. Or not at all events for a time."
"Oho!" cried . the other to himself,
eysrgatically applying a blotting paper to
the address, and looking round smilingly
at his friend. "Beaten out of the field
already,"
"Do you go back to Janenne?" asked
Maskelyne.
"I start to-night," returned O'Rourke.
"I promised Farley to go back again."
Of course Maskelyne saw through that
little subterfuge, and of course O'Rourke
knew he would.
"To-night?" said Maskelyne. "You'll
do me a service, won't you?"
"Try me," returned his friend, with
smiling seriousness.
"I'm staying at the Langham," Mas
kelyne said. "There's a lady there an
American whom I knew at home. She's
going to visit Brussels, and except for
her maid she's alone. Neither she nor
her maid speaks a word of French, and I
shall be obliged if you'll put yourself at
her service in case she wants anything."
"Certainly, certainly," cried O'Rourke.
"Do I know her?"
"I think not," answered Maskelyne.
"She's a youngish widow, rather pretty,
and sinfully rich. A Mrs. Spry."
"And what state of riches might a poor
man like yourself care' to call sinful?" 1
"Well," said Maskelyne, with a smile,
"I think two millions may deserve it."
'Two millions!" O'Rourke whistled
and then laughed. "Dollars?"
"No. Sterling."
"Two millions sterlifg? Maskelyne, I
ask you seriously, as a man of money,
do you think there is such a sum? To
an Irishman and a journalist it sounds
fabulous."
"Yes. It's large, isn't It? But people
seem to go for all or nothing in our part
of the world. They're not afraid of risk
ing what they have. They are not afraid
of risking what other people have, either.
The poor girl's husband only died six
months ago."
In due time O'Rourke sent out for a
cab and drove to the Langham, carrying
his simple baggage with him. Maskelyne
received him, and wore his customary
manner with perhaps an extra shade of
gravity.
'And now for the lady," said Maske
lyne, when the repast was over. I must
introduce you." He rang the bell, and on
the servant's entry, made him convey his
compliments to Mrs. Spry, and to ask if
it would be agreeable to her to receive
him. "You may say," he added, "that
Mr. O'Rourke is with me."
The man came back in a very little
while to say that the ladys would be pleas
ed to receive Mr. Maskelyne and his
friend, and led the way to a handsomely
appointed sitting room. The lady before
whom O'Rourke stood bowing a moment
later was small and plump, and carried
her head on one side with a pensiye co
quetry. She had large eyes, and a rather
coquettish little nose, turning up at the
tip. When she smiled she showed white,
small and regular teeth. Her hands were
small, delicately white, and very helpless
looking.
"Prettyish !" said O'Rourke to himself.
She's worth a score of Miss Butler."
But' perhaps he saw her through an at
mosphere of dollars.
"Of course you know of Mr. O'Rourke
already?" said Maskelyne. "He Is one
of the notabilities on this side of the
water, and is pretty often heard of on
our own.
"I have the pleasure to know Mr.
O'Rourke already," said the lady, in her
purring voice soft, languid, American.
"I heard him speak at New York. I was
very much impressed by your address,
Mr. O'Rourke."
They set out for the railway station,
where they were joined by the young
widow, who wore a traveling dress of
tweed, cut In such a manner as to dis
play her pretty figure to the best advan
tage, and a wondrously enticing little cap
of tweed to ma,tch the costume.
The bustle of departure began to grow
rapid and urgent about them. Maskelyne
shook hands and went his way, and
O'Rourke and the charming widow found
a carriage. It was empty, and the young
man made no demur about accompanying
the lady, and the lady gave no signs of
displeasure at being accompanied.
There was still a soft twilight In the
streets, in which all objects could be
plainly seen, but the gas was already
alight within the station, and a lamp
burned In the carriage roof.
"I don't think," said Mrs. Spry, "that
women ought to be so helpless as thty
lire. ' It's the rnshlon to ho helpless. We
enn't get outside the fashion can we
now? Out it's the tyranny of mankind
that makes It."
"Don't you think," returned O'Rourke,
with his bright face beaming and his
manner at the same time full of gentlest
uererence, the sweetest good-humored po
Mteness and gnyety In combination
dont you think that ladles tyrannize
over us much more than we over them?"
"You don't think that,"- she returned,
letting her. little head rather more than
ver on one side, and looking at him out
if her big, expressive eyes. "You don't
really think it. Mr. O'Rourke."
"I think it." declared Mr. O'Rourke.
and at that Instant the train began to
glide out of the station. "But for my
own part I don't object to the tyranny."
CHAPTER X.
It was night In London, and a sum
mer rain falling. Mr. George Frost sat
in a dingy apartment illuminated by a
single candle, by the light of which he
was scribbling unmeaning phrases on a
Qirty sheet of letter paper.
No grub, no funds. Thirty-seven
pounds dropped last night. I'll never
touch a card again. I wonder how often
I've sworn to that? But a man's luck
must change some time. It can't go on
forever like this."
A knock at the street door broke the
thread of his growlings, but he went
on pacing still, and did not hear a stop
which came blundering up the staircase
and halted outside his door.
"Come in!" he cried, in startled an
swer to a rapping on the panel, and a
slatternly servant girl pushed her head
round the edge of the door.
"Here's somebody for you, Mr. Frost,
Gentleman with a portmanteau. He
didn't give no name."
"I'll come down and have a look at
him," returned Mr. Frost, taking up his
candle. Four separate flights of dirty
wooden stairs, uncarpeted, brought him to
the hall. Frost, holding his candle high,
advanced toward the shadowy figure of his
guest. "It's you!" ho said, with an odd
laugh. "Come upstairs."
The guest, seizing the portmanteau,
mounted after him, and the dingy apart
ment at the top of the house was reached.
. "Is this the palace you continually
live in?" asked the guest, with the faint
est possible trace of some foreign accent
in his voice. "I had expected from your
last letter to have found you in marble
halls, with vassals and serfs at your side.
Oho ! you have been at it again, I sup
pose," said the visitor, making a move
ment in imitation of the dealing of a pack
of cards. "Isn't it time you dropped
that? Haven't you lost enough by this
time? What should you have done if I
had not turned up?"
"I don't know," Frost answered, care
lessly enough. "But I was thinking at
the very minute when I heard you knock
at the door, and saying to myself, 'I'll
drop it. I'll tell you the truth, Zeno "
"Tell me as much of the solid truth as
your constitution will allow, but do not
call me by that name. Wroblewskoff will
answer. It's a jawbreaker, but it's very
easy when you come to know it. Well,"
said Mr. Zeno, smiling still, "this is the
advantage of talking over things. I have
lived in New York a year or two. You
knew me there. You meet me here. You
know me to be a safe man a man to be
depended upon. You introduce me to
Dobroski Well, at what are you
staring?"
"I will see you boiled in oil," returned
Mr. Frost, with extreme slowness; "I
will see you roasted on a gridiron, I will
see you cut up so extremely fine that a
microscope won't find you and then I
won't introduce you to Dobroski."
Zeno got up from his seat, and kneel
ing on the floor unstrapped his portman
teau and took therefrom a razor case, a
small metal soap bowl and a brand new
shaving brush. Frost watched him in si
lence. Zeno took off his coat and threw it
across the back of a chair, then produced
a pair of scissors,, and taking a great
handful. of his beard, sliced it off before
the glass ; then another, and another, and
another, until he was close 'cropped all
over the cheeks and throat and chin. Next
he attacked the mustache, and cropped
that also so close as the scissors would
go to the skin. Then pouring a little
hot water into the metal bowl, he began
to lather himself with great energy, and
then to shave. Even to himself the
metamorphosis he produced must haye
seemed more than a little droll. Under
the razor he came out no longer Greek
and austere In contour, btit chubby, with
fat round cheeks, and a chin very curi
ously thrust forward and pointed, and
beneath the lower lip and the base of the
chin there was a good half inch in length
less than one would have expected to find.
The change was amazing, and when Mr.
Zeno drew a spectacle case from a waist
coat pocket, set the glasses on his nose,
and,1 removing a wig, appeared with half
an inch of sandy natural hair below it,
and a forehead an inch higher than it had
been, the disguise looked impenetrable.
He took a handkerchief from his coat
pocket, rubbed a corner of it on the soap
in his shaving bowl, and applied it vigor
ously to his lips. The corner of the
handkerchief went crimson,1 and Mr.
Zeno's cherry lips grew pallid and dry.
He soaped and moistened another corner
of the handkerchief, and scrubbed at hia
eyebrows. The handkerchief became
black, and the eyebrows sandy, like the
hair. Then he resumed his coat, set the
two candles upon the table, drew a chair
between them, and sat down.
(To be continued.)
Not a Good Dodg-er.
"I'm afraid this motoring crate will
be the death of me."
"I didn't know you had an auto?"
"I haven't ; but I've got a game leg."
Houston Post
Rapid growth of the Anger nails ii
a sign of good health,
tmr.j?).i "tarn
I
The New Farmer.
The President's address Inst month
at the Michigan State Agricultural Col
lege la so clear an expression of the
conditions of modern furm life thut
a future hlstorlun may turn to It to
read our times. All national leaders
have told uu that the farmer la the
backbone of the nation. Washington
aud Jefferson were farmers, and good
ones. The Illinois that bred Lincoln
was one vast farm Chicago wus then
only a small town. The President of
to-day, not bred In farm life, although
he has been a practical ruucliiiiun, is
the first to express the unity between
farm labor and all other kinds. The
farmer to him Is an expert nieehnnlc
aud business man, whose problems are
precisely those of the workman lu the
town, who depends for success ou in
dustrial and social co-operation. He
must be an educated, aggressive par
ticipant In the work of life, competing
with the farmer of Europe, inviting
to his workshop of many acres the
most skilful youug men, leuruing from
technical students and the practical ex
perience of his neighbors the best that
Is known about his business. City
wprkers, meeting lu the friction of
crowded life, have always learned their
craft from one another. The farm
er has until recently been In social
and business isolation. Now he is a
citizen of the world, often closer in
point of time, to the nearest city than
his grandfather was to the farmers of
the adjacent town. The difference be
tween the townsman and the country
man in educational and Intellectual
opportunities and in industrial respon
sibility is rapidly diminishing. That
means the diminishing of the old real
or fancied disadvantage of farm life
which drove ambition and Initiative to
the city for opportunity to show them
selves. The advantage remains and
Increases, for no matter how near to
gether modern instruments of unity,
the trolley and telephone, bring city
and country, broad acres still remain
broad, and produce the conditions of
free and Independent life. Youth's
Companion.
Weed Cotter and Gatherer.
Weeds are a constant source of
trouble to the gardener, cropping up
quicker than he can cut them down,
and spoiling the
appearance of the
lawn. A Massa
chusetts man has
invented an imple
ment Intended to
help him solve the
problem and light
en the labor of
stopping and dig
ging up the roots.
new weed cutter. It Is a combined
weed cutter and gatherer, as shown in
the accompanying illustration. The
cutter is adjustable, and is operated by
a lever which terminates close to the
handle of the implement The gatherer
Is placed in the rear of the cutter. In
front of the cutter are a pair of small,
light wheels. It will be seen that after
bringing the implement close to the
weed a pull on the lever Is all that Is
required to operate the cutter. As the
implement is pushed on to the next
spot, the weed is gathered up by the
rake and carried on.
The Beat Hoar to Ralae.
It is not the large hog that pays, but
the one that makes the largest (inan
ity of pork In the shortest time and
on the smallest amount of food. If a
pig comes in during April he has
nearly nine months during which to
grow by the end of the year. If he
is well bred, and from a good stock
of hogs, hetshould easily be made to
weigh 250 pounds during the nlne
months of his life.
Buckwheat is a profitable crop and
thrives on sandy soil. It is what may
be termed a Bummer grain crop, as the
seed may be broadcasted in June and
the crop harvested before frost It Is
grown as a green manurial crop, or for
the grain. It provides an abundant
forage for bees when . in blossom,
though some do not claim the honey
therefrom to be of the highest quality.
Being of rapid growth, buckwheat
crowds the weeds and prevents them
from growing, and as it shades the soil
it is regarded as one of the best crops
that can be grown for that purpose.
1
wsmm
To Ueatror Ineet.
Tho grayish black squash bug Is
(llflleult to inanago. Gathering the eggs
and the old bugs early In the spring
Is laborious but sure, If thoroughly
done. ' The bugs will crawl upou a
piece of board laid among tho vines,
and may bo gathered and caught. The
use of poisons will do no good In tho
ense of the bugs, as they do not eut
the leaves, but pass their beaks
through the outside of tho leaf to
suck the Juices, and will not consume
any of the poison. In a series of ex
periments in the method of prevent
ing the attacks of tho squash vine bor
er the preventatives employed were
purls green at the rate of half a tea
spoonful to two gallons of water, corn
cobs dipped in coal tar, and the kero
sene emulsion ; the application of tho (
pnrls green and tho kerosene was re
pented after every hard rain until
September i the cobs were dipped In
coal tar again once In three weeks.
All three of the applications seemed to
be beneficial, with perhaps a Uttle
something In favor of the corncobs
as being cheapest and most convenient.
The odor of the tar hns no effect on
the Insects, but sometimes repels the
moth, causing her to lay her eggs else
where. To Give Pig a Bath.
The unfortunate pig has always hnd
the reputation of being tho most un
cleanly animal In existence. This is
not entirely the
fault of the pig,
as his environ
ment Is generally
accountable for
h I s cleanliness.
Pig raisers sel
dom attempt to
give the pigs a
bath, as it is al
most Impossible
to catch and hold
them, even for a
PIO BATH
minute. Nevertheless a Missouri
stockman tackled the problem and suc
ceeded in planning an apparatus by
which the pigs are given a good wash
ing before they are slaughtered. It
should also prove equally as useful at
other times. The construction and op
eration of the dipping tank, as It is
called, will be plainly evident by a
glance at the acocmpanylng Illustra
tion. Resting on the ground is the wa
ter tank, which Is connected to an in
clined Inlet and outlet. On the In
cline of the outlet are tiny stairs to
assist the pig in ascending. In prep
aration for his "annual" the pig Is
forced down the incline into the water,
and If his common sense does not di
rect him on the Incline, he is prodded
from behind with a bar. In fact, in
time this device may become very
fashionable with pigs, and It would
not be surprising to hear of them tak
ing their dally "dip" hereafter.
Tenting- Dairy- Com.
The Illinois station publishes a cir
cular which emphasizes the Import
ance of studying the production of in
dividual cows, and contains records for
one year of eighteen dairy herds In
Illinois, including 221 cows.
The average year production was
5,619.00 pounds of milk and 226.03
pounds of butterfat
The best herd averaged 850.17
pounds of butterfat and the poorest
142.05 pounds.
The best ten cows averaged 388.75
pounds of butterfat and the poorest
ten 100.42 pounds.
It Is believed that at least one-third
of the cows in the ordinary herds are
practically unprofitable.
A marked Improvement was ob
served In herds where grading had
been practiced.
It was found possible to remove five
cows from a herd of ten and thereby
Increase the profit $7.62 per head.
Care of the Hedge.
When the hedge plants begin to die
out the cause may sometimes be traced
to lack of plant food. There is con
siderable wood removed from hedge
plants every year when the hedges are
trimmed, and this annual loss cannot
be sustained by the plants unless they
are assisted. Apply wood ashes freely
every fall.
"Wild Silk."
Among the peculiar products of Man
churia, which are becoming better
known to the outside world since the
opening of that country, is "wild silk,"
produced by an Insect named Antheroea
pernyl, which lives upon the Mongoli
an oak leaves In southeastern Manchu
ria. The annual production for a few
years past is estimated at 15,000,000 co
coons. In Shantung this silk Is manu
factured into pongee.
The Belgians as potato eaters far
outstrip the Irish. '