The Rhos Herald

[ Cannot be Beaten I THE I a 'NEPTUNE' P4 Fountain Fens AND TH* I 'BRITISH If j o Stylo Pens. A bsol ntely Reliable, Best British Make. | i PltICH JPltOM 1,6 up to 10/6. Z 14 Carat Gold Nibs. Q) We stock them. (—{ CaH mad m* one. E-i R. Mills & Sons HERALD OFFICE, RHOS. })"ETI.1:S. &e.—U <1 yo"r "OTl of U; P"J[T t1.;m.. T'f ) tisiii* link Pest «»» H?»r» KxteraruNtot,. M.. I I*. ;>d. post I'RIiSB KKN i LKY, T.TIX, ECGLESHTLL, BRADFORD. pABY'S LONG OT.OTIIKS.-SP arti<Jes. 21a* J> beat!tifriIly f ull. Home worV hy W^>-h lanther. flLppraiaL. — Mrs. Truseott, Quel_A. Uijyl, Wsles. ( TO ASTHMA SUFFERERS. AS an advrtrti^eirient I am j.rir.xawMy J PRKK BOXES of mv Remedy, -which I gissmstee to give iaataat rrJie £ Enclose stamp for p to If I !XK. Chemist, JBTAWiCX. JT tt. rlKNTJINB Safe Investment in Delwntarei of Industritf 1 ttunpsiny, carrying interest 7 p»»r crnt. per annum, pup- able quarterly '.also in r1 ep,-ndPII' iy ¡¡'Uln:nt'ApplÏL-a.nt8 apply, Olhniok, GHenfli-ld. FrVmiie-sve., Satartfctw,rondos. T7RKSH-PUT ASrARAiii S. St. al. handle, 13ft heads; 1 1". tid., «<> 11.1" Post. free, cash with '»r&fr.—Manages, Fi-?tit F*T-,I, KrtuJratn. QPK'TATj.—Memorial Card, with PJjKrio of lata King, 7d. i i do/. Sample 2d.. p't free. SpJesscHd nln.—Sands, 134. Oldhs" -road. Marx-h—afcr. i?9 l'RR WEKK OUARANTKKT*.—Penny *C £ *mart imu.-e to-lion*" ;• n!v.i«er« willi 5b. H*wt. ^f»» -*innl-.—WTT.SOA* M ANVJiKSTKii. INDIGESTION Is the I-riniarc cause of most of tfvk- ills to wkich we are @alp. K ..WHELPTO"'8 VEGETABLE ruiHPVINfl oruuse the wtomacli to iwt-ion- Ufadacfce flie# away, f^ib.ouBness, Kidnn*- l>iwders, urnl Skia Comptinutt lii"s.ppear. Ask for WHELPTON'S PURIFYING PII LS, Aud remember there is NO Plfl, "JUST AS GOOD* Is. ld. of all Pree by Poet, 14 stamps 4, Uian- .• Ualaa. HOW to Bmoow a BARRI8TKR witfasat faaftfeftv vOfc prenent occupation. Tuition by OormfmtaM te Provincial Student# speciality.—Apply, stamped Auatin, 4, Harcourt-l>uildings, Inner Temple, IiOndtm. A LDRIDGE'll.-FESTIVAL of By-Rl r SANATi iRIUM FOR CONS! M l-1' !w*. — Men only, Mb per woek.—Dean Head. Horsiortli, York*. HOSIERY BAR (3AINS. Seamless Black CmbP tJL mere Doublewear" Stockings. Three pain 2/6, worth 8/6. Purchase direct.—Joseph Park, goutfapoit. Ul1,I.L\1.\1) L> .i.-ic tuples, 1.ate"L hand piiotfd white )P8. ll sizes. — Holmes. Marsb-la"e. Pivwton. £ ISO. PRIZE-WINNING SO UTIONB. 4SISO. FK An-wers Doubles," I*i t- tiit,- Dittoes," te., See., by r actual winner of jEJM in Answti* April Snd. Fat particulars, with Two Prize Solutions, for Is. and stomped onvelt)pe-G,eo. Wall, 6, Wliarfdale-tuad, Kioes CUM, Iondan. Mention paper. NOW EADT. I NERVOUSrSS: BY DR. A. T. SCHOFIELO. .111 crowu Sro, If- net. The Wealminnter Gazette says: A singularly wise and able book." Write tmr Sp'lng Catalogue of New Tbomjeht PiycWe mmtJ Occult tl'ubilcatioas, ao4 Rider's Mind and Body Handbooks. W. RIDER & SON. Ltd.. If.-A. Abiersgnte Stceet, London. K.C. sAT,K Good POULTRY FA IIN, STOCK, APPLIANCES. £200. 41, acres. Good residence, emluaed grounds. Splendidly situated. Rent £8&. H Kemerieiih Rectory, n.oashil"P. SMKlJLEY'rt Amazing* Cnre for XndigastiM, Dyspepsia Rheumatism. Trial treatment, send 2 for HJ8 lljunag* Otiltit, comprising 2 large bottles of Foibrimation, special Mtuiaage Appliance, and valuable Diet and Message Pan&- phlets.-17, Barry-road, Loudon. S.E. Curs rAL PA1.A.0R fiKeaat —r'syioirGuest*received ia iMtUtfc U«o«l table, SS/- weekly.—Bce'estun. Barry-road, Dalvick. PURE SUSSEX GROUND OATS, 8/f per cvi. SUSSEX FATTENING MEAL, II. per en DRY peED, !• per cwl. Cash with ordm COPPARD SOK. ftem Milla, MAYFDELD. StTBSML "I SHIN*- WATER'PROOF Boot Polish. Grand Flrix G<>:>! Snpi'liert to RoyaltPalace.Belgium. Twti, on N .i-'c, f»rowi,X po.itjja.id, Tj.d—Geo. Brand Sc Co., A S* r<le' n. X. H. | WE 0 D DR. JC)B TO.iSUfD' Pi l) 'are a British Ketnedv of I.) vr*rV s/anding. ? GIVE1 They absolutely ew- '"<' mtsn and Liver Comp alnts If y t "lIffT" i OU send uk -ix rtittnjw, wiieu we *i'l for- ward Fuil Sized l/li Box fur trial 72 per return post. 'V" '*#• g- ;0eSS^5!0o> CLOTH (Ladiee).—Xavy Flue Serre Coitanu Length* -pecial value, 21/6. -n, Briar-road. Sheffield. DISTRICT Maaacrer,«<><>40rg»uiser >n i atsff Trafner,W*n for »r- 8»l*r? £ J we»k f M'i«l furii >sli cash security £ rO. required *<• «hnw snccen'ftil bnsineas t Dept., oW. Beunelf* bill. mr.t. Wro!.E'TEAli;4fl AID of ovary description purchased (orenh.— H. B. Ba&makp A lieai, 144, Lambeth Walk, London. mOBACOOS! CIGAlUII CIGARETTES I A I* k»<iws Bni.ad »f Maaslacsiuvri' «ws List Priest*. B»4)«as .variety of Tefcaaeeniat* Kmc? OooOs mM Sbaa Cffia.sL 'ift,gi £ 'irsg-«ssss«! £ 2i aMd c.r J.rie8 L'" to say ell for ea." fcwmwt Own, Ln" Canyon Bom*. Birmingham. THE ONLY FORM OF ADVERTISING THAT DOE3 NOT COST YOU AHYTHIHC. ADVERTISING TAPE replaces string1 and advertises ym» business. Including Printing, it is not more expensive than striny; it is much neater, and the Invaliinb!- sdvertise- flaent is practically FBEE. "We trill send < on f^OOO Yards, printed wish any advertisement, tor 21-. Pattern-card and Price Lig: post free on mentioning paper. FLATAU a CO., 28, Falcon Square. LONDON. E C.

[ALI. RIGHTS RJ:SUV.D.] SIT A Matter of Money BY WARWICK DEEPING. It was raining the hezYj, wiacUdriren rain a March day, and from the white cottage I>D the high road above Sweynsford village two men, with sacks over their shoulders, were carrying furniture down the box-edged path to a cart outside the gate. A small crowd of children watched the process with solemn curiositv. oblivious to the slopping rain, the puddL, and the mud. The two men mged an øak cheat over the tail board of the cart, and looked at each other as though not sorry that the work was at an end. "That's the lot, Frank, ain't it?" "I reckon so. Git back, will yer," and he swung himself up to the front of the cart. Within the cottage a tall girl of twenty was walking to and fro over the brick floor of the kitchen. She looked straight and clean, fresh in the face, angry and resentful about the eyes. The little place had been almost stripped of its belongings. Only a table, two chairs, a few pots and pans, cheap ornaments and crockery, remained. Before the open grate an old woman rocked to and fro on a three-legged stool, her hands to her head, a darned shawl over her 6houlder8. She made a dismal whimpering as she swayed to and fro, ttM stoop of her back rounded with hopeless humiliation. "Oh dear, oh dear, what will the folks say of us. Have they gone, Crissy, are they go- ing t' leave us the chairs?" "They've gone, iviotlier," "Oh dear, oh dear, they've taken the juangle, too. Dear Lord, what are we to live by? It be terrible. Mr. Smith might have given me a chance." "He's'a brute, mother." ain't Christian of him,, and he a deacon, "We'll come through, mother, donjt you doubt it." -The Lord help us! If only Tom Hatherly were here." Tom?" "Yes, my dear. He wouldn't have stood by and seen us beggared. But there, there, he be a big man now, I guess. He's forgot us. This there war be a terrible affliction." "He spoke of his regiment coming home," ohesaid. "Three months ago, my dear, and not an- other letter to ye. t, The lad's plenty of girls to pick from, and him a soldier. Oh dear, oh dear, life be hard when the money's tight." "Don't you fret. mother. I haven't the heart to think that the old home's going from you. We're not done with yet." Night came, and with it a few handfuls of eticks thrown on the fire under the great chimney. The cheap cotton curtains were drawn across the casement, the paraffin lamp lit, but no cloth spread on the kitchen table. "Come, mother, supper's ready." The invitation was more liberal than the food upon the table. Two cold potatoes, a giece of cheese, soiaer cocoa, and a hunch of read. "Oh dear, child, I can't touch the stuff." Criss coaxed her, the firelight making her face look warm and tender. "Come, now, come, just to please a girl." II I ain't no heart for it, child." "A cup of cocoa and some bread and I cheese. You won't sleep, mother; just eat a bit for my sake." Criss was clearing the labia when they heard the garden gate open, and footsteps came slowly up the path. Someone knocked at the cottage door. Mother and daughter looked at each other dmibtingiy- They had suffered so much in a single day that they shivered at thy thought of further torture. "Who's there?" A man's voice answered them. "Only Mr. Willing." "Good evening, ladies," and the baker crossed the threshold. He was a dapper man with an acute, thin face, genteel in manners, and thirty as to age. Criss Flemniing had never flattered Mr. Willing with encourage- ment, even though he had long honoured her with his most prosperous attentions. Mrs. Flemming held up her hands. "Dear Lord, sir, you've caught us in a shameful pickle. Only a wooden chair for a friend! Who would have dreamt it!" The baker stared round him with an air of dramatic surprise. Two chairs and a table I tnade no great show in the cottage kitchen. "Why, what's this; refurnishing, eh?" He looked at Criss and saw her bite her lip. The old lady took up flic lament. Oh. dear Lord, Mr. Willing, Mr. Smith has dropped on us, and taken all my choice jstuff. The oak chest, and the clock, and the old Sheraty desk my husband had. All gone for a matter of a few blessed pounds." "What! Don't tell me, ma'am, that Mr. Smith has sent the bailiffs in?" "It's true," and the girl reddened at the eh a me of it. "You do astonish me. A prosperous man like Mr. Smith And a deacon, too. Are you sure, Criss, there's no mistake?" "Does it look like a mistake," and she seemed ready to weep. "What does Mr. Smith claim against you?" "A matter of fifteen pounds." "Fifteen poumJ:,¡; and the bahpr rubbed his hands and frowned. • "Yes, we've had a lot of stuff from kim, and what with bad luck. and me being ill, and Miss Tinsley dying, who gave us all her needlework and washing, we've been getting low." Mr. Willing rose suddenly, and stood look- ing sheepishly at the two women. "Something must be done," he observed, with a side glance at the daughter. The widow clutched at the vague sugges- tion, feeling disturbed all to the reason of Mr. Willing's departure. "I'm sure, sir, we're in terrible trouble. We've been respeciabic; folk, and its hard to |>e sold up." "Indeed, ma'am, you have my sympathy." "There's my girl there, it ain't pleasant for p her to have all the neighbours peering and slibberiiig." D "Criss and I might have a talk." and he made a genteel gesture with his hat towards the door, "it's a fiue níght-now." Mrs. Flemming beheld new possibilities. "Have a talk with Criss, Mr. Willing," she said, "young heads are better than old 'uns, I suppose." Mr. Willing removed the meeting to the garden gate, looking sleek and complacent, like a man who warms to generous impulses. The girl stood beside him, gazing out in si- lence over the sombre and wiud-swept woods, her instinct warning her what might be com- ing. The baker glanced tip senfimentally at tin ttara. I'm" very sorry, Criss," he said- She sighed and did not answer Mas hY()U know, I'm a friend. I can't see you suffering this way; it goes to a man's heart." His eyes insinuated many truths, and he toed to take her hand. "Haven't you a kind word for me, Criss?" lr"I don't know," and she stiffened against line attack. I'm not a bad sort of man, eh, and I havea't looked at another girl since you came nineteen. Supposing I take this business on my shoulders, and see your mother comfort- able for life?" He stooped towards her, his hand touching her arm. "Just think," he said, "whether there is a man that can do better by you than Ernes'. Willing." You mean you are wanting to marry me," the said with a kind of sullen self-restraint. "I do, I love you, Criss." "Weny" ru make you happy, and your mother •han't want in her old age. That's fair and 8traigbt in English, eh?" "ICs fair enough," she confessed. "Will you have me, Criss?" "I'll ihiak on it." "Bat you kaow!" "I'll think on it. Give me a night or two. I've had so much on me to-day," and she turned and left him standing at the gate. Now Mr. Ernest Willing was a very cocky little person, and the village folk inferred from the supreme sprightliness of his bearing that Mr. Willing's fortunes were in flower. An that week he threw out jaunty and com- placent hints, remarking that someone would be wearing a ring before long, and that he contemplated buying a pony and trap to suit a lady. The finger of gossip was pointed at Mrs. "Flemming's cottage. Somehow, Mr. Willing's generosity had been noised abroad, and vastly exaggerated. He had bought Mrs. Flemming's cottage, so folks said, and had settled it on her for life. As for the baker, lIe knew that he was sullenly envied by half the yauag fellows in the village. Not a come- Ji, face could be shown in the village than Cris* Ifleuuauig'a, and she was tall ",ai-.d straight as a well-grown cypress. They were restless and unhappy days for the girl herself. Her mother had set her heart on the scheme, and was for ever hymn- ing in Mr. Willing's praise. What a bend he had for business, what affable manners, what a kind and sympathetic way with him. Lucky would the girl be who won such a steady and prosperous husband, a young man whose ability had set him above the rough and tumble farming fellows who thought of nothing but their cabbage gardens and a gossip in the local pub. Criss Flemmiug waa thinking all the while of Corporal Hatherly, sturdy Tom of her girl's pride, who had thrashed one of the blacksmith's men in the meadow behind the forge because the fellow had spoken slightingly of her. The thought of marrying Ernest Willing frightened her, even though she recognised the man's good points. The alliance would insure her mother against sordid care, and no doubt the vil- lage women would envy her the match. Mr. Willing stood at the garden gate one evening with his arm about Criss Flemming's waist. "I'm a lucky man," he said complacently, as though it was generous of him to blink his own superior merits. The girl hated herself for her sense of hypocrisy, but she had felt lonely and miser- able, the victim of her mother's poverty. "You have been very kind," she confessed. "And what about the day, eh?" "What day?" Mr. Willing sniggered, oblivious to the fact that the girl revolted from him. "The day for the bell ringing. You must fix it up, you know; part of a lady's busi- ness." "Next August." "August! 10 Can't be done. Say June, my dear." "Well, let it be June," and she tried, for her mother's sake, not to betray her bitter- ness to him. Criss Flemming's wedding dress was in the widow's hands, but the girl had no joy of the white silk and the lace. Mr. Willing had given her the money for the dress, and pug^ haps she hated it the more for that. Tlielpr was mild enthusiasm among the neighbours, j The women congratulated her, their bless- ings spiced with a dash of envy. Mr. Willing | beamed behind his counter. Business was prosperous, and he felt the one man of the I moment. Criss looked handsome in her new summer clothes. The baker had been gener- ous, though it was mainly a matter of vanity with him to let people see that lie was to marry a pretty wife. It struck him at times that the girl seemed sullen and a little sad, but Mr. W tiling's conceit disposed of the ob- jection." Many women were moody and silent before marriage. No doubt Criss was taking her responsibility to heart, the responsibility of iiiikixtg-hint-liappy. June came with the grass deep in the mea- dows, and wild roses in the hedgerows. It wa« one Tuesday evening when a sturdy, brown-faced man in khaki climbed out of the train at Aylsham Junction, and taking his kit bag rnidar his arm, marched off briskly through the town. To Corporal Hatherly the green fields and hedgerows were sweet with the sweetness of an English June. His brown face beamed as he swung along the road, with the twilight deepening as the scarlet of the sunset tarned to gold. Nearing Sweynsford village, straggling up the valley amid its woods, he took the path across thp. fields, climbing many a stile where be and Criss Flemming had loitered as bey and girl. There was something sacred to this strong, war-tanned man in the peace of the place, and in the memories that met him at every meadow. He was wondering whether the girl had changed much in two years, whether she would be coy with him, half like a stranger. Corporal Hatherly met no one on the meadow path that evening. He reached Sweynsford high road without seeing the face of a friend. There, nearly opposite the stile and backed by a larch wood, stood the Flemmings' cot- tage, its white walls turned towards the sun- sst. The roses were in bloom over the wooden porch, the sweet peas aflutter in the little garden. Tom Hatherly saw that a light was burning in the kitchen. He opened the gate noiselessly, stole up the path, and looked in through the leaded. casement. By the table sat Criss Flemming's mother with a mass of white gauzy stuff across her knees. She was sewing busily, with her head bdwed down, though Corporal Hatherly did aot realise the meaning of her work. He knocked, lifted the latch, and stepped j into the kitchen, to see the widow's irtee turned sharply towards him. "I've come back again." Mn. Flemming gave a queer cry, dropped her work, and stared at the figure in khaki by the door. OM-WIIYI Tom!" He put his hit bag down, crossed the roMS, and b.ni as though to kiss her. 1. It"s ,W\l to be back in the old place, WOlhssr/ Mrs. Flemming hi hiked at him, and held up a han "Tout Hatlic-rlv "There. 1 came hi too sudden, eh? How's Criss?" and he looked round the familiar room, and smiled. The widow woirum strove to recover her composure. She picked up her work, but her hands trembled. "Criss be very well, Tom." Her tone startled him. "I'm glad. Is she in?" "No, she be out at Aylsham, shopping.' The soldier's eyes had fixed themsulve8 curiously 011 the white dress across the old lady's knee. He had a shrinking suspicion that he was not welcome, and that Mrs Flemming had not told him all the news. "That's a fine gown you're making." "Yes, it be for Criss." Criss "Yes, her wedding dress." Tom Hatherly stood to attention with a sharp stiifening of the back and neck. "Criss's wedding dross?" to be sure. "And who's the girl to marry?" "Why, Ernest Willing, Tom, of course. But there, you ain't heard nothing of it. You foreign folk are late with the news." Tom Hatherly looked at the white silk, his face almost the colour of -Criss's dress. Mrs. Flemming's needle worked with irritable briskness. She was inclined to quarrel with the corporal's return. "I reckon, then," and he gulped down his humiliation, "I reckon I'm not wanted much in your kitchen, Mrs. Flemming." "Why, Tom, what's amiss with it?" He turned aside, opening and shutting his brown hands, and staring at the kit bag he had left by tIt" cottage door. "Is the girl happy?" Mrs. Flemming's face simulated surprise. "Ernest Willing will make her a good hus- band. He's a clever fellow, and has a tidy bit i of money." The soldier muttered something, and j turned to the door. "Out of sight, out of mind," ha said I bitterly, "I'll go up to Peter Mason's to get I a bed. Tell Criss I hope she'll be happy." Mrs. Flemming gave a relieved look at his broad shoulders as they vanished through I door. j "She'll be pleased to see you, Tom, some day soon," she called after him, "we're that busy we don't know which way to turn." Corporal Hatherly went out to the darken- ing road like a man whose outlook upon life has been changed in the course of an hour. There was 110 little bitterness in the blow to him, a young fellow who had fought back many a temptation for the thought of a girl in an English village. He supposed that it had been a mere April fancy with Criss Flem- ming. She was young, and he could not blame her. But he hated the smug and genteel Mr. Willing from the very bottom of his sturdy heart. The soldier stopped at the stile where the path opened across the fields. He dropped his bag in the grass, climbed up, and perched himself on the top rail like a man who was tired. Two young labourers went by in the dusk, and gave him good-night, without re- cognising him as a friend. Corporal Hatherly felt that the times had changed. A sense of isolation, of loneliness, made him wish that lie had not come. Sitting with his head between his handi, he heard a footstep on the path behind him, and drew aside to let a woman pass. Her foot was on the step before he recognised her. It was Criss Flemming, Mr. Willing's prospective wife. Criss She gave a sharp, startled cry, and stood looking at him over the stile. Corporal Hatherly's knees shook under him. He had not been prepared for so abrupt a meeting. "Tom, is it you?" "Me, sure enough." "Have you seen mother?" "Yes," and be hung his he«d. "She's told you?" "I saw the dress." Criss Flemming looked at the man, and saw the dejected drooping of his shoulders. Her own heart was hurrying as though she had been frightened by a begging tramp in the dusk. All the old memories were awake within her. "Tom, what are you thinking of me*" "I'm hoping you may be happy, Criss." "Oh—'Tom, I couldn't help m^gelf. Mother was being sold up, and Ernest, well—he paid I the money." Corporal Hatherly's figure straightened. "What's that? Sold up!" "Yes, by old Smith; we owed the hard man money, and he took our stuff. Ernest was I kind to us—and I thought—— She broke down of a sudden, and began to sob. Tom Hatherly was over the stile like ¡ young colt. He put his arm round her, and she did not hinder him. I "there, Criss-girl, don't you take on. You should have written—I had the money on me, I and I'd have done as well by you as Willing. And you're to marry him. I reckon I can t count." "You did not write to me, Tom." "I was ill," he answered. "Oh!"—and her bitterness increased, "if I had known. Why——" She hesitated, for his arm had tightened about her, and he was listening, his face pale and determined in the dusk of the night. "Someone's coming." "Where?" "Over the 6elds. Stand back here. They'H go by in the dark." Beside the stile stood a thick henlge that closed the garden of a deserted cottage. There was a gap where the gate had been. Tom Hatherly drew the girl through the gap, darted for his bag, and returned to cover. Two men were coming along the path, their voices audible to the pair hiding in the gar- den. Criss stiffened and held Tom Hatherly's hand. She recognised Mr. Willing's compla- cent tenor. "H»—ha—ha." it was an old man's laugh, harsh and half suppressed. "What they call 'diplomacy,' Mr. Smith, Ohl" "A good joke, sir; faint heart never won fair lady. Fifteen pounds for a wife." "Well, it was a bargain, Willing, and ona of the funniest bargains a man ever asked to make. I seized the old lady's furniture all right, eh, and then you stepped in lik« a hero, saved the home, and had the young damsel falling on your breast. I've often bad a chuckle over the trick. I suppose I may at- tend at the wedding?" "We're sending you a card, sir," and Wth men tittered. Behind the hedge Tom Hatherly w a* hold uig Criss Flemming's hand. They stood very close to each other in the dark. The soldier felt the girl's fingers contract on his, heard her hold her breath as Mr. Willing followed the deacon over the stile. "Did you hear that, Tom?" "I did," quoth the soldier grimly. "Look; he's going to the cottage, the little fox!" i "Wait a while, Criss," and his arri w,,iit round her with a more vigorous suggestion t'lt possession. They saw Mr. Willing's figure outlined against the window, and heard*" aim call to Mrs. Flemming in the kitchen. Doubtless tha old lady told him that he might meet her daughter in the meadows, for the baker turned and came back towards the stile. Deacon Smith had gone down the hill to- wards the village. The diplomat was alone under the wink of the all-wise stars. "Bide here, Criss," and Corporal Hatherly Dressed her arm. "What are you going to do. Tom?" "Just talk a little," and he smiled, and caught the approval on her face. Mr. Willing was over the stile when he drew up with a jerk, to find a man cloaiu» the path across the fields. "Good evening, sir, I hope you're we!! 1" The baker's lip dropped; the nature of tha interference scared him. "What d'you want?" he asked. "Who is it?" "You call to mind Tom Hatherly." "Hatherly! Wlio-i4 he" The corporal's brown face beamed with exultant grimness. "Don't you try bluff, Mr. Ernest Will- ing," he said. "you know me, sir, and I know you. VVhat about Deacon Smith taking Mrs. Flemming's furniture?" The baker bristled, and made as though to pass. I "You mind your own business," he began. "I'll mind it, and yours. Who tried to buy a wife for fifteen pounds?" "Confound you. what d'you mean!" The stAdier laughed. "Mr. hinith was an obliging friend," he "Mr. hinith was an obliging friend," he said sarcastically, "he forced the game for you by taking Mrs. Flemming's stuff." "You lie." "Lie, do I! I reckon I don't." Mr. Willing gave a scared glance at the militant figure, and made a step towards the stile. The corporal's arms swung up from his square shoulders. "Will you take it staudingr" "Keep off, you blackguard." "Come, up with them." "Touch me, and I'll have the law of von," came the indignant squeal. A pair of brown nsirt came thudding about Mr. Willing's head. He ducked, dodged, beat the air, aud went down panting and whimper- ing on the grass. Corporal Hatherly stood over him. seeing that the diplomat would not fight. "Don't hurt the poor thing, Tom." Mr. Willing sat up with sudden adroitness, to find Criss Flemming at the soldier's side. "Don't hurt the coward." "Coward!" and the baker scrambled to hia feet. A curious laugh came from the lips of his contemptuous bride. "Ro you paid fifteen pounds for me, Ernest Willing," she said. "Its a liø, an internal lie." "Now that's good, Tom, ain't it? Didn't we hear it from Mr. Smith's own lips." The diplomat glanced from one to the other, and made a brave effort to enlarge his shrunken pride. I'll not argue the question," he crid, dab- bing a bleeding nose. The scornful ones laughed. "I reckon I owe you fifteen pounds, sir," said Corporal Hatherly, striking his pocket. But Mr. Ernest Willing had disappeared over the stile.

FOUR OR SIX PRONG trAY Forties, WITH OAItRIKHS FUll snar. ftOPti A WOOD TRACKS. SUPPLIED CO.NIPLISTE. Fl,,Kl) & LlTTKii CAR- 11!KKS. HAHN nOOK HANtiKllS HOPE PULLEYS. LOUDEN RAPID MACHINERY COMPANY, Igo, Cannon Street, London. Price* on appiiaUion.

DEMANDED BY FASHION. The remarkable extravagance of many society ladies in the matter of dress has created a completely new calling, in which many women are making large profits in Lon- don to-day. The dress agent, as she calls herself, spends a great deal of her time in steamers and railway trains. In order to justify her calling, and make it a success, she has to »et to work to solve the diiffcult ques- Lion women of moderate means, in despair, hare asked time and again: How am I to dr *ss well. and as the other women of my set dress, without straining my husband's re- sources, or running into debt by pledging his credit for what I can never pay? It is in order to bu-f dresses, coats, milli- nery, lingerie, and furs that madame the dress agent hurries to the European haunts of fashion and back again to London in such haste, and it is her spoil that she sells, very cheaply, and yet with a lruidsome profit. to her ag"r customers. She haunts the business rooms of foreign dressmakers, from whom she purchases misfits and model robeli for which they have no further use. They have copied the model robes, for which they paid, in the first instance, in all likelihood hun- dreds of pounds, over and over again, and their vogue is over. But though no longer oatisfying to the ultra-fashionable in Paris and Vienna, the dresses will be quite suffi- ciently up to date for the wife of the slender- pursed professional man in Ijondon, or the actress who is working her way up the ladder of fame, and is not provided with frocks by the management.

It is a great temptation when one enters the house tired to take off one's veil and fling it aside into a crowded drawer, letting it lie there, rumpled and shapeless, until next called into nge. Nothing is 80 easily spoiled, 110 easily made shabby, an the dainty bit of gauze now universally worn. To preserve it properly it should be carefully stretched on the width and folded, preferably over a bit of cardboard or other stiff material.