The Merthyr Express

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POETS CORNER. A DREAM. When twilight pales in ashen grey, And I am for my lonesome bed; And up aloft I mako my way, The stairs a'creaking to my tread; jciehold i a. shadow t, before in traUSa^, anoiv-wbite garments dress'd, The very robe my darling wore; And holds a baby to Her breast. Cl^e-held, it feels her bosom's stir; Its head is nestling on her heart; Her ch I and mine, that died with her, And never breathed from her apart. Mother aid child, how fair they seem! Yet year- agone in heaven they be: And thiz is but a passing dream; But, oh! 'tis heaven itself to me! i.-E. J. FRANCIS DAVTES ("Egerton Grey") in the "People's Friend. Abercanaid. >

JOY REPULSED. I heard Joy's voice all glad without That called my name in vain, And knocking bade me open wide My door to her again. I sat within my cheerless room And nursed my grief alone; Nor heeded then the voice or knock. But made my foolish moan. Through nights and days I sat within With sorrows self acquaint, Less loudly echoed Joy's glad voice, The knocking grew more faint. At last I dropped my garb of woe And opened wide the door, But Joy had fled far, far away, Nor came near evermore.

PUBLISHED BY SPECIAL ARRANGEMENT. The Road to Love BY MADAME ALBANESI, Author of "Capricious Caroline," "The Strongest of All Things," "Susannah and One Other," "Love and Louisa," "The Way to Win," etc., etc. COPYRIGHT. SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS. CHAPTERS I. & II Richard Varley hears of the accident which has befallen Sir Patrick Wil- ner on the hunting field. The landlady at the Inn where he is staying informs him that, Sir Pat- tick is dead. After dinner Richard Varley walks over to Corbyn Court lie leaves his card, and Bends a message of sympathy to Sir Patrick's only .child. Ellen NiiLjier. Iltlioiigii he is due back in London on the following day, he is almost mind- led to stay and offer his services to Ellen Milner !& wire from Norchester, saying he is leaving Eng- land immediately and must see him before he de- parts, causes him to change his mind. He goes to London next day. Sir Patrick made a foolish mar- iage, but Ellen's mother died when she was two years old. Since that time she had grown up in her lather's society. She knew no relatives, and had 810 women fr nds. She had heard of her mother's sister Mrs. Larneith, and her son and two daugh- ters. Her aunt Margaret makes her an offer to come and live with her and share household ex- ?lenses. Ellen has a little over a hundred a year, hrotigh a life assurance, and her lawyers advise her to fall in with Mrs. Barneith's proposition. She does Bo, and spends the dreary winter months in exile in a sordid little home, amidst most uncongenial sur- roundings, in a north country town. She finds the atmosphere of her aunt and cousins narrow and constricting, and in the early spring months decides to make her escape. At a junction railway station she sees a young man. whose breezy, well-bred man- ner attracts her very much. Tue stationmaster calls him "your lordship." This young man finds her a third-class railway compartment. She little knows that she and he will meet under more intimate cir- cumstances. CHAPTERS III. and IV.-Ellen goes to London, and visits the Chadwicks. Mrs. Chadwick was formerly a maid at Corbyn Court. They make her welcome, and here she accidentally meets Ricliard Varley again. He discusses her future with the Chadwicks. He meets Lord Norchester In a smart club, who confides his domestic dim- culties to him. Richard Varley promises to look after Lady Norchester while her husband is away. Bhe has expressed her wish for n. lady companion, and Varley at once thinks of Ellen Milner. CHAPTERS V. & VI.-Ellen Milner suffers from depression. Mr. Varley arranges with Mrs. Chad- wick to have an interview with Ellen. She accepts the post of being companion to a beautiful woman .who lives in the country with gratitude. Nor- chester and Varley have a farewell meeting. It seems that Mrs. Chadwick has a relative living at Wynche Castle as under-housemaid. named Elisa, Bond. A note arrives for Ellen from Mr. Varley, and she accordingly sets out for Wynche. Mr. iVarley meets her at the station in a pony phaeton. CEtlen takes the reins, and they drive. When close to the castle they walk the rest of the way and converse. At the castle a footman conducts Miss ,Milner to Lady Norchestcr's presence. She is in a towering rage, and her maid is picking up the things she throws down. CHAPTERS VII. & VIII.-Lady Norchester gives Ellen Milner a rough welcome, and orders her maid out of the room. She converses very candidly with tier new companion. Mr. Varley comes. and asks for some tea. Lady Norchester promises to be pre- sent, and Ellen accompanies Varley to a room where the tea is served. Lady Norchester joins them. (When the times conies for Mr. Varley to depart he receives an invitation to come again soon. He asks 'Ellen to write to him. Arrived in town, Mr Varley finds a little note from Lady Evelyn Wynche awaits ing him. He dines with the Dowager Lady Nor- chester and her daughter that night. Lady Evelyn's life is very lonely, and she finds herself looking for. ward to and enjoying Richard Varley's visits. CHAPTER IX. Ellen never forgot tha experience of her first evening spent at Wynche Castle. For a little while she and Lady Norchester had remained together. Ellen had found herself plied with questions. She had been compelled to give a full and graphic account of her life with her father, even to the telling of the story of his death and all that had happened to her since. Lady Norchester's curiosity seemed insatiable. She had a way of sitting in a chair in a heap ow-hich would have been ungraceful in anybody else, but which was so natural and unstudied, that it was not ugly. All the time she ques- tioned she had her eyes lixed on Ellen. As the girl's eyes filled with tears, and her voice trembled (for to speak of her father was still a difficult task to Ellen), Lady Norchester looked at her in the same studied way. "It's queer," she said once, "how uneven thing3 are in life! You had a father that you could be proud of, some one that you loved and that everybody else loved, yet he was killed. 'And there's my father! Nothing kills him, though goodness knows there is no reason why lie shouldn't have been knocked down and run ewer many a time. It is hard lines, i8n't it," she queried, "hard lines to have a father like that iiving almost at your gates; and he won't go away," she added, and she swore at her father. "Oh! you mustn't mind strong words," the said, as she saw that Ellen coloured sharp- ly. "If we're going to live together you've got to get used to my ways. Besides, you won't tell me that you've never heard anybody swear." She did not wait for Ellen to say any- thing, but talked on. "Yes, it is a crying shame that my father won't go away I know for. a fact that Harry gives him no end of money- but there he sticks, going about the village talking about his daughter, and getting drunk from the first thing in the morning till the last thing at night. Sometimes I've half a mind to get in the car and run him down I'd do it, too, but he knows it. and keeps out of my way if he sees me coming I'd like to poison him, I'd like to kill him, he always was a shame and a I bi;k disgrace to me. He sent my mother to her grave long before she need have died. Why should people want to know me when I're got juch a lather?" Ellen tried to speak gravely. "Dear Lady Norchester," she said. "You are you. I don't think it matters what your father is. Each person has to live his or her own lifo., to make it good or bad." "I see," said Lady Norchester, with her ready Eneer, "Dick's been getting at you; that's the sort of stuff he always talks to me, about tiding -000 and noble things—as if one had a choice! What can I do? If I wanted to do Boole things there isn't a soul round here woujd let me do them. Oh! you don't know fci-M I've gone through since I married flirty RlUn got up; there was such pathos in that lui s?iitenoe that she trembled a little. 'I Am no longing to see over this house," |L« Mid, "but I hate to be a bother." :B_. Lady Norchester had drifted back into ber suJeu mood. "Dick Varley's the one to take you round, Iot rrA I don't know anything about it; I r.n't circ, what's more. As Dick isn't here »o<vll have to find out things for yourself. Per- haps you'd like to go and do it now. I've got tn appointment." Feeling herself dismissed Ellen went out into he gre3.t hall. There was no one to guide her, but she made her way up the broad stairs, and tt the top she came upon a housemaid There rvis such pleasure and such eagerness in the look of t'ois girl that Ellen immediately judged f' «r to be the housemaid about whom Mrs. 'h?--)wick had spoken. Miss Milner addressed her by name. "You -n-ot be Eliza Bond, are you not?" Tl-3 girl coloured with pleasure. *s, miss, if you please, miss. I've been '~i'i to ahow you to your room. Mrs. New- "1, tint's the housekeeper, miss, has said as j 1 ooujd vv&it on you. I thought you'd likp your • things unpacked, miss. Will you come this way, miss?" Ellen was conscious of quite a. distinct feel- ing of comfort M she followed the housemaid's trim figure up a further flight of stairs. "Mr. Varley, he said, as you was to have a nice sunny look-out, miss," said Eliza, as she threw open a door. "and --tease miss. will you always ring that bell when you want any- thing?" Ellen was delighted, but at the same time a little surprised to find herself so luxuriously quartered. The rooms chosen for her were very large and lofty, with a most magnificent ■ from the windows. The bedroom was i 'i*,i>.ity with chintz; it was an ideal apart- inent. "There was the rooms that her ladyship, Lady Evelyn, used to have," Eliza explained. "See, miss, this is her ladyship's picture, she's sweetly pretty, isn't she? And there's lots of er things left, miss, her books and her piano, She used to have a lot of birds up here, but they've been took away. I came to Wynohe, miss, just before Lady Evelyn went. Now, won't you t sit down, miss, by the window, and rest whilst I j t your things away? You're looking a bit tired. It was like drifting back to the old atmos- phere to find herself being waited upon, to feel the atmosphere of refinement surrounding her. Though Corbyn Court had grown very shabby towards the last years of her father's life, it had been a beautiful bouse, and Ellen's own rooms had been spacious and prettily de- corated. She felt as she sat in the chair now looking out over the magnificent stretch of landscape, as if those months of real suffering with her aunt must have existed only in her imagination. But thought of herself did not linger long with Ellen, there was so much else to occupy her mind. She felt both drawn to and repulsed by Lady Norcheeter. The almost brutal frankness with which her position had been discussed by herself, the misery in her voice, the impotent passion which evidently oonsumed her. made Lord Norchester's wife an object of the deepest interest and pity to the girl who had come to live with her. Ellen yearned to be of some use. For Lady Nor- chester's sake apart from any other considera- tion, she craved to bring some eolace into what she felt was a most wretched life; yet she saw insuperable difficulties in the way. After a while she felt impelled to put a question or two to the maid who was flitting to and fro. She called Eliza to her. "Is there anybody else staying here?" she asked. The housemaid shook her head. "No one never stays here except Mr. Var- ley; her ladyship don't care about having people." "What time is dinner!" Eliza confessed that she did not know. "Be- cause," she explained, "her ladyship never has dinner downstairs. She always has her food in her own room. Perhaps she'll make it dif- ferent now you've come, miss." "Then Lord Norchester dines alone 1" Ellen inquired. The maid nodded her head. "He do, miss, when he's here: but he ain't here now. He's gone abroad. We don't none of us know where he's gone or how long he'll be away, but he's took his travelling car, and I did hear he'd gone for a long time." Before Ellen could make any comment, Eli^a chattered on: "Perhaps you don't know his lordship, miss. Oh he's such a fine young gentleman; there's no one as handsome as his lordship. That I'm sure. Why," she glanced about her, and then she made a swift movement to the wa.ll on which hung a framed photograph, "This is his lordship, miss. It was took a few years ago, before he was married. Lady Eve- lyn had just dozens of his lordship's pictures in this here room. I suppose she must nave over- looked that one, and nothing has never been touched since she went away. You see her ladyship, the countess, she was for ever think- ing as Lady Evelyn would be comincr back here to stay, and she wanted her to have the same roombut Lady Evelyn, she's never been back." Ellen was looking at the photograph she held in her hand whilst the maid had been speaking. She had quickly realised that the young man of whom she had thought so much, and Lady Norchester's husband were one and the same person. Her interest deepened instantly. The full tragic significance of such a marriage was quickly conveyed to her. Ellen was not very old, nor had she been brought in contact until these last few months with any of the darker sides of life; but it needed no worldly know- ledge to explain to her the misery which lay behind the sullenness and passion in Lady Nor- ohester's face, and to grasp the cause which Richard Varley had at heart. That desire to be of some real benefit took a firmer grip on Ellen in this moment. She got up and replaced the portrait on the wall. She asked no more questions. When the housemaid had gone away she sat for a tong time pondering on the altered conditions of hor life and on the position of things generally. She was etill sit- ting there when the spring twilight shut out the day. Before dressing for the evening, Ellen took counsel with herself. She had already been in her own room for about a couple of hours, and felt that it would be wiser if she were to go and see if her services were required in any way. She found her way with very little diffi- cultv to Lady Norchester's room, and knocked gently at the door. A voice called out harshly to her to enter. As she opened the door Ellen paused. Lady Norchester was sitting at a table, on which cards were spread, and a common, ob- jectionable looking woman was sitting at the op- posite side. The maid, who had been so summarily dis- missed a little while before, was standing looking on. Glasses and a spirit decanter with soda water were also on the table. The heart of the girl who looked on sank. "I beg your pardon," she said, "I thought I would come and see if I could do anything for you." Lady Norchester called to her to enter. "Come in, come in," she said, half eagerly. "Perhaps you'll change the luck." Ellen closed the door, and advanced towards the table. "I am afraid I cannot play cards, Lady Nor- chester," she said. "I am so sorry." "We're not playine any game. I'm having my fortune told." She laughed! at this. "I'm a silly idiot, aren't I? As if there was any good fortune over likely to come my way!" The common-looking woman sitting at the table got up and began to gather the cards to- gether. "It isn't any use now, lady," she said, shortly, "the influence is gone." Instantly Lady Norchester flamed into a rage. "Sit down," she commanded. "How dare you get up till I tell you?" But the woman only shook her head. "I must be going, my lady," she eaid obstin- ately. "I've got other engagements. And be- sides, as Pve just said it wouldn't be any use going on now." Lady Norchester flung herself back in her chair. She bad a surly expression like a thwarted child. As the cards were packed to- gether, and as the fortune teller was abou'. to go, she turned on Ellen "Why did you come iust then ?" she asked. "I didn't send for you. Ellen flushed hotly, and then grew pale. "I am sorry," she said, "but as I am here to be with you, I did not think it was right that I should sit in my own room by myself." "I told Dick Varley I want anybody prying round about me! I won't be spied on; you can take that as sure." It was on the tip of Ellen's tongue to say quickly that she would leave Wynche at once, but she restrained herself. Here surely was work for her to do This poor beautiful, mis- taken and wretched creature had too strong a claim upon her, upon*the sympathy and senti- ment of any woman; she must not be deserted. As the maid and the other woman went out of the room and left them together, Ellen stood an instant looking at Lady Norchester. CHAPTER X. It was evident that she was out of favour for the moment, but Ellen would not be repulsed. • "Please don't be cross with me," she said. Of course, if I had known that you did not want me to come just now I should not have come." The other woman sat restlessly moving her foot to and fro for a minute, and then she got up. "Oh! well," she said, her temper evapora- ting in the quick way which was characteristic of her. "perhaps it's just as well after all you did come, for that old hag was getting all she could out of me." Ellen felt that her wisest plan was to fall into the mood of the moment. "I've never had my fortune told," she said. Lady Norchester shrugged her shoulders. "Oh! it is all rot, but it amuses me, and I must do something. I hate sewing; I can't read. The piano's of no use to me. I did enough work when I was a girl to last my time." "Are you fond of music?" asked Ellen. "Would vou like me to play to you?" Lady Norchester shook her head. "No. I like to hear a band, and I like to see people and to feel things are moving about me. When Harrv and me went to Paris it was beautiful. It didn't last. Lord. How we did squabble! I remember we nearly had a fight one day But Harry can rile one so "I must think of something to do that will be really interesting," said Ellen. "Mr. Varley tells me that you used to make such wonderful designs. I think that was awfully clever of you." "It wasn't really clever," said Lady Nor- chester, carelessly. "I got so sick of doing the old patterns in lace over and over again that I had to make something fresh for myself; but that isn't interesting," she added. "You've got to think of something better than that." "I'll put my wito to work," said Ellen, as gayly as she could. Then she said: "I wanted to ask you, do you usually dress for dinner when you are quite alone?" The other woman answered surlily, "I'm al- ways alone, and I never go downstairs. I hate those stuck-up men-servnnts standing round watching every mouthful one eats, and making fun of one." "I think it is rather a pity not to dine down- stairs," Ellen said a little timidly. "I quite understand it is rather lonely when you have no one else, but if I am here that would be different, wouldn't it?" "Oh I don't rare," said Lady Norchester, and she sighed. Then sb.e laughed th&t hard, -I"' bitter laugh of hers. "You'll never stay here," j she said. "You'll never stick it out. It's all very beautiful and old, and lots of people come from ever so far to see over this silly old house. But you'll get to hate it as I do. If all the fools who come here sightseeing could only know how hateful it is, they'd nevar trou- ble to come !r' "There is no reason why it should be hateful or silly. If this were my home I should make it delightful." "Perhaps you would," sa.id Lady Norchester, pointedly "but you and me are different. Uh!" she struck one hand into the palm of the other with a sudden, passionate gesture, "but I wish to God I had never come here! I wish I had never seen Karry or any of the lot of them! They're only waiting for me to die. Do you think I don't know Harry's stuck-up mo- ther and all the rest of them? Why, they'd dance with delight if they could hear I was hor- ribly ill." "I don't know Lord Norchester's mother or sister, or any of his family," said Ellen, in that quiet, gentle way of hers; "but. do you know, I believe that you are quite wrong. It is rather early for me to speak to you on such intimate matters; but, dear Lady Norchester, I do wish I could perusade you to take one very important step, and tlu.t is to uphold your own dignity. Why not always remember that you are the woman whom Lord Norchester chose for his wife. Surely that ought to be matter of some pride with you." Just for an instant Miriam Norchester's face lit up. her eyes glowed, and she looked quite beautiful. Then the light died out. "I was proud once," she said, in a stifled kind of way, "it—it eeemed all so wonderful— so beautiful, but that was when I was a too!, and my eyes were shut. Now they're opened. and I see a lot too plainly. You'd best give me up. she added bitterly. "I'm a bad job. Dick's done everything a man can do to make me better—I suppose because he's failed he's turned you on." Ellen caught her breather rather quickly. "I—I was given to understand by Mr. Var- ley that it was your own wish to have someone with you. someone like me." Lady Norchester moved restlessly about the room. "Oh I take all sorts of ideas into my head," she said. "I think this, aald I think that; sometimes I feel I wiij stand for myself and make them see I can be ae good ac they are, and then that feeling Il" "Oh! don't let i* said Ellen. "Cling aD to it. I will help ytyvi. Suppose we-we start things different at one;. Let us dine downstairs to-night—dine as if we had a party. I have only one evening gown, but then I am in mourning, and anyhow I don't want much dress; but you must have any amount of pretty clothes. Will you let me pick a gown for you to wear to-night? And won't you ring for some one and give the orders about the dinner?" Lady Norchester laughed, this time a more natural laugh. "I'll make Crewe stare her eyes out! Look here, you shall give the orders; they'll send up a footman, you tell him just what you want, and you shall come and see my gowns." It was some time before the bell was answer- ed, and then at last a footman appeared. Ellen noticed that he looked anything but neat. She called him into the room with a note of cold authority in her voice. "Please inform the butler." she said, "that Lady Norchester will dine downstairs with me this evening, that she wishes the tabi" to be prettily decorated, and that she would like to see the 'menu' for the dinner before she gees down. Wait Ellen said, as the man was turning away with a smile on his lips. "Wait, Lady Norchester will not permit you to come into her presence dressed as you are now. In form the butler everything must be in perfect order." Lady Norchester had passed into her room, but on hearing Ellen speak she had come for- ward, and was standing, listening with an eager expression on her face. "You've got the real trick," she said, as the door closed on the astonished footman. "That's the way to speak to thElm: that is the way they've got to be treated! But you'll see they won't take it from me." "Oh but you must ba mistress in your own house," said Ellen, almost passionately. "You must exaet. the most strict obedience to your will. My father was the kindest man the world has ever known, but he was the strictest mas- ter; if the servants were slack or disrespectful, they were immediately dismissed. At the risk of being a great bore." Ellen said with a faint smile. "I am going to remind you constantly that you are the head of this house in your hus- band's absence. I am goinrr to keep before you all the time the sense of your own import- ance." Lady Norchester looked at her keenly. "Well. I like your spirit. You look so meek and young and gentle, and yet your voice can be as strong and as hard as Harry's mother's can be It'll be fun having you here! Now come and look at my dresses. I shall make Crewe fairly* wild. if I take things out of the wardrobe with- out asking her." Ellen said nothing, but to herself she regis- tered t > resolution either to gat rid of Crewe or purf; the maid into her proper place before many days had gone. Lady Norchester certainly had a vast amount of costly clothes; but her taste evidently ran to splendour. She pulled out one gown after I another from the various hooks, but though Ellen was prodigal of admiration, she shook her head at each. "We Ar^ dining quite alone," she said, "And you want somethin" very quiet—no. not black, have white gown of any kind?" "This was made for me to go to the races when I was in Paris." Lady Norchester held out a white crepe de chine, and as she spoke Ellen approved of it. "I am sure that you look charming in this," she eaid, "and I wish I could do your hair. I know exactly the style that would euit you. You have so much hair; you ought to wear it quite simply done." Lady Norchester caught at the suggestion as a novelty. "You can try and see what you can do," she said, and" she promptly sat down in front of the glass. Ellen was busy brushing the thick masses of dark hair when Crewe arrived I on the scene. The maid's face wore no pleasant expression. Her lips were pinched in, her eyes had an angry look. and as she glanced at the mass of clothes which had slipped on the floor, she frowned. "It was only yesterday I went through your ladyship's wardrobes," she said, "and put every- thing to rights." "Well, you can put them to rights again," said Lady Norchester shortly. "That's what you are here for, isn't it?" Muttering some words under her breath. Crewe began to pick up the gowns. She was about to rehang the white crepe de chine in a wardrobe when Lady Norchester stopped her. "Put that down, I'm going to wear it," she exclaimed. "I am going to wear it, don't you understand, you fool?" She twisted her head about so sharply that Ellen had the greatest difficulty in manipulating the long strands of hair; she stuck to her task bravely, however, and tired as she was with an aching head, she resolved to carry things through to the very end. She felt the neces- sity of striking a decisive blow immediately at the condition of affairs at present existing at Wynche. Her argument (spoken already so frankly) that Lady Norchester must uphold her own dignity, was the most valuable move in the game. The knowledge that this poor woman was an object of scorn and contempt to her hus- band's servants, roused in Ellen an anger which she had hardly realised she was capable of till now. The leason of restraint which she had learnt in her sojourn with her aunt stood her, how- ever, in good stead. She realised the value of silence. She was quite prepared for any amount of antagonism and opposition from these pam- pered and useless servants, but she felt strong enough to tackle them. Perhaps a little later she might discuss with Mr. Varley the desira- bility of carrying Lady Norchester away from these surroundings for a little while, but for the moment Ellen knew that this would not be possible, and that the work which she was so eager to do would have to be carried on at Wynche in the very teeth of all those manifold difficulties which hemmed Lady Norchester about. It was in this hour that Ellen Milner became conscious of the fact that she possessed a fight- ing spirit as well as courage and determination. Brief as was her acquaintance with Lord Nor- chester's wife, she had grasped enough of Mir- iam's characteristics to realise that however ill matched the husband and wife were, there were possibilities in Lady Norchester to make of her a very different woman, and the mere su" estion that she could be of practical and definite help in bringing this about, gave Ellen the first gleam of real happiness she had ex- perienced since her father's death. When she had coiled the luxuriant hair in a big classical knot, she gave Lady Norebester a hand glass to look at herself. "Now, doesn't that way suit you?" Lady Norchester looked at herself for a little while in silence, then she said: "It's queer. Harry always wanted me to do my hair like this, it's bow I used to wear it," she added. "But, 'ook here. I'm not going to let you turn yourself into my maid. I've got one already, though she is bad-tempered, and a. fool into the bargain." Ellen's delicate brows met in a frown. "Oh! I don't intend to rob Crewe of any of her duties," she said, in her pleasant way, "and so I will leave you now. Lady Norchester; but I will come back, and we can go down to- gether. It is such a big staircase and such a splendid old house. I feel a little nervous." "Not you," Miriam answered; "you've got more phick in you than anybody I've ever known.' Back in her own room. Ellen Milner sat a moment or two with her hands pressed to her eyes. She was unutterably weary, and would gladly (had she studier her own wishes), have remained upstairs; but she had to rise a.nd dreads, and she took special care in the way she dressed. Eliza knocked at the door before she was quite ready. "Oh! miss." she exclaimed, "why didn't you ring for me? Isn't there anything I can do?" Ellen shook her head with a little smile, a.nd a moment or two later she parsed out of the room, leaving the housemaid to look after her ) with admiration. She expected to find that Crewe had made some difficulties; but Lady Norch^s+er T^as wearing the white gown when E"en lolir-d her. She look"'] extraorrHnarilp^ handsome; but with faei fluwk BOjjijgd IM 1 the face was flushed, and that the IQng hands were trembling. It gave her a shock to see a tumbler with brandy and soda standing half empty on the mantelpiece. Lady Norchester laughed. "I see," she said, "you don't approve of 'pick-'me-ups.' Well, I don'* know how I should get on if I didn't take something now and again. Crewe was so beastly I got into a rage with ber, and I always feel queer after I get into a rage. I suppose there's something wrong with my heart." "I—I should not imagine there was anything wrong with you in a physical sen-se," said Ellen. "You seem to be very healthy, and you ought to be very strong; but you won't keep well or look nice if you drink brandy so frequently. Besides, it will have spoilt your appetite, and I hope you are going to have a nice dinner." "Oh! you mustn't hope for anything nice; they send me up any sort of food." Her mood changed she slipped her hand through Ellen's arm. "I say," she said, half boyishly, "it will be real fun having you here and seeing you getting even with all that lot downstairs; they are as meek as meek can be when Harry's here or Dick Varley." "If they don't treat you with proper consider- ation and respect," Ellen very quietly, "I should strongly advise you to change your ser- vants." "And I'll do it, too," said Lady Norchester, with emphasis. To give assurance to her words she added an oath. They had left the room and were walking along the corridor to the stairs. Lady Nor- chester pressed a little closer to Ellen. "Look here," she said, "I like you—I do realiy. and I'm glad you've come. You won't get tired of me, will you, and talk of running away ?" Ellen looked at her for an instant, and her eyes shone. "No," ehe answered bravely, "I shan t get tired of you, Lady Norchester; I won't leave you." (To be continued.)

FUN AND FANCY. "Henry, sometimes I'm sorry you are not a sailor." "But sailors are away from home so mueh of the time." "Yes." "My aim is truth—always truth," said a man. "Poseibly," rejoined an acquaintance, "but you were always a bad marksman." Kind Lady: "I hope your sick husband is cheerful, Mrs. Brigs?" Poor Woman: Oh, yes, ma'am. He's one of them optimists." First Shop Girl: "Miss Blank is going ..way." Second Shop Girl: "Is she leaving for good 7" First Shop Girl: "No; for better or worse. The Artiat and His Appetit.c.-Friend: "Gad! Quarter-past six. Must get; when do you dine, old man?" Artist (absently) Every other Friday." Mistress: "Who was that gentleman tbat came in just now?" Servant: It wasn't a gentleman; it was only the master, who came back for his umbrella." The Candid Critic.—Edna: "When I marry it will be a brave hero who fears nothing. May: "Yes, dear I am sure you will never wed any other kind of man." "A Doubt About It."—Mr. Hogan (after hammering on the door for five minutes): "Is it dead or alive ye are ?" Mrs. Hogan (within): "Nayther; I'm shlapin' Old Lady (rather deaf): "Are you any rela- tion to a "Mr. Green?" Green: "I am Mr. Green." Old Lady: "Ah! Then that explains the extraordinary resemblance." Patience: "How do you know Peggie is alone?" Patrice: "Because I hear her sing- ing!" Patience: "But that's no sign." Pa- trice: "Yes it is. If there was anyone with her she'd be talking." The Professor: "Of course, you want your daughter to take private lessons?" Mrs. Nou- rich "Of course, I don't want anything of the kind. I want her to go in a class so she can learn 'classical music." Lecturer: "To-day the men are living faster than the women." Man (in audience): "That's right. Twenty years ago, when I got married, my wife was five years the older; now she's five years the younger." Mrs. B.: "My husband and I get along so nicely. We always asree About everything." Mrs. W.: "Is that so?" Mrs. B.: ex- cept, of course, now and then, when he gets pigheaded or something of that, sort." Mrs. Brown (to the new maid): "Well, Nora, I hope we shall get along very nicely; I'm not at all difficult to please." Nora: "No, mum; that's just what i thought the verv minute I set eyes on the mtster.—"Sketch." "What on earth do they 6.0p for? asked the irritable old gentleman as the tra n drew up at a small station. "To allow me to get out. said the passenger who had making him- self objectionable. "It has its advantages, then," was the ready response. Dutiful Daughter: "Pa, may I marry Mr. Clinks?" Pa: "What vJ.1Dks? That young ten-a-week clerk who has Daughter: "No, pa. I mean Mr. Clinks, the only son of Banker Clinks." Pa: "Mercy, yes! Marry him at once. Don't let him escape." Downton: "Why did you have such an ugly- looking cur as that stuffed and placed under a glass case?" Upton (with emotion): "That dog saved my life." Downton: "Well! well! How ?" Upton "When we got back from our wedding tour, my wife baked a cake for me and the dog ate it." "I thought zis building had only forty sto- rie! cried the excited foreigner. "It has," said the elevator starter. "Ah, no! You de- ceive me! I just got on one of your elevators. One passenger said. 'Three, please,' another said 'Seven'; another 'Ten.' And zen a man cried out, '1945!' Sactre blue! I got out at ze first stop. It is too much of re risk!" "But *1945' is an office number!" explained the starter. "No! You deceive me! I have not ze trust in you To-morrow I return to Paris!" "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. exhibiting considerable nervousness, "if I had known that I was to be called on to-night I should have taken the trouble to look up—all—that is, I should have fortified myself with—ah—as I have just said, if I had been aware that I was to be ftsked to address you on this suspicious occa—I mean auspicious occasion—I should have primed myself with facts concerning the subject to which I have been—or rather the subject that has been assigned to me. I assure you, ladies and gentlemen that it gives me great pleasure to—ah—to—it is one of the most pleas- ant moments of my lives—to—moat pleasant moment of my life to meet you here to-night. J There is a story of-of-a story—you will please pardon me if I read it, as I can't remember just now—that is—it may be more—ah—fallaci- ous, or felicitous I should say, to—ah—read it if you will b-bear with me. I—ah—did not ex- pect when I came here to—ah—to—ah—to Then he got his manuscript out of his pocket and read for 57 minutes. To MOTHERS —Mrs. Winsl«w's Soothing Syrup has been used over fifty years by millions of mothers for their children while teething, with perfect success. It will illieve the poor sufferer immediately. It is pleasing: to taste; it produces natnral quiet sleep, by relievein* the child from pain. and the little cherub awakes "as brigrht as a button." Of all chenists, lB. lid. per botll*.

FOR THE YOUNG FOLKS. THE LOST TULIP BULB. Years ago. over in Holland where they have great, windmills and the people wear funny wooden shoes, they used to give prizes to the man who could raise the finest kind of tulip. It did not matter how poor the man was, or bow rich, if be could cultivate a tulip that was diff- erent from any other he would get a big prize. So Holland, which is a very flat country, was almost covered with beautiful tulip gardens. Some people put great stone walls around their gardens so no one could look over and see what kind of tulips they were growing. Then one time they had a fair, and everybody brought their tulips which they had been rais- ing; and the man who had the most wonderful tulip, which he called "William of Orange," took the prize. The man who had bought the one little bulb which was to grow more of these wonderful tulips, left it to be sent to him and it was care- fully laid away in a great warehouse. When after a while the man who was to pack the bulb went to get it—what do you think—it was gone! He searched everywhere and could not find it. So he asked a workman who was eating his lunch alone there if he had seen it. He said no, and that nobody had been in there but himself. Then he said "There was nothing here when I came in but a little old onion, and I ate it with my lunch." He bad eaten that wonderful tulip bulb worth so much money, and he thought it was an onion. THE MONKEY AND THE CAT. Sly Bertrand and Ratto in company sat, (The one was a monkey, the other a cat), Co-servants and lodgers, More mischievous oodgers Ne'er mess'd from a platter since platter were flat. Was anything wrong in the house or about it: The neighbours were blameless — no mortal could doubt it; For Bertrand was thievish and Ratto so nice, More attentive to cheese than he was to mice. One day the two plunderers sat by the fire, Where chestnuts were roasting, with looks of desire. To steal them would be a right noble affair, A double inducement our heroes drew there— 'Twould benefit them, could they swallow their fill, And then 'twould occasion to somebody ill. Said Bertrand to Ratto, "My brother to-day, Exhibit your powers in a masterly way, I And take me those chestnuts I pray; Which, were I but otherwise fitted (As I am ingeniously witted), For pulling things out of the flame J Would stand but a pitiful game." "Tis done," replied Ratto, all prompt to obey; And thrust out his paw in a delicate way.; First giving the ashes a scratch, He opened the coveted batch, Then lightly and quickly impinging One after another the chestnuts at last, While Bertrand contriver to devour them as fast. A servant girl enters. Adieu to the fun, Our Ratto was hardly contented, says one. USE BERRY'S BOOT FOUStt— I 1

FOR MATRON AND MAID. SELF-CONTROL. Nothing is more valuable to a man than to ha.ve his faculties and instincts well in hand- nothing is of greater importance to a woman than to be ab! to control her nerves, her tem- perament, and 111- r tongue. Of all personal characteristics it is self-con- trol that tempers and seasons life, and with- out which mell and women appear problematic and unsound. After maturity it is a most diffi- cult matter to gain this priceless quality, hence the necessity for parents to begin early to instil it into a child's nature. DAINTY FURNISHINGS. Timp when a bedroom was "cluttered" with all sorts of furnishings, with tapestries and silk, and even velvet hangings, bric-a- brac not particularly wanted elsewhere, and heavy carpets and furniture. Nowadays the whole scheme for bedrooms has changed. Bare boards or linoleum with rugs here and there, furniture under which the housewife's broom can sweep without any difficulty, and draperies of the lightest. If any are about the bed, they are fine, and of ma- terial that can be frequently laundered; table covers are mere strips of lace or linen, and no- where are unnecessary pieces of furniture or hangings to be found. Simplicity and wonderful daintiness. ALL HAVE TO OBEY. As he does not know what is good for him, and cannot judge for himself obedience to others is the best thing for a child. It is far better, says one mother, that he should be told what to do. and should do as he is told without question until he is old enough for his judgment to confirm that of his parents. In the second plaoe, obedience is to_ be the habit of his whole life. Always he will have to obey sorfiething not himself. When he goes to school he is under a. master. I When he goes to business he is under an em- ployer. When he attains manhood he must com- ply with the laws of health and the laws of society, or suffer. A NEW LIFE ENTIRELY. When people marry it should be, so to speak, with a clean slate. Old scores should be cleared off, old loves forgotten. "It's good to be merry and wise; It is good to be honest and true; It is well to be off with the old love Before you are on with. the new." He or she who begins the new life hand in hand with a memory and a regret had best not make the beginning, but remain single. DONT'S FOR A SICK ROOM. Don't call on a sick person while there is any I IT necessity to avoid undue excitement. Don't enter a sick room in cold weather until you have removed your wraps and are warm. Don't sit on a rocking-chair and rock vio- lently while facing the patient Don't rush into the room with loud talk or laugh; an excess of animal spirits may be de- pressing. Good cheer and a sunshiny call do not mean a boisterous manner. Don't bring had news or talk of depressing things. Don't make a long call and tire the patient out. Don't enter a sick room highlv perfumed, it may prove nauseating to the patient. Don't call early in the morning; visitors will be more welcome when the bathing and dress- ing, the late breakfast and tidying of the room nave been completed. GUIMPES AND SLEEVES. Now that fashion has decided during the summer season to run the jumper dress, the sleeveless Princess, and the many varieties of one or two piece gowns that call for guimpes, attention is turning towards specialities in the shapes of yokes. Novel and interesting forms are already appearing, and fancy is allowed wonderful play. It is, of course, the cut of the top part of the dress that gives the shape to the yoke, and the shape of this yoke can make a. dress look exceptionally piquant and attractive, whereas otherwise it might be passed as quite an ordinary gown. Deep, rather than wide, is the general tendency for the guimpes of net, lace, embroidered muslin, or any light chosen material, and those that curve at the foot, rather than square or point, are in the ma- jority perhaps. The sleeve that is long to the wrist and longer, is generally quite tight-fit- ting, if fulness or fussiness comes into the sleeves at all, then the three-quarter, not the elbow or the very long sleeve, is seen more than in isolated cases. HAT RULES. Don't wear a big hat with a small face. Don't wear a hat turned down in front with a turned-up nose. Don't wear with a long face a hat that sets back from the forehead. Don't wear with a full figure and a round red countenance a big bright hat trimmed with a profusion of flowers and fruit. HINTS FOR THE HOME. There is no efficient remedy for ink-stains 1 on delicate wall-paper. The proper way is to carefully match the paper to pattern, and cover with a new piece. Adhesive Hearthstone. Ordinary whiting mixed with a little milk to the consistency of thick paint, slightly blued and used instead of hearthstone, does not wash off with the rain, and neither does it "spot" so easily. Rolled oats are delicious with a small piece of suet scraped into them while cooking, and most nourishing. Always scrape suet into milk pud- dings instead of butter. Parsley chops beau- tifully if plunged into hot water for a second. If new gloves are placed between the folds of a. damp towel for an hour before being worn, they are much easier to put on. The damp causes the kid to become more pliable, so that they will stretch to the required shape without cracking or splitting. Don't throw away a lamp wick as soon as it is short, but wash it, paste a strip of white mus- lin to the lower end, and use it a. week or two longer. Be regular in trimming the wick, and careful in replenishing with oil, and you will have what we regard as the best light in the world for tired eyes. How to extract Splinters.—Fill a small-neck- ed bottle with very hot water, and then press the afflicted part lightly over the neck, so as to prevent the steam escaping. This will soften the flesh and draw the splinter to the surface, when it can be easily removed by pressing be- tween the finger and thumb. Potato Cheesecakes.—Line some patty tins with short pastry. Take some cold boiled po- tatoes, mash well, add a teacupful of sugar, one of mixed currants and raisins, sultanas, a little grated nutmeg, finely chopped, candied peel, and the beaten yolks of two eggs. Mix well. Fill the patty tins, brush over with the whites of eggs beaten to snow, and bake in a moderately hot oven. Care of Clothing.—The wear of clothes de- pends largely on the care of thegi. All light clothing, such as blouses, etc., should be care- fully folded, with paper stuffed in the sleeves. Heavy clothing should be immediately brushed and hung in the wardrobe. Coat and skirt hang- ers can be easily made by cutting ordinary bar- rel hoops in two and suspending them from the centre by wire or string. Collie Creek Pudding.—Take 2 oz. mashed potatoes, 2 oz. flour, one pint boiling milk, one tablespoonful sugar, place the potatoes and flour in a basin and mix to a smooth paste with cold milk. Pour over the boiling milk, let it stand till cold, then add two well-beaten eggs and mix well. Pour into well-buttered dish, flavour to taste. Bake in a rather hot oven half an hour Serve with cream or jam. HXMROD'S CtTym FOR ASTHMA.-Established over a quarter of a century.—Prescribed by the Medical Faculty throughout the world. It is used as an in- halation. and without any after bad effects. Testi- monials of efficacy from the late Lord Beaconsfield, Miss Emily Faithfull, Sir Morel Mackenzie, and Oliver Wendell Holmes. Trial samples free by post. In tins at 4s. 3d. British Depot, 46, Holborn Via. duct, London; and also of Newhery. Barclay. Sang. ers, Edwards, May, Roberts, Butler and Crispe; Thompson. Liverpool; and all Wholesale Houses.

The Minnewaska, the latest addition to the Atlantic Transport Line, left Belfast on Satur- day for a trial trip to London. The state rooms contain heaters for curling tongs. After laying the foundation stone of a new church at Lewisham, on Saturday, the Roman Catholic Bishop of Southwark objected to a I nhotographer taking a picture of the proceed- ings.