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ENTERED AT THE POST OFFICE AT New You. N. Y., as Sloan» Cues Manna.

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N lusaoya'v'IEE—zADLE: 8‘ ADAMS.

 

 

 

 

Published Every
Two Weeks.

Vol. VII, __

dj’eadie 09- gfldams, @Lblishers,

98 WILLIAM STREET, N. Y., April 7, 1880.

Ten Cents a. Copy.
82.50 a. Year.

No. 91

 

The Winning Oar;

on,
THE IN N KEEPER’S DAUGHTER.

A Story of Boston and of Cambridge, of the
College boy of Harvard, of the great bxat-
raee, of woman’s love, man’s treachery,
and sisterly devotion.

 

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,
AUTHOR or “THE POLICE SPY,” “OVERLAND
KIT," “ INJUN DICK, ” “WOLF DEMON,” ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE BLACK SHEEP.

OF all the pretty cities in New England——a1—
most as renowned for handsome towns as the
old England from whence it takes its name—
not a single smiling hamlet can surpass fair
Cambridge, which, with its thirty odd thousand
people, is yet as truly a rural village as in the

Mfi

 

 

m m MULLER“? OF CLOCKWORK TEE EIGHT OARB R0

 

 

days of yore when it could boast but a scant
ten thousand.

As faira suburb, too as Old Boston can boast,
Brookline and the Highland District to the con-
trar notwithstanding; the site of rest Har~
var college—the home of a full t ousand of
eminent men, renowned in scholarship, in com-
merce, and in politics: yet to the boys of Har-
vard the prett town owes most of its renown;
and of these ads of Harvard—the wearers of
the crimson handkerchiefs, which they have
bravely carried to the front in many a hard-
fought race—we are about to relate a. story so
weird and strange so im robable, at the first

lance, that, it we did not ow the incidents to

e truth itself, we should hesitate to commit the
facts to ever—living print.

On a certain bright Ma morning, in the
year— Well, never mind t e year; Perhaps it
is as well not to deal too closely wi h figures;
but the stirringtvents which we are about to
chronicle are still so fresh in the memories of
the world at large that any one who peruses
this recital, and is at all familiar with the his-
tory of the contests between Yale and Harvard

27'7§:\

§z§

 

\.
BE AND FELL. THE STROKE-OAR

for the championship of the waters, will sure]
be able to fix the date as accurately as though
had written it—a tall, good-looking, well

fellow got 01! a railway train at the little sta-
tion on the Brighton road. which used to be
called Cambridge Crossing, but is now dignified
by a more sounding a pellation, and walked
sOWIy down the me which led into Cam-
bridgeport (as the lower t of the town is
called) b means of a bri ge over the Charles
river. his structure is generally known as the
Brighton bridge, the second one spanningthe
river as ou ascend it from the broad hay be-
low, the rst one being known as the Cottage
Farms bridge.

As we have said, this oung man was a tall,
well-dressed fellow—in act, a little too well-
dressed for good taste; he displayed altogether
too much jewelry; diamond studs glitterod in
his shirt-front, a costly pin of the same brilliri y-
gem held together the folds of his scarf, a sum '1

ortune in diamonds he wore in the she; e<l’
rings 11 n his slender, white, aristocratic fin-

rs; e watch-chain that ornamented the
rout of his snowy-white vest was as thick

 

\.

 

1112er A VIGILAN'I are UPON Tm: am

2” .

The, IVi  0727‘.

 

around as one’s finger, and as he drew forth his
timepiece to ascertain the hour, a careful ob-
.server would haVe seen that it, too, was ricth
adorned with precious gems—a tiny little bit of
a thing, fit only for a lady and utterly out of
place in the . ion of a ntleman.

At first g anoe one woul have said that this
very much dressed gentleman was a handsome
fellow, for he had curly hair, black as jet, care-

.fully oiled and arranged: a white, aristocratic-
lookin face, lar in its features, with the
rxce of the nose which was slightly curved;
the lips were rather thin and bloodless, and there
was a hard, cruel expression about the eyes and
month which could hardl be rceived at first,
but to a close examineri wo d have been per-
ceptible. although the man took the greatest
care to conceal i . A perfect actor was this in-
dividual, although no stage-player, and from an
early age he had trained his features to con-
ceal, and not to betray, the feelings of his

cart. .

Of good old blue Boston “ cultus” blood came
this gentleman and et hisenemies said that he
was“; black sheep i everthere was one in this
wor .

He was called Harrison Grahame, but in the
sporting world, where acute “ sharps ” most do

, he was far better known as Harry
Gray. for thus he abbreviated his name when
“ on the turf.” He had wit enough to under-
stand that it was no creditable thing for a blue-
lbhpd Baton gentleman, a Beacon-Hillit‘e
born and. ed, to appear inthe ublic prints as
the s rting gentleman, the big spirited “ Co-
rinth n,” who found the money to back the
“Quhli Mouse ” to box the “Pittsbugg Chink-
en,’ or ad his daring deeds chroniol as the
plucky I5&0” who broke the Twenty-third street

iaroobe in an eight hours’ sitting. ,.
Oh,,nol the honored name of V rrison, ,so
dear to Massachusetts annals-or rahamp, re-

membrance of ancientScottish chivalry—must
, arry Gr 1d do anyth' , and no
one the fashions finds in whiclilfie
would bathe wiser for it. .
Carelede flourishing the light gpldiheaded
invite: h: Icarrl, 'ed, heflstrodet along .' 33351.:
e y s a ren a co w1 —
sellfhnd all-laid wggl’d, an yetpth‘ere was a look
upon his face, every now and then, that would
have betrayed to a .clme observer that he was
far from being ,in his mind. . .
It did not take , “Harry Gray long to cover
rho  whiichthhqitearv‘egegnbgtwgg the naili-
.vay on an 11 over e
Charles river, and as bet-giproached the bridge

I *w
moved

the m sterious actions of a man on the upper .

side 9 the structure arrested his attention. ‘
frth permit. was is .. .on lfiseamwithabmd.
w1ry face, ornamen wit a hu e nose, very
red at the ti a pair of shrewd litt e gray-green
eyes, a brist n iron-gray mustache, and small
Side-whiskers o the same hue. He was dressed
very soberly, in complete black—the cut of the
garments though, being of a rather ancient

type; an he wore an old-fashioned stand-up :
co lar a dic

kgé, as it used to becalled, encom-
passed-by a s ' ack stock necktie, which gave
he wearer a i-military  and this 
rather enhanced, too, by a , erect card“

tothe man  rinti‘tothe".
.90 tow

riagena
l dasortofamili ‘
mamas?“

the manner and at is of oldariuy emcers “

would have pronounced 9 man to be'a veteran ,

U - hisarm  carried alight cane orna-
sti via dull-33m thhwgocuhm; no
0 en ‘ a
What attraz ' the a ntion o the new;
old gentleman had a field*
hand, and was busily engaged in
t

e, of the river.

fl 1” Grahame ex-
.- h memz"‘but,whatonearthis
to but y had he asked the uestion

n
fit: the answerocom'redtohim. ,“ , at an
‘, at I am!” he continued. “Thisisthe train-
of‘ the Harvard crew,

comer was
glam in

     

4-;

..

. a!"

‘V

  
 
  

ll
\W-i

    

m“itching ' at k f them hath,
wa to e or , , .
at Lake tonstall, Immn  the _
Yale ho , in their training. I wonder which

crew‘s ‘ baton? e’sadirewdold ,

and uptoasman tricksuanymau ve.

If, moneyis investedon the ht side per-

haps I might be able to bring into the

schemeIhavoinview: he’dbenobad V,

arlrgascunninguafox'andasheartleuaa_
W

this time Grahame had reached the bridge
' 5. 38 until the day of the race came, when, side by

may“ his footsteps, sounding onit, attrac

the attrntionof the old man he care put
his glass in ht pocket, and adjusting a i o:
a

e eglaises uponhisnoee turnedtogeta
leper

t e m .

“ , generall” exclaimed the young 
as he came up to him, “ what you here
You’re aboutthelast man I ' toseel”

“Same to you dearbo ; same to on!” re-

lied the old gent eman, hing cane in
he air and executing. militamnsalute with it.

“ Oh, I’ve some as tivee reei ‘ in the town
yonder, and I’ve just run on from ew York for
a visit, Grahame answered. shaking hands with
the old gentleman, an opor’itim- on Lir- p rt of

'\
i

not  in such’a, manner; but Harry Gray .

the general which was performed with great
formality.

And now before I plunge deeper into the nar-
rative I must give some account of this odd-
looking old gentleman who is destined to play
quite an im ortant part in the story which am
about to re ate.

He was popularly known as General Lycurgus
McShouter, and among a certain class was about
as widely acquainted as any man in the coun-
try. Few race gatherings were there of any
importance, from New Orleans to Boston, that
were not honored by the general’s presence in
the “ quarter-stretch,” as the noted locality
next to the judge’s stand, and sacred to the
heavy bettors, horse~owners jocke s, etc, is
termed. Not a genteel black eg in t e country
, but knew the general, and there wasn’t a color—
ed ardian to the precincts of King Faro in the
lan but would at once display his “ ivorles” at
the approach of the old gentleman, and gladly
without parley, admit him to the rooms sacred
to the goddess of Fortune.

In fine, the general was an old sport, and was
about as keen-headed and as unscrupulous an
31d scamp as the country could very well pro-

uce.

How he came b the title of “ neral ” no one
knew, althou h t ere was a ition—we say a
tradition, as or the last twenty years the gen-
eral had not altered apparently in the least, and
no one knew anything more about him then
than at present-that he was formerly an ofilcer
in the arm , and had been cashiered for some
questionab e ractices.

The genera when questioned upon the point,
, always insisted that he was one 0 the veterans

of the war of 1812 and that he had won a n-
eral’s grade in that struggle, and when ask as
to his age, re lied with great gravity that he
was one hun red and ten years old, and that be
full expected to live to be a hundred and fifty
at t e least. .

“Some relatives, eh i” the general remarked.

“ Yes, but what brings you here?” ,

“ Oh, friends, in Boston—friends in Boston!”
thegeneral replie'i, lightly swinging his sw1tch
, in the air. _

“ Yes, but what are you doing on this bridge?”
“Merely taking the air.”
., ,‘l‘ With a field-glass, eh?”

,“ gbserving the scenery, that’s all, (1

“ nd you are not watching the
crew?” .

“ Oh, what’an ideal”

“Seei here they come now l” and Grahame
pointed up the stream, and the general instantly
t ned his keen, hawk-like eyes in the direction.
‘Pl‘tate a grgagdeal of interest in this crew.”

, you 0 - | . .
._",‘.Y,cs;, the We oar is mycousin, Otis Law-
:gncczdo’r ‘ Bu ’ Lawrence as he is generally
rm .

boy I”
vard

u,

 

CHAPTER II.
. A VILLAINOUS SCHEME.
“IIDEED! you astonish me,,dear boy i” the
l exclaimed. ..
conversation was cut short by the ap-

W.
p Down the stream and around" the slight curve
in the river came the Harvard boat the light
racing shell manned halite eight hardy, lucky
oarsmen and its little per coxswain; or this
year, after the English ashion which the Har-
vard mind brought back with them from
their visit across the water to Albion’s
shores, the race with Yale was to be rowed with
coxswains contrary to the usual American cus-

tom.

With the re larity of clockwork the eight
oars rose and ell, the stroke-oar keepin it Vigi-
lant eye ripen the rest of the crew and nstruct»
ing an in vidual member every n0w and then
in re ard to his pulling; in fact, acting as
“cough” tothe crew, contrary to the Eu lish
custom where the “coach,” an instructor 0 the
crew, nerally runs at full speed along the
bank 0 the river thus keeping up with the boat
.and shouts his instructions at them. As for in-

stance:
“Stead i No. 3! you bend your back too
much. 0. 5, too long in your recovery. No.

4, put more power in our elbow. Now give it
to her all togetherl—quickenl hit her up, hit
her upl” v ‘

The crew were not rowing in downright earn-
est but were only paddling along, so to speak,
for they well knew that Vigilant, watching eyes
[were own them, and it was not part of their

licy show exactly what they really could
side with their op ents, they waited for the
j—gAre you, y, gentlemen? Go!” of the

u go.

And then, too after passing the lower brid
there was a braid stretch of water a coupiefi

«miles at the least, where the could exert their

powers without danger o beingmso closely
.watdhed asin the narrowstream a e. -

Although merely playing at rowin as it
were, yet the long light ell shot on or the
bridge at a rapid ce—the college boys stripped
naked to the we t their skinstanned b the

 

rnv.u of’ the sun as brown almost as a In-
clfzu.'~. and their heads surmounted by the crim-

s

 

 

son handkerchief which so often haz‘. led the
we. , in many a hard-fought race, past the
ju e’s stand.

nder the bridge darted the boat, emerged on
the other side, and went flashing down the
river, the four ' of cars movin with the reg-
ularity of time itself; past the oldgpowder-house
and its little dock on the Cambridge side, past
Gips Grove, the old-time swimming place of
the oston boys on the Brookline shore, where
in the halcyon days of our boyhood, my broth-
er George—now in the silent tomb, his busy pen
condemned to the rest which in this life he never
gave—and myself learned like the ancient Ro-
mans, “to rise victorious over the wave;" under
the Cottage Farms bridge and out into the broad
ba beyond went the boat.

urning and leaning their backs against the
rail the two men from their point of vantage
watched the boat until it disappeared under the
Brookline brid e.

The general y means of the field-glass hrd
watched the crew very narrow] indeed, and as
the boat disap red from sig t he closed the
glass 1gp and With a half-sigh returned it to his
poc e .

The young man with his shrewd. cunning
eyeshad watched the old man narrowl and he
fancied that, despite the astuteness o the old
fox, he could detect what was passing within
his mind.

“Well, what do you think of the crew?” he
asked; ‘ a deuced good one, isn’tit?”

“ Yes, dear boy, a very fine crew, indeed; the
best crew that I ave seen for many along day.
They are only just paddling along—just playing
at pulling, you know—and yet they are m ing
about th ty strokes to the minute."

. And then for the first time the young man no-
ticed that the general had his watch out and
that he had been timing the boat.

“ Well, that’s pretty good ” Grahame ob-
serilrfti, as the general returned the watch to his

e

“ Pretty good, dear boy!” exclaimed the old
man, elevating his eyebrows: “ well, I should
say that it was pretty good! That crew, sir, on
the da of the race, when pushed can make
from orty-two to forty-six strokes to the
minute, and put power in them too. Did you
notice how their stroke takes hold of the water,
and what a splendid recovery they have, too!
By the eternal Jove, sir! I don’t believe that
there is a crew in the world that can beat them
in a fair race!”

“ It’s a pity that you have bet heavily against
them,” Grahame observed carelessly.

“Eh!” cried the general, sharply turning in
surprise; “ how di ou know that?”

“ Oh, guessed it, hat’s all,” answered Gra-
hame. ‘ I’m in the same boat; Istand to lose
ten thousand dollars if the Harvard c1 ew wins
the race.”

“'g‘he deuce you do! Dear boy, you astonish
me.

“Yes; I 0t icked up on the extraordinary
odds offer . u one of the New York clubs I
heard an old Harvard man boldly offer to bet
three'to one on crimson handkerchieis, thirty
to ten. I had seen the Yale crew at “()l'k and
knew that they were a very fine crew, and I
had heard, too, that the Harvards had only an
indifferent set of men in their beat this year, so
I jumped at the offer and hooked it there and
then. and a precious fool I was. too.”

“ That is truth, dear boy, these dark horses
aresemble things to bet against, sometimes. i
got picked up the same way. The odds ofi'ered
struck me as beings'idlculous, and so I investcd;
two thousand dollars, too, just think of it!
That’s a nicc sum for a man of my age and ex—
perience to get fooled out of 1 After I Lad made
the bet it suddenl occurred to me that perhaps
I was a little too asty and so I took a run on
here to look at the crew.”

“ Well, what do you think of your chance
now?”

“ Dear boy! that two thousand dollars is:
gone!” the general replied, with a solemn shake.
of the head. “ To use the old sportin saying,
it is Lombard street to a China orange t at these
gellcéw’s win. They can’t lose except by acci-

en .

“ We had better ‘hedge,’ then, by betting
now that Harvard wins, and by laying suflicient
money we may be able to save ourselves.”

“A very bright thought dear bo , and one
that occurred to me yesterday, and instantly
telegra bed on to New York. This is the an-

ti" ri"°i"°‘i’{.’ “at” limde “
rom t to
9.2m. p°°
The young man read it aloud:

“Odds four and Into one; notakers; nogood."

“ You see, my dear fellow, we are regularly
let in for it ’ the general remarked, with a dole-
ful air. “ ut you can stand it; ten thousand is
a trifle to you, while two thousand is utter ruin
to me ” . ~.

Grahame made a wry face.

“ My dear eneral, since it is probable that
vou and I have to act together in thir : : '-

er I may as well confess to you that .7 emu n’t
{disgd a thousand dollars in the world to ‘ eve my
me. ’

 

i

 

.
l

O

“#14 g. ..

 

'3

 

 

 

“You astound mo!”

 

The,  Oar.

I She has always been a great favorite of Bub’s;

“It’s the truth; I’ve been terribly unlucky of ‘

late; 1 am very du-ply involved, indeed, and I
relied upon this bet to help me out. Hark ye,
general, I’m in a pretty bad box, and I’ve just
made 11 my mind the Harvard crew have got
to lose t is race I"

“ Difficult, difficult, dear boy,” cried the gene-
ral, with a wise shake of the head. “ These Col-
lege cha have got such queer notions of honor
and all t at sort of thing. You can’t buy ’em,
you know, to ‘throw ’ the race, like you can
these common oarsmen, once in a while.”

“ By fair means the can’t lose and so b foul
means they must I” rahame replied, a eter-
1nined light shining in his eyes.

“ Ohol I think I understand,” the general
said, with a knowing wink, after a moment’s
pause: “ this stroke-oar. your cousin, Bub did
you say his name is? You can do something
with him. He could man e the matter easily
enou h. Thirty thous’l ake him an offer to
stem? in with him: give him half the swag;
fifteen thousand dollars ain’t to be sneezed at.

“ It Would he as much as my life is worth to
even hint at such a thing, for Bub is as fine an
athlete as there is in the country, and he most
surely would try to strangle me on the spot. A
million in gold wouldn’t buy him to ‘ throw’ the
race.

" Deir me, dear mel” exclaimed the general,
reflectivel y; “a remarkable man—and they are
so scarce, tool"

“ No; whatever is done must be done b cun-
ning and by trickery. Bub has one was side,
like all these muscular, big-hearted men. He is
as sim 1e and trusting as a child. He likes me,
and be ieves me to be the best friend that he has
on earth, when, in reality, I have hated him
from boyhood as bitterly as possible. His very
birth was a grievous wrong to me. I am some
five years his senior. His father and my father
Were brothers; my uncle was a rich man and a
confirmed old bachelor, as all supposed, while
my father was a poor man. Bub’s father always
liked me from my birth, and often said that I
should be his heir, and then all of a sudden he
took it into his head to get married. Bub was
born, and of course that put m nose complete-

 

l’yj' out of joint, although the ol fellow when he ,

ed
sand dollars, but what was that

red to the half million which ub and his sis-

r, Helena, came in for?”

‘ Ohol dear b0 , go for the sister!”

“ That is exact y my game and that is partly
vhy I came here now. I have been payin
court to Helena for some time; she’s a shy gir ,
out I rather think she favors me. At any rate,
she will not go against her brother if he advises

had the decency to leave me twenty thou- i shrub
ltry sum com- ‘

her to accept. Soi upon his decision all depends. I;

If he as. 8 yes an accepts me as Helena’s future
husban all will be well. I’ll make a clean
breast of how I stand and borrow some money
of him to meet m debts' but if he reluses—”

“ And you thini' he will,” added the general,
shrewdly.

“ I’m afraid so ” Grahame replied, with a
lowering brow.
do my best to ruin him and make his crew lose
this race. He is mixed up in a love affair now

with two girls—”
“ Two?” exclaimed the general, in astonish-
ment; “ by the beardof my dfatherl would-

n’t one be enough at a time ’

1‘ Well, if he refuses, then 1’11 ,

j the host, ducking his

“ Well, it’s an odd affair, and I’ll explain it to ‘

you as we walk along. Come with me u to old
Cambridge. I am to meet Bub at five this after-
noon at a certain place where the students re-
sort, and after in interview with him, we
can lay our plans, if I fail in my suit, as I think
I will, despite Bub’s friendship for me.”

CHAPTER III.
rim woonsma nut.

 

being brought up together the have always
been like a brother and sister. ell, now, t e
last time I was on here I noticed that there was
a sh' ht chan e in the manner of the pair to-
war each 0 er, and I instantly suspected that
there was a sort of a love-affair between them.
I joked Bub on the subject, and as he became
quite grave over the matter, I feel ty cer-
tain thz t I had guessed correctly. orderto
sound the doctor I hinted slight y in. regard to
the matter, but you can jud e of m 
when he became terribly exc ted, dec cred t
I must be wrong, that they only regarded-each
other as brother and sister, and that a marriage
between them was utterly impossible, and beg-
ged that I would never mention sucha. thingto
anybod . Here was myste number one.

“ An the second love»affair confidedjo me
in strict confidence by this harvard. student
whom I met in New York, takes in agirl name'd
Kitt Googage. She isthe dau ter of an old
coup 6 who kee a sort of, an n , e-house
called the W bine Inn situated near Return
Square,-a great resort of the co ' as. he
father is an old English oarsman, w 0 Acts asa
sort of coach to the college crews and. j t.
rather stran e in such a man. he flamest nigid
church-mem r. This girl. Kitty, hastith late-
ly come to Cambrid and there is some
odd about her. 6 fiething not 1 net ,on the
square,’ this young fell0w said, but. t wasnll
that I could get out of him, except th informa-

, me said, and the old man, first duc '

i
' dollar that I could raise in the world that I
wouldn’t put on that crew.”
“ 1 uses we’ll try a glass of that famous 'n-
‘ r e of. yours while we arowaitin ,” is;

E.head hurried away to procure the article. ‘

“ I’f Bub oes book on me, as I’m sadly afraid
that‘he wil .in this matter of his sister, why

; then we’ll have to set our. witsto .work to defeat

l
l

1

ho ' tp,im,d ' ho ,‘forif'youdon’t etthe
thing Em'ifsgofi {0 your ten th 8(1 dol-

this won crew; b means or foul we
must fix it so that'the . _ V boys sha’n’t win

the grace.”

“‘ ' es, dear boy, that is our leetle game.”

The host returned with theginger ale, placed
the sparkling beverage before the two gentle-
amen, received his money, and then again with-

raw.

The two. plotters par-took of the beverage and
discussed, as they waited, many a wily scheme
to was harm to the Harvard crew.

“He. .soon be here,” said Grahame at last,
consulting‘the little jeWeled timepiece e wore.
; You ,had, betterget out so that we can speak

' ‘.‘ . yes, certainly;.rve t anowspa in
a; pg’ckstboand Ptljusttalg) possession (Fine
go , a): gust hehackof the yardsoasto
,ng shall whenyou want me. Pneh it

monies: we can evlse some walla t the
Hawardcrew, and I‘m afraid V twill‘be no
ea? matter.” '

grips williell," Enhance, replied, laconic-

 

tion that there was a ongoing

on between Bub and the human... _ . ’S 8:23- 

tery number two.” ' ' ‘ ' - " nd then the general strolled 01 and just in
“Deuced interesting, myboyl” timp,_.too. for. party of.btoWel—laoed§y'oung
“Yes; well, I’m gem tomeethuhat. , in ',.came into the .’ '

VVIooii‘biréethInnialnd alt tisaigstttiem‘alpan ‘ 2;  ehyelve or of , p r “the. ,

aoo a egir. ra er ,nmyseh', i. , _ ,ens. , , _ {Bin

1‘ shall be able to find out the WM“;  : hardlylanian nihilism nfi

connected with her butas or .
old doctor’s niece, I confess 
“ Ah, well, time may rev it.
The further conversationt at‘took Isfahe-j
tween the two is not worth etaflingfle .sz
r466?»

little interest, until they reached Heel _ I
ion.

other one, the?

  
 
  
 

The Woodbine Inn was .a- , li . ite.
cot esurrounded byalai‘ge ' _ ,’ with
ry in the midst of w ' ‘ 
were constructed wherein lit?e measure. .
placed for the accommodation 0 the

It was a charming rural retreat“:
from the average American bar—room.
was little wonder that it was. wellpetro f
the college boys. '

Entering one of the arbors Grahame raprd
gponbtheltahlle, angglhe sugmons was 

ya 1g, ury,mi e—ag man,w can
build and broad face betrayed at the firs: me
that he was a son of Albion’s isle—once
brawny, beef-fed, beer-drinking Britons whose
stout arms and brave hearts have t ' hantl
carried the Union Ja of Great B hall
around the world and used thatfiag here-
spected in every clime and by everyna on.

“ That’s Gogfage himself,’ Grahame observed
to the gener as the host em ed from .the
liouse—“faufine‘ oarsman, a capitdal at er, ajtol-

y good 6 ow inevery way, an metric "a
church-member as an deacon maze land.”
ear boy.”

“ You surprise me,
“ Glad to see you, Mr. Grahame t” exclaimed
pagtly 131m! at! u be
 i you”. a men-

Googa spoke with an English accent as
broad as is person, and his round, healthy 
beamed with good-nature as herlookedznpont a
young gentleman, for was guest the
cousin and particular friendlof ‘.B,nb”,l'.aw~

came up to the ar

. rence, the stroke—oar of thetflarvardlcrowlland

“Goaheadl” cried the general; “ I am with :

cu, dear b0 , in anything to save my leetle
two thousand.

“ We ma as well walk,” Grahame
as he led thz way from the bridge; “ wegfi have, T

lenty of time to get there before the crew come
back and we can talk the matter over as we
walk along.”

I
i

i

Grahame, acquainted with the town, con-v

ducted his com anion through the cross streets
until they reac ed the main thoroughfare, the
elm-shad
toward the colleges.

“ Now to begin at the beginning I’ll explain
howIcametobewwell tedinre rdto
Bub and his doin . Oneo his love airs he
himself confided me and the other was told
me in strict confidence b§one of the college
boys whom I met in New ork last week. 11
DM to the first love atfair, Bub boards in the
house of a certain Dr. Artemes Peabody a dis—
tantrelation of our family, a scholar of t
knowledge but of limited means. iWhen ub’s
father died he made this doctor a guardian over
Bub—who was not of
tar, who hujnstreacdiherma ty.
months old gentleman has acted as ’s tutor
everzlince he was Old enough to learn anything
and ha, been in him more like a father than

else. Now, the doctor has a «laughter

a... , fawn-like girl, named Winifred.

ed Main street, up which they walked ‘

‘ eh i” Grahame ask

afiethen—andof hisfi‘

as Goo e always declaned, with greats

the fines amateur oamman. aver,

foot within a boat or feathere .a.  .

-—the best man that Harvargco, hands”:-

391119 01‘ any Other 001196381 o~ 
r

“ Yes, I’ve just taken amnion toseeBnb.”

“ He’s with the crew on the riverfqraspip,
but he’ll be back soon.”

“ He’ll stop in here on theway'home, 1pm-
sums?”

“ Oh, yes, he always does, and all the mstof
’em, too; they allers wantsa lacsof mginger
ale to wash t e dust outof tb throats” "

“ Bub’s crew is retty smote winthis time,
carelessly. .

“ Sure to winl- Why bless my soul, it’s a
horse to a hen on them! ’ criedthe oldman, en-
thusiastically.

“ But they as the Yale crew is .thehagt one
that 0«(alollege has! ad for yeam,".tha,genpm_l .ob-
serv '

that could not we stripped as a model for a
41%. amuleeoragodlike Apollo.
.  athacu'cular' ,t stable. 
I 0 ,8 , c err f V, 9 08
times their at"; as, lid ’7’ aim the
  .W, libs. when he
1 . '
spreader oath; party was ashtall. v;ng
.pO cued. on dings ea v I .ten,
,  rem fine.“ Erwupdfio the
‘ . ‘ ‘ibg exp on—r'a , ue-eyed,, loude-
..‘.sin shaves .ounz centlpinpnmiah ~
as finely a oned‘ and as ever sat on hu-

    
    

' man shoulders. The features were prominent

Otis am “W'ma m: z

, nose, :1 0 one
and “we N'ew-En' land taiiiilles
-. o cog}; ce backi line right to
We.  of the tan fathers a set of godly
men, at, withel. a narrogininded, tyrannical

9. W .W .a ‘d frank ex-
Wflce woufgcbe'certain to

 

set of’bigote as ever exists

Young Lamas-.419 was on] threeand-
mty—was t, heir to a prince'ty fortune; a
' million of 0mm well and lie ely invested

his had . dhe ' siste' . ‘
w,  “Growl 11382;; endings. r. Helena,
assess “garners”
. e ; ‘, ‘
quick ‘to aid a friend, slow  swirl:
he was every Duncan ,  lam. 'from
 flow/of , I M {Min 91m
(1' that! mm??ij  is "E’n'§’u’9 l
 was tinge,” ‘  151%-
Qfififi ; when Jest, ' Lc 
buggfiemy . “1311' , er in. when
E. museums re .e..réld,. ,mt
_ , tgenflemn was waives lose» him.
Bu at once.
y as done. .,the
the» 1.0“

reee
“M \ cousin. _ 11..
egg *- “aysi‘iliiii i“ at a...
7 '.A§W.thioih{%t .' .e‘ mi  -
can. a  lard». 
“£33m”, “hematgegiyrsa  ’
Bub, angel! ‘tgh’iygjso ‘g' . .
1's #8 .J’Q-d . , .t v k
seep bore the 913mg); “131%:th
“Phil-Flimm' rm 1" to i his b
. . t , R9 .
lama-immacnfiifidwtheqlfiimd-
. , toward him. “Didyou' he a run over to
have a look at the crew? on were afwa s a

geothettin manle I su pose, _ that ion aye
vested hea‘vily on the rang.” ' 3
dollars.”
title.

“Yes. bout irty thousand
"I  E'utonishment.
you .

 

  
  

    
   

     
 
      

. ,- e8 -.

“ It dou’tmatter the weightofa. ,.sir,” the ' 've ‘chen' oin ' t? that iron l But
old man declared, with a wise sme d! -.the (1011*.nd thl ftthg‘lg  dolére is a'
head; “Bub’s crewwillbeat’emall tapioca.” min , ,upoh , It, rail, de-

“ Well. I hopesot” » n: ' l for. ,’ ' I, . no

“ Oh, you can bet on it. and you don’t stand V : ' he '1: totem "we. pull
no show whatsumever to lose.” ' host, ll (like .fi gun is

Grahameand the eneral exchanged‘ ces .'
at thisbold declaratign. ‘ ' ' ‘ 3»

“Yes, sir,” the old man continued, “if I
warn’t a member of the church, and hadn't
giin up all those sinful pmticea,them isn’t a

        

I Wear never .6
t M

 

'.  . . an”
»  r.

.3

 

- say; you

 

4:

 

par‘isanship—as Bub supposed—should risk so
urge a sum.

“ Oh, well, I felt so confident about the re-
sult,” the other answered, carelessly.

“You thought the race was all over except
the shouting, eh?” Bub suggested, with a laugh.

“ Well not quite so bad as that.”

“ The Yale boys have a good crew, they say,”
the stroke-oar observed, thoughtful] .

“And you have a good crew. too.’

“Yes, as good as ever pulled an oar!” cried
Bub, in warmth.

“ And if you were a betting man you would
back our side largel , wouldn’t on?”

" es, with ever ollar that I could raise!”

‘f And et you b e me.” .

“ Ah Harrison, but it isn’t prudent, you
know; I’m always too hasty and let my enthu-
siasm run away with my judgment,” Bub re-
plied slowly. “Bet a couple of thousand if
you like; but take my adVice and don’t risk
thirty; it is entirely too much: and, excuse the
question, Harrison—can you afl'ord to lose any
such sum in case we fail. to win? An accident.
you know, may defeat the best of crews. One

I

- of our men may go amiss on the very day of

the race, an car may break, or some blunderi
booby may run a boat in our way; a hundr
things may happen to snatch victory from our
graspveven at the very moment of success.”

“ ell, Bub, of course you know how I am
situated,” said the other, affecting to be deeply
interested b the remsn‘ks of the stroke-oar.
“ Of course can’t afford to lose two thousand,
let alone thirty.”

“ Ah, Harrison, a man should not venture
What he has not got! It is bad enough to lose
mono but honor is far more precious. ’

‘ " ell, I’ll take your advice, and hedge so as
to st nd safe whichever way the race goes.”

'“ o, anigou’ll take a weight 011' m mind!”
cried Bub, face lighting up. and be towed
upon the other a warm grasp of the hand. '

“But how about the other matter that I hint-
ed at in my letter?”

Bub’s face became quite grave.

:You,inean in regard to my sister, Helena?”

“ We'll, Harrison, I hardly know what to
Place me in a very embarrassin posi-
tion. He ena is hardly more than a ch ; she
is not old enougeliato think of marriage yet.”

“ e is eigh n.”

es.
“And she has had a half a dozen suitors al~
"eady, but rhaps ou (prefer this young)Vlr-
l :iiiian, Mr. 'chard n olph Pe ton, or icky
Dolphheas the colic e boys 0 him, to me?
He’s t coxswain 0 your crew, isn’t be?”
“Yes, but that idea is all nonsense!” Bub ex-
claimed, impatiently. “ Dick is only a boy.”
11“ milks couple his name th your sister’s,
t o .
, “ t is because he boards at the doctor’s, and
is atitrop’g friend of mine. He loves me like a
er.
Of course, Peyton is rich and I’m poor—”
, ‘.‘, ison, can you think so meanly of me as
tobelieve that that 'would have any influence
ovarme if there was no other reason?” Bub
cried, impetuously. ,
“ h, there is another reason, than t”
. “ es, and I might as well speak plainly.
ou know that I stand in the light of a father
toHelengandIre arditasmysacreddutyto
see her happily be wed in life. Her husband
a man against whom the breath of sus-

_ amt be
.L'picion has never been directed.”
‘ " "rho

. . t is as much as to say that I am not that
kind of a man,” Grahame observed, his face
growin pale and his eyes beginning to shine

wick y.
“ Heaven knows, that I would

‘, y evade’this task if I oould,”the stroke-oar

_ ed, with a troubled voice, his whole manner
‘ lauin betrayin the agitation under which be
bored, “ for I ke you, Harrison—like you as
well as any man that breathes the breath of
life this day, but the faults that I can pardon
in you as a friend I cannot overlook when
,ounappear as a suitor for the hand of my sis-

“ What do
dentand you. .
v Harrison’s manner was quite calm amaze-
ment apparent but no trace of any other feel-
infihdelslp‘ito the fact that rage was biirnin
w ‘ n heart, and stirring every pulse in h

bei .
“nfi'hy, Harrison, ['you know that you left
poll? ere before your time.”
en; u y no agree w me.
“ at d did t ith ”
l “The men-of your class don’t speak well of

you mean? I confess I do not un-

/y0u; and Harrison, old boy, don’t force me to

say ,anythi " more. Take ‘ No’ for an answer
like sped mellow, and let us have done with
this ble subject forever.” ‘
.“ no 4 ; you don’t know me at all if
ytu t ink or a le moment that I would be
content to rest out under any accusation!”

Harrison replied. spirltodly, and endeavoring to

assume an :3)ch of great frankness; and

hemcceed ve .well, too, for em wasan

ex t dissem ler. “ And as r the men of

"an sis—well, we didn’t get on togethcr at all.
fact is, Bub, I always hated co'legsu"

- ‘— Amnv,

 

l‘ .. T'”"" 
II;LU   x...» 1‘.

L.)

 

 

r r l
“ Harrison, the college returns the sentiment,” 

the stroke-oar replied, quietly.
A slight flush appeared upon Grahame’s pale

cheeks as he winced under the well-directed ,

shot, and for a moment he showed his white
teeth viciously.

“Well, I presume that there isn’t any love 1

lost between the college
after a slight pause. ‘ I will own that I was ne—
ver much of a student, and that I had very lit-
tle sym thy or association with the men of my
c ass.
cards a great deal.”

“Yes they do.”

“ Well, I suppose I must plead guilty to that.
I confess that while I was at college I did have
a re lar mania for card-pla in .

“ ut that isn’t the wo o it, Harrison,”
Bub observed, quietly.

“ What more do they say i”

“ They say that you layed cards too well.”

“ They mean that I c eated, eh?” cried Harri-
son, lgrowing very ale indeed.

“ 0, they don’ say that openly but they
say that you alwa 3 used to win, and that your
antagonists nera ly were men who had money
and yet didn t know enough to take care of it—
mere ”boys, in fact, no match for you in any

wa .

“Y Well, that’s an ugl report about aman,
isn’t it?” Harrison cried? sarcastically, endeav-
oring to force a laugh; “ and all because I used
to havea ker party in my rooms once in a
while, an the foolish louts who bantered me to
play whined when they lost their money. Oh,

presume they say that I used to play ‘

and myself,” he said, V
' titude, indicative of intense surprise.

 

m a regular gambler, I resume, a first-class .

blackleg, and I make my _
and fleecin unsu ting youth With more
mono than rains.’

“ 0 , no; not so bad as that!”

“ Do they say anythin else?”

“ Isn’t that quite enoug i”

“ Oh, no! I didn’t know but that they would

iving by picking up 1

make out that I used to pick pookets in the ,

class-room or plaiy highwayman on the college
campus. They in g
story while they were about it.”

Harrison was decidedly sarcastic.

“ Old fellow, I am sorry that I was forced to
tell on this, but it could not be avoided.”

“ account of these stories, then—these ly-
ing repgrts, you would object to my marriage
w .h r, elena, even though she desired the
umon

ht us well have made a good

“But, Harrison, she don’t,” Bub replied,‘

uietly.
y and she said enough to convince me that
she likes you as a cousin only.”

“ Well, I’m sorry; it’s quite a disappointment
to me; but let the matter pass. 1 trust that it
will not sever our friendshipf’

“ Not a bit !” cried Bub, instantl , giving the
other another hearty gripe of the and, “ for I
like you, Harrison; you’re a deuccd good fell: .w,
anyway. But on must excuse me now: I see
the b0 3 are 0 . Come u ) to the house and see
us. -by!” and then ub hurried away to
join his companions, and they all quitted the
garden together. ‘

The general came from his corner and found
Grahame glaring with angry eyes and a face
white with passion after the young men.

There was hardl need of a question, for the
shrewd old man nn erstood at once that the day
had 110 W his companion.

“ ell, well; on didn’t make it, oh!”

“No curse h in; he has heard that I make a
livin y card- laying—”

“ hat of t at?” cried the general, in pro-
found astonishment; “ is it possible that be ob-
jects to that? Why, he plays!”

“Yes for the fun of the thing. There is a
great difference, you know, between men who
play for amusement and money and regular
card-sha like ourselves. There’s only one
thing to done; the Harvard crew must 
made to lose this race. We must entrap this
stroke-oar in some way!”

“ Dear bo , I saw the very instrument for our
purpose in t e house just now—the girl. the old
man’s daughter, this Kitt ' with whom our
cousin is infatuated. An no wonder! he’s
an old ac uaintance of ours, and I rather fancy
that we ave got her under our thumb. The
old man has gone out; rap on the table and she
undoubted] will come, and then you shall see
what on s all see!”

G ame obeyed at

A slender, delicate,

once. .
ladylike girl, with 3815

black hair and wonderful dark eyes,

Plain] , came tri i from the house but the
mome’ht she beheld) 13180 ’

“ I hinted to her about the matter to- 2

ir acry of alarm came ,

from her lips, and she ell imploringly upon her ,

knees. ,
“For Heaven’s sake, do not betray me!” she
ed.

 

CHAPTER V.

was immn’s DAUGHTER.
Ir was quite a striking tableau; the girl on

1' bers of the strictest

:and

her knees. her features convulsed with agita- '

tion, and the two men gazing at her in profound
astonishment.

“ Upon my life this is really wonderful!” Gra
hame exclaimed.

. «mm-m1, r“ '

“ Perfectly miraculous!” the eneral added.
“For Heaven’s sake do not tray me!” the
; girl repeated, risin slowly to her feet and gaz-
ing wistfully into t e faces of the two men.

! ‘ Well, I am astounded l”

“ Dear boy! you could knock me down with a
feather!” the old man cried, like an echo. putting}:
on his eye-glasses and assuming a theatrical at-

“ You are the very last persons that I expect-
ed to see,” the girl went on, still glaring with
an air of apprehension u n the two. .

“ Believe me that wit final justice I could
make the same remar ,” rahame replied, re-
moving his hat and making a lite bow.

The general at once foll0we his example.

“ Yes, my dear young lady, in point of fact
we are com letely flabbergasted!”

“ But I s ould have recognized you, though.
at once, although I nflss the tawny hair of tho
bewitching siren who has played the deuce with
so man young hearts,” Grahame continued.

“An old hearts too, dear boy!” the general
added, (finickly, with a gallant b0w to the lady.
“ I plea lit to the soft impeachment. I fel:
over he an ears in love With you at the first.

lance. Ah, who could withstand those match—
ess eyes?”

“A truce to this raillery, gentlemen!” the

'rl exclaimed, evidently annoyed. "Can 1
st ou to keep m secret?”

“ O , certainly!” rahame replied at once.

“You can depend upon us; we will be as
dumb as oysters! the thumb-screws—the rack—
the torture could not tear your secret from our
breasts!” The general was nothing if not extra-
vagant.

‘ But, in order to completely understand the
matter, will you have the kindness to « xplain
to us exactly what and who you are—that is,
I mean, at presmt, for of course any one who
has once looked upon your beautiful taco and
been charmed by your accom lishmenrs in the
sphere in which you gene y move would
never be able to forget you,’ the young man
observed. _

“ Never!” cried the general emphatically:
“the dear boy is right ;’ it would be morally ini-

ible to forget ou!’
p0‘S‘SMy name is Kitty Googage, and I am tbs
daughter of the old couple who keep this inn,
the '1'] confessed.

“ he innkeeper’s daughter, eh?”

“ Precisely; uite a romance, dear My 1”

“ Yes, I am t e innkeeper’s daughter."

“ But I do not understand.” Grahame mrsist.
ed; “if you are Kitty Goognge, the daughter
of this old couple, how comes it that we know
you under another name and in a far difl’. re m
walk of life? Your hair. too. is Jet-lalncky and
yet when I had the extreme pleasure of making
your acquaintance almost a year ago, you were
a most bewitching blonde.”

“I can explain all in a few words!” the girl
res ionded. evidently deeply agitated. " I load
a ouble life. Herein his rural retreut I am
Kitty Googage, old Ben Googuge’s daughter.
:zwl no one who knows me chn dreams for :1
single instant that I am anvthinfi but a plain
and simple country girl. What am in New
York you already know.”

“ Yes, yes; but I do not comprehend why
this thing should be,’_Grahame urged, a puz-
zled expressmn upon his face, “ hat; is the,
meaning of this double life?”

“The riddle is easily read,” the girl replied
a spice of bitterness rcellitible in her tone. “l

rew up afoolish, 81 y glr ; chance brought me
in contact with some persons whose flattery and
advice turned what little brains I ossessed:
they urged me to cultivate the gifts mm which
Heaven had endoWed me; they said that it was
a shame I should remain here in seclusion, when
by going out into the world I could ac uire a
fortune. I was vain—what youn girl is not.
unless she is plain to uglinesst knew that
silks and satins would become me better than
calico—that m fingers would look prettier
adorned with diamonds than when beeped with
grain glclild. I became crazy upon this one idea
by s ould I remain here in humble poverty
and toil all my life for a bare crust when, by
going out into the great, giddy world I could
secure a fortune?”

“Not to be thought of for a moment! Tht.

gas is perfectly absurd l” the general interpOIa‘

“ Sleeping or waking the idea was alwa s in
my min ," he rl continued. “I thong t at
first that I coul persuade in parents to at me

, but one day when I jusz hinted of such a

ing, the proposal was received by them With
horror. Both of my rents are church mem-
nd, although .only r
and humble people, but the believe in the aith
that is in them and live up it in the strictest
manner. I was not prepared for the utter dis-
approval which the idea met with. ‘NO, n0.
lass,’ said my father—he is an old countryman,
speaks brosdl when excited—‘ I would
rather see thee in t y grave than to have thee
earn th bread in such a manner.’ My mother
said no hing, but she cried as if her heart it (In!!!
break. I saw that it was useless to say anything
more. My him must be either given up or We
carried out without my parents’ knoWledge, tux

c ~ --....
.r
\

. , \‘
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.J—«lx‘

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2:
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The Winning“ Oar.

5

 

 

I plainly understood that it was a hopeless task
to attempt to gain their consent.”

“ But you were determined not to give it up
thou h?’ Grahame pressed his inquiry.

“ euced glucky, too; wouldn’t have believed
that you be it in you !" the general exclaimed,
cuttin the figure eight in the air with the point
of his ight switch.

“ My evil genius urged me on,” the 'rl re-
plied, with a bitter accent. “ I was to go,
and since I octld not obtain my parents’ con-
sent. I determined to go without it, but I could
not bear the thought of acting in open disobe-
«Hence to their wishes, for no father or mother
could have been kinder to a child than they had
been to me; so I determined todevise some plan
by means of which they would be kept in igno-
rance of my bold adventure. Times were very
hard with us then; my father had just started
this little inn, and it was not prospermg; he had
about made up his mind to give it up and so
lose all that he had invested in it when I sug—
gested to him to let me o to New York and get
a place. I was very s 'llful with my needle,
could make all sorts of fancy—work, and I told
him that I was sure that I could make 00d
wages, and that I would be able to send im
some money every week. He hated to let me
go and fought against the idea for some time,
but, as alfairs here did not im rove, at last he
consented, and I went to New ork. I succeed-
ed in my attempt and what I am there now you
know as well as I do. Ten months in the year
I am in the city, the other two, July and Au-
gust, I spend here; but this year I came home a
month earlier than usual—an unluck chance,
since it has betrayed my secret, but I rust that
it will be safe in your care. ”

“ Oh (you may depend upon it.”

“ W il horses dear girl, couldn’t drag it from
us!” the genera asserted.

“But what do our ents think that you
are doin in New ork hese ten months in the
year?” rahame asked. He had a deeper mo-
tive than mere curiosity in putting the qu .‘StiOl'l,
but the girl never suspected it, and so she an-
swered frankly:

“ I am supposed to be the forewoman in a
large millinery store on Broadway and et
quitea handsome salary, nearl all of whic I

send home to my nts. It is terrible to lead
this lyi life!” t e girl cried, suddenly with a
passiona outburst, ‘ and my parents, know,

would sooner starve than touch a cant of the
mono if the onl knew how I earned it.”

" A peop e be so foolish'sometimes !”
the general exclaimed, with a wise shake of the
bee “I only wish that I had a den hter, or
two or three of them for that matter, w ooould

ick up a cool hundred dollars a week as you
0.” and the old man sighed momfuuy at not
being of such a treasure.

“ on have your letters addressed to this mil-
linery store then?” Grahame asked. “ You see
what an interest I take in your story by my
curiosit .”

“Yes: the proprietor is a personal friend of
mine.”

“But, suppose either your father or mother
should take it into their heads to come on to
New York without giving you notice and so
surprise you with an unex ted visit?”

"Yes, yes that would deuced awkward,
eh, dear gird"

" Oh, no! it is very unlikely that such a thing
should happen: but, even that is provided for,
the girl replied, uietl . “ may one going to
the store and as g or me 1 be conducted
at once to the propnetor, and she will say that
l have been unexpectedly called down South to
attend to a valued customer, so you perceive
that there 18 very little _chancc of discovery.”

“ Beautifully planned!” the general cried.
Grahame was silent for a moment, watching
the 'rl in his 0001 way, and then he delivers
the b ow over which he had been cogitating.

“ Do you know, Miss Kitty, I had a eat cu-
riosit to see you, although, of course, had no
idea hat you would turn out to be an old ac-
quaintance?”

“ To see me?” in surprise.

“Yes, I wanted to see what sort of a 'rl it
was who had taken the fanc of my h me
cousin, Bub Lawrence, old arvard’s winning
oar.

 

CHAPTER VI.
ran VIRGINIAN.

Om the pale face of the ' l swept a burn-
ing blush: her bosom heav with tumultuous
emotion: her whole frame trembled with agita-
tion.

Not a trace of this excitement was lost upon
t he two keen-sighted plotters, and they ex-

changed lances ra idl .

“‘ es, gres, I had‘ciuié a curiosit tosee you,”
Grahame continued; “and now t t I do see
you, I no longer wonder that Bub has been fas-
cinated by lSour beauty.”

“He wo d have been more than mortal to
have resisted such charms, by Jove!” the gene-
m‘ (timed spew i riddl t1 1”

“ on are ng n es, gen emen
the rl exclaimed, in confusion.

"; h, itis nouse for you to attempt to deny
it!

 

._—____._.. __

“ Oh, no, not the slightest use, dear girl.”

“You know very well that Bub is your de—
voted admirer.” '

“Adores the very ground you walk on, in
point of fact!”

“Oh, gentlemen, you are jesting with mel”
and she was terribly 'tated.

“We wouldn’t be fity of such a thing!”

“ A thousand dollars would be no temptation
for 1118 to beso rude!” the general protested, gal-
lant v.

The girl shook her head. “ I am no child,”
she said; “no silly 'rl, to allow my head to be
turned by a few flat ring words. Your cousin
is a very wealthy gentleman, while I am only a
poor irl-”

“ ou forget the deathless fame which you
have already gained l” interru ted the generaL

“ Genius is always a match or wealth,” Gra-
hame added.

A ain the ' lshook her head.

“ h gent emen, you are pleased to flatter
me! dreatas is my fame, werful as is my
genius, et my parents, w o are only poor,
plain an unlettered peogle, would not touch a
penny of my earnings if t ey knew how I gained
m mone . ’

‘Ah, t t’s the old-time re'udice!” was Gra-,

hame’s answer. “The wor d as grown much
wiser and much more liberal in the last twenty

ears; your parents are relics of a bygone age;

ub on the contrary, is a man of to-day. Al—
rea y he admires you, knowing you only in
your present character of innkee r’s daughter,
a simple country maid; how muc more strong-
ly, then, will you impress him when he discov—
ers that {on are a genius at whose feet the great
ones of t 6 world are delighted to kneel!”

“ He will be transported with admiration, of
course l” the eneral cried, enthusiastically. “ I
know him 1 e a book. dear girl! I would
willingly bet a thousand dollars to a twoth
orange that immediately after he makes the dis-
cover he will place his hand and fortune at
your cat!”

Again the nick, vivid blush swept over the
pale face of t e maid. It was quite plain that
the flattery was delicious to her ears, but her
sober common sense rebelled against it.

“ You are making a jest of me, gentlemen!”
and she betrayed her impatience; ‘ and I pray
you to forbear. The subject is distasteful to
me. One favor I crave at your hands—keep
my secret; do not breathe a word to any one
that you have ever met me before, and, least of
ahlfl, under another name and in another walk of

e.
“You may reg upon our discretion!” Gra-
hame repli , wi an appearance of great frank-

ness.

“0h, es, dear girl your secret will be per-
fectly; lfife  our bilge. As my rfifteede
nen ere remar , ou may upon
our discretion.” y y

“ Not that I care for any one in the world ex-
cept my parents, but from their peculiar ideas
the discovery that I earned money in a public
slipaci’ty would surely be a most terrible

OW.

“ But are they not likely by some accident to
discover the truth?” Grahame asked.

“It is not at all probable,” she replied.
“ There is not gold enough in the world to
tempt my parents to set foot within any place
of amusement; they live rigidly up to the rules
of their church.”

“ I perceive that there is very little danger.
Well, we will not betray you; c y<ur mind
easy upon that point; and since we must look
upon you as being simplyithe innkeeper’s daugh-
ter, will you have the mhess to bring us a
little gin er ale?”

“ Whic will be transformed into nectar when
served by such a Hebe as yourself!” cried the
general, with a gallant bow.

“Certainly. at once,” and the girl hurried
away, not sorry to bring the rather unpleasant
interview to a termination.

“Well, what’s your plan, dear boy?” asked
the old man, the moment that the girl was out
of earshot.

“ Really you are too much for me at present,
general,” Grahame confeSSed. “I do not think

here is any doubt that I can use the girl to im-

mense advantage now that I know her secret.
but the exact use I shall make of her I can’t
very well explain at present, for in my own
mind I am uncertain.”

j‘ By Jove, dear boy, do you, know that I
think the girl looks better in this plain, rustic
garb that she now wears than when adorned
with silks and satins, blazing with costly gems,
ffit for an em peror’s ransom,’ and with her flow-
ing locks bleached like an English blonde?”

‘ Hush! here she is.”

The girl returned with the ale, securely cased
in little bottles, placed two clean tumblers upon
the table before the two gentlemen and then
with a dextrous and practiced hand, decanted
the beverage.

“Aha!” chuckled the
tell about this in New
never believe it.
barmaid!” .
blGrahame tossed a silver quarter upon. the ta—

0.

neral, “if I were to
ork, the world would
You are a most accomplished.

 

.—.

“ Never mind the chan "he said, laughing;
“ that’s the usual sort of t ' g, I believe.’

The ' llaughed in return,dropped a courting,
iaid “ ank you!” and then retreated intot e
ouse.

Grahame watched her with sparkling eyes.

“ You are right, general,” he answered; “ this
plain attire does become her wonderfully. It is
not at all strange that Bub, who has always
been an extremely soft—hearted fellow where
women are concerned, should take a fancy to
this girl; but before I can commence to scheme
to turn the affair to my advan e I must find
out exactly how the matter stan .”

“ And that will be a dimcult 'ob, I take it.”

“ Oh, no, I see that you don’ ow m cousin
as well as I do. Heisasfrankandopen— carted,
with me as achild. The very next time 1 meet '
him I shall turn the conversation u n this girl,
and I’ll bet you what you like that 9 will make
a frank con ession.”

“ And when do you intend to see him again!”

“ This very night.”

“ So soon ’

“Yes: there is no time to be lost I must get
the tlgfea’ds of the aflair in my han as soon as

1 e. . .

“ Right, dear boy, right! There is nothin
in this world like striking when the iron is hot.%

“ Well, finish your tipple and let’s be off. We
must select a head-quarters. I know of a nice,
quiet house, right off of Harvard square wheic
we can get a furnished room and where thelfiico-
ple attend to their own msiness and we w' to
free to come and. go'without bein spied ugon..
It will be no-easy job, this task t we avo
taken 11 ourselves, but itcan be, and must he.
accomp ' bed. The Harvard crew must lose
this race and when the sun goes down that
day at ew London, you an 1, old fellcw,
must be sundry thousands of dollars ahead.” .

 will suit me exactly,” the old spOrt ad-
mi . .

Then the two rose and strolled out of the gar-
den; but leaving them to ursue their we to
the square, we will follow 0 foolztep the
stroke-oar of the Harvard crew.

After parting with Grahame in the garden
Bub joined a party of the students who were
waiting for him at the gate and they saunterod
oifAtogclther. h . , . g,

t t esquare tecompan sapara ,Bub,f
and a companion striking oi! the , tak:
ing the road leading by the lower end of..tha
Fresh pond. .

And as the companion of “Harvard’s wmv
ning car,” as Bub was commonly termed, from
his success in single contestswith the “ spruces," -
will play uite a rominent part in our narra-
tive, we w descri him.

Richard Randolph Peyton he was 
Virginian by birth, and as his name we (I indi-
cate to any one familiar with the M‘
State, a descendant of two of t hesbe ,
famihes that all the Southern can hood.

of. .
But lay his college chums P0 was ramly

honore by his own name: Dic y Dolph he was

usualy called. .

In stature he was a pocketedition of a,man,~
very boyish in appearance, slightly- but
neat and dapper a gentleman as one c well
find in all this big world.

Pe ton was the coxswain, the 01
the arvard crew,’for, after the En lishf A on,
the race with Yale was to be rowe wfl’h eight

oars anda coxswain.

A ve warm friendshi indeed existed be-
tween eyton and Bub. ey boarded at the
same house, and rumor whispered quite shroud-
l that Dicky was not onlya great friend of
the stroke-oar, but that e was also on It -
mirer of the pretty Helena Lawrence, Bob’s
sister.

01' course Bub had been joked upon the an} -
ject. l:ut he had always repli , just as he had
replied to Grahame’s remark n the matter.
that Peyton was only a boy; but as well nanny
one livmg, Lawrence knew what an honorable,
manly heart heat within the breast of the young
Virginian, and that, although he had not yet
reac ed his twentieth ear.he was far on
a man than many of t e student lads of an»
vard who could boast of ' r ears. ‘

A “ ' ht” handsome fe ow eyton wanton,
to use t ecommon Vir 'man ex memory, with
his jet—black 6 es, ehon ocks curling tight whic:
head and frank, expressive face. .

CHAPTER VII. V, _
m {hummer my

TEE two friends stro on _

a little while without exchanging a word, a: u
then Peyton suddenly an the con tiov.
.‘Bub, I’ve got floriegiigigdpartgular t l:
wishtosa to you, c mp . -
The magic-oar lasted father “of
this s'omew t ' begmnm ,au from c
tone in wm Peyton spo he I
jumpe‘go'to the conclusion that his Km
“Whatisiti Goaheadl" . -.v
:‘ $761215 it’sh mther delicate shined.” n

w .
“And there isnlady int-heals” . E...»
“ Oh," and Bub looked just a trifle m‘ed.

 

The Winning Oar.

 

 

’ “It’s about this girl, ,_.” .

; “ Well, what of herl” e stroke-oar asked,
l avo the gate of his friend and looking with
l s axed ancc straight before him.

l

l

 

“ Isn’ there a flirtation going on between 
and herl" "

Th'equestionwas p ‘ tandnyet Law-
renoe, usually the most's orw 'of men,

, evaded it. .

; “ A flirtation—why should youthink so!”

, “ Oh, come, Bubl you know that there isl”

', “ Suppose there is, whose business is it?" re-'
plied Lawrence, just a little sharply.

“ Thatfs a Very natural question under the
circumstances,” Peyton returned, quiet] ,both
face and tone grave, “and I am perfect j well
awan'that, as a * ral rule'suchana . ir a
nobody’s business utthe 'ncipdls’;but,‘Bub,
you and I, are friends I iem” I

; cfiNgddgubt fluent-that!” the strokeoar exd

. m earti . _ , ,

‘L “We , Iawr'e‘ynce, wouldn’t it be a friendly

, act for me if I saw you walking "into agnlt' to

'F :xtend m , hand and endeavor to your
ootsteps

. “ Oh, you look at it in that light,'ehl”

! “ Yes I do.” H

i w ell, I’ll own, frankly, that, in a measure,

, I am infatuated with the l.” ,

I “And yet, Bub. isn’t ere a loveaflair be-

! tween you and Winifred, the doctor’s ‘dau‘gho'

‘ for!”
l A dark look came over the face of the strokes
; oar,-and his strong, brown ‘hands‘ clenched ner-

‘ “ Azid you love her, “don’t you?” Peyton con;
, tinned, finding that'Bub did not r'epl .
‘ “‘Inveher!’ cried Iawrence 'alzriiqifily; “ yes,
, betterthanI do anythin else lo 'worldl’
“ And yet you confess hat youare infatuated
with this other girl.” I , , ,
l “Yes; “is the truth. I know'that I am act-
~ ing like a weak fool in the matter, and I am
really ashamed of myself. Winifred is an an—
g. andtss'uch I love her; but when I am in
produce of' this other girl she exerts an in-
fluence over me that 'I cannot account for.”
“She fascinates you, in fact,” Peyton sug-

“Yee,'faselu‘ates; that isthe word. When I
am away from her the charm loses its power,
but when I with her then, in some m -
our: confess cannot explain t—tbe

cry of Winifred seems to fade away and I
am ready to throw to self at the feet of this
womanand sfwoar to or that the lathe only
girl whom‘l have ever really” and truly loved.’

“ It is a fascination indeed,”'Peytoa remarked '
“and sad have been watchmgtheggwth and
develgpment of it for some-him! ‘ k adv‘am'
loge; , the:Mendship which exists between us

v—o».w .

i
r
l
l
n

,to toymiinregardtothe matter. just as
I , consider it duty towaru you if you
should suddenly tdke drink and I should see

that yes wererapidfg'ngloingto the bad. I know,
of course, that the c ces are a hundred to one"
mybu Hill'beoflended, but as your friend'it
is my- duty to: speak; honor 'leaves no other
course open to me.” _

Ila sce'sdleutlyextended‘his'llandand e
the“ hafnium ‘palm a hearty gripe, be he
spoke‘n .’

“ You are not offended then, old 'fellbwl"

Ry! llyuet'ied,‘anxiously.
‘ finm'why should I be?”
has noticed that on and the
mgmnl eredy Legit a

‘ ’ - wrence nera
.. or eh... m r "v

are extremely

 

r 981’
,n “Beyi‘the' , 'ps [have troubled their heads
- abOu as eh "
, “1?”:-
“ Anfiwhat do they say!” 1
“Th you- mean the girl no ” replied
Peyton 'flrml ; andas the words fall'upon the
ears time e-oar'he startddastbo he

'l haamddenuponacreeudserpentoofled athe
. ‘ p. ‘1

“Oh,'theKIsay that; do they!" he-crled, in?
. . a low, deep'tone, andl‘his strong,
l»  lads involuntarily doubled themselves

up. ‘
“What elseoan they as ,‘llubWPeyton res
,‘ . mined;- " What else'can- im not Cou-
‘ moon positionand t a kick at here!
do of one of the“ old Boston/families—
the last male descendant of- a litre-which'hm

' always prided itself upon its blue blood and the
aur’ivty of its couhections, anditlfis girl—what is

e

 "mesa liter of the , : ’ofl'an'Eilgll'sh

ale-house? unanswered, itterly.= “a

I when! my mother would 'hardly have managed
“swan arm".  ..

‘ ' 11 . e ~ ow'w d

- as I this ’ 11"

u go- 0656 tullnk that sh  ' wel-
l o .'
wmnm' ‘ ‘ 
“ Not at first; she would be horrid-lib!
ter

   
   

l

i mi ;th_efacttliat=she 
i of claw and-united spas the guests
1 who sought re reshment at her father‘s in'n,
. would be quite enoug for Helena.”

1 time, if

“Both came tothe conclusibn

let us proc
I wildlfiowen

"midi! am not‘ the only one you- know, who -

 

that she was really-a lad ' at heart, despite her
law ' tion', youth t at she might be recon-
cil to the idea?” ,

“ Yea, perhaps: but I am afraid that it would
take a very 101% time, though.”

“And new, ub, do you wonder that people
speak ill of youand the girl when they notice
how intimate you are with her—when, accord-
ingto your own statement, your sister, whose
idol you are, who looks up to you as being the
best and wisest of men, would look with horror
upon the p of your 111 ion with this girl i”

“ You are right—right!” Bub exclaimed, “ and
I have acted like an infernal idiot in the matter:
worse than an idiot, almost like a villain: al-
though, Peyton, I trust that you will believe
me when I say that I have meant the girl no
wron . She fascinated me, and I have enjoyed
the ‘p easure of her society without reflecting
upon the con uences.”

“Oh, I fully love you: but now that your
eyu are open, I trust that you will avoid the
snares of this 'enchantress. A man like you
Bub blend with the love of such a perfect girl
as - inn , ought not to seek strange gods.”

“'1 ' not! In the future I Will avoid the
presence of this siren,” and Lawrence spoke
with marked decision.

“'By the way, wasn’t that your cousin, Gra-
hame, that-I saw you talking with?” the Vir-
ginian asked.

“Yes; Harrison is a deuced good fellow, al-
thou h be has his faults, but he‘s not in your

ks, though, I believe?”

lau ed as he noticed i

‘ ell, to tell the honest truth, I don’t like
your cousin; not for the reason, though, that
you may im ne. My dislike for him has noth—
ing to do wi Helena. I don’t like the man; I
don’t trust him; I don’t believe that he is any
friend of ours, either, Bub, although you have
such grea faith in him. ”

“By'Jovel' old fellow you’re giving it to me
right and left today I” the stroke-oar exclaimed.
"First you attack the lady of my adoration,
and then on demolish the riend of my child-
hood. ith the unhappy French king I must
exclaim: ‘ Leave me something to love l”

“ Oh, I’m not so bad as all that!”

“ By the way, have you any idea where we

“ at he slightest. I presumed that you had
coinc this way merely for the sake of the
walk.”

“Well, then, there’s atroat in store for you!”
Bub announced, anly. “ Helena and inny
are cut for a wal , and we will intercept them
on their way home. ’

The look of ,delight upon the pleasant face of
the'Virgin'idh shoved how the information was

apgzciated. ‘

ving the-two friends to pursue their way,
, at once to the willow-skirted road
running by t e lower end of Fresh pond, along
whibh the two ladies'refBrred to by the stroke-

‘ oar’were wal '

' The two had it for quite a long stroll, and
now, with their hands full of captured treasures,
and leaves were proceedin home-
as pretty girls as all New ngland

boast, and that is saying a great deal,
were the friends, Helena Lawrence. Bub’s sis-
ger ' and Winuy Peabody, the old doctor’s

a r.

There was quite a contrast between the two,
for 'Helena was tall and stately in carriage. a
pure blonde, with glorious blue eyes; Winifred,
on the contrary, "was rather pants in size, with

, brown- hamviolet eyes, and a shy, fawn-
like‘expression.

The one impressed you at the first glance; the
other won upon you raduallv.

The two had just escended the slight bill be-
yond the pond,.and'had entered upon the low

' nd'where the wiIIOWs, cut back, and thus

armed into pollards, to use the English
term grew extremely dense, completely shad—
inflhe road.

the ‘two ladizs entered upon the gloomy
way, almost unconsciousl they .‘rlrlckcncd their
pace and glanced nervou. y around them.

“ How very' loomy.” Helena remarked.

“Yes; very onesome, too.”

“ Just the sport for an evil-minde rogue to lay
in ‘wait for unsuspecting travelers, eh?

“ Oh. don’t, lie one; you make me nervous!”
and Winuy ve a little shiver of alarm.

“But, luc 1y, there isn’t any danger of such
8m in this neighborhood."

ly had the words left her lips, when out
from the willows

ward—two
coul ' '

a rather undersized
unsavory-loom» , dle-aged fellow, dressed
roughly- and W a huge stick under his arm,

and lantin himself in the very center of the
read? he gfgmd at the startled ladies.
cuss—run VIII.

a ‘ new motor.

Tn two ladies were terribly startled by the
Mden appearance of the man; and no wonder,
for he was a rank n of the genus tramp
“one would beapt to meetde a long days
journ amid the slums of a big o ty.

‘A ll below the medium size, but broad-
shouldered and stockily built, it was C‘i‘ldellt

; I""‘fl£

 

8
Fab!) flushed up slightly, and the stroke-oar ‘

 

that he would prove a troublesome customer if
his courage was equal to his muscle.

There was a sort of hang-dog look about the
fellow; his chin was unshaven, his face disco-
lored and scarred, and he wore the close. tight-
fitting ca common to English cestermongers or
street-pe dlers.

Fine types of these fellows can always be
found in any of our large seaboard cities, and
all imported articles, too, for as yet our country
is too young to produce the breed.

He ducked his head and tried to assume a pa-
thetic expression.

“ Dontee be afeared, ladies,” he whined; “ I’m
only a poor cove, a-t in‘ to ,et a honest livin’;
I’m a dorg-fancier, am; on’t you want to
buy a dorg?” and then from one of the hu, 9
pockets of the overcoat-like garment which 6
wore—it could not with justice be termed an
overcoat, as the owner wore no coat under it—
he produced a diminutive black and-tan ter-
rier, a most unha py and miserable-looking lit-
tle beast, as all t ese unnaturally stunted dogs
generally are.

He held the dog up for the ladies’ inspection. '

“Jest you look at that ’ere dor !’ he ex-
claimed. “ There ar’n’t a dor in t is blessed
country that can compare wit this here ani-
mile, although I seys it wot shouldn't; I’m the
most truthfulest man that ever stepped; I
couldn’t lie to save me! This here dorg is a
beauty—a rule beauty, and if I wasn’t down on
my luck I wouldn’t part with him fcrllis weight
in diamonds; but I’m in hard lines, ladies, and
I’ve got for to make a raise some way, so I’ll
sell ’im cheap—twent dollars, miss, for a puppy
that is honestly wor h a hundred every time!
Rats? Bless you, miss. he don’t make no more
account of a rat than I would of a ’skeeter; he
'est nips ’em in the small of the back and settles
em at a single crack! Twenty dollars, ladies
for a dorg wot a hundred wouldn’t buy if I
hadn’t bin misfortunate at my business and a-
red’uced to want through no fault of mine, at

The fellow stood ri ht in the center of the
road and completer b ocked the way.

There was cause or alarm on the part of the
girls, for, although the fellow spoke civilly en-
ough, yet there was a wicked look in his eyes—
a certain leer about his mouth—a peculiar swag-
ger in his bearing. which betrayed that be con-
sidered the two ladies to be at his mercy.

It was a lonely road, no one in sight in either
direction, some little distance to the nearest
house, too, while the dense willow trees com-
pletely shielded the s t from observation.

Helena was nature ly the bravest of the two,
for Winny was of a shrinking timid, fawn-like
nature—one of those gentle, oving irls, who
do not seem fitted to endure the mug blasts 'of
this world; so Miss Icwrence took it upon her-
self to speak:

“ No, sir; we do not wish any do i” decidedly.

“But, ’e's dirt cheap, marm,” t e tramp per-
sisted, “and ’e‘s clean it foo—game to the back-
bone! Look-’er here!’ and then the u retcb tool;
the puppy by the tail and dangled him in the
air, a proceeding which the unfortunate animal
submitted to without wincing.

“ Oh, stop, you horrid creature!” cried He-
lena. shocked at the cruelty of the action.

“ Please don’t hurt the little dog, sir!” Winny
pleaded, earnestly, tears standing in her soft,
violet eyes.

“Oh, bless yer, ’8 don’t mind it; it’s mother’s
milk to ’im, you know!” the tramp replied, but
obeying the request of the girls and removing
the puppy from the uncomfortable position.
“You ha better buy him, one on you; you’ll
never ’ave rich a chance ag’in.”

“We're very much obliged to you, but we
don’t care to purchase any dogs, and will you
please stand aside so that we can 0 col”

“Who’s a-hindering yer, I’d lie to know?”
the fellow retort: d, impudently. “ Ain’t the
road wide enough for all on us, without you
axinga poor beggar like me for to git out of
the way And you ain’t going. I ’opes, without
leavmg me a trifle to remember you by, seeing
as how you won’t buy this here dorg whlc
would be dirt cheap at double the moneyl,"
And then the tramp replaced the puppy "1 1‘15
pocket and leered impudently into the aces of
the two ladies.

It was an ugl situation, and as the easiest

Way toget out o it both of the 'rls came to
the conclusion that it would be ttertogive
the fellow a small sum and so t rid of him.

and so at once their hands soug t their ket'
boom, a proceeding which was viewed w th um
bounded satisfaction by the vagrant.

“ That’s right, ladies!” he cried, in .ee;
"give a poor cove a lift up on the hill of to!
You’ll never miss it, two rich female nobs as
you are!”

The pocketbooks were produced and then, oh,
horror! the ladies discovered that neither one
of them possessed a single coin; the books were
em t !

'l‘hgy quick eyes of the tramp made this dis-
cove almost as soon as the girls did, and an
ugly 001'. came over his hard features. ,

“ Well, blow me tight! if this here ain t a rum
8'0!" he muttered. “Neither one of on has of.
{mough to buy a poor man a pint ol 1‘, an to

 

 

 

 

 

!
i

,l
9:
if
i;

 

The Winning, Oar.

7 ,

 

 

look at yer fixings one would be ready to take
his oath hat ou could stand a basket of'cham-
payee if you ad a mind to!”

“ We really haven’t anythin . sir!” Helena
exclaimed, annoyed and yet ed at the
threatening manner of the man.

“And to think of my wasting my time a—
tryin’ to sell you that valuable dorg!” the fel-
low cried. “Ain’t you kind of ashamed of
yourselves to go gadding about the country with
all this fine harness on jest as if you had an in-
terest in the Bank of England, and yet not even
to have the price of a drink of beer in your
pockets! to go and h’iste up the feelin’s of grati-
tude in this here bosom of mine with a-thinkin’
that I was going to make a stake out of e, and
then to go back on me in this here awfu wa ?”
and the vagabond shook his head, mournfu iv.
Then, suddenly, his keen little eyes caught sight
of a five-dollar gold piece which IVinifred wore
attached to her watch-chain.

“Whatever is that?” he cried, in pretended
astonishment. “ If my eyes don’t deceive me
it’s a jollylgood bit of stuff, but mebbe it ain’t
the real t 'ng.”

“ Oh, you mustn’t take that, sir!” Helena ex-
claimed, in alarm; “it’s a gift to this lady, and
she prizes it very highly!”

“And who is a. oing to take it?” he almost
shouted, indignant y. “ It’s a blooming shame
if you are a oing to take me for a highway
robber, ri ht oust! May I be jig ered if it
ain’t a ve-dollar piece though! ow, miss
seeing ashow I’m so hard up—I ain’t had a good
square meal for three days—if you war to dust
lend me that little bit of stuff for a few (in s—
jest for about a week, you know: I wo dn’t
spend it, but jest make a raise on it, and then
when I get my remittances from ’ome, across
the waters, you know, I’m one of the bleeding
aristocrac , you bet, why then I’d bring it back
to you. est think, mim, you might save a poor
man like me from starvation. In course I could
take and rip it right 0!! of you and hit yera
smashin’ blow in the face, may , that would
s ile that beautiful nose of yourn,” and the ruf-

n doubled n his fist and shook it menacineg
at the alarm girls, who clun to each other in
terror, “’cos that ain’t any y around to in-
terfere, for this is a werry lonely plane, but I
ain’t that kind 0’ man; I wouldn’t do that, not
tmless you provokes me to it, ’cos I’m jest as
gentle as a kitten, when I ain’t crossed and
everything jest as I want it to. So, miss,
if you’re w' ing for to lend it to me for to kee
me from starving or from a-cuttin’ somebody s
throat, why, in course, I’ll take it, and I’ll call
down ’eaven’s blessing on your head, so I will!
You’ll lend it to me, won’t yer? Yer wouldn’t
drive a.poor cove to d ir and make him do
somethin which he might be sorry for ever
afterw st”

And as he finished hisepeech the man came a
step nearer to the girls and extended his hand,
almost clutchiu t e old-piece.

“Yes yes, ta 6 it!’ cried Winifred, terribly
alarms , and endeavoring, witn trembling
hands, to unfasteu the gold-piece.

“ Sha’n’t I help you, marm’!” the tram asked,
with elaborate politeness. “ Sha’n’t take it
off? Those beautiful white fingers of yours will
never be able to do it.”

“ Yes, yes, take and welcome.” the girl stam-
mered, so thoroughly alfrighted that she would
have paid almost any price to have gotten rid of
the ruifian.

A sin le twist of the tram ’3 fingers and he
snapth the gold-piece from t e chain.
“ m only a-borr0win’ of it, you know,” he
said, as he marched around the ladies and duck
ed his head in what was intended to be a te-
ful how. “I couldn’t think of keepin’ i , you
know. Inside of a week I’ll give it back to you.
I’ll find out where you live, and I‘ll brin it to
on. Don’t on be alarmed about it! t will
jest assa e as though you had it yourself,
bless your sweet little heart! Good~rlay, l ‘
l’m jest awfully grateful, I am. Ta, ta!” an
the turning his back upon the town, he march-
ed 0 up the road toward the brick-works, and
soon disappeared around the bend of the road.

“The horrid wretch!” Helena cried, " I do be-
lieve that he would have taken it by force if
you hadn’t given it to him, but what will Bub

so. i”
The fivedollar gold-piece was the stroke-car’s
gift to Winifred.

CHAPTER IX.
A BATTLE ROYAL.

“On, I don’t know; I expect that he will be
terribl angry,” the other replied, in a helpless
sort 0 way. ‘ but I don’t see how I could very
well have avoided parting with it.”

“The wretoh was determined to have it; how
very unlucky that we should have come out
without any change in our pocket-books!”

“ Yes; I will never do so again”

 

i
!

“But hape he would have insisted upon
ha El: gold-piece anyway?" Helena sug- =

“ It is ve likely.”

“Let us urry along home; I don’t know

what on earth to say to Bub, there’ll be a
dreadful time!”

“Yeml suppose so. I hope that he won’t I when I was a Birmingham boy at ’ome,

 

l

l

l

blame me, for I couldn’t help it, could I,
Helena!”

“No, you r little puss, of course you
couldn’t. Wmthe fellow frightened me, and
I am not easily frightened; but let us hurry
along, for he might take it into his head to come
back.”

They acted upon the suggestion at once, but
thry had hardly turned the slight bend in the
road when they came face to face with Law-
rence and Peyton.

Bub’s keen eyes noticed the traces of agita—
tion so plainly apparent upon Winifred‘s face,
and his anxiety was at once aroused.

“Why, what’s the matter, Winny? You are
as pale as a ghost,” he exclaimed.

“ Oh, a horrid man, Bud!” Helena explained
—“a”tramp——just gone up toward the rail-

“ And did he trouble you?”

“ I should think he did!” and Helena proceed~
ed to relate all that had tl’iacgipened.

“ Then, when he insis . u on the gold-piece
you gave it to him?” asked ' , when she h
finished. >

“ Yes; and, Otis, don’t be angry! He really
was a terrible creature l”

“ Oh, I don’t blame [you Peyton, you attend
to the ladies. I’m 0 for that man and that
money!”

“ Be careful, Bub- he’s an ugly fellow!”
warned Peyton; but the stroke-oar only laughed
and hurried up the road.

Five minutes’ brisk walk brought Lawrence
in sight of the tramp, who was leisurely stroll-
111%8 ong.

ub quickened his pace, but took particular
care to walk quietly, so as not to excite the at-
tention of the fellow, and so succeme was he
in this that he got within ten yards of the man
before the tramp was aware of his resence.

And then, the moment that the allow turned
his head, Bub accosted him:

“Hallo, 7you fellow; I want that five-dollar

1

gold- iece
“ ot five-dollar gold-piece?” replied the

 

 

tramp, defiantly, turning squarely around so as '
to face the young man. as if he fully realized : hardly aglance at the conquered man.

that flight was impossible and that he must face
it out.

“ The gold-piece you took from that young
lady down in the hollow,” said Bub, advancing
:0 within easy “ reaching” distance-of the fel-

ow.

The man took a good survey of the stroke-oar
before he made reply, and an excellent judge of
the human form divine was this same unsavory

l
i

 

tramp, as far as muscular force and action were ‘

concerned. In his time, in merrie England, he.

had assisted' at man a tprize-ring encounter
upon the green award? an
tolerany good judge in that sort 0 thing. And
now, as the took stgciufinthis” ouf
apparen y ‘ mean ess, y com re-
hended that if the new-comer knew anything' of
the “noble art” of self-defense, he would turn
out to be a pretty tough customer to handle,
and although he was “an ugly one” with the
fists himself, yet the ounlg man had the advan-
tage in size, Weight, engt of reach, and, above
all, in the freshness which youth alone~cau give.
And so as he couldn’t run, and concluded that
he had better not risk a fight, there was nothing
to be done but to lie out of it.

“ So help me 1” he cried, “ I don’t know-noth-
ing ’bout no gold-piece! You’ve picked up the
wrong chicken, young teller. I guess you’re ar-
ter a sto Jt-buil chap, werry roughly rigged,
that jest run up the road a minute ago. He
was a-hurryggg along as if somebody was after
him. and I to myself, sad I, when he went
by. ‘ Old chap, you ain’t be’n up to no good!’ ”

“ No nonsense, you rogue,” Bub cried. sharply:
“ I’ve no time to waste with you. Hand over
that gold-piece!”

“Don’t
that he ain’t the chap?” the tramp growled m a
“1193: mm I d ’t be! I

“ course on ieve on on v -
bond!” 3’ y Y 88"-

“ Well, I ain’t the man and I ain’t got no time
to stand talking here with you; I’ve t a. busi-
ness a ’intment up yqnder, so I’ll est toddle
along, ’ the tramp said, in a sulky way, pretend-
ing to turn but at the same time being careful
to keep his face toward the young man—not to
be taken by surprise if he knew it.” ‘

can txliddle just as soon as you like!” Bub 
s rn y.

“ I guess on .won’t stop me from going!” the
man repli . insolently. “Who be you? an’
wot’s yer authority. anyhow?”

f‘Tlus is my authority,” the stroke-oar re-
plied, and he held up a big brown fist which
ooked to be as hard as iron.

man,wh0'

you believe a cove when he tells you!

wasre utedtobea.

 

 

i

l

“ Oh, two can Eloy at that game, my nibe!” !
t

the tramp cried, rowing himself With the ease
of a practiced boxer into a defendvs position.
“ And now. as a friend I warn you, don’t you
aggravate me, ’00:; I’m an ugly man when i get
wgom’; I’m jestas eutle as a kitten when I
ain‘t crossed, but if ’m aggravatedfnhyfi’m

a bad lot! You don’t know me, 0010;-

Old Greenback}: thev call me on t 9 road; but

0

l,
l

i
l

there ‘ hundred yards off, then dec

wasn’t many of the kids wot could put up their.
dooks wit-h Jerry Mulligan, and that’s mel Did-
you ever hear of Tom Sayers?—well I’d ’ad the
gloves on ’im. Wot do you think offliatf’mnd
the tramp cut a caper as he spoke.

“ For the last time I ask you for that d-
icce!” the stroke-oar cried, a dangerous fig t in
is eves. ‘

“ Oh, you go to blazes! and that’s the kind of

man I am!”

The stron right arm shot forth, aimed full 3‘
the head of; the tramp; up went the arms of
the man to ward off the apparently powerful
blow; but it was only a faint, for, quick as a
flash the left fist shot out, and taking the tram?
onteun chest,justoverthehear,
floored him as if he had been shot. 

It was an awful downfall. The concussion
with the earth as well as the eflect of the pOWer-
ful blow knocked the wind out of the man and
for a minute or so he lay flat on his back, gasp-
ing for breath, and then he rose slowly to his
feet. retty Well shaken up.

“ ave ou got enough, or do you want an-
other tap fore you grve up the gold-piece!”
Bubldemetndelil' ed a: ” Old

“ ain 1: row up 6 sponge yet,
Greenbacks growled, and than with a careful
guard he approached , the, stroke-oar, thirsting

or revenge. ' 

“You fool you are determined to make me
hurt you!” Hub exclaimed. '

For repl the tram aimed a .wicked blow at
Bob’s ; but the g arms of the student
easily brushed the stroke aside and then again-
the terrible left fist struck-tho fellow a stunning
blow; this time rightbetween the eyes, and
again he went over, headlong. . I

This stroke settled the matter; the fight war:
all taken out of the man, and as soon as he re-
covered mflidcntly to sit up he took the gold-
piece out of his pocket and flung it at. the
student. » ‘ _ I

“ Take the blasted thing!” he cried. .“ I
Wouldn’t stand up ag’in’ you ag’in for a hundred
o ’em!" .

Bub picked up the coin and strode away with

 

. CHAPTER 3'.

' ran: avowed... -

Tin: strokemr returned at once to maladies,
who, escorted by Peyton, were walking £0wa
along toward the town. " .' .' .

The battie with the tram tad really not oc-
cupied as. much time as‘has beenrequired for
the narration of the incident.

After Bnb’s ahru t departure the girls had'

expressed some litt e anxietan regard to the
issue of the interview, but Ethe Virginian had
laughed attheir fears. . u! .;.;  . .

“ Don’t be alarmed, [radial-Bub will get back
the token, and I would be willing to

a
'trifle that he doesn’t have much tronbi?:h.;uh

th? Imatter, eithgi’th '1 £01
‘ hope so; e trump isa wicked -
low”Helenaolnerved.. . .- l

“ es, a perfect wretchi”:amnt¢d Winny.

“Your brother, Miss; has a very utm-
vincing way with him sometimes,” Peyton ob-
served, lightly.. ‘  ~ , _

And the girls, never dreaming of the double
meaning that there was to the sentencesaccept-
ed the speech literally. No doubt Bu would
be able to persuade the man ‘to return the old-
piece—give him a trifle maybe to induce to

give it up. !

Hardlv five minutes Ind after Inw-
rence’s departure em he came ' g along the
roadagain. -  .' . -

‘iuk’lere’s youagtgld-piece, Wingymzid,
as came up 9 prty an e. to
fasten it onto'the chain again, a «'look

sholwing the while in the soft, violet eyes of the

“ Did you have much trouble with the m1”
Helena asked ' v '

“ Oh, no, not much.”

“He was imlined to liten to reason, them”.
Peyton observed.

“Yes, the first argument didn’t fetch him,
but the second did,’ Bub replied, dill-y, pre-
tending to be still busily engaged in taming
the coin to the chain.

“Well, he didn’t seem to me to be the kind

; of man that you could trgue with at all,” Hel~
3 one remarked, innocently. ’
“ You hand out that gold-piece and then 011 !

“Appearances are deceptive. Some of these
fellows that tramp about are regular lawyers,”
Peyton said, with a perfwtngrave face, hu<
mar-ing the 'oke, although understood- as
well as thong he had witnemed the m that
Ribbed not obtained the, coin until he had
thrashed the ruman ‘

“Go on; don’t me Time itflnedin‘a '
tobe'v

minute,” Bub remark , dill

bueyattaching the coiu'to tin champ ' was

a sly device on his part to chub a Moo-Mo

with Winifred:  .z . ‘ A
And?

i aadvtherruolied on in the irection ofrthe
1 town. - r" ‘, i
i Bub waited until they had a couple-of

that the gold

, ' mam"  ' as...
part to e joy'the. of museum!!- 9-
ciety, lost no time presentin his aunt) herw



 

l
v
i

    

.  “-w... ..
- s

 

 

'8

The" Winning Oar.

 

 

 

piece was securely attached to the chain, re-
sented his arm to the blushing rl, and t ey
followed in the footsteps of the at are.

Since the brief conVersation that Bub had
had with Peyton in regard to the two loves
strugglin within his heart he had reflected so-
her] y seriously. .,

As he had honestly confemed, the pretty
dau hter of the English ale-house kee r had
fasc nated him, but a marriage with er was
utterly out of the question; such a thing could
not be thought of seriously, for a single mc»
ment. There was only one way to crush the
foolish fancy, and that was to bind himself
firml and finally to Winifred. He was certain
that e loved her as well as he could love any
woman,and when he had once pledged himself
to her he was confident that she would act as
a angel and keep him from the spells
that the dark-haired siren was striving to weave
around him.

He bad faith enough in himself to believe
.thatif he lighted his word to one woman no
other crea ure of the female kind would have
power over him.

For a few minutes the pair walked on in
silence—the girl perfect] bap y in the society
of the man she airlyi ol , and Bub medi-
tating how to commence operations, for the
ticklisb moment having arrived he began to
geglize that he had taken upon himself no easy
0 .

“ I am very glad indeed that I happened to
come up when I did,” be u, “for if you
had lost my kee I should ave regarded it
as a bad omen.’

“Oh, es; it would have been dreadful,” the
girl re ed, simply, never having the slightest

icmn of the important avowal toward
wh ch the oung man was tending. She was
not unconsc ous of Bub’s love for her, but had
never considered it in the serious light of mar-

' flags, and although Helena, once in awhile,
use t

o joke with er in regard to the influence
which she possessed over Bub, yet in her simple,
girlish heart the idea that some day she might

the wife of Inwrence never came.

“ I’m afraid that you don’t set much value
upon my little gift, or else you would not have
parted with it so easily ” he continued.

The girl looked he at the idea.
th“t%h,shl°dir. Lawreg‘fjeéklyou angst not think
a , lied, y,e.n nave ear-

nest tone. lwig-‘p'li‘he man terrified me so -

I fully that I hardly knew what I was doing.”

- “ Oh, ou silly little puss, did you thin that
I was earnest?” he exclaimed, laughing.
“ Oh, no! I understand that you wouldn’t part
with my token if you could help yourself.”

“ Oh, no, I should be very sorry indeed to
lose it, ’ and the girl looked with her t mild
eyes trustqu up into the face of t e stroke-

nsuspicizous of the declaration which was

car,
so ra approac ng.

. “ £311 {vhyi would you be sorry?" Bub asked,
his tone involuntarily deepening, and his man-
ner growing more and more earnest: and now,
as he looked into the sweet, mild eyes of the

retty maid, all remembrance of the fascinat-
lng siren. the dark~haired Kitty, vanished from

123 l‘lOIll ‘l'l‘.

His liking for her was a delusion, due to the
charmsur' :i howitcbin face, but his feeling for
Winifred was pure an ardent love: so he rea-

so

The question confmed the girl; she blushed,
cast down her e es, and hesitated.

“Why won] I be sorry 1” she answered.
“What funny questions you ask! Wouldn’t
any one be sorry to lose anything that they
prised,£iven by one they—they liked?”

“Th you do like me, Winny?”

,, Thedeep and earnest tone in which the ues-
‘tion was put caused the heart of the gir to
thrill as it had never done before; for the first
time ‘11 her life she was fully conscious of a
girl love. I
“ Like you—why, yes, of course,” she re lied,
hesitatin ly. Her woman’s wit told her t t it
It! noi e question, and while for certain rea-
sons she feared the coming disclosure, yet not
for worlds would she by word or deed have re-
vented it; the draught was too sweet—the p ea-
sure too heavenly, although her sober common

/ sense told her that the words had better be left

unsaid.

“I’m glad ‘of that Winny ” he said very
gravely. and yet with a tone full of ten ernem
-—-“ve glad of it indeed; and I hope that in a
very s your liking will turn into a
stronger feeling.”

“ A manger feeling!” she repeated, mechani-
callQ hndly knowing what she said.

“ es: for, Winny, I not onl “l’i'lkelou, but I

love ‘you withall my heart an

“ h, Otisi” she murmured, and great tear-
dropsstoodinhereyes. '

It ismt afable that sometimes in this life we
pocrhamansa-ytorjoy.

“Yes, Winny, I love you, loveyouaswell as
a Issac-I love a woman. and I want you to
predathatensof thesedaysyouwillbecome

mywib.”

‘Bnt, "the laid, softlyashappyas
be mad withalth perverse-
emfweakhmnanzg’ummuggliggagainst

 

 

her happiness, “ I am only a poor girl, you
know, while you are very rich, and I am sure
that you mi ht find some one much better suited
to you than am.”

' Can I find any one that I will love any bet-
ter, or any one who will t3 to make me hap-
pier than you will?” be ask , quickly.

The girl did not rep] in words, but she lifted
up her head and sm' ed at him through her
tears.

It was a good and sufilcient answer, and the
heart of the student beat fast with joy.

“ M own dear little girl!” he murmmrd:
“ all my future life shall be devoted to your
hagpiness.”

y this time the pair had reached the suburbs
of t 9 team, and as they walked on, unconscious
of all else but love’s delirious dream, around the
corner of a. sidestreet came a stately, rtly
figure face to face with them, and, so denly
roused from their abstraction. the pair looked
up and saw the usually placid face of Doctor
Peabody, now aghast with surprise and horror.

CHAPTER XI.
THE DOCTOR SPEAKS.

TH]: doctor, in his astonishment, bad halted
right in front of them, and so, complete]
blolcking the way, brought the twain to a stan -
stil .

Winny crimsoned as red as a rose in conscious

ilt; but Bub, with a defiant smile upon his

ace, drew the arm of the girl still tighter
within his own and calmly faced the old gentle-
man.

“Good gracious] is it possible?” the doctor ex-
claimed, completely surprised by the unexpech
meeting, the more so that for the first time he
suspected the intimate relations which existed
between the two young people.

Doctor Artemas Peabody was quite a charac-
ter in his way; a very t man, very rtly in
build, with his long, white hair brush careful-
ly back of his ears, his smoothly-shaven, florid
face, large blue eyes, extremel mild and placid
in their look, almost always idden behind a
pair of old-fashioned glasses, the doctor‘s con-
stant companion for the last twenty years, his
was a figure calculated to excite attention any-
w ere.

As a scholar the doctor stood high; few men
in Cambridge that renowned recinct of the
all-learned “ l-Iub,” were better earned than he.

The doctor had been Bub’s ardian ever
since the death of his father, w icb event had
taken place when Bub was but a child, and in
fact had been much more of a parent to him
than his real father ever was, for Otis had been
too young at the time of his father’s death to
realize the extent of his loss.

The mother of the stroke-oar had died when
he was only three years old, and of course of
her he remembered nothing.

“Well, well,” muttered the doctor, so utter-
ly bewildered by the sudden and astounding dis-
covery he had made that he was completely
dumbfounded.

It was an awkward situation, but Bub with
his usual cleverness thought of a way to get out
of the dilemma.

It was quite lain to him that far the first
time the old octor bad awakened to the cou-
sciousness that there was a love-affair between
himself and Winny, and that the knowledge
bad utterly astounded him. An explanation
must come some time, and as Bub was a firm
believer in the old idea of taking the bull by
the horns, be determined to settle matters at
once.

“Winny, won’t you excuse me for a few
minutes, so that I can have some conversation
with the doctor?” he said. “Run on and join
Helena and Dick. The doctor and I will soon
catch up with you.”

“Certainly, responded the girl, not at all
sorry to be released from the embarrassing situa-

Tbe doctor and Bub, left alone together,
surveyed each other for a few minutes in

ex ence.
“ Well, well 1” the old entleman murmured
at last with a solemn she e of the head.
“ What is the matter, sir?” asked Bub, as cool

 

as a cucumber. ,
“I am a stupid old donkey not to have mis-
trusted this before!” the doctor exclaimed, With
another doleful shake of the head.

“ Not to have mistrusted what, sir?"

“Oh, you know well enough, young man; I
have been blind not to have seen that some such
thin as this was almost certain to happen. It
is my own fault; I can hardly blame either
of you, for it is only human nature. I am the
one who should bear the blame. ”

“The blame of what, sir? Pray e lain.”

“Answer me a (tuestion first.” sa (1 the old

ntleman, quite a ruptly. “ What had you

n saying to Winifred when I encountered
you ust new?”

“ ir, I will answer the question as franklyas
itbas been asked,” the stroke-oar replied With
midst honesty. “ I had been telling the young

( that I thought she was the dearest and best

in this world, and that I loved her and
neverbehappy until she consented tobe-
come my wife.”

'my marriage with your daughter.

 

The old gentleman fairly groaned aloud at
this extremely frank avowal.

“ How is this, sir? You don’t seem tolike it,”
Bub questioned.

In truth he was rather astonished at the
dismay soplainly written upon the face of the
doctor.

“ Oh, it is sheer madness!” the old gentleman
cried; “such a union cannot be!” .

“Excuse me, doctor, but it will be!” Bub re-
plied firmly.

“ db, no, my dear boy, you must not think of
such a thing!’ the doctor exclaimed, evidently
laboring under deep excitement. “ I know that
you t‘ ink you love her—”

“ Think, sir!” Bub cried, indi antly.

“Yes, yes, I know; you fee sure that you
love her and that you will never love any one
else,” the doctor continued imposing silence
with a wave of his band. “ hat is the way we
all are when youthful blood runs riot in our
veins. I know how it is myself; but, you will
get over it. I do not blame ou; it was all my
fault in brin ing you toget er: I looked upon
Winny as a c il ; I did not dream that she was
going to turn into a woman so soon. I have
been blind, but now I wake to a consciousness
of my) folly. But, my dear b0 , you really
must anish this idea from your cad—for my
sake you must.”

“ Doctor, it is impossible!”

“Yes, yes, I know that you think so now;
but in time you will get over that idea.”

“Doctor shall never get over it; and why
do you make such a difficulty about the matter?
What objection is there to my marriage with
Winny?”

The agitation of the old gentleman visibly in-
creased. He took his old-fashioned silk hand-
kerchief from his pocket and mopped his face
with it; the perspiration was streaming from
every pore.

“ My boy, why do (you force me to an expla-
nation?” he murmurs , evidently suffering deep-
ly. “ Is it not enough that I tell you the union
cannot be?”

“No, sir, it is not enough,” Bub replied, re-
spectfully, for be piticd the a 'tation of the old
gentleman, and yet firme or his was not a
nature to give up a cherished ob ect without
good and sufficient reasons. “ is uesiion
concerns the happiness of my whole fe, and
unless you give me some good reason why I
should not seek Winifred’s hand in marriage,
most assuredly I will persist in my suit.”

“ But just consider what a terrible situation
you are placing me in l” the old gentleman cried;
“I am your guardian; I have cared for you
since you was a child; on are the heir to a
lar estate—a man of ortune and of famil ,
a what is my daughter? Just think of it!
what is she? the child of a penniless old man——
of an obscure man who depends upon his daily
toil that be may live: wil not the world say
that I—I your tutor—your guardian—deliber-
ately plotted to entrag you into a marriage with
my child that I mig t profit b our wealth?
Yes, all the world Will say it; al t e world will
believe it, and l, in my 0 d age, will be covereu
with shame I”

The good man was laboring under strong ex-
citement, but to Bub’s experienced eyes it was
plain that in some measure the agitation was
forced.

“ Ah, Doctor‘Peabody, you are not treating
me honestly now!” his tone was one of re roach.
“This is not the true reason why you c ject to
There is
something more than this. I lmow you too well
to believe, even for a single instant, that you
care two straws about the opinion of the world
when your own heart a uits you of all wron -
doing. How often have heard you rail at t e
vile and unjust verdicts that the world’s juries
often give? How often have I heard you say
that the upright man kept on in the even tenor
of his way, unmoved b the clamor of popular
opinion, and that in t e end justice won it! be
done him? Doctor, for some reason you are de-
ceiving me. This reason that you have given is
not the true one.”

“My dear boy, why should I deceive you?”
the oh:1 gentlemen plead, wringing his hands in

D .

“I do not know, sir, but I feel confident in
this matter that for some reason you are not
treating me frankly; you are hiding something
from me.”

“ No, no, you must not think so!” the old gen-
tleman persisted.

“ Yvon will not satisfy my curiosity upon this

int ’

“ But, my dear boy, on must not think there
is anything—I mean t at you must not think
that—” and then completely confused, his (1d
guardian broke down and moppcd his face with

is handkerchief more vigorously than ever.

Bub regarded the doctor for a few minutes in
silence, but from the look upon his features it
was lain that be was not at all satisfied.

“ ou wish me to give 13) all idea of marry-
ing Winny?" he said at la .

‘ Yes, es; you must give it up.”

“ Simp y because I am rich and she is poor?”

“ Yes. yes.” ,

“ Well, doctor, I sha’n’t do anything of the

 

 

 

 

 

7‘: "7“ ""
I

The inning Oar.

9

 

 

 

4...”... -. .__._........ _-V_

sort!” Bub exclaimed, flrmly. “ I love Winnv,
and I think that she loves me, and I am deter-
mined to have her if it is ossible!”

“But, it is not possib 6, my dear boy; you
don’t know the obstacles—the shameful secret—
but there, you are forcing me to utter words
which I have no business to speak!”

The old gentleman was now more 'tated
than ever, and Bub really sympathize with
him, although he was utterly unable to compre—
hend the re .son.

“ But then, for the present, let us say no more
about the matter,” the doctor continued. “ I
will take an early opportunity to question
Winifr. Id and ascertain exactly what her feel-
ings are in this matter; and now let us go
home.”

Si '0 by side the two roceeded, Bub puzzled
and the doctor distressed.

 

CHAPTER XII.
A FAMILY COUNCIL.

Tm! sunset hour had come, and theinnkee r,
old G-oogage, with his better-half, Mrs. Ii ary
Ann Googage, a stout, wed-preserVed, motherly-
looking woman, havin finished their. tea, sat
under the shadows of t e cherry trees in the lit-
tle front garden of the ale-house.

It was too early yet for customers, for the
college boys rarely honored the “ Woodbine ”
with their presence until the shade of night had
covered in the earth. '

The old man was smokingdalpipe and the good
dame was busy with her ' 'tting, while from
the kitchen at the rear of me house came the
clatter of dishes, and ever and anon the clear
voice of the innkeeper’s daughter warbiod a hit
of song as melodiously as a bird.

“ I tell ’ee, old woman, she’s a rare ’un!” Goo-
gage exclaimed, taking the pipe out of his
mouth for a moment, and nodding in the direc-
tion of the giil.

“ Yes, she is, old man: she beats anyeanary
that I ever heard,” the dame replied, With con-
scious pride. _

“ And she’s a beauty, too, although I say it
that shouldn’t, but it’s the truth. I tell you
what, wife she can hold up her head with any
on ’1 m, althou h, mebbe, she hasn’t got sich fine
to'rs as some 0 the gals in the big houses.”

a Well Ben, I’m sure our Kitty aliers dresses
like a lady, and she looks like one, too, and she
coulddress herself a great deal better if she
choosed—that is, I mean she could wear richer
and more costly clothes, but she don’t seem to
cam for ’em.”

“'Mebbe she gives us too much of her money?”
the innkeepcr sug ested. “ I don’t really know
what would have ome of us if it hadn’t been
for her. Jest to thmk of hers-starting out into
the world all on her own hook and a-making
enough wages for to he] us hold on to this lit-
tle place. Ah! in those ya the Woodbine had
a tough time of it, but now that I’ve got in with
the co lege he s, we’re beginning to r,”

“ And, spea ing of the students,”t e o d lady
remarked, an anxious expression upon her face,
“do you know that I’m afraid that it isn’ta
very good idea to let Kitty get acquainted with
all these wild young men? ’

“ Wh not?’ asked Goo age, almost grainy,

“ We old man you now that boys ar
boys, and girls will be girls. Now they pay
Kitty all sorts of compliments, enough to turn
any iri’s head, and—’ .

‘ What of it!” It was quite evident from the
tone of the old man that he dld not relish the re-
marks of his “ artner for life.”

“ Well, you ow it ain’t likely that any one
of these young gentlemen can'have any serious
intentions in regard to our girl,” the old lady
replied, “ and‘I’m afraid that she’ll get ideas in
her head that won’t do her any good.”

“ Why shouldn’t an of ’em have an
intentions, as you ca ’emi” demand

11, forcibl . ‘
In!“ Now, dog’t get angry, Ben; you know Pm
only speaking for the best. It ain’t a likely
thing, you know; they’re all young gentlemen
of property, and of thinly, and an that
sort of thin , while we’re-—” .

“Well, w at are we? Spit it out, old wo-
man!” exclaimed,sarcasticaily. “ Bless
my stars! if didn’t think that in this here
country one man was jest as good as another, if
not sometimes a little better, but if you go on,
like you is a-going now, bless me! if you won’t
make out that we re regular tramps, all on us!”

Mr. Googage was evident! offended.

“Oh, I knows, Ben, that t re ain’t anybody
in the world as has call to say a single word
ag’in’ es ” she answered.

“ Well, I should say not i" he blurted out;
“ and if anybody did, although I am a member
a the church and a Christian man, I ’opes, I
think that I would he apt to backelide for a. few
minutes and set let ’em see the style in which I
usedto knoc the coves around when I was.
waterman on the Thames, in bold Hengland.

“Well, I knows, that we can ’old our
’en’ls up with hany y, for the matter of

_71

that v

“i thinkweoanr'pumugout a great  2:1
of mo'ws “ Don’t I pa my taxes? Does any
nil; .bor find fault wit me for keeping this

serious
the old

 

 

here little place? Was there ever a drunken
man seen around here? Was there ever a quar-
rel in the Woodbine? Do any loafers come here
at all? Not much! Here’s one saloon in the
city of Cambridge where you can’t buy any-
thing stronger than ale if a man was to offer its
weight in gold, and the people know it, anda
mug of good ale never hurt anybody yet; and
new, wife don’t you go to running the family
down. \Ve’ve liVl d here ten years, and no

can say that I ever wron ed a mortal onto a
farthing, and now, just use you’re afraid
that some one of these young college chaps may
take a fancy to our girl, you’re a-going on and
a~trving to make out that we ain’t as 00d as
anybody else. Why, old woman, our 'tty is
a match for any man in the land, Idon’t care
who he is! Why, the on of the President him-
self, and I think that he’s one of the nobs, if
there is any, might be proud to win such a lass.
She’d be an honor to any man in the land, that’s
what I say!”

And having thus relieved his mind by this
free and frank expression of his sentiments, the
innkeeper again devoted his attention to his
pig‘s, u hich had near] gone out.

rs. Googage shoo er head soborly for a
moment.

“ An, Ben, that’s allers the way with you,”
she said. “ You allers flies in a passion instead
of listening to reason. l\‘ow Ben, what I wants
to say is this. I’ve noticed lately that this Mr.
Lawrence and our Kitty have a good deal to
say to each other.”

“What of it’s” exclaimed the old man, dog-
gedly. “ Mr. Lawrence is a gentleman; he
won’t do the girl no harm l”

“ Nobody said that he would,” the dame re-
plied just a little spitefully. “ But, what is

r. awrenee, tell me that, please?”

“ What is he? Why, he’s asflne a gentleman
as the Lord ever put on the earth; there ain’. a
square inch of meanness on his whole carcass!”

“ Ile’sa gentleman, isn’t he?”

“ Of course he is! What a question!”

“ Awful rich, too?" ..

“Yes 3’ so so: I’ve heard that he is.”

“ And, u, do you think that he’s a-going to
marry our kittyi” The old woman ut the
question plumply, and leaning forw looked

the innkeeper square in the e.

“ Dang it! who said that he would?” he cried,
brin 'ng his hand smartly down upon his knee.

“ on say so when you let the flirtation 0 on
and don’t tell the girl to mind what 0 is
about,” the dame replied.

“ There ain’t a flirtation atween ’eml"

“Yes, there is! I’ve seen it! I’m not blind
if you are.” '

“ He might get a worse wife than our Kitty.”

“ Oh, no doubt about that!” the old lady ex-
claimed, with conscious pride. “ She’s good
enou h for a duke or a prince!”

“ e don’t ’ave ’em in this country, you
know.” '

“Never mind; shebe good on h for ’em if
they was here. But now: Benja (loom, I
jest want you to give your attentionto t ere
subject. don’t want that girl to t any ideas
in her head that ain’t goinlfi to do r the least
bit of good. If this here . Lawrence, who is
a perfect gentleman, as I knows well enough,
means to mar Kitty, well and good—”

“ And how 0 you know that he doesn’t?” in-
terrupted the old man, abruptly.
pretty girl—a ladylike girl and she had a good

ringing up. She can singlike an angel play
on the piano—can talk wit a colle a pro essor,
and there ain’t anybody that co (1 meet her
and tell without a. knowing of her that she was-
n’t the daughter of one o the greatest nohe in
the land.”

“ That’s all true enough—there ain’t anybody
as could say that isn’t true! but, Benjamin
Googa e, he don’t mean it!” When the better-
half 0 the innkeeper desired to be particulatrlfi
impressive she always called him by h'n
name.

“ How do you know that he don’t?” The old
man was obstinate. To tell the truth he had no-
ticed the growing intimacy between Ki and
the stroke-oar, and the Wish was father the
thought that Lawrence would take a. fancy to
the girl, and, de ite the diflerence in their po-
sitions, make her is wife.

“ Oh, I know well enou h ” the dams lied,
with a warning shake o the head. “ hat’s
the use of ti’iying to blind ourselves with our
own hands? be young gentleman is all well
and honest enough. Kitty is a y girl, and
she’s a ladylike girl, and a ’nn, too; an -
body can see that with half an eye; it'- only
natural that he should take a fanc to her;
mebbe he does think that she’d do orawife,
but just wait till he let: on to his peopleand
th‘eanee 3hr? a rgw thei’p’ll be!” m

‘ e u an ! Googage remar
gmtly; “ b0 his father and mother m3

“ Well, then he’s got uncles and sun "
sisted the dams, not at all put out by tit: inptgl‘:
ligence. “ And if he ain’t got uncles and am:
then he’s got friends—hobs in his own walk
li_fe. and a pretty time they’ll make about it.
_‘, nu jest see! No doubt he means well mouth.
tn; when the pinch corms h-:‘ll back out, and

“ Kitty is a-

 

then what kind of a child should we have on our
hands? Kitty would go crazyz I know!”

“ Oh, bother, mother! You re allers borrow-
ing trouble,” the old man retorted, sulkily. He
was annoyed at having his bright day-dream so
rudely destroyed, and yet he could not help ac-
know edge—to himsel , though, not to his wife
—that there was reason in her words.

“ Better borrow it afore than be troubled with
it arterward." she replied, sa ly, “ but you
"est talk to Kitty; jest drop a ew words, you

now. _

“ I sha’n’t do anything of the sort,” he return~
ed, bluntly. “ She’ll be going back to her work
in a few days now and that will end the matter,
but I’ll hes a look-out for her until then."

“Well, t at will do; and now I will go in, for
the dew is commencing to fall.” Quite satisfied
the dams withdrew into‘t‘he house, leaving the
old man to his reflections. which were anything
but pleasant. These reflections were soon in-

terrupted by a man whr sauntered u to the
fence and leaning on the pickets look over at
the innkeeper.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
LN OLD ACQUAIN’I‘ANCE.

Tn] innkeeper was not in a very good humor
and therefore when he looked u and saw that
the new-comer was arough-lookmg fellow, with
a dirty, unshaven face, and that his garments
were much the worse for wear, he accosted him
quite rudely:

“ Well, what do you want?”

For tramps the sturdy Englishman had an in-
veterate dish'k for it was im 'ble to con—
vince him that era wasn‘t wor for every man
in this world if he sought for it diligently and in
the right way.

“ How are you, boss?” responded the man,
ducking his head, and affecting a jovial aspt ct;
“ have you ,got the price of a pint of beer in
your pocket

At once, from the peculiar form of the man’s

h as well as irom hismanner. the host ecu-
c uded that the speaker was an old countryman
a discovery that immediatel annoyed him, an
if he had put the cause of is annoyance into
words, he would have exclaimed:

“ One of the blarsted hounds that has to cut
and ran from some the water, and (‘u- es our
hero to disgrace the country that had to kick
him out!”

“Why don’t you go to work and earn your
beer?” Googage responded, in answer to the in-

quir . -

“ ind where’s a man to git work when there
ain’t any i" demanded the tramp, for such he
evidently was.

“ I guess that all the hunting after work that
you have ever done LeV( r Luit you much I” the
innkseper exclaimed samasticaily.

“ Well, wot sort ofa man are you anywa “I”
cried the tramp, his manner suddenly chant-In
and becoming insolent. He had «ought sighfi
of the modest sign of the Woodbine Inn.

“ You had better travel right along or mebbe
you’ll find out what kind of a man 1 am !” Goo

s cried, rising in wrath and shaking a
rawny fist in the face of the tram

“ Do you keep this be: e gin-shoprP‘querled the
fellow, prudenth retreating a step so as to get
beyond the rose of the old man. \

‘Don’t you call my place a gin-shop or I’ll
come out and d you, you loafer!”

cried Googage, 
‘- Well, Ion do so] gin don’t you?” the tram
e ti “and

retorted, flan a precious nice artic
you are for to about work; you work, don’t
you! Oh, yes, a-selling of ’ison for to take
own the brains of sicb gentl n as I am «e

“ ove on, move on i” Googage exc med:
“ you’ll get nothing here but a thrashing!"

“ Not a m0ve you old bloke!” rmpondfi the
tramp,“ defiantly, “for I’m a-comin in " to
Eatromae your establishment. “ m a good

aritan, I am! ,Ireturnsgoodforev;
you’re hard-’earted enough to refuses r co ,
a kit’s: of beer, so I’m going to buy it, likes.
no
be‘gggogt want your cudom! Your room is
an your company; on jest and
take Agar custom somewhere’s zine. so
“ ’t mv money good?"
“ No, not here.”
I: And why not?”
youy’ever you mind; jest you Mp on, will

“ We blow me tight !” cried the fellow, ab-
ruptly; or thefirst time he had taken a
look at the innkee . “Well, I never! f it
isn’t! Who would ve thou ht it! ’ang me if I
ain’t knocked all into a cock hat!”

Googags looked at the tramp in astonish-
meat.

“Oh, you don’t know me, of course! When
a man is down on his luck nobody knows him!”
“ I never aw on before!” the linnkesper re-

! te . I
p %h,«no, of course not !” cried the tram , with
an air of lofty disdain. “ I didn’t leave gland

«him a3) with e. wire and a hobby
to my no this here country est be-
hse I 'appsasd to ’ave a dhpatewith a ken

co"- in regard to a “eke” ‘l 0 hits givemeths
\-  n ’eu. I puma t”. .... .9. .l... river jest in

 

10

The Wi_i'...ing Oar.

 

gratitude-like, and then, when he got sober, he
went and lod ed information ag’in’ me and
swore I rob him of it, and so, as I-didn’t
. , want to Iput ther perlice to any trouble, seeing
as how had sold the ticker, I emi ted. Oh,

you don’t know me, in course! our name‘
ain’t Ben , and I ain’t your lawful
cousin, Jerry ' gun?”

“Well, Well, it ain’t possible!” the innkeeper
I cried in astonishment.
g, ‘ “Wish I ma die if it ain’t!”
;, “ I thought t t you were dead, lon ago.”
§_ “Oh, no; I’m one of the kind that era turns
; up like a bad penny.” '
l “Well, you allers was a bad egg,” Googage
. remarked, with a solemn shake of the head.
, “ Ah,;that’s the old cry!” Milligan enclaimed,
, lndignantly' “ give a dog a bad name and then
. hang him. I see I ain’t any worse than the
i rest of the wor d, only I happened to be found
' out that’s what’s the matter!” ‘
E ' “'Where’s the wife and hubby now?”
' “Gone both on ’em; much better 06, too.” .
p “Yes,l should say so,” Googage observed,
l; grimly. “ Well, what you driving at! No
; good I suppose.”
‘ “ here now is lZest where you’re out; I’m no
, tramp I ain’t, alt ough I have done my share

in that line, but I’m here now on business.” .

: “Business?” the innkeeper remarked, s i-
, citgusly, with a look at the seedy clothes of e
, 0 er.
5 “Yes, sir; that’s my game, and I reckon that
' I’m laying a lone hand for all it’s worth, as a
.L Wages-n sharp would say.”
i “And what business might you have to at-
, tend to, I’d like to know?” It was
; the old innkeeper did not have every ' h opin-
: t ion of his relative.
', The tramp put his tongue into his cheek in a
, ve knowing way, and then winked cunningly
, at poogage.
; “Don’t ou be to curious, old man,” he re-
. ; ‘ all I care tosay atpresent about my
business is that I’m going to make a ten-strike
afore I’m four-and-twenty hours older.”
1 “ A ten-strike!” exclaimed Googago, dubious-

y.

“That’s my leetle game; jest you mark it
, now, and then arter that operation is performed.
, , I’ll tog up a little. I ain’t in jest the rig now to
g , , at a first—class hotel.”
. . ‘ No, I should think not.”
it: “But now, I say Ben, ain’t you going to

stand summati A dro of beer and a bit of
l v “iread and cheese, and i yer too stingy to give
it to yer own flesh, why, I guess I’ve got the
: , blunt about me somewhere to pay you for it,”
. I," _ lililligan said, half cringingly and lulf defiant-

: Y- '
3 IV, “Oh come in, man; you’re welcome to a bite
' of e t that there is in the house, for blood
, g, is thicker than water, althou b you are, and al-
. I ._ lers have been, a precious lot.”
 g. The ,tnamp grinned; be regarded this remark
I,” asasortofacom thfentée (“h tn
«it eeopen ega an eeWMe
V slmgm The oldinan led the we to the
1 ii kitchen, which was unoccugisld, the mot er and
1 dau liter having betaken t selves up-stairs.
per set out a plate of cold meat,
and some breed and cheese, before his-visitor,
8.1121219!) went to the bar and drew him a mug

of ; -
When he returned, he found that his long-ab-

, ‘ r‘ sent relative had turned up the light upon the
» :3 kitchen table, which the prudent old lady had

’ regulated so as to jud: keep the flame alive and

i, ‘ that was and he was at the food in a

" 1 manner w h plainly indicatedt at he had not

,i sat downto a“good square meal”for some

i l “ Aha, Ben, my tulip, that’s the stuff!” he ex-

! claimed, his e es glistening at sight of the foam-

. ing mug of I” e. “ That’s the sort of .tipple for
ours

—‘-_;<C-2-a.= r 2

. .f y
 Asold set the ale down before the
l .. tsamp, for the time he got a good view of

his face, and he stared in astonishment at it. for

not only was it rough and unshaven but there.
 was a discolored lump on, the fore and right
i above the nose, and two rings of black around
the e as, which plainly betokened to the expert-
, en agaze of the innkeeper that some werful
‘ fisth beentakinglibertieswithflr. ' ' n’s
fron iece.
G “ mach“; you tbeend  against?”
ooga ,as can ownon so its
sideaghe table. ppm
H n

, you are’too much for me,” Milli-
' ~ cran led, with his mouth full, and then‘he
‘ oak a great swallow of the ale. “Itwas a
oungacove wot I ked up for a clutter; jest

/ lutsi the town. on know I was .allers ve
- sandy with my dukes, and I est cheekedthis'
fellerhms I thought that I con d maid ’im if- he
t up to wmtch. I tookho’im orient
: c (II V, i OW
me am didn’tpgét’in on me at tp first

Nana: .‘Wifia “ :w =

.3 :I:

. u»- m.‘

on
“Andhe vs uthose beau spots, eh?”
“ Oh, to, t 3:. the second hick. He nearly

crashed my ribswith the furst one, antl‘then
in» a fool, I wasn’t satisfied that I hadknoclied

«~sz g u,1..¢aflm-‘—s
-\

lain that r

 

 

at the wrong door. but I must go for ’im a;;’in.
and then he jest flaunt-4 me am out. I’d

.
a} I

A‘t‘.‘
V.‘

 

 

ut u my mauleys with a good many of ’em,
rom ‘om Sayers down wards, but this chap was
the smartest of ’em all.”

“One of the college boys, I suppose; you
ought to have had better sense; nearlfy all the
students ow how to handle themse ves, jest
like the Oxford boys at ’ome.”

“Well, I got all I wanted; I ain’t difiicult to
satisf .”

By this time the fellow had made quite a sub-
stantial meal, and then, with one long pull he
finished the ale, setting the mug down wi a
sigh and a wishful look.

“ Will you have another one?” asked the inn-
keeper, rising. In his heart be thoroughly de-
 his unworthy relative, yet he yielded to
t e sacred claims of hospitality.

. “No, thankee,” responded the tramp, reluc-
tantly, and the refusal evidently cost him a
struggle.

“ You’re quite welcome to it, ou know,”
Googage remarked. “ I can’t say t at I’m glad
to see ye, ’cos that would be a lie, for I ain’t;
you never was good for much, except for get-
ting into trouble and dragging in everybody
else that tried to help you, but still I ain’t a-go-
ing to refuse a bit to eat or a sup of ale while I
have it.”

“ I’m wery much obligated to you,” Mr. Mil»
ligan replied, rising and bowing with state]

litenes, “and I guess that there ain’t muc
ove lost atween us; ou’re an honest worm,

.while I’m a soarin’ eag e—-”

“ And your wings have been out many a
time,” Goo ge added, dryly.

“ I’ll fetc my mark some of these da , when
m1; luck turns, see if I don’t; and now must be
0 . Do you ’appen to knew, Benjamin. m tu-
lip, where a certain Doctor Artemas Pea y
ives

The innkeeper stared at the question.

 

CHAPTER XIV.
LN UNEXPECTED MEETING.

“ Doc'ron ARTEMAS PEABODY?” asked the inn-
kee‘per, slowly. 'r l

‘ That’s the name, and he’s the pippin I want.”

“ What do on want with him?”

The tramp id his finger alongside of his nose
and then he winked, sly 

“ Jest as if I should to I you that you know.”

“ Oh, of course it’s no business 0 mine, only!
was rather taken aback at the idea of your
wanting to see the doctor.” ‘

“ He’s the gentleman as I’ve got businem with,
and emprecious lon way I’ve come to see him,
too. 0 doubt you re staggered at a poor cove
like me a-havin business with a nob like him,
but it’s the tru for all that, and I’ll bet on a
trifle, Ben, that I make a raise out of the octor
afore I get through with him.”

~“ Oh, you’re going to make a raise out of the
doctor, eh’i”

Milligan looked at him suspiciously for a mo—
ment, before he answered the question, as if he
was afraid that he had said too much.

“ All in an honest way, you know; no black-
mail or anything of that kind. The fact is, Ben,
I don’t mind telling you, you know; I let the
doctor have some valuable propeity about six-
teen years ago, and now I’ve come to get it
back.

“You let the doctor have some valuable pro-
pe ?” cried the innkeeper, in astonishment.

“ h, yes; on wouldn’t believe that I ever
had sich a t ing, would you, to look at me
now?”

“No, I shouldn’t.”

“ It’s a fact though, and I think that the doc-
tor will ‘fork over pretty lively; he’s bleeding
rich ain’t he?”

“ What makes you think so?” asked Googage,
evasively.

“ Why, ’cos he was pretty well ofi’ then, and
that’s a matter of seventeen or eighteen years
ago,” and the tramp looked anXiously at the
innkeeper as he spoke, a lurkingsuspicmn in his
mind that the doctor’s condition ilnancxally
might not be as good as he could have wished.

‘ Well, Jerry, if you’ve waited all these years
to make a stake out of the doctor, all I‘Ve got to
as i that I’m afeard that you’ll have your
lagorsfor our 5.”

“ You. on’t

in surprise.

“ Fact! he was pretty well off, but about

eight or ten years ago he went into a real estate

tion over in Somerville and when the
panic of ’73 came it completely broke him They
say that he’s taking every cent that he can earn
now ens-pt jest enough to live on, to pay of!
old (bills. .

“ Well mine is an old debt, a recious old
debt,” insignia remarked, though ully, “.but
if he ain’t got the stamps of course my little
game won’t work. ”

“ No, not much.”

“ Do you s’ '
dollars?” the p asked, reflectively.

Googags indulged in a prolonged whistle.

“A thousand dollars! and are you going for
a stake like that?” .

,“Oh, bosh! that ain’t nothin I” Milligan re-
plied, mntanptuously. “ If he ml the stamps
could strike him for five thousand!”

ll me so, now?” cried Milligan,

that he could raise a thousand .

 

~__4

“ Five thousand l” cried the innkeeper, in
amazement

“ Or ten, maybe; yes he’d 0 ten thousand
dollars if he was well  is wife—how is
she? ain’t she ot the stamps? When these rich
nobs fail, you ow, their wives generally make
a bi rake out of it.”

“ less you, man! his wife’s been dead for
these ten years!”

The under-jaw of the tramp dropped.

“ The old woman dead!”

“Yes, ten years ago.”

“ Well, here’s a pre y kettle of fish!”

“ Does that bother on?”

“Raytherl Well, ’lltoddle along; there’s no
good of my standing here and talking to you
about the thing. But it’s bleeding hard, you
know, when a man has made revision for his
old age and comes for to go for it and finds that
it ain t there, it’s a bloo ' shame, you know!
Well. I’ll see on ag’in, n; so long!” The
tramp march to the door; but on the thresh-
old suddenly paused. “ There! if I wasn’t
a-going without finding out where the old blokv
lives! ’

“Putnam street,” res nded Googage, and
then he vs the fellow t e necessary directions
in rag to finding the house.

Mr. Milligan departed, leaving the old inn—
keeper in a state of great amazement.

“ Ten thousand dollars,” he murmured, “and
where in this world did Jerry Milligan ever get
anything worth ten thousand dollars or the
hundredth part of that sum?” And the old man
sat (liown and wrestled in his mind with this
puzz e.

As for the tramp he proceeded straight to the
house of the doctor, and, as it was not far off,
fin some eight or ten minutes he stood before the

oor.
“ This must be the place,” he muttered, “ a
brown house with a mansard roof and a lamp-
post in front of the door—plenty of big trees in
he yard. This is the werry identical s ot. And
the Doc is broke, eh?” he continu , medita-
tzively, leaning over the fence and ing to peer
through the trees into the 0%: win ows o! the
house, which sat quite a dis so back from the
street. “Well, now, if that’s the truth the jig
is up as far as he is concerned and I’ll have to
come down on the other, and that’s a precious
sight more troublesome. I hate to have to do
anything with women, an way, but if the doc-
tor is gone 13), why, it can t be helped; but first
let me see I’ve got that leetle document all
correct.”
Turning and leaning his back ainst the
to, so as to have the benefit of the light of the
amp, he fished out a tin tobacco-box from an
inner pocket and opening it took from it a fold-
ed aper, yellow With age.
his he opened care ally and by the light of
the lamp perused it; at the bottom of the paper
was the bold, clerkly signature of Doctor Arte-

mas Peabodly.

“There, think that there ain’t no mistake
about this here leetle document!” be exclaimed.
with a chuckle, as he carefully folded it up
again, replaced it in the box and then consigncd
it to his pocket in.

“ I guess that t e Doc won’t deny that ’ere big
si ture of his’nl”

ut hardly had the triumphant speech mssod
his lips, when a sudden idea occurred to llll:--
an idea that made him soowl and glare around
him at the darkness. .

“S‘posen she’s dead!” he muttered; “ the
Doc’s wife is gone, and mebbe she’s slipped off
the handle, too! Well, that would be a left-
handed lick in the jaw! What an ass I was
that I. didn’t ask Ben, but then he might have
suspicioned somethin ; he was aoworr ing ’bout
what I’wanted the octor for; but w at harm
would it have done? If she’sa cold corpus, why
the? I’m dished, and it’s a bleeding shame if it is;
so .’

Then again the tramp turned his attention to
the house.

“ I think I can see women’s dresses through
them windows,” he muttered.

The c ing vines clinging to the pillars ( l‘
the veran a, and the bushes in the grounds in
front, obstructed the view so that it was almo ‘2
impomible to distinguish clearly the figures of
the occ‘ulpants of the lor.

“Sh I walk up ldly and ring the from
door-bell like a precious nob, or shall I Bklmlill
round the house and see ’ow the land lays aforc
I itches in?” meditated Mr. Milligan.

_ e latter course was decidgi‘ly more to his
liking, as, through all his life, way had evvi-
been a devious one, and he was about to put the
plan in execution when the a Ei-roacb of a gen-

leman up the street attrac attention.

“ I’ll wait until this bloke passes, ’cos he
in ht suwicion that I wasn’t after no good,"

u muttered, and sohe crossed the side
walk and leaned analog-13:31:3 against. one of
thetreeswhichlinedthe _£ta .oareto
get in the shade so as to avOid observe on.

But the new-cemenhad the eyes of a lynx,
and he at once recognised the tramp ‘

“ Hollo, Milli n, is that you? and where all
you come from I thou t t at you were hung,
or infljail for the rest 0 your natural life, 10:23
ago!

 

The Winning Oar.

i1

 

 

V

 

The tram turned, for a moment dumbfound- i if I can get her without his consent, then, b 
ed by the rank and not over complimentary 3 Heaven! I will take Winny awa from him if .

 

h .m'. ~< nth-A

salutation, but as soon as he caught si ht of the
face of the speaker his countenance c anfied.

“ Why, it‘ it ain’t Mr. Harr Gray 1” 6 ex-
claimed, ducking his head in utation, while a
broad grin appeared upon his features.

The new-comer was indeed the stroke-car‘s
cousin, Mr. Harrison Grahame, or, as he was
known in the sporting world Harry Gray.

He and the tramp were old acquaintances. for
:m u certain occasion he had picked up Milligan
528 the man to do a piece of dirty work which
pretty near cost the tramp his life, hough
Gi'a y made a “ po ” of money by it.

At one of the Western races Gray had bet
largely against the favorite home in a particu-
lar race, and he had employed Milligan to “get
at” the horse, or, in p ainor words, to poison
him so that the speed would all be taken out of
him. Milligan contrived to do the job by t-
ting into the confidence of the boy who watc ed
the stable at .ht; he got the boy ——the boy, by
the way, was a stalwart young fellow of two-
and-twenty—drunk and then “ doctored ” the
horse, and soskillfully was the job performed—
Milligan had learned the trick in England—that
no one had any suspicion that the horse was
amiss until the race was over and the favorite
had finished nowhere. Then of course, there
was a great hue-and-cry raised, but nothing
could be proved and the plotters reaped a rich
harvest. The “ boy,” though, had his suspi-
cions, although he was careful to keep them to
himself for fear of being blamed, but the next
time he met Milligan he nearly pounded the life
out of him.

“ You’re the very man I want: I’ve got a
job on hand for you!” Gray exclaimed.

“ No more hoss business, for I get all the kicks
and you all the halfpencel”

“ What are you doin here?”

“ I’ve got a eetle trige of business in the ’ouse

onder.’

“ Who with—Doctor Peabody?”

“ Do you know him?” asked Milligan, ea-

rl .
go“ Oh, yes, intimately.”

“ Is be well fixed?”

“No, poor as a church-mouse.”

Milligan heaved a sigh.

“ But I’m in a hurry; I’ll meet you in the
square at seven to-morrow morning, right in
front of the car-office. Are you broke?”

“ Regularly cleaned out.”

“ Here’s a five for you; don’t fail to come, for
it will be mone in your pocket;” then after
giVlllg the bill, ray departed.

CHAPTER XV.
frail: L )VEBB.

“ WELL, now, if this here ain’t wot I calls a
streak of luck!” the tramp exclaimed, carefully
atowing the bill away in an inner pocket. “Jest
as [see’d the hull bottom a-tum’lin’ out of this
here little trick that I’Vc oin a-counting on for
the last ten or twelve years, this precious sharp,
Mr. Harry Gray, turns up, and he’s asharp ’un,

he is! There ain’t any of the nobs wot kin give 1

him p’ints! What he don’t know ain’t worth

knowing! He’s up to some game, in course; he

never does anything fair and aboveboani, but

gsdpgiys to Win every time, and wot’s the
s

Milligan new turned hisattention to the house ,
again; all was qmet, and so he opened the gate .

noiselesst and stole cautiously toward the man-
sion over the lawn, taking particular care to
avail himself of the shelter of the trees so as to
mass himself from observation if any one
chanced to be looking out of the lor win-
dows, which were large ones, exten ing clear to

the floor, and as the night was warm, they Were ,

all thrown wide open.

And as the tramp stole on, as cautionst as a
thief in the night, t0ward the house, with eyes
only for the prospect before. him, he had no sus-

icions that a dark form, Willch had been skulk-
mg along on the other side of the street, evi-
dently watching him, had crossed the thorou h-
fare, and, entering the garden, was stealing éEle-

hind him as cautiously as a rod lndian in the 1

depths of the great pn‘meval forest tracking a
foe. g
This watcher was Mr. Harry Gra

The few words that the tramp hadv spoken had ,

excited his curiosity and he had determined to
keep a watch upon Milllgan and ascertain, it
possible, what his business was with Doctor Ar.
temas Peabod

Gray was playing for a great stake now, and ‘

he did not propose to lose a single move in the
game if he could help it. ‘

The tramp, shabby and disreputable, could
have no honest business with t e old doctor,
and if by some accident he did have, why was
he skulking like a thief throu h the garden in-
stead of walking boldl up to t 0 front door?

“No no, in frien ,” Gray muttered, as he
tracked the fol ow through the garden, “ there’s
some mischief afoot and though I may not 
to have a finger in the pie, yet I am determined
to find out all about it. lVlIatchr concerns
Doctor Peabody probably concerns Bub and
most certainly concerns Winifrol, and since
Bub will not give me Helena, and it is doubtful

 

! can. I like her a deuced sight
5 other girl, anyway! It’s only the fortune of
’ Helena that attracted me; persoually she’s not
i my style I don’t admire these cold and haughty
uties. ‘
' And now, leaving the tramp skulking through
. the shrubbery, intent upon finding some secure
5 nook from w once he could command a view of
t the doctor’s parlor, and Gray tracking him like

tter than the l

a prouder chrriage.
’ 6

Harrison Grahame

._—...

 

“ Can’t you guess?”
0‘ No. 1’
“Harrison Grahame has arrived. ”

Just a little bit of a cold look came over the
beautiful face, and the well-poised head assumed

hat has the arrival of Mr

Well, what of it;
do with you? Why should

' it affect you in any way?”

3, his shadow, we will see what the inmates of the '
‘ house—all so unconscious of this double espion-

, age—were about.
i The parlor was a double one—two rooms,
1 front and rear, connected by large sliding doors.
1 The doors were about half open, just far enough
! to enable the watchers in the garden to detect
‘ that there was some one in the rear room when
the moved about, but not enough so that they
cou (1 command an unobstructed view of the
apartment.
Helena and the young Virginian had been sit—
? ting in the front parlor, but the girl had ne
into the back room in search of a book, an the
young man had followed.
“ I wanted to show you the book, she said
'y searching fruitlesst for it in the bookcase: “l
I forget the name, but it’s one of the new English
i novels, and in one chapter there is such a spirit-
] ed account of the great colle e boatrace.”
“ Ah, that is something tint lies beyond the
genius of the pen to paint!” he replied; “ words
I are too weak to describe such a thing; it must
| be seen; it cannot be imagined.”
i “ And yet very wise men have declared that
' ‘nation is far stronger than reality,” she
! observed, with a smile, seating herself within
l the embraces of a huge cushioned arm-chair.
; “ In some cases perha s it is the truth, but
i not always,” be answe , seating himself on an
‘ ottoman by the side of the chair wherein the
girl reclined.
“ Now, don’t sit there, Mr. Peyton!” she ex-
claimed just a little impatience in her tone.
“ And why not?” he asked, in wonder.
“ Why. hocause — because — well, because,
that’s why! Don’t you know, Mr. Peyton, that

son l”

“ Because she never has any, eh i”

Helena. contracted her pretty eyebrows and
. sh00k her finger warning! y at the young man.
f “Take care! don’t you say rude things, orl
‘ sha’n’t like you.”

“ Well, I’m very much obliged for the candid
confession that you do like me; I was nevsr cer-
tain of it before,” he said, with perfect coolness.

around, and I sh have to complain to the doc-
tor; ou’re entirely too forward.”

“ t is a merit sometimes; but come tell
me honestly why do l'{Lou wish me to rise rom
this extremely comfo ble position i” .

“ Why—can’t you guess? What asilly fellow
. you are i”

! “Yes,I su pose thatIam,asfaras youare
: concerned,” 0 Virginian replied quickly.
Helena made a wry face and her h
3 impatiently. In these word encounters she
l rarely got the best of the young man and yet
i she was continually provoking them.
“ Sup any one should come in and find
you sitting here—what would he think?”
' “ Oh, I could easily explain the matter.”
“ How?” and the girl Opened her big, blue eyes
wide in astonishment.
l “ A suitor at the feet of the goddess he
, adored!” replied Peyton, coolly.
5 “Oh, we , if you won’t get up I must!” He-
‘ lena exclaimed, springing up from the chair, a
slight blush crimsonin her cheeks.

‘ No, no, no, stay w ere you are!” cried Pey-
ton, rising quickly. “I’ll get a chair and seat
myself at a discreet and respectful distance.”
And suiting the action to the word he placed a

 

chair against the very wall of the apartment ?'
l

; and sat down in it.
f Helena resumed her seat and for five minutes
i at least neither one spoke.
‘ The girl was the first to break the silence.
“What splendid company you are!” she ex-
i claimed. .‘
g were near to amuse them.”
“ Oh, what do I care about the weather?”
: “ We need rain, though. ”
“ Oh, bother! what do I are?"

“ There’s fifty more students this year in the
colle than were there last year.”

“ hat on earth do you suppose I care. for
that?” --

“ Well, suggest a subject and I will converse
about it to the best of my ability.”

“You need not sit quite so far off!” she said,

abruptly, a shy light shining in her eyes and a

. demure smile playing around the corners of her
mouth.

T all,” the girl answered, coldly.

l

l

l
1
i

l

l

-‘ Peyton remarked, honestly, “for

“ And he had a long interview with your
brother.”
u X’es {3)
“Can’t you guess what he comes after?"
“ I-do not understand how it concerns me at
“ Why should I
care to guess anything about it?" -
“ Because he comes after youi”
" After me!” .
“ Yes: he is a suitor for your hand.”
“ He may spare himself the trouble,” Helena
replied hang tily. -
6 face of the Virginian brightened up. It
was the first time that he had ever heard the
girl express herself so decidedly.
“ I am very glad indeed to hear Iyou say so,”
have been
sorely afraid that ycu would favor him. The
affluence he has over your brother istndcr-
“Yes; I do not understand it," Helena ob-
served, thoughtfully. “ Otis believes and trusts
in him fully. ’
“ But you do not ' in with him in this trust t”
Peyton asked, eager y.

‘No, I do not. You see,” said the girl, smil-
ing, “that I answer your questions: frankly us
you ask it. I will own honestly to you a. t
there is something about Grahame that It 0
not like at all, although in real , though he is

‘ my cousin, I know very little of int; Of coulsc

!

l

I’ve heard ugly stories that he does not kl d
quite the life that a gentleman of his tion in

, society should lead' that he ison intimate tern s

l

with men whom the world at large looks on
with suspicion; but Otis trusts him! Otis bl-
lieves in him. and more than oncel’ve heard
him say that Harrison’s errors were all of the

: head not of the heart.”

you never ought to ask a woman for her rea- ,

“Yes. it is really astonishing the influence he
has over your brother, and at one time I feared
shat Otis might be swayed by him in regard to
you.’ ‘

“Oh, no; you must not think thatl” Helena
protested. ‘ Otis is too good a brother‘to at-

e tem t to influence me in any degree”

“You’re a nun hty boy to twist my words .

“ hanks for that insurance!” Peyton erv
claimed, quickly. “ Ahi Helena, you hav
taken a we ght from my heart.”

“ Why, what has it to do with you fitthe gii l

I asked, with a charming mule.

l

|

l
l

t

Gladlv Peyton came out of the corner and ‘

placed his chair so that he could lean his arm on

the cushioned support which upheld Helena’s

charming hand.
“ Nor get so near, either.”
“ Ah. there is no pleasing you 1”

l

t
I

“ Ah, Helena, you know that -I love you to
distraction!” the Virginian cried,im etuwsly,
rising and leaning over the back 0 the ’s
chair. “ You that, sleeping or ig,
your image is ever before me; that—”

A light footfall interru ed the speech, and
lookin up Peyton behel the doctor who had
enetg the room, unconscious that it was occu-
pi .

 

CHAPTER XVI.
m Doc'ma mums.

“WOULDN’T I make a good actor doctor!"
cried Peyton, with ready w t. “ Miss wrence
doubted my abilities and I was 'ust giving her
a specimen of my talents in that ine.

" Oh, there’s no doubt about your histrioric
genius,” the old doctor replied, with never a
smile on his mild, benefiolent face. "If on
had not explained I should have thought t at,
unwittingly, I had interruptl d a love scene.”

“ Oh. doctor, how could y( u?” exclaimed He-
lena, lising in confusion and preparing to beat
a retreat.

“If you are goin upstairs, tell Winn that.
I wish to see her,p ease,” the doctor ' thus
opelning a line of retreat for the embarrased

r .

“ Very well,” and Helena took herself and her
blushes out of the room. .

Peyton, perfectly satisfied, with all the blind-
ness of outh, that he had succeeded in

One would never grow tired if you ‘ the woo over the doctor’s eyes, to use the old

saying, took out his cigar-case and  it to

“ It has been a very fine day ” sententiously. v the doctor.

“ I’m going to trya cigar on the veranda:
will you join me?”

“No, thank you, not at present; when is
Otis! has be gone out?” the doctor questioned

“I think not; he was upstairs when I came
down. -

Then, taking a chair, Peyton went through
one of the windows to the veranda, cut
down. Ii his cigar and ‘abandoned himself
to that my pleasure Which comes from 9.

00d cigar enjoyed with a conunted mind‘and

ha py heart. .
he Virginian little dreamed that thismve-
mm '1“ turn wmmWi"
ust two i o w use ‘ e
had it? idea—the tram and his watcher,.nr.
Harrison Grahame bot of then annealed in
the shrubbery hardly thirty feet aw‘q. But,
lighting his cigar and millig his chili- Widths
rested against the wall behind‘hifll. he

“Tell me, Dick, what has made you list so ’ top-rat
strangnly inc-night? You seem all out of sorts.” : gave himself uptodroamy meditation. For the

\

 

 

..m;:. u- .a‘“.»».‘ -

€‘fi,'—v“A’-x - -.:-

.. w. A

V“ w. ...

1...:

 

 

 

32.-

first time Helena had allowed him to see, not
only that he had nothin to fear from his rival,
Mr. Harrison Grahame, ut thatshe herself was
no: indifferent to histslzit.l d it

easin ospec , ru y. an was no won-
der flat, as8 gyton sat and smoked, he felt a
holy calm stealing over ,his soul.

‘ Ah! there’s nothing, half so sweet in life as

V love’s young dream!” "

The doctor, seating himself in the chair which
Helena had vacated, ve himself up to reflec-
tions which were far rom being pleasant.

“This is the second couple of young lovers
that I have stumbled on to-day,” he murmured.
“Is there any peculiar atmosphere about this
house which conduoed to this sort of thing, i
wonder?” And he smiled sadlyto himself at
the conceit. “ Ah, no! It is the natural affinit
that these young hearts have for each other.
mistrusted that there was a love affair between
them two some time ago; but Otis and Wini-
fred, blind dreamer that I am, I never suspect-
ed it until to-day- and yet, Imight have known
that for them to ancy each other was the most
natural thing in the world. Winny is avery
jewel of a girl, while Otis is a fine, handsome,
man! fellow! What an excellent match it
won! be but for the one thing, and I must keep
that secret. I must let these children, both of
whom I love better than I do any other two
Wile in the world, believe that I am heartless
an cruel—that for a mere whim I separate
them. I must not-dare notspeak! I can only
wait and pray that Heaven in its own
time may mercifully remove the barrier that
separates them: but, oh! if these two children
love each other as well as I think they do, what
misery they will sum-r until that time comes!
And it ma never come! And then, again—
fir it come and passed without my

0 ug anything about it?

“ On one weak, frail human life the happiness
or misery of this r child depends. For years
I have not h a w and et often am I
haunted by the thou ht t at su :ienly and un-
expectedly the wretc ed object may rise like a
specter from the tomb and demand a reckon-

in .”

The old gentleman heaved a deep h and for
a few moments he was silent, buri in deep
tho ht; then again he ke.

“ uppoee I let this air go on without at-
tempting to stop it? Sup 9 I 'eld to the be
lief that the grave hides he 01 -time secret, as

. perhaps it does, for all that I do know; then
f these children will be happy and—no no !” cried
the doctor, suddenly, an shaking his head just
as if he was carrying on a conversation with
some one, “ I cannot take upon my soul the re-
sponsibility of such a deception. If it should
not be true—if Shylock came and demanded his
ad of flesh the terrible discov would kill
he poor child. No, a few hours 0 joy would
be too dearly bought at such a price. I must
pursue the path whichI marked out for my-
self; ‘ I must be cruel to be kind ;’ Otis is, I fear,
too deeply committed to listen to reason, but
Winny I trust, is not so much involved.”

A light footfall in the entry and the rustle of
a woman’s fieecy robes interrupted the doctor’s
meditatims, and soon the youn girl came into
the apartment. Walking straig t u to the old
gentleman she seated herself on the ootstool by
his side, as she spoke:

“ Helena said that you wished to see me,
father?"

" Yes, my dear, itis my purpose to have some
‘vervamt conversation with you.”

“ ith me, father!” a look of astonishment

upon her face. 3
Not often the octor looked grave and.

troubled, for by nature he was one of the most

placid and genial of men.
“ Yes, my dear child I wish to talk to you

upon a ver serious subject indeed. You re~
mem w en I met you and Mr. Lawrence
walk ether today I”

A deep

lush swept rapidly over the e(girl’s
face; for the first time she comprehend the
nature of the subject that the doctor wished to
about. Sh.- dropped her gaze shylliy and
a19:1in manifested the embarrassment w ch she
“ Until that moment I never dreamed of the
danger to which, unwittingly, I have exposed
you, my child.”
“ Danger, father!” Winifred asked, looking
‘ up in astonishment into the old gentleman’s face.
I “ Yes, danger, my poor girl; thatisthe proper
word. I must put the case stron 1y so that you
will full comprehend it,” the octor rep! ed
bot his no and manner plainly betraying how
aflected he was. ‘ If I am not deceived
in my Mr. Lawrence is in love with on.”
W Fir] hun her head, vainly striving
to the b ushes w ich crimsoned her cheeks.
“Itie the truth is it not, Wiunlyl” the doc-
tor conti finding um the hesitated to

reel? “ ” th uni ou tutu-230:: on?”
e n answ , rest-
,  face upon the  of
“And,'Winn -I’m going toalk oua ques-
Ieu up: wh allthe happinemo the restof
your ture life may depend. I won’t say to
m in mm no truly; lknow thsiyou will

 

TheWinn' g Car.

before you re and be sure that you do not !
make any mis ‘
Mr. Lawrence?”

Gravely, solemnly the old gentleman put the
question, and with an ea. ,er ear listened for the

use.
atill the bowed head kept its lace: still the
cheeks burned: still the heart thro bed tumultu-
ousl , and it seemed to the agitated girl asif

do that, but I piety you to look into your heart ?

0. Do you care anything for

her ' would never unclose to answer the ques-
tion; ut at last, after a mighty struggle with
her maiden!

modesty, she spoke.
“Yes, fat er, I do. ’

Low and faint was the whi red reply, but
it sounded in the ears of the 01 man as loud as
the trump of the great angel will be on the
Judgment Day when it wakes even tho sleepers
in the tomb.

“Heaven help you then, my poor child!” he
murmured, after a very long pause, smoothing
with his tremblln hand the s11ken locks whic
crowned the maiden’s shapely head. “ It is all
my fault. I am a weak, miserable old man. I

t ri’ever to have allowed you to come to-
er!

“ But is it so great a sin, father?” she asked
with childish simplicity lifting her beautiful
eyes, wherein the tear-drops were now listen-
ing, and gazing with all the innocence 0 child-
hood into the old doctor’s face.

“M child, on must drive this love out of
your cart!’ e exclaimed, earnestly. “ Any
union between you and Mr. Lawrence is utterly
im ble!”

‘ I know that, father; that is what I told him
today when he asked me to love him,”she Said
with a great effort restraining her tears “I
told him that l was only a poor girl, and that I
was no match for so wealthy a gentleman as he

“Of course he would not listen to that reason-
ing for a moment!”
‘Y’es, he said that it didn’t make any differ-

nce.

“ He is a noble fellow!” the doctor exclaimed:
“ any man might be proud of such a sou-in-
law!”

“‘ And, father, are there really such obstacles
in the way of our union if Otis is willing—he has
no one, you know, to object—and you give
your consent!” she asked, timidly, looking up
with pleading eyes in the face of the old gentle-
man.

The doctor saw that he had made a false step,
and immediately proceeded to repair the blun-

er.

“ Ah! m dear child, but I cannot give my
consent,” 0 replied, hurried] , and in great
confusion. “ You must remem r the relation-
shi in which I stand to Otis. I am his guardian
-~ have had the care of him and of his fortune:
shall [have the world say, then, that I conspired
to eutrag him into a marri e with my penni-
less chil ? that 1, his secon father, thirsted
after some of his wealth, and, not being rogue
enough to cunningly abstract it after the man-
ner of our modern trustees, devised this union
so that I and mine should profit by It? Would
you have the world say this of your father?"

CHAPTER XVII.
AN EXPLOSION.

1mm! the girl threw her arms around
the old doctor’s neck.

“ Oh, no! no on» would dare to es that of my I
good, kind, noble father!” she cried:

“ h, yes, they would, my child; and, with
the fact of the union, how could 1 dis nte it?”

“You wish me then to give up a 1 ideas of
Otis?” she asked, with a dreamy, despairing r
look in her beautiful eyes, unclasping her arms ‘
from around the old man’s neck and a gain sink-
ing back to her seat 11 n the ottoman.

“Yes, my dear chi d, it is for the best that
you shoul do so,” responded the doctor, in a

roken, trembling voice. “For my sake try

and con uer this passion; Otis will soon go away
—he wil mingle with the world—pfunge in the
cares of business—he will et over it. Love is
not with a man as it is wit a woman; it is not 
the whole of his life: it is only the episode of a :

 

 

da .”

zAh father, you don’t lessen my misery when
you tel me that my lover will soon forget me,”
the child murmured, with tearful eyes.

“ eaven forgive me, m poor stricken one,
Hub; a sin is word I_ woun our already lacer-
a hea Cheer up; it wi 1 be a single, terri-
ble strug le and then all will be over.”

“ es, am afraid that all will be over for
me, in this life,” Winifred re lied; “all ha pi-
ness,” she continued, “for I now that I s all
never know happiness hereafter.”

“Trust in Heaven, child !” exclaimed the doc- [
tor, solemnly; "trust in Heaven and in timv— '
time that great consoler of all mortal griefs.” 

Winifred, with her handkerchief, wi , her ‘
tears away. 33k and deligate as was de girl, 
apparen y, y e possess a stron an stub- .
born , and now when her father’sgvoice indi- '
outed to her the path of du , she resolved to
tread it with firm and unyiel in 

This calmnem alarmed the 0! gen lemon: he

 

would much rather have seen her give way to I

is wild burst of tears. With the Scottish war-

’..-

.

rior he believed, “Give sorrow vent; the grief
which docs not s k whispers the o’erfraught
heart and bids it reak.”

At this stage of the conversation an important
interruption occurred.

Bub came striding into the room, evidently
laboring under great ersltement, which in vain
he was striving to repress, followed by his sis-
ter, whose large eyes looked bigger now than
ever, dilated as they were by amazement.

Otis had come “tearing” into her room asked
where the doctor was, and if she had seen
Winny, and when informed by her that both
father and daughter were down-stairs, he de«
clared that he had somethin important to say
to them and that he requir her to be present
lit the interview.

Amazed, and altogether too astonished to say
anything, she had followed him in silence dawn-
stairs.

“ Ah, Doctor Peabody! You’re the very man
I want to see!” Lawrence exclaimed.

The doctor had risen at b' approach, and
Winifred, her face pale and by turns, had
also sprung to her feet.

“ And where is Peyton i” Bub continued. “ I
want all of our little household as witnesses l”

“Hallo! who wants me?” cried Peyton, from
the veranda suddenly recalled from his dream
of peace by earin his name pronounced.

“ I do; come in ere!” Bub answered.

The Virginian b this time had finished his
cigar; so he flung t e stump aWay and entered
the house. ,

The tramp, who had listened to the summons,
and watched the departure of the young man,
i'mproVed the Opportunity to get under a bush
that ew ri 'ht at the edge of the veranda so
that e coul overhear any converse tiou within
the house, carried on in ordina . tones.

Grahame, being quite near t e window, did
not move from his place of concealment. He
could overhear Very well where he was. From
Bub’s tone he had an idea that something of
importance was about to trans ire, and be
thanked the lucky stars which he brought him
along the street at the opportune moment to
encounter the tramp and so suggest the idea of
watching him.

“Now, then, that we are all assembled,” the
stroke oar said, after Peyton had entered the
room, “ Doctor Peabody, before allhere, I want
to ask you a question.”

The doctor anticipated easil enou h what the
question was likely to be, and e vain y attempt-
ed to postpone the scene which he saw was likely
to ensue.

“ Otis, I do not wish to answer any uestions
now 1” he exclaimed, imploringly. “ me to
my study—alone—aud We will talk the matter
over.”

“ No doctor; what I have to say to you must
be said in the presence of my sister, and in the
presence of this lady,” he answered, pointing
to Winifred, who leaned upon a chair, pale and
trembling with emotion, a very lily of a girl.

“ Some other time, Otis, I beg!”

“No no; now. doctor!” the young man rr-
plied, .rmly. “ No other time will answer like
the resent.”

“ by, what is the matter, Otis?” exclaimed
Peyton, in astonishment.

"' Brother, what is the matter?” Helena de-
manded.

“In a very few words I will explain. Now,
Doctor Peabody. in the presence of all I ask you
why do you object to my suit for your daugh-
ter 5 hand ?”

At this hold declaration, Winifred, unable
longer to bear the scene with calmness, sunk in-
to a choir and hid her face in her handkerchief,
while Helena flew to her assistance.

“Otis, I cannot answcr on, and you must
not ask me!” the doctor rep ied, helplessly.

“ Ah, lot you must answer me, doctor!” Otis
persisted, impetuously. “You are not treating
me right—you are not treating Winifred right!"

“Otis, if you have any respcct for rue—any
love for the old man who has tried to be like a
second inthtr to you, be satisfied with what I
have nlread said to you and do not press the
matter fnrt er!”

“But I am not satisfied l” IAwrence evident] '
was touched by the old gentleman’s appea ,
yet was not moved from his purpose. “Doctor.
if this was any other subject but the one it is;
if my heart—the future of my whole life were
not interested in it, I would not insist upon an
explanation: but as it is, I must. It is a duty I
owe, not only to mvelf, but to that poor, weep
ing child 'onder. ou must give me a reason,
doctor, w y I cannot make your Child my wife,
if she be willing.” _ -

“ Oh, doctor, don’t be cruel!” exclaimed He-
lena, who was on her knees comforting Winny
“ I’m sure that this dear girl will make Bub
over so happy! Now be good, and give mu
Winny for a sister !”

“ It is impossible!” exclaimed the old man in
agony of mind.

“ Why is it impossible?” Bub demanded; “be
cause I am rich and she is poor!”

“ Yes, yes!”

“ Doctor, you know that is no reason at all!”
Lawrence exclaimed, impatiently.

“ No, no. it is no reason !" Helena cried. "Be-

 

 

4|

 

v—

sides, I’ve got plenty of money of my own and
I will willinglly ave Winny half of all I’ve got,
and then she 1 rich enough to marry any—
bodv!”

With a ferVent kiss and a warm embrace,
Winifred thanked her friend for the generous

ofi’ .

‘(fwBy Jove! Miss Lawrence, you are a perfect
paragon of a woman!” Peyton exolaimed, in
:1de tionl , ,

The octor only sighed deeply. .

“ Come, doctor, what do you sa to that?”
asked Bub, utterly at a loss to un’ erstand the
strange agitation of the old man.

“ It is no use: the union is impossible!”

“ Impossible!” cried Lawrence incredulously.

“ Oh, no, doctor, not im ssible!” Helena ex-
claimed. “Now you mus consent, forif Bub
don’t take Winny I know I shall never get a
sister who will be half so dear to me l”

“ Oh, yes, doctor, come! Let the course of
true love run smooth for once!” the Virginian
addled, and Helena thanked him with a gracious
am e.

Winifred said nothin ; she only hid her face
in her handkerchief an sobbed.

“Heaven knows, in dear children—for on
are as dear to me as i you were my own cab
and blood—that right gladly would I not only
give m ’ consent to this union, but do all in my
power promote it but for one thing-”

“Because I am rich and she is poor?” Law- 3

rence interrupted.

“ What other reason should I have—what oth—
er reason can there he?” cried the unhappy 01d
gentleman!

“ I cannot believe it, doctor!” Bub protested,
Vehemently. “ The reason is so utterly un-
worthy of you. Your whole course in this mat-

ter is so different from what I have a right to 1

expect!”

“ And, doctor, haven’t I offered to make Win-
ny rich?” demanded Helena. “ I’m sure you
ought to consent, for I know Bub will never be
 with any other 'rl.”

me, doctor, yiel and make a
lovers 'happy !” Peyton adjured.
on Will never rggret your action, and if Win-
ifred feels any d imcy about taking a fortune
from Helena. because she is Bub’s sister, why,
I’ve three 8 lendid farms down in old Virginia
and she shall have her pick out of the lot. She
need have no hesitation about acce ting the
gift for I’m no relation to Bub now, w tever I

_ m1 be in the future.”

elena was all ready to thank Peyton for his
generous offer, but the unex ted conclusion of
the speech caused her to b ush to the temples
 to busy herself quite industrioust about
my.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN IMPORTANT DISCLOSURE.

“ On, my children, it must not—it cannot be.
If I could unseal my lips and reveal to you the
fatal secret—”

“ Secret!” cried Lawrence, in astonishment,
as the old gentleman paused in his abrupt confu-

sion.
And the exclamation was echoed by Peyton

and Helena, while eVen Winifred raised her '

head from amid the folds of her handkerchief
and azed at the doctor in astonishment.

“ hat secret?” continued Bub, as soon as he '

had recovered from the amazement which the
doctor’s words had excited.

“ I do not know what I am saying!” the old
man returned, confused; “I am in such a state
of mental excitement that I am really not re-
sponsible for in words.”

“ I ’0 Iain tdlsturbin of a family party?”
suddenly cried 8: Strange, voice, and all
within the room. turning, beheld the seedy
tramp advancing into the room through one of
the front Windows.

“ I made bold to come through one of the
windys, ou knew, seem as how they were
0 D an I thou ht tha I wouldn’t o for to

urb the whole ouse by a-ringing of t e front
dmr'mllo” .

And then as _the tramp finished and made a
survey of the little party assembled within the
parlor, a sudden recognition took place.

The two girls recognized in the man the ruf—
flan who had robbedOWinny of her watch-chain
that after—hoot;é and as for the fellow himself, he

ub the muscular young man who '

rec ized in _ _ .
haci’alken such hberties With his person on the
highway, that very day.

If it isn’t the wretch who robbed us this af— 5

ternoon!” cried Helena; “ at him out, Bub!”

'I‘he stroke-oar advan at once to execute
the command; but the tramp, retreatin a step
and putting both hands up to shield is face,
cried out:

“Hold on and hold hard; let a chap speak
when he comes on business, can’t you! And as
for you mister man! I don’t want no more of
you, I on’t! Look at my heyes, now! Ain’t I
a nice-lookin’ nob for to go inter the society of
sich first-class ladies as these here two ducheeses,
with both peepers in mourning?”

“Let him alone. Mr. Lawrence, please, until
mend out what he wants.” said the 01d. doctor,

it of true ,
“ know that ‘

The Winning Oar. ‘

IH
to,

 

I who had been surve ng the man with a steady,
. earnest gaze, and t e scrutiny evidently trou—
! bled him.

' “ That’s the talk, governor! Let a cove alone
, till he spits out his business; and in regards to
; you two ladies, I ’umbly ’opes you’ll look over
I the trifling mistake that I made this here after-
I noon; the fact is, I ’ad been takin’ a drop or two
! too much of beer, and when I gets my skin full
; of beer, I allers tries them larks; it was a lark
. that s all, bless erl I’d ’a’ brought the piece of
! chink back wit ' half an hour, anywafiy, with-
{ out troublin’ this here young man, w o is so
E handy with his fist, for to unch me in the
; smeller, and ornament me wit this here pair of
a beauties.” and the wretch winked his b’ackened
; eyes facetiously.

, “ What do you wish, sir?” asked the doctor, a
‘ very grave expression indeed upon his face, and

l

» his moods wo ve been apt to imagine that

; he had recognized the man and expected trouble 1

' from him.
I “Furst and foremost is this the house of Doc-

t'or Artemas Peabody? cried the fellow, loudly ‘

I and boisterously.

‘ “Yes, sir, that is my name.”

i “ You’re the Doc, then?”

; “I am the doctor, sir.”

E “ And see here, fellow, speak more respect-

1 fully when addressing that gentleman!” Peyton
exc aimed, annoyed at the man’s arrogant way.

“ Sha’n’t for Iyou !” cried the tramp, impu-
dently. “ I rec on that one gentl’man ought
for to know how to address another gentl’man
without being told by any sich a little whipper—
snaqu as you are l”

" by, you scoundrel!” exclaimed the Vir-
ginian, enraged, advancing, but Bub’s strong
arm restrained him.

“Let me deal with this fellow,” the stroke-oar
said. “ Now then, 0 on- say what you have to
say and be one, an , har ye! at the first inso-
lent word throw you out of that window!”

“I didn’t mean no harm,” Milligan owled
sulkily; “I was only a-jokin’, that’s ; and I
say, in fine young gentl’man, I ain’t got an
quarre with you, and I’ll be very much obli-
gated to you indeed if you’ll keep your ’ands oil'
of me in the futur’!”

“ Keep a civil tongue in your head, then,”
Bub admonished.

“Your business, sir? You wish to see me?”
the doctor queried, impatiently.

“If you are Doctor Artemas Peabody, you’re
the man for my money. Jest be kind and con-
descendin enough for to cast your eyes over
this bit 0 paper and tell me if it’s your hand-
wgite and your signature at the bottom onto
it

And as he spoke the fellow fished out the tin
tobacco-box, of which we have previously spo-
ken, took out the folded paper and handed it to
the doctor.

All within the room watched the scene with
ea or curiosity.

hey wondered to see the doctor turn pale as
his e es fell upon the paper; they were amazed
i that is  should treiéirlélfiaas he opgned it and
i were start at seeing rops o perspira-
i tion ooze forth, like so many little waxen beads,
’ upon his forehead.
I “Well, governor, is that all 0. K1” the trams
; asked, watching, with a cunning leer, as the ol
3 man read the paper
I

 

The doctor responded to the question with a
heavy sigh and the paper dropped from his
: nerveless hands.

The tramp s rung forward and picked it up.
“Too recious
“We , now, governor, I’ve come arter my pro-
; perty l” and then looking around him. tiiumph-
I antlv, he noticed the amazement depicted upon

the faces of all.

Some way, there was not one within the room
; but had an instinctive idea that some terrible
5 disclosure was at hand. ,
! “ Oh. you needn‘t stare, in fine nobs; nor
i on, too, you two beautiful duc eases!” he cried,
, oarsely, and with the accents of a devilish joy
. in his voice. “ Mebbe you think that it is only
nobs wot has got property, but there’s some
, things that wmr tram can Own as well as
i the gentry. ps you’ like to know what
! my pro -rty consists of; jest o 11 your ears
, then am I’ll astonish yer. Hem ‘Cambridge,
} July 10th, ei hteen hundred and—’ well, that
ain t 'cu ar, we’ll skip the year,” he began,
while all within the room listened with breath-
! less interest, the doctor excepted; the old gen-
tleman threw his arm over t 6 back of a chair,
which happened to be near him, and it seemed
. as if he would not have been able to keep his
I feet but for the support. ’
‘ “ Received from Jeremiah an, late of the
day of London, En land, afemale d, elg tmonths

which I here v to bring u an care for
as my own; and I fulfils? agree to delRer said child

‘ to its'father, the aforesaid Jeremiah Milligan, on de- .

' mend, at any time.’

i “ That’s the document, and ain’t it a beauty! ‘

, Could any la er chap ’a’ writ it better! Not if
I knows mysel ! I guess I’ve figured enough in
3 the law-courts in my time to be able to write a
g receipt that no lawyer kin pull to beer and
now, which one. or. these. m t it “hi “it

any one well uainted with the doctor and :
.i'fiqn

be lost!” he cried, with a grin. '

tramp, turning, surveyed the two girls with a.
‘ sickening leer.
I “Oh, merciful powers!” cried Winifred, the
truth suddenly flashing upon her, and but for the
J supportin arms of Helena she would have fall-
} en to the cor.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” the tramp exclaimed, in
triumph, “ and to think that I should have made
your acquaintance so promisc’us-like to-day, by
argoing for your valuables! Blessed if I evr-r
heerd of sich a lark! A father fur torob 
Own darter, ho, ho, ho!”

“You infernal villain!” cried Bub, wrong!
{up almost to frenzvb this awful discovery,
; and, flying at Mr. Miligan, he took that indi-
. viduaJ by the throat in a way that meant harm.
; “Ah—-——choo——hoo, goo!” the wretch gurgled,
‘ half-strangled in the iron gripe of the stroke-

oar.
“ For heaven’s sake be calm!” the good doc—
! tor cried, restrainin the impetuous young man.
“Yes, be calm, wrence: there must be
some horrible mistake about the affair!” aver-
! red Peyton, adding his efforts to the doctor’s,

. and With such success that Bub released his
I TSP of Mr. Mill' an’s windpimbut not until
i t at interesting in ividual had ome black in
l the is“? ht ” th ho d d

“ owmeti ! atvaga n gaspe,as

soon as he recovgered his breath, “ do yer want

1 to kill a cove? Yer better treat me well if yer
, going to be sweet on my $1!”
1 “ our girl!” cried u , in a fury, and but
, for the doctor and Peyton who bot clutched
, him, he would have treated the tramp to anoth—
: er dose of strangulation.

“Ye she is my gal!” replied the tramp, de-
; fiantly, ut at the same time taking the precau-
; gognto get Behind a chair; “ it’s so, ain’t it, doc-

r
l “ If on are Jeremiah Milligan, undoubtedly

she is t e child on intrusted to my charge,” the

v doctor answer , sorrowfuIIy.

“If I am Je Milligan!” cried the fellow,
: scornfully. “ ell I ass that there ain’t
, much doubt about hat Furst and foremost,
, there’s the receipt! that’s all right ain’t it?”
i The doctor nodded. “Oh, you can’t go back
on your own pot-hooks and hangers, 'ou know,
as t e used to say when I was a bat. ly. Then,
if you e got any doubt about me, the waideii
of the State- rison at Charlestown knows me;
Chief Bates own at the City Hall jail here can
identify me; officer Parks on the Post beat kin
swear to me; any of the perlice either lieie or
in Charlestown, or in Boston, would be pretty
apt to pick me out if I was ‘ wanted,’ and if yer
arter more respec’able witnesses, call on an Y of l
, the lice justices for thirty miles around; a of
I ’em ows me like a book, and what more do
you want?”

CHAPTER XIX.
THE DECISION.

. “MY poor child, can you forgive me for the
terrible deception that I have racticed upon
you?” the good old doctor as , approaching
he afimired girl and bending over her.

“ , this is terrible,” she murmured, sobbing
as if her heart would break.

“ Heaven forgive me! I thought that it was
for the best!” the old man plead, cut to the rt '
by the grief 0f the girl. “It was my v. fe‘s
i ea, in the first place. Fate had never blessed
us with children, and when this man years ago,
came begfig from door to door with you, then
a mere ba , in his arms, your beaut attracttd
the attention of my wife We ques 'oned this
man about on and he did a pitiful story of
how he had ut recently arrived in this coun-
try, having lost his vrife on the voyage, and
that he didn’t know what to do with the child,
but was in he that he would be able to find
some charitab e folks willing to adopt it. The
hearts of both myself and wife warmed to the
poor babe and we determined to take and care

or it as t ough it was our own.

“The manefladlyagr ed to let us have the
child provid we id him a certain sum of
money, and that would sign a document

ing to give up the child on demand; he
said that he was going to California, and that if
he made a fortune in the mines of course he
thfld want to slim it Evith hieslchilld. d Foolish-
agreed to ti an sign t e ocument
that this man now olds. It did not trouble me
then, for I did not believe that I would ever are
. or hear from him again; but for the last few
, years, as I have watched you grow 1: . increas-
f mg in beauty, in talent, and in ness, each
i new day, then the thought of this man, and i! (
; power he possessed over our fate, has haunted
; me like a hideous n tmare. I have her
,‘ afraid that this fatal our would come—ti» -
, this wretched man who coolly sold on, an ii.
fant, to strangers, would appear an tear you
} away from your home to allow his miserable

 

 

; fortunes.”
“ Hullo! hullo! Draw it mild, vernor!” the
. tramp exclaimed, indignant! . ‘ Don’t you go
for to make the disc. with her own
natural flesh and 1) ood !”

A visible shudder paged over Winifred’s ten-
derfrupusheli‘stened tothecoarsewords.

“Itried to do all forthe best,”the doctor
maimed. never taking any notice of the

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l'ramp’s expostulations, “ and it was my knowl-
edge of this terrible secret and in fear that
some day this wretched man woul step for-
ward and claim y u that made me horrified
{vhen’ I discovered that you had learned to
ovc.

“I say, governor, don’t abuse a feller n0w!”-
Milligan cried; “I’m a pretty decent sort of
chip, as you’ll all find out, afore long. Of
course it’s only natural for a daddy to want his
;’,211 wo'. he ain’t had no good on for so long, but
x on kin argument with me; I ain’t sp’iling for
affection, an way. I’ve managed for to git
.zlong withou my beauty there for a good many
years, and I ess I would manage to live
through it if I idn’t git her now. Jest talk to
7116 the right way and I’m yer man for a trade,
any time !”

‘You are a thorough scoundrel!” exclaimed
the doctor, in righteous indignation. “Your
only object then in making this visit is to extort
money!”

The fellow grinned and put his tongue in his
cheek in a knowing sort of wa .

“Wot’s the use of a l i yer can’t make
Sillinénut out on her, I’d ' e to know!” he re-
p 1e .

Lawrence caught eagerly at the idea.

“Name your price!” he cried. “How much
do you want to take yourself out of the way
and never let us see your ugl face §aiu i”

“Aha! now you are a-tal 'n’!” r. Milli
chuckled, rubbing his hands together in g ee.
“ But I ain’t on namin a sum in lump, you
know, that ain’t my leet e game! I’m gittino
old, I am, and a- itting tired a-tramping around
the country an a—trying to git fat, livin on
nothing. I wants a regular income jest li e a
nob, bless if I don’t! So much every month,
you know, paid inter my bank where I keeps
my account, so I kin draw my check onto it like
a gentl’man, and no stingy swag will do for me,

either. That gal is a beaut ! you might hunt
from here to bins and no find one nicer nor
she is! Now. fair and honest, I want ’bout four

hundred dollars a month for the rest of my
nat’ral existence for her l”

“And now, fair and honest, not one single
penny shall you get for me!” cried Winifred,
abruptly, rising, statue-like, with her colorless,
marble-hued face. “And you, Otis—what a
miserable, degraded wretch you must think I
am to suppose for one instant that I will be a
pirty to any such shameful bargain! What
right has this man to sell me like a slave even if

‘ i am his child? In a very short time I shall at-

?iin my majority and then I shall be free of
his control, and until that time I will 0 with
him if he requires me to do so work or him,
but not sell myself for his enrichment!”

“Oh, what a blarsted idiotl” cried Mr. Milli—
gan, in supreme conmmpt. “Ileaves it out to
you, all on on ladies and gentl’men, if you
ever heered sich awful trash?

“ Winny, you are mad to speak in this way !”
Lawrence urged. “ What care I if chance made
you the child of this wretch! I am rich; I can
easily give him ,the sum he asks; I shall never
miss it, and we can be as happy as if he had
never existed.”

“ In course you kin! Who says ye can’t!” cried
the tramp, eager after his stake. “Bless yer
life! I won’t trouble yer, jest as long as yer
ponies up the rhino on time. Why, you kin be
jest a’s ’appy as two turtle-doves a-singing in a
on !

ut the weak, childlike girl had suddenly he-
come a cold, resolute, stern-faced woman.
“No no, Otis!” she cried, desfiairingly, and

~ yet with iron-like firmness, ‘ t e knowledge

that I have gained this ni ht erects forever an
unsurmountable barrier tween us. Do you
think that I would permit on to marry me
knowing now as I do the he tags of shame that
awaits me? My father, when he comes to claim
me, roves his identity by running over the
num r of prisons wherein he has served his
time. You are mad when you dream of making
me your wife! The secret will out—it will not
down and die. but some chance will be sure to
reveal and blazon it to the world! This man is
satisfied now with a certain amount of money
in payment for his silence; but, let us once wed
am who shall set bounds to his demands! You
must comply with what he asks, or else he will
oublish the terrible secret to the world and
How would you bear such a threat as that? You
of the grand old family which for two hundred
years at least has borne itself proudly, and kept
:1. stainless name before the world! And do you
. link, now, that I would be the means of fasten-
;vig this human vampire upon you? Never! I

rould die by inches in the most miserable cel-

ll‘ or garret in the world, perishing by slow
s'tiirivgtion before I would see you so humili-
‘ :o !

“Did anybody ever beer sich blarsted non-
msc?” cried the tramp, in a fury, the moment
'1', had finished her onate speech. “ And
o think of her a-stan in there and a-calling of

lo»- own nat’ral flesh an blood parent sich aw-
f Iil names! Do I look like a wampire! Blow me
i ght if I ain’t a man of my word! I wouldn’t
do sich a think as she talks about for the world!
in: take m ’duvy on it any time!” '

i‘  initred is right.” thedoetor new in-

 

The WinningMOa r.

 

terrupted; “it would be utter madness for you
to attempt to silence this man with money; his
appetite would only grow on what it fed. The
four hundred a month would soon increase into
a thousand. For the present, be guided b me
and give up the idea. We cannot tell wha the
future may bring forth.”

“ Aha! you want to bilk me out of my stake?”
cried the tramp, in a rage. “You says to our-
self. yer do, that I’m an old man, and t at I
won’t last long, and then you kin have our fun
without a-(paying for it; but I’m a toug old cus-
tomer, an ’m good for ten years yet and
mebbe twenty; ’11 jest ’old on to 1i 6 for to
spite vyer, see if I don t.”

“ inifred, I will be entirely guided by you,”
Lawrence said; “whatever you decide shall be
as law to me.”

“Take him, you idiot!” snarled Mr. Milligan
wickedly; “ don’t let the chance slip; you’ll
never git sich another!”

“ Otis, at the present I can only say good-by,”
she replied, with a sad, sweet smile, extending
her hand, which her lover eagerly grasped. .

“ W’at are you a-saying good- y for ” growl-
ed the tramp, surlily; “where do you suppose
you are going?”

“pWhy, with you: haven’t you come to take

“Well, I reckon I ain’t one of the nobs a-
walking around with a big pocket-book, chuck
full of fireenbaCkS, for to pay young women’s
hotel bi s with; and, I say, 0 d chap, since you
kept her so long can’t you put up With her for a
few days lon er!”

“She is we come to stay so long as I have a
home ” the doctor responded, promptly.

“That’s the ticket! So stay where you are,
and mind, don’t try an ' monkey shines, for to
try and hide her away grom me, ’cos they won’t
work! I jest want her to stay here for a few
days ’til I gets time to turn myself around and
see where I am, and then as soon as I ets a place
for her—a lace fit for a young fini, I’ll come
arter her. ake care of yourself a on you; see

on it}; ’in, and mebbe we kin make a trade; so
ong

And then Mr. Milligan retreated through the
window into the garden again, and slowly made
his way to the front gate, opened it, and passed
into the street.

“ Curse these women !” he muttered, fero-
ciously, as be slouched along; “ ou never can’t
do nothin with them. If she ad only ‘tum-
bled’ to t e ‘racket’ and played her ints the
right way, I’d be independent for life and so
would she; but, as it is, the best little game I
ever worked is com letel sp’il’d l”

“ Oh, no, not at a l!” d a voice at his elbow,
and as Milligan turned, both alarmed and as-
tonished, he discovered that the speaker was
Harry Gray.

“Let me in for a share, old man, and I’ll en-
gage that it shall be the biggest thing you ever
tumbled into in all your life! ’

CHAPTER XX.
1m. GRAY’S 1.11“an Gum.

GRAY, from his place of concealment in the
ard, had overheard all that had passed within
be room, and his quick wits at once had de-

vised a plan to turn the matter to his own ad-
vantage.

He was considerabl y astonished at the discov-
er of the relationship that existed between the
old' tramp and the retty Winifred, for he had
had no suspicion a all of the thin . A mere
whim of the moment had im resse him with
the design of playing the spy or the purpose of
discovering w at the tram ) s business was with
the doctor; but he had b no idea when be en-
tered u n the thing that it would so turn that
be con! use it to advantage.

But with the revelation of the mystery there
flashed a scheme into his head whereby he could
profit materially by the unexpected events.

And so he had i‘olfowed the old vagabond up
closely, when he left the garden overheard his
muttered words and accosted him as we have
related.

Milligan turned in alarm.

“ Eh, wot’s that; wot do ye mean!” he cried,
not exactly knowing what to make of it.

“Just what Isay, Jerry; let me in for a share
and, I’ll make a good thing out of it for both of
us

 

“Wot do you mean! Blame me iqunder-
stand wot you are a—driving at!” Milligan was
a pretty old bird. and not to be easily caught.
Of course from Gray’s manner he suspec
that he knew something of what had trans-
pired, but had no idea that he had overheard
eve word.

“ b, you know ve well,” Gray answered,
in his careless way. “ ou’ve got a good thing,
but on don’t know how to handle it.”

M lligan was very much inclined to be sus-
picious.

“ Wot is it ou’re arter! Blow me tight, if I
know 1” he dec ared.

“Why I’m after a share of that whack of
four hundred dollars a month which you didn’t

in getting, and which you’ll never t
without some better head to manage the ob
than that noddle that you’ve got on your shoul-
ders, my friend.” "

 

 

“ Say, how did you come to know anything
’bout it!” the tramp asked, astonished at the in-
formation of the other.

“ Why, when you told me you had business
with the doctor, on excited my curiosity, and
therefore I ‘ pi ’ you off, and, snugly hid un-

er a bush in the garden, I saw you enter the
octor’s,parlor an overheard every word that

“Well, may I be blessed! if that wasn’t a
smart trick!” exclaimed the tramp, in admira-
tion.

“Oh I’m up to a thing or two, once in a
while.”

“ And you think that I can’t manage the job?”

“You b' idiot, you!” cried Gray, in con-
tempt; “di n’t you make a nice mes of it to-
night!”

“ I did the best I knew how !”

“ And that was bad enough 1” Gray retorted,
in contempt. “ Now, let me show you how the
ground lay and how you went to work and
spoiled the nicest little pie that I’ve seen for
some time.”

“ It wa’n’t no pie to me,” Milligan growled.

“Because you didn’t know how to cook it.
Listen, while I explain: Sixteen or eighteen

ears ago on left your child with the doctor.

6, like a 001, i orant of the well-established
fact that men 0 our stamp always turn up
when the are lea expected, brings up the girl
in the belief that she is his own daughter. Slu~

ws up pretty and interesting; my cousin,
is Lawrence-—”

“Wot! is that iron-flsted fellow your cousin?”
cried Milligan, in amazement.

“Aha! he was the student, then, that orna—
mented our face this afternoon?”

“He ndles his dukes like a bruiser!” the
tramp owled.

“I ould think so; he is admitted to be the
best amateur boxer in this section of the coun-
try, and has lent of muscle to back his skill.“

‘ He hits e e. orse’s kick curse him l”

“He is the stroke-oar of the Harvard crew,
and the best man of his inches that ever strip-
gd. But, to return to our mutton: my cousin,

is—Bub, as he is generally termed—who is in-
de ndentl wealthy, falls in love with your

d, is ready tomarry her at a moment’s
warning, and she is equally set upon him. The
old doctor tries to dissuade them because he
knows the secret of the girl’s parentage, and he ‘
hasa sort of an impression t at on will turn
up some time, and that, in the c aracter of a
father, you will be no credit to the girl. You
do turn up, and exactly as the doctor ex cted.
He’s more sense than I gave him credit or, for
these scholars are generally fools where prac-
tical aflairs are concerned, as is plainly evxdcnt
by his agreeir‘iglto turn over the child to you.
instead of in 'n you surrender it legally in
him in the first p ace. As I said, you appcar:
ou come in through the window, like the in-
ernal old idiot that you are! dressed like a
tramp, lookin as if you had come straight
from the wor house or the chain-gang, you
bluster and threaten act like a ruflian, and
frighten the life out oi the girl with your fool’s
tal about the Warden of State Prison, jails and
police courts; and the upshot of the matter i:-
that you have so disgusted the girl, and so im
pressed her with the idea that you are the big-
gest scam? unhung, that she wouldn’t marry
any decen man, no matter how much she low-(l
him, while you are an where around. And
now, old man, own 11 ; iav’n’t I put the case
exactly as it is? and on’t you think that you
are the biggest idiot that ever walked ?”

Milligan scratched his head thoughtfully after
this uncom liment ech.

“ Mebbe hav’n’t handled it as it ought to be
done,” he admitted, dolefully, “ but I ain’t used
to play sich games. ’

“ You can ‘ doctor ’ a horse better, can’t you i”

This little reference to the job he had once so
cleverly performed for Mr. Gray, made the old
scamp wmce. Never would his bones forget the
pummeling they got on that occasion.

“Well, what do you say, do you want me to
take a hand in this thing and see if I can’t fix
things so that a big stake can be made out of it?"
Gra continued.

“ ell, I dunno,” remarked Mr. Milligan re
flectively.

“You don’t see any chance to make a raise
out of it, do you?"

“ Nary chance !” confessed the old tramp, with

a may;

“ ell, I do: Ilsee from five to ten thousand
dollars in the affair.”

Milligan stared.

“ My heyes! You don’t say so?”

" Honor bright; but I want a good whack—l
want half, an in order to make my leetle ame
succeed you must obey my orders to the etter
and without question. ’

“ It’s a sin !”

“ All right. Now, in the first place, you want
money—have you got any!”

“ Only a little besides the five you give me.”

“ Oh, that won’t do; you’ve to be an

out in a decent suit of clo bee and then
you can throw these old rags away; then you
will want money for travelingexpensee. I’ll be
your banker. for it will take a, couple of mm-

 

 

I

 

dred before we can
of it.

“ Oh, yes, asa judge, w
nose on and.”

“That’s good: now the racket that we’re
to play is this: You’re to dress yourself up in a
decent suit of clothes, get yourself shaved and
fixed up, then call upon the girl to-morrow and
r quest a rivate interview with her. This
granted, to] her that this apyearance to-ni ht
in rags and dirt was all a deVice on your p to
try her and the old doctor; that you are, and
have been for some time, engaged in my service
a: master of my training-eta lets; the mention
of my name wil give confidence; say that you
n "c making a good, fair living, and that you
have not a little house in upper New York all
fitted-up for her reception; say that you heard
indirectly that there was a sort of flirtation (-0-
ing on between herself and my cousin, Otis;
that you were not acquainted with him, except
by reputation, but you did not think that it was
a Very good idea, as he was a very wealth
young gentleman and she was only a poor gir ,
and'that you were afraid it was an infatuation
which in time he would get over, and that you
heped she would give up all idea of him. Then
say that you are ready to start for New York as
soon as she can prepare herself, andhint that
you would like to t back to your dutiesas
soon as possible. ow, do you my ideal
You take the ' laway and you her from
my cousin. at, of willmake him just
crazy to find her, which, thro myaid, in
time, he will do. Your contin yharpingon
the theme that he is a rich man and you do not
believe that he means honest by mom Will,
in due season, arouse in her breasta desire to-
prove to you that he does, and theflrstthing'

ou know, she’ll run of! and get married to him.

ou see, I will be in my cousin’s coaildenceand
will engineer the whole thing, and I shallsay to
him that the best way to keep you quiet is to
give you- a certain sum down and a regular in-
come payable monthly, but without the knowl-
edge of his Wife. The sum paid down Itake;
the income, you take; and now what do you
think of the .‘ plant ’i”

“ Beautiful ’ cried Milligan, enthusiastically.
“Ah! Mr. Gray, you ’ave got a’ead on your
shoqueanf that I ‘t born

“ es. ancy wean yestarda ,”
Gra replied, com lacently. y

“ h, it will wor ; there’s no doubt about it!”

“ Not the slightest, as long as we get the jail«
bird idea out 0 the girl’s mind and excite her'
woma’i’ily obstinacy in regard to the man she

Bythistimethetwohad arrivedatHarvani

uare.
“Instead of meetin me here to-morrow,”
Gray remarked “mes me in Boston on the
site 3 of Faneuil Hall‘at e' htinthemor '
an then I’ll have you togg£out Goodnight ".
And thenthe twain parted,» meet againon
the moi-row to prepare to carry out Mr. Gray’s
leetle game.

You can keep so r I suppose?
hen I’ve got any busio

_

CHAPTEKXXI.
CARRYING 11:21:11. ‘

Tim conspirators met at t is agreed a,
Milligan had already visited a barber, nigh:
shaved. had his hair cut andin partway-ad.
general “ titivating ” up.

“Hallo! you look_ like a diflennhman .1.
ready!” Gray exclaimed, a he surveyed his
tool

Gra had selected an early hour and a
whereyhe would not be apt to meetany mum:
ancestor a meetingplace; besides, there wum
abundance of cheap read .m , clothing
stores in tltile immediate vian y when mug“
could be re .

The part that the arch ottarihad ' so
the old man was nota d cults-o andi titted
himz-a lain, common man, but no tramp or
criminal}: the head of at stable” I...
likely to be a little rough m- andmannerc
such a character the old tramp could along
with ver well, and Gra had little ear that
the simp 0 girl would do the cheat. Bsides,
the very fact that the man filmtended to b. 1.
his service would be sure to l melon,

A deal of trouble Mr. Barry Gray was at.
ing and for quite a small stake, one acquainted
With the man would have remar nor was
the s; orting Beaconutreeter at all the sortof

.itleman that one would suppose could be

mpted to enter into a partnership with such
an unsavory wretch as Jerry .

But Harry Gray was a shrewd ellow as men
go, nowadays, and, as a general rule, he al-
wa s had more than one string to his how.

0 one scheme he had devoted himself with
cat determination, and that was, by either
Kir means or foul to compam the defeat of the
Harvard crew in the coming race with theYale

boys; reason had he to works for both for-
tune and reputation de nded upon it. If the
crimson handkerchiefs hat spanned the heads

of the Harvard men,came flm over-thawin-
ni line, hewas a ruinedman; butif,ontho
, the blue of Yale led the way M the

t, with anew fortune andanupright

'n to make anything out ‘

 

con
d ’s
2;“. he mightny fresh deal inthegunegof

The Winning Oar.

His: first move in the desperate plan to
“ throw ” the race and insure that Yale should
win, no matterif the Harvard crew was b far 1
the best, was to remove Winny from ub’s ‘

si ht.

$ub was the stroke-oar—the winning oar, as
he was proudly called b his admirers—and .
there were many—of the arvard crew; if Bub 1
was tampered with—we do not mean in a mo- ;
ney sense,vfor Gray knew his cousin well enough ,
to imdcrstand that there wasn’t gold enough in
the world to tempt the stroke-oar to a dishonest !
action—but if by some accident—some trick he
could be removed from his place in the Harvard %
boat on the day of the race, and the crew be !
forced to put another man in his seat the chances
were ten to one that Harvard, rowing at such a
disadvantage, would lose the race. L

This was a diflicult task, but this was the task 3‘
that Gray had [taken upon himself—the task 1
which he .had sworn to accomplish if it was !
within the power of mortal man to do it.

The second move was to induce Bub to follow I
the girl to New York; by so doin he would be
obliged tone leot h’n training an so endanger
themes 0 his crew.

The third move ‘we shall see anon, and this
was to be the crownin stroke of all.

With Gray’amouay ‘lligan purchased a neat,
dark suit of clothes a new shirt, collar and
neck-tie, stockings, shoes, hat;—in fact a com-
pleta‘outfit from top to toe, and when he had
discarded his rags and donned his new “ ,”
as he termu'l them,~he made-a very respects. 10
up ,arance.

‘ Now we’ll headlight for Cambridge,” Gray
said, after the trans ormation was completed ‘
andtho disreputable-looking tramp .had, by the
aid of thegreatnxiranle-worker, plenty of money. -
been made over intoquite a decent-looking man.
“ I want to get the girl a“? while Bub is ab-
sent,"er upland... «“ on can say to her
that, astho 'nglwillbeapttobe very pain-
fuli‘you thin it Will be better for her to write
w .

m, .

“ But then he’ll know where she hi” .Mfll‘gan
an is n ’t be them I

‘ ouoo won you ve ' ofthe‘
letters?” Gray asked-tardy.» E

“M stars! whateheadyou’vehgzt!”

0n he way to Cambridge in
which ed bv the wayito be  pa-
tronised, ray took particular care to dril r the
tram again into the which he wastoplay, ‘
and eoldseampnbwgquicletolearnmischief, ;
like all his class,soon~convinced the master-
mind, thatahe wouldnot fail in his “ trick.”

Andxsoabout ten o’clock the morning the
good-doctor, whenhe heard the r-bell. sound ,
and went to admit the visitor, was decidedly
astonished to recognise in the well-dressed, well-

' , the unsavory old tramp

appearing winger .
whoseappesrancehsdkiched upsuchabobbery “L

on the previous  i

“ A leatleijokeolnmino,“ he lained, grave- l
ly, to the astonisheddoctor.» “Thank ’eaven, ‘
811‘, Lam ableito-care for the gal as she ought to
be cared for. ”

The donor Mind to tell Winny-of the won-
derfnl change-in the appearance of Jeremiah
Hilligan,~ her long-absent father, and-the. girl
upon the parlorwhere-the old man sat
“mm “13%: WNW’ "pared" “in”
surp oug - pre or
the . , the doctor’sstatement. ,
- Briefly an as polite {and gentlemanly- as [
he possibly-could, the o villain-related to her
"‘° "Sawmmt': $.35?- ‘im’ ““
eonooc ,. . i 0 course
for literat m. - '

A weight was taken 08 her mind: whenshe
discovered that the author of her being was not
really a wicked; miserable tramp. the compan-
ion of finsombirdsxand felons, a man-who had ;
:ihmted t :yhospitalities of nearly every jail in i

e coun .

To her mind there was nodisgrace in honest !
poverty, and when the old man explained that l
or ears he hadbeen connected with training I
sta esl'ilsvoted .to' the preparation oivfssthorses ;
for racingpm-poses, she no longer wondered at ;
his sometime uncouth myings, for she under- I
stOod enough of the world, y as she was, to ;
knew that the horseman fratern ty almost have v

 

a language of their own.
Agentiy and delicately as possible—just as
he b‘eon instructedby Gray—he lie of the

stroke-oar, and hinted that-hedid no believein
the admiration of that oung gentleman, and
thatas far a he, Mr.  was concerned,
he would be p if that gentleman kept
himselfto himse fandtroublsd nottheabodeof
the lplligans with his presence.

Win13 did not attempt .to (1on her lover’s
tram bin her ownmind she would as
80011 atvthe sun would sink some day,
nevertc rise again, as to believe that Bub was
not the very soul of honor and truth.

The fn too new looked a t deal

brighter to 0 rl, for since her father had

turnsdont to be quite. decent sortof man. and

thrown no taint ugh her ham: who could
g .

tellwhatrthecomin t f if
“fir-l lover w ch

Bub was the honest an
Winny denimer at first at the sudden do- ’

 

she believed him to-bel '

15

 

)arture, but, after consulting the doctor, took
is advice and concluded to go. As he explain—
ed te her: “ Under the circumstances it is just as
well that you should go at once, perhaps a
great deal better. You can write, you know.”

To tell the truth, the doctor was anxious to
see how Iawrence would act. In his heart the
old gentleman was somewhat afraid that Bub
was inclined to be a little flighty, and that he
didn’t know his own mind as well as he might;
rumors had reached the doctor regzrding Bub‘s
flirtatious with the innkeeper’s ughter, and
though he placed little credence in the re orts,
still he thought that the departure of I inny
would give the £01m man a fine chance to make
up his mind, if e ' waver at all, between two
rival fair ones.

And so Winny departed from the house
which had sheltered her for so many years;
went forth into that wide world from whence
the charity of the good doctor and his wife had

: snatched her so many years a o.

A poor little lamb cons' to the care of as
remorseless a wolf as eVer lapped human blood.
When Bubreturned home to dinner and found
Winny gone, he stormed terribly.
“ It is all a trick,” he cried ‘ to take Winny

. from me; but'l’ll baffle‘the plot; I’ll put detec-

tivesron the track‘at once!”

But the doctor persuaded him out of this
course by representing its foil .

" Wait patiently'for a 'few days; then she will
write, say how she is situated, and you can go

_ and see her, if you like.”

Bub finally actuate the conclusion that this
was the I isest plan; but in regard to the won-
derful transformation of the old tramp he was
utterly incredulous.

“it is some trick! some trick!” he kept re-
Beet'ngl; “ that fellow is .a villain and a thief!

idn’t have to knock him down twice on the
highway before he would give up the gold-piece
which he stoleflmm Winny? and they were no
love-taps.th I. ave him, e'therl I heard his
ribs crack use- first-time, int he was game
enough to come kw a second dose.”

In vein the dactorexplained to Bub what Mr.
Mm had explainedto him, thanks to crafty
Harry ’smning brain, that the attack on
the h . ‘ wasme a device to persuade the
two. lsthat he was notw but an old tramp,
so thatzhe would'bereoei and rec ined as
such when he came to the house, an that he
knewl'tbe lad'nsall the time.

But, to use the language dear to the heart of
the police—reporter, he stroke-oar “ wouldn’.
have it at all. v

“ No no!" he heptexclaiming; “ wait and sre
that fellow is a rascal"! thereisn tan honest bone
in his body! if I didn‘t feel sure that Winny
is a , . self’willed, resolute girl when
roused, capableof taking care of herself, I
would go in search of her at once!”

d vwhilerthe stroke-oar was fretting over
the fish’s never dreaming that it was
a blow-Iaimedathimself, Mr. Barry Gray made
another move.

CHAPTER XXII.
WIAVING ran: WEB.

About ten ;o’clock on the next morning Mr.
 Gm snatched into the garden of the
W biuezimtcoka goodlookaroundhimas
though he effected to see some one, and then,
withan air ' ' tment, seated himself at
One of the, tables in little arbors.

The oldmanoama forthtewait upon his

“ I e to see Bub here,” Gray explained.
“He as not been here this morning yet.”
- “ I supposethatl'am a= little early for him,"
the {Iain : carelessly.
“ es; . .ghmnc’e don’t often get here as

earlfi-n -
“ y the way, Mr. Googage. could you cook
me ashepl - Irwasap rather late last night and
I had  limits for breakfast. ”

The old manmhook his head soberlyik

“ A3 Ir. Grahame, you ought to e care of
yo , and 'beggingnyour pardon, was Mr.
Lawrence with you i” e old man appeared to
be uiteanxioue-on this point.

“ es; why do you ask?”

“ Because it‘s against orders, Mr. Grahame,”
replied  old man, evidently annoyed.

‘Agamst orders?”

“Yes, sir: he’s in training now—in training,
you know, for the race.”

“ Oh, a ' (’21 fun new and then won’t do him
any harm!” ray exclaimed laughing as if the
3;?” were rather a good joke than other-

Again the old trainer shook his head very
gravely. ‘
“Ah, thatsort of talkhas cost many a
man pretty dear. Wh , Mr. Han-ison, the
trainin iseverythin . t a man in the ring
thatain t fltr—that’s e ther overtrained or under-
trainedzorona forarace;orinaboat,
“mm”: when": fevh‘"f°th’°f“‘”
every -0 a s o z e ew
ounces of good flesh that he’s lostg, or the few
ouncssofmele-fatthathe’s tonhimwillbe
mighty apt to fix him so tha his backers will
loo s ck afore the thing is over. No Mr. Ben -

risen, don’t you run away with the idea that it

 

' ' ' ' . ‘1 ' . '_..._..i'... - ._;..._...‘. _. _..’;...;‘...,r_..-s . ....;..;.-....:.¢._r_:. rerun.  :4-.. a .. _. ...
.l.. . ..._ . .... .. v» . ‘1

16

don’t make any difference if a man does let up I if I were to tell them, would theyl” he ex-
in his training now and then; it’s jest the ruina- ‘ claimed.

tion of the professional man wot is a-depending V A shade of annoyance passed over the pretty
on his muscle and his wind for to 1111 him ! face of the girl.

through: and, Mr. Grahame, you won] be a-do- 1 “ Ah, but I ho that on will not tell them,”
ing 0 Mr. Lawrence a service if you were-to she replied. “ trust t at you will keep my
just to hint to him that this all-night work is secret there as well as here.”

the worst thin in the world for him. He’s the ' “Oh, you can rely implicitly upon my discre-
stroke-oar of t e crew, you know, the best man 1 tion.

w k that sits in the boat, and if on the home-stretch ‘ “ But I say, wouldn’t you like to have Bub

The Winning Oar.

 

 

 

position and the money that I have gained sole-
y through my Own unaided efforts! but, per-
haps, like my parents, he would regard my
struggles and success as being more of a dis- l
grace than anything else.”
She seated herself in the kitchen by one of the
windows which commanded a view of the little
arbor wherein Grahame was seated, drew the
blinds together, so as to conceal herself, and
then through the crevices watched for the com- :
ing of the man whom she liked with a feeling .
akin to idolatry.
Grahame chuckled quietly to himself as the
girl retreated in such hot haste. 1
“ Puppets all! creatures made of straw!” he

 

he gives out, owing to bad training, why, then  know your true position in the world?” the
the Harvard cake will be all dou h. ’ ‘ tempter asked, insidiously.

5; “ Well, I hope not, for I stan to lose about I The girl colored up for a. moment; the bare
,i thirty thousand dollars if the ri ht boat don’t I mention of the stroke—oar’s name always brought
l

come in ahead,” Gray remarked, n his light and I the tell-tale blood into her cheeks.

 air

- -.-.,i..—..
_. Q‘T‘ ",L" :

“Wang”,
. ,re- -....-
-. - ,...._.. .. .. 

M..-“ a..-__ w...._-.. . .

...,....a .. wa. .w...‘w..» _

wryr

. y*._.

 

,
’
Na.

3 .

wa .
‘ Thiryt
cried, in ulging in a prolon ed whistle, indica-
tive of great amazement; “ w y, you don’t mean
to tell me that you’ve got that much money on
the race?”

“And wh not; isn’t ita sure thi ?”

“Oh, no, . Gr 9; there ain’ anything
sure in this world except death. I’ve seen so
man sure things bu’st up that I’ve come to the
cone usion that it ain’t safe to holler till the
event is pulled off.”

“ But there is no doubt that the Harvard crew
are much the best,” Gray urged. “Everybody
says so, and then, look at the odds that they
command in the betting.”

“Yes, that’s so; and I don’t blame the men
that’s putting up their mone to back their
opinions; but then, you know, . Harrison, an
accident might upset the hull thing. The crew
are as good a one as ever satin a boat, but then
s’pose any one of them should ha pen to be
taken sick, and a fresh man put in, 0 course the
two substitutes are good men, but if Bub don’t
cpmefio the scratch, where’s the man to fill his
p ace

“ Well, now that you put it in that light, I
\ don’t know but that you are right,” Gray said,
seriously, and g as if he had neverre-
flected upon the subject before; he was a per-
fect master of the art of dissimulation.

“ Of course I’m right!" old Googaige exclaim-
ed, earnestly. “ and, Mr. Grahame, you don’t
want to hazard the loss of your money, for
Heaven’s sake advise Bub not to neglect his
training, but to leave no stone unturned for to
get himself lit to row for a man’s life on the day
“fifumeii’t I Will d d

rig ; ';youcanepenu nine!
I suppose you have got considerable Eioveeted
upon the race?”

“ Oh, no, Mr. Harrison, not a cent,” replied
the innkeeper, with a regretful air as if he la-
mented that such was the fact.

“You  me! gm idea :30!!! tlfie
opinion t at ew you re ingt e
crew that you would invest about you could
raise on the event.”

“ I’m a member of the church; Mr. Grahame
and I tries to live up to it, and I ve given up all
sich deviltry a longstime ago. It ain’t no harm
for to coach the la a bit and ve ’em a hint
afi’two, but as for betting. Oh! ’m dead ag’in’

The young man laughed.

“ Well, every man to his thinking, but I say,
ust hurry up that chop; talking has e me
hirsty as well as hungry, and bring me a bot-

tle of your ginger ale, too."

“ Yes, sir, directly; I’ll set Kitty to work on
the chop, right away; she’ll serve it, air, as I
hope you’ll excuse me, seeing as I’ve got to go
down to the ’port on a leetle matter of busi-
ness?” ‘

“ Certainly.”

This was exactly what the astute Mr. Gray
wanted. He had no expectation whatever of
meeting Bub at the Woodbine Inn, but he had
corps expressly to get an interview with the

He had started the old tram on his errand to
remove one of the girls who d attracted the
fancy of the stroke-oar, and now he himself was
about to try a certain plan upon the other.

The tram businem was move No. 1, and this
was move 0. 2.

“ She’ll serve it in a jifly!” And then the old
man hugried into the house to give the neces-

or are.

‘ Everything on splendidly l” Gra mut-
tered to himsel , oomplacently. “I sh suc-
coed, I am sure of it! This 1 must get out of
this. I want her in New or]: where she can
serve my purpose as a lode-stone to attract my
dear cousin, old Harvard’s winning car as they
term him, but r11 bet a trifle that in his next
race, whether he sits in the boat or out of it, his
crgw wall not come in ahead.” m th

Id 00 9 again emerged in e 

“You’ll served in a few minutes, sir, an I

hope you’ll excuse me?” he said.
‘Oh, yes.”

The innkeeper departed, and hardly had he
disappeared down the street before the girl came
from the house with the glgger ale.

“ Will you have your ops here, air!” she

asked.
“Yes if ouplease, andarewugotngto
oookitf” y

« Y“, “I.” I
“They wounneverbeline tbhiuNew York

 

“Why, what difference should it make to

thousand dollars!” the innkeeper I me?” she asked.

“ Oh, come! why do you heat about the bush?”
he re lied. “ Do you think that I am blind—do
you t ink that I hav’n’t known of the flirtation
which has been goin on between you and my
cousin? Why it is a over town that he is over
head and ears in love with on.”

“In love with Doctor eabod ’3 daughter,
you mean,” she retorted, two bri t pink spots
appearing in her cheeks, “and w at chance do
I stand—I, the innkeeper’s daughter, against
that young lady?”

The girl spoke bitterly and she glanced down
with a scornful air at t 0 common print dress
she wore.

“ Aha! I see that you hav’n’t heard the news.”

“ What news?” she asked.

“ About the young] lady who was supposed to
be the doctor’s daug ter. ’

“Sn to be! Why, is there any doubt

“Well, es, rather, considering thatan a ed
tramp w o rejoices in the name of Jerry il-
ligan, as made his appearance, and claimed the
girl as his childl”

“ Why, it is just like a. story l” she exclaimed.
“ And does the doctor admit that the man’s
claim is comet?”

“Oh, yes: and, what is more, he has yielded
the girl to his care, and by this time she is on
the way to her new home.”

“And where is that? do you know?”
was curious regardin her rival.

“ Oh, es; Boston, believe, is where the old
wretch ves; and so, you see, at one sudden and
unexpected blow poor Winifred is hurled to
 and gisgraoe.”

“ Yes that isthe proper word; this new-found
father is a re od rascal; no first-class
scoundrel,byou ow, :30 has ltgirived by 1111i!
roguery ut a mean, gar, o tramp, w 0
has rohablg seen the inside of more prisons
than e has ngers and toes.”

The l was silent for a few moments, evi-
dently meditating deeply upon this startling and
unexpected news, and Gray watched her nar-
rowl , a cunning look in his shrewd eyes.

“ t must have been a dreadful blow to the
poor irl,” she said, at last.

“ es, it was, and a dreadful blow to Law-
rence, .”

“And—and what does he think of it?” she
asked. “ I should thought that if he cared for
her he would have at once volunteered to take
her away from the life of misery to which she
is evidently doomed unless some friendly hand
is outstretched to save her. ”

“ So he did, and the old trampe rly jumped
at the chance to sell the girl, but s e, as proud
as a tr queen, spurned the offer. She
plainly to d ub before all of us there that there
was now a gulf between them that could not be
:panned, and that henceforth they would be as

rangers to each other.”

“ Is it possible?” exclaimed Kate, in wonder.

“ Yes, and now comes your chance! Be' guid-
ed b me, and I’ll engage that in lea than a
moat Bub shall be at your feet!”

The girl

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
sun’s Dreisios.

Tun interview at this int was suddenly in-
terrupted. Bub came oiling along up the
street, both hands in his pockets, an wi h his
eyes bent u n the ground.

“There e is now l” Kitty exclaimed, her
quick eyes catching sight of the handsome
stroke-oar.

“ And he’s coming to see you, too! I’ll lay a
hundred dollars to an orange that he won’t pass
without coming in.”

“Oh no; he never comes here in the morn-
ing!”uprotested the girl, with trembling li , her
face ternately turning pale and red as t e hot
blood coursed hrough er veins.

“ The other woman being one he comes to

on; but, be off with you! t won’t do to let
im even suspect that we are on such intimate
terms.”

The girl obe ed the command at once and
hastened into t e house, a prey to conflicting
emotions.

Was it really true then that the handsome
young fellow cared for her—he, one of the first
of the Boston ntlemen and she so far below
him in the scale!

“ Ah! if he only knew who and what Imlly
am!” she murmured. "If he only knew o; the

"‘ l

 

exclaimed, contemptuousliy, “and how the
dance at my command, an yet these poor foo
think that hey have brains l”

And after this reflection he proceeded to at-
tack the chop, utterly ignoring the near E
proach of Lawrence, or it was no part of
game to let the stroke—oar suspect that he was
on the watch for him.

In truth when Lawrence quitted the house of
the old doctor after learning of Winifred’s de-
parture, it was with no settled urpose; his

rainwasin awhirl, and heonly esiredtoget
out into the air.

Mechanically he had turned his steps in the
direction of the Woodbine Inn, and no tho hill
of the innkeeper’s daughter Were in his min .

He was restless and unhappy, and, like all
vigorous minds, he chafed against the misfor-
tune which had overtaken him, and could not
bear to sit down in quiet and think the matter
over.

No, he must have exercise; he must be up and
doing or else the suspense would be too much for
him bear

to .

“ That old wretch, her father?” he had mutr
tered a hundred times as he paced along. “It
is not ‘ible. Winny is a lady—a perfect
lady; like produces like; grapes grow not upon
thistles: there is some herri le mistake about
the matter. The doctor has been deceived in
some wa , but I will learn the truth 1”

we ve said for a hundred times at least
he had muttered this resolution and at the end
of the speech eve time he had raised his eyes
and glared aroun him as though be e
to find some one to combat his idea; and this time
as he looked defiantly about him, his gaze fell
11 nGrahame, busily engagedin ' got the
c op and a parently utterly unconscious that ;
any soul of is acquaintance was in the neigh. ?
borhood. .

“Hallo! there’s Harry!” the stroke-oar ex-
claimed. “He’s a she fellow. I’ve a good
mind to ask his advice a ut the matter."

Bub halted and surveyed the remises.

“I wonder if Kitty is anyw ere about?” he
murmured. “ Perhaps this blow that has fallen
upon me is a judgment because I allow ed my
foolish fancy to rest upon the girl when I was
really about as good as engaged to the other
one. Well, the punishment is severe enou h.
I can’t understand the fascination that t is
Kitty exercises over me when I am in her pre-
sence. When I am away from her it doesn’t
exist. She is no more to me then than an
other girl. It’s lucky for me, perhaps, that this
love for Winny is so strong within my heart
or else some day I might be tem ted to make a
fool of myself on account of this barmaid. Hang
me! if I ain’t sometimes 'as Week and unstable
in my fancies as a love-sick girl 1”

And while Bub was muttering these reflec-
tions to himself he had halted by the gate and
had rested his hand upon the fence.

Kitty, from her ambush in the window—
which also commanded a view of the front gate,
being situated in the little ell of the cottage—
had watched the movements of the stroke-oar
with feverish impatience.

“Will he es by, or will he come in?” she
muttered. ‘ Oh, what a fool I am to love this
man asI do!” Then she cried enraged at her-
self: “Aud the chances are at he does not,
nor ever will care anything for me; but he
must-he shall I”

The words came with flea vehemence from
her lips, and her eyes spark] while every nerve
in her body quivered.

The girl was terribly excited.

“ Do not pass 1” she exclaimed, “ do not pass!
if you lave me, come in! yield to the one!
which, with all my heart, I am striving ex-
ercise over you!”

Of course the invocation was not uttered in
tones loud enough to reach the ears of the
young man, and was mere] the outburst of the
moment, but it seemed asi some good, or evil
genius—it was difficult to say which—had car
ried the meaning of the excited s eech to the

stroke-oar, for he suddenly placed is hand on
theéatch of the gate, and itting it, entered the
83 ’n

o. r'the heart of the girl came a great swell

of 'ov.
‘4 He does love me!” she cried, still commun-
ing with herself. “He is not deaf to 3 a:
pealldei’id I shall yet win him, despite
wor l

Intruth it was a strange coinciderm. but it
was the pr-"WHCO of Harrison Grahan e in the
U1. ‘en, rather than any subtle power

 

_..—~«- —' ‘

.4-i._«u. ‘ _ A

\

“'I‘he-  Oar.

. —~‘,

I.

 

 

over him by the love-sick innkeeper’s daughter,
which impelled the stroke-oar to act as he did.

Just as the girl spoke he had caught sight of
his cousin ensconced in the arbor, and in his
present mood he craved company. .

Man is a gregarious animal and invariably
seeks another one of his species to share either
his joys or his sorrows.

Bub proceeded directly to the summer-house,
of course totally unsuspicious of the presence of
the girl behind the window-blind, who was so
ea erly watching. _

raha'ne had kept a corner of his eye upon
the stroke-oar, an be, me, had muttered an in-
vocation as he noticed the young man halt at
the arden gate. .

“ ,ome in, old man,” he muttered, “come in
and walk blind] into the snare'Which I have so
cunnineg laid or you. Come in, you who are
so superior to me in all the gifts that men count
as rout in this world! come in and see how,
Wlfil the cunning which the devil has planted in
m heart, I will overthrow you, great and gift-

as you arc! See how I will despoil you and
deliver you, bound hand and foot, into the pow-
er of the E tiansl” ‘ -

The fran and o n—hearted‘ stroke—oar had
very little idea of be true sentiments of the
black sheep, whom he really liked _despite his
knowledge of his questionab e practices.

Men with the peculiar nature of the stroke—
oar are always lar e in charity.

When Bub 0th f—way upt e walk Grahame
lifted his h and pretended to see him for the
first time.

“ Hallo, Otis! is that you?” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” responded the Harvard lad, and help-
In himself to a chair he sat down on the other
sigc of the table.

“What’s the matter? you look out of sorts,”
Grahame inquired.

“ “Tell I feel deueedly bad i”

“ You look it,” Grahame rejoined; “ but, old
fellow, what is out of joint? Any of the crew
' ne amiss?”

“ Oh, no, fortune be thanked they are all

' ht; it is a private matter which concerns my-
se alone.” _

“ Ah, ‘ a fell grief due to some single breast,’

“ Yes; do you know one Je Milliganl”
“Very well indeed,” the ot er replied, as-
sumin a look of surprise which was extremely

natura .
“ Well, Harry, that old scoundrel has turned

out to be Winnyls father!”

“Oh im i e!”

“Indee it’s the truth; let me tell you all
about it.”

And then Bub related in detail all that had
transpired upon the previous evening when the
old tramp had claimed the girl forhisdau htcr,
and Grahame listened as eager] as thong ev-
ery single articular of the e was new and

stran e to im.

“ Vgell, what do you think of it?” Bub asked,
as he concluded. . _ .

“ I can hardlyalielievle it i” was the trickster’s
extremel natur re y.

“ Oh, thzare’s no dougt about it at all, and he has
taken Winn away with . him. to New York.
What sort 0 a- man is this Milligan? He pro-
fesses to be in your semce.”

“ He never was, except for some rather dirty

ieces of work that a better man wouldn't have
gone. You lmow if you go on the turf, Otis,

ou must do as the turiites do,” he said, in con-
clusion, as if toexcusc hzsacquanitance with the
low.
tel“0h, yes, I understand all about that, and it
has always been a puzzle to me how you ever
got mixed up wiin such rascals!” the stroke-oar
exclaimed blunt y. .
Grahame rather winced at the plain-spoken

 

peech.
s “ Well, there are a t many gentlemen
connected with it, too, you must remember.”
“ Yes, I resume so, but Ican’t understand it;
but about t is Milligan; he’s a regular old mun-

dre ' ’t he?” _
“le51, yes, that is about the reputation that I
l

he“ And'to think that Winny, young, pure and l
grim“, imfipne with him, had y trusting ,
wre _
“ VEhy not go after her!” Grahame suggested, 
crfiflgyyjove I will!” Lawrence cried, 'tumping ;
at the idea. ‘ “ Willeylou come with me
“ CertaiDly, old f ow!”

CHAPTER XXIV.
STARTING rm: monisnav.

“WI will start at once I” . Bub was as I
to get off as the bound tuggling at the leash w th 3
the scent of me in his nostrils.

“ Give me if an hour, or an hour,”'Grahame 
said. “ I’ve a little business to arrange in Boston. ;
But, I say, can you go to New York now? How I
about your training!"

“ Oh, that’s all right. The crew leave forI New
Iondon to-morrow and I can run up from the
cit every now than.” ,

ame shook his head gravely. .

“ Tab care, old fellow," he said; J‘ you

 

richase

mustn’t do anything to endanger the race; your
crew must win, on ow.”
“ Oh, that’s 1 right!” Bub repeated, impa-

tiently; like all strong, willful men he was not .

disposed to be

, and was
alwa s inclined to be more

turned from 
than

ea stron

usua and less liable to listen to reason w en his .
good sense told him that he was acting heed- ‘

essly.

Grahame was an excellent judge of character; ,

and then, too, for years he had made it his busi-
ness to study his cousin likea book, because, for
a very long time he had cherished a resentment
against him and had waited patiently for the
moment to come when he could catch the pros-
perous, lucky, happy stroke-oar upon the hip
and then feed fat the ancient grudge he owed

him.
The wily trickster saw that Lawrence was de-
termined to follow the absent girl to the city,

and he knew Bub’s nature uite well enough to "

understand that a few time y words of remon-
strance would only serve to make him still

more determined in his gurpose, and at the same E
be impressed with the .

time the oarsman woul
belief that the speaker was really and truly a
friend.

“Very well, you know best, of course ”
Grahame remarked, “but not for the world
would I see you do anything to put in hazard
the race. I don’t speak in this way because I
have invested heavily upon the result, but be-
cause I want to see your crew win.”

“ Of course, of course!” Lawrence exclaimed,
firmly believing that the words of the ker
were free from ile. “ I know that heart and
soul, you are or the crimson handkerchiefs;
but don’t be afraid; we’ll win the race; there is

no doubt at all about it; but I must go to New :
I can’t stay here; there are reasons ,
which I can’t explain ver well—” and here the ;

York.

speaker hesitated and g anced toward the cot-
ta 0—“ reasons which compel me to go.”

ow plain it all was to the wily Mr. Harrison
Gray! He understood it all just as well as
though the stroke-oar had unburdened his heart
and made him a confidant of its secrets.

He was afraid to remain in Cambridge now
that Winifred had gone away because he dread-
ed the fascinations of the innkeeper’s daughter.
Strong, resolute and self-willed among men, yet
in re to these two girls he was as weak and
unsta Is as wax. He knew his weakness, and
was determined to conquer it by fleeing beyond
the siren’s influence.

And the plotter chuckled in his sleeve when
be reflected that, thanks to his machinations,
the flight to New York instead of evening the
danger to which the oarsman felt that he was
ex would only carry him straight into the
to“ of the temptress.

“ There’s an express at one or two this after-
1:00:21 suppose we take that?” Grahame sug-

ges .
“ All right. I’ll meet you at the d t at a
quarter before one; we can easily kill a for
an hour if the leaving time is two.
“ Very well; that will suit; I’ll be there.”
Bub rose to depart.
“ It will give me plenty of time to go around
and see the boys and explain matters to them.

I ex t that they will be annoyed and possibly ?
axialec ’

that I am hazardin the success of the
race; but it is of no use! can’t stand the sus—
pensel I must go ofl'—I must do somethin or
else I shall go crazty. Take care of yourse l”
and thus abruptly e stroke—oar took his de-
parture, much to he disa pointment of the girl
who, With eager eyes, ha watched eve move-
ment of the handsome fellow whom s e loved
with the strength of a passionate Woman’s de-
votion. .

With a quiet smile upon his face Grahame

saw the stroke-oar depart.

“Pu pets all—puppets all,” he muttered. “I
ull t e wires and they dance. The crimson
andkerchiefs will not win this race, my gentle

cousin and after the strug la is over, with one
gcfipgt’i the world will say hat it was all your
a
By this time Bub had disappeared from sight,
and Kitty came eagerly from the house; she
found it impossible to restrain her curiosity.

Grahame understood what the girl wanted.

“ He is going to New York,” he answered at

once.

“ To New York!” The intelligence fell upon

her like a blow.

“ Yes, after the girl.”

“ After the ii'll” Kitty murmured, mechani-

gally, a look 0 blank despair upon her beautiful
ace.

“Y just for the moment he is after

her, asisd nothing will content but a wild-goose
to the city.”
“ And she is not there, is she?” Kitty cried.

I “ You told me that she had gone East.”

“ So she has,” Grahame replied unblushingly.
:: But be thinks that she is in New York?”

“ And if he goes there he will not find her!”

“ Exactl .”

“But, w at does it matter to me?” the r!
exclaimed, despondently, “ whether he finds
or not; his heart is devoted to her.”

“Ah, my dear Miss Kitty, men’s hearts are

‘ cooll

? honorable and

ltoucha

l very queer articles,” he replied, with his ligltfi
‘ mocking lau h.

“ Just now he is/reall crazy
after this gir , and he is determined to nd her
and sohe runs of! to New York; and then there
is another reason why he flies from Cambridge.
and on are mixed up with that.”
“ 1y” exclaimed Kitty, in wonder.
“Yes; for the last few weeks—in fact, ever
, since you came to Cambrid e and Bun made
your acquaintance—his heart as been a battle-
’ ground, whereon your influence and hers con-
tended. When he is with you he likes you the:
best; when he is with her, he forgets y n; nov.
that she is gone he is afraid to remain heie lest
your spells prove too powerful for him.”
“W y should he be afraid if, as you say, he
cares for me?” she demanded.
“My dear Miss Kitty, just consider the differ-
ence in your positions,’ Grahame said, in his
easy way.
“ es, yes, I know that! I am a fool ever to
forget it! but this girl, the daughter of a miser-

i able old tramp, is she any better, or is she as

good as I am ?”

“No; at resent you have the advanta e
‘ most decid y. And that is where the troub 0
comes in at present. My cousin is an extremefiy
peculiar y sensitive man. e

has paid this ' marked attention—”
, “And so e has me!” interrupted Kitty,
f quickly. “ But of course I understand; there is
I a vast difference between whispering compli-
, ments in the ears of Doctor Peabody ’8 daughter
' and saying the same thing to Kitty Goo age,
the child of the man who keeps the W bme

f “ Yes, but if he lmew you in your true station
‘ ——in the tion which you have so brilliantly
won wit no aid except the genius and the gifts
which nature has bestowed upon you—”

“Ah, but would he think an better of me?
P Would he not yield to the pre udices that the
1 world has borne ever since the dark ages? Why
. I do not dare to let even my Own parents know
: how I gain aliving! They ima ine that I am
; employed in amillinery store on roadway, and
‘ I am sure that they would rather starve than
‘ nny of my earnings if they knew how

I n them.”

‘You don’t astonish me in the least,” Gra-
lhame re lied. “From what I know of your
1 worth ather, and the old lad , your mother
1 I sh d have 0 . that t ey would hold
] 'ust such views. erscns in the lower ranks of

ife, and not possessed of much culture or edu-

cation, when they t I‘ellfiign generally get it
, bad, and their fait is of t pewliar nature
‘ that leads them to think evil of everybody who I
3 doesn’t think exactly as they do. Your ingot is
I always the blindest and most obstinate of men.
2 But now, you must consider the difference be-
tween your parents, with their narrow, shallow
views, and such a man as Otis wrenCe—
broad-minded, cultured and refined. Look over
the history of the talented women of the old
world! See how many of them from a poor and
lowly station foufiht their wafy, not only to
fame which is eas y acquired i the demand is
just, ut to a high social pmition, which is more
difficult to gain, and across the water the social
. lines are much more strongly and distinct]
drawn than in our Republic. How many hi'i -
liant women have won coroneis and titles!”

The girl fixed her eyes sharply deon the
speaker for a moment and the crafty r. Gray
instantly percoived that he had awakened her

suspicions
‘ Why do on interest yourself in this mat-
ter?” she ask , abruptly.

“Aha! you are susp'cious!” he exclaimed,
laughing. “ Well, then, isten to my confession:
I want my cousm to marry you, for I want
Winifred niylself !”

“ Ah!” e girl behaved the statements

“I will help you and so help myself. but you
will not win, for you have a most difficult game
to play, unless you follow my instructions tothe
letter. ’

“ I will do so!” she replied, prompt] .

“Well, then, awe with you to ew York:
assume your other e racter and prepare your-
self to be introduced to Bud.”

“I will go to-ni t.”

“Good! and Within a week I’ll engage that
you shall see that succes is certain.”

A few more words of light import and the in-
terview terminated. The machinery of the plot
was fairly started. ‘ ‘
CHAPTER XXV.
run QUEEN or sONG.

In New York the two cung men went to the
same hotel, the palatial 'fth Avenue, and alter ’
suplper they roceeded to the main entrance .
an ii htin t eir ci

‘ g It, joined the thron who
were loungfng in a around the dcorwag.

l “ What a the)? lace this New York islzLaw-

‘ rence remark dly, his eyes wandering over

the apparently unending stream of people pass-

ing up and down, but it was plain from the ex-

‘ ression uponhis features that his thoughts were
or away.

“Yes, and by the way, I have an appoint.
mcnt this c ,” Harrison observed, abrupt-
ly. “ It nearlyn pped my memory.”

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“ Yes, I romised to call at once upon my re-
turn to t ie city. Are you acquainted with
Mademoiselle Paulina?”

The stroke-oar shook his head.

“ I do not think tliatI am, although the name
sounds familiar to me.”

“ Oh, you must have heard of the lady; Made-
moiselle Paulina is the famous vocalist, the very
queen of beauty and of song.” '

“Yes, I think that I have noticed her name

. in the newspapers.”

“And is it possible that you have never seen
her?” Grahame asked, assuming an air of aston-
ishment that was extremely natural. The man
was a born actor and on the mimic stage un-
doubtedly would have won great triumphs.

“ Such is the fact, I rarely go to pubhc enter-
Efiinmepts; I have very litt e taste for such

ings.

“Come with me to-night and I will introduce
you to this siren.”

“ Siren!” Bub exclaimed, rather astonished at
the unusual warmth of Grahame’s speech.

“ ch, siren: that is her proper title, and if
you do not own that it is, aftera. brief interview
with her, I will a ee to stand a wine supper for
yourself and any lf-dozen of your friends that
you may choose to name.”

“ But will the—siren—be graciously pleased to
indulge me with an interview?” Lawrence ask-
ed, his curiosity somewhat excited by the words
of the schcmcr.

“Oh, yes; I will introduce ou!” Grahame re-
sponded, at once; “these ch' dren of genius are
not hemmed in and about with quite so many
decorous barriers as encom as their less fortu-
nate sisters. I am uite in imately acquainted
with the song-bir and will introduce you.
Come along and we will go there at once.”

“All right, I’m with you,” Bub replied, yield-
in to the impulse of the moment.

go the two young men left the hotel and sal-
Iied forth.

“Which way?” asked the stroke-oar, as they
emer ed from the portal.

“ p Broadwa ,” Grahame replied. “ She
resides in a sort 0 a rivate hotel, on Thirtieth
street, much affected y the artist world. With-
in the modest confines of that five-star brown-
stone front you will find the rising nter, the
aspiring poet, the successful tragedian,_ the
queen of poetry of motion, the sweet Singer
who nightly charms the opera-loving world as
well as the mystic brothers of the famous press-
:r'ing. who, With a single touch of their pens,
make or mar the re utation of those bold souls
who pant for a pub ic life."

“ It is to a great center of the Bohemian
world, then, that I am to be introduced?”

“Exactly; and I can assure you, old fellow,
that I am offering you a chance worth accept-
ing!” Grahame exclaimed, with a light laugh.

be two friends were strolling along, arm-in-
arm up Broadwa , as the conversed.

“I am highly avored, hen?”

“By Jove! ou never said a truer word!
'Why, this girl 3 the rage, and been so ever
since she came to the cit . I’ve known some of
the ga est young bl of the town try all
sorts 0 games to procure an introduction, but
she is very particular, and for a woman in pub-
lic life bears a wonderful reputation. Of course
all the daughters of genius, who expose them-
selves to the fierce are of the sun of public
approval, are talk about more or less. It is
a price that they must pay for the fame and
wealth which they acquire so easily and with so
little toil.” .

“ Is she pretty ?” -

:1? beauty!” Grahaim exclaimed, enthusias-
tic y.

“ And talented?”

“She has the voice of an angel 1”

“ I am not very well ac uainted with that
sort of thing,” Bub remark , quietly

“ Just wait until you see this rl, and if you
don’t bow down in idolatry be ore her then I
miss my guess.”

Bub’s lip curled slightly, and an incredulous
look came over his handsome face. Just then
the image of his lost Winny was fresh in his
memory, and be doubted the power of woman-
l:ind to etface the im ression. One siren only
had he ever met in t world. and he did not
believe ‘ that another existed. Kitty Goo age,
-. 1e innkeeper’s daughter, was a siren in eed,
. .id when he was in her presence he found it
almost impossible to resist the spells which she
- :ist over him, but she was far away, and with
finance the charm faded. He had crossed the

main water which, as in the ancient legend,

- )ke t e l .

Chatting gather in a banterin fashion the ,

-- vir soon reached Thirtieth stree and turned

0 it from Broadway.

in the center of the block Grahame halted be-

‘ 'e a handsome brown-stone front house.
“ This is our destination,” he said; “and now,
vord before we enter the charmed portal.
.lpOSing that you fall under the spells of this
I ,. velous beauty you are not to blame me,
; X Id. for I have given you fair warning:

“ Oh, I will hold you blameless,” uh re-
" I" .
‘ “ it’s quite a serious meitr introducing such
a dashing blade as yourself to llhll queen of

 

song. Who knows what serious consequences
may result from it?”

“ Oh, nonsense! go ahead!”

“I warn you remember!”

“ Oh, on my head be it !" Bub replied, lightly.
The stroke-oar little guessed the nature of t
tangled path into which his feet were straying

so recklessly.

Grahame advanced up the steps and rung the
bell, Bub following close behind.

An elderly colored man answered the bell and
from the look 11 n his face as he perceived Gra-
hame it was p that the Bostonian was no
stranger to him.

“Is Mademoiselle Paulina at home, Jim?” he
asked.

“ Yes, sah.”

“Carry up my card, please,” and Grahame
placed one of his pasteboards in the hand of the
servant.

“ Yes, sah; walk in gentlemen, to de parlor.”

The servant usher the twain into the recep-
tion-room and then departed.

The lor was nicely furnished and only dif-
fered mm the usual reception-room common to
similar houses of its class in having the walls
profusely adorned with portraits of all the ar-

istic celebrities of the day.

Iawrence examined them with considerable
curiosity, and Grahame, who was well acquaint-
ed with all of them by sight, and with the great-
er part personally, took upon himself the task
of enli htenin his less learned companion.

Bub isten patient! as Grahame descanted
first on one picture an then on another, enliv-
ening his discourse every now and then with
some choice bit of scandal regarding the origi-
nals of some of the pictures.

“ You are well posted,” Bub observed at last.

“ Oh, yes I’m up to all that’s ing, as the
sa. ing is,” Grahame replied, comp acently.

he rustle of a woman’s dress sounded in the
entry 'ust then; the young men turned; a tall,
beauti ul 'rl with lustrous, lden hair, mag-
nificently (grassed, came swee mg into twat-
ment, and then came a su den and ling
tableau.

No sooner had the lady caught si ht of the
faces of the fgentlemen than a cry 0 astonish-

nfent came rein her lips and she started back
utterly amazed.
An as for Bub Lawrence, u Grahame’s

pon
whispering in his ear, “ Here she is ” he had in
curiosit turned to see the famous siren, but the
momen his eyes fell upon her face he re-echoed
the cry whic had been forced from her lips by
the sudden and une encounter.

Grahame was the only one of the three that
was not completely taken b surprise, although
he followed suit and preten ed tobe.

This woman—this magnificent creature—this
Mademoiselle Paulina, who with her wonderful
voice as well as by the race of her rson and
the exceeding beauty 0 her face, this ueen of
genius, rich in all the gifts that fame an wealth
could give, was no ot er than the innkeeper’s
daughter, (plain Kitty Googage.

No won er that the stro e-oar was amazed at
the wonderful and une cted transformation!
Never before in all his ll 0 had he been so thor-
oughly and utterly astounded. ,

or a moment he could hardl_ believe the evi-
dence of his eyesight, and he bl ked and stared
like an owl suddenly brought from the darkness
of an obscure nook into the li ht.

But, there was no mistake; itty Googage the
Cambrid rl and the sweet-voiced siren, Ma-
demoisel e aulina were one and the same.

CHAPTER XXVI.
PAULINA’S s'ronr.

“ HALLOI hallo!” cried Grahame, in apparent
amazement; “are you two people acquainted
with each other?”

The exclamation in a measure recalled the

to their senses.

“Yes I have had the pleasure of seeing the
lady before ” Bub replied, very ill at ease, and
his mind still in a fo as to the wonderful trans-
formation whicb h changed the poor and low-
ly innkeeper‘s daughter into this gorgeous lady,
brave in silken attire.

“ Oh, I see!” Grahame exclaimed; “you did
not recognize an old acquaintance by the name,
for I shrewdly guess, mademoiselle, that your
name is but a nmn-de—theatre, eh?”

“ Yes,” the girl re lied.

“It is real], an d thin when on come to
think of it,” rahame con nued. ‘I brought

. Lawrence up here on purpose to give him
the pleasure of making your a uaintance and
here you suddenly reco nize eac other as old
frien s. Well, well, it odd!”

The stroke-oar cast a searching glance into
the face of the other. Was it possible, he
thought that Grahame did not know that this

ueen of song, this lady who, on the mimic
gtage, badfascinated bot old and young New
York, was only the bar-maid of the village ale-
house, old Ben Goognge’s daughter! It might
be so. Grahame rarely visited Cambridge, and
the chances were a hundred to one that e had
neVer happened to see the girl. He must be
careful, r on, not to homey her secret.

And Kitty, to ~, on her part had favored the
etch-plotter With an earnest look. She under-

 

stood only too well that Grahame knew who
and what she was, and now she asked herself
the question—Why and for what object had he
brought Bub Lawrence into her presence and
thus rudel torn away the vail of secrecy with
which she ad enshrouded herself? For no good
urpose, she was sure for in her heart she dis-
ted the wil an smooth-spoken “Harry
Gray,”.althoug to save her life, she could not
have given good and sufficient reasons for the
odd eeling', but women are creatures of in-
stinct; the ield blindly to a whim and do not
seek to for'g’ifytheir actions by logical reason-

in
gill? Grahame, with a smile “that was child-
like and bland,’ beamed upon them both and if
he had dark and deep designs buried within his
pear-t, no trace of them could be discerned in his
ace

“ By Jove! it is about as odd a thing as lever
remember!” Grahame continued; “ and since
you are old acquaintances, I trust you a ill both
exeuse me for a.few minutes while I run up-
stairs to Signor Bilatka’s sanctum. The signer
is the coming pianist of the age, Bub and I take
a wonderful interest in him. I 11 be hack in fif-
teen minutes — adieu l” And then Grahame
bowed himself out of the room, much to the “Fe-
lief of both of the others, for in truth they were
terribly embarrassed, and in the presence of a
third party an explanation was not ssible.

After the departure of Grahame i e girl sunk
into the nearest chair with a sigh of relief.

Bub for a moment remained motionless, a be-
wildered look upon his face. .

M again he was in the resence of the sircn
whom he had Sworn to avoi ; once again he was
exposed to the fascinations of the woman who
exercised such a strange influence over him.
Was that influence to be for ccd or evil? Al):
that remained to be seen, an yet thue was a
subtile s icion lurking within the young 11 an‘s
heart that is intimartiy with the girl could re-
suit in nothing but e ' .

As we have said for a moment he stood mo-
tionless as a rooted tree and gazed earnestly in-
to the lovely face of the girl. He had thought
that she was a charming creature when dressed
in the plainest attire as became the bar-maid of
the Woodbine Inn, the den hter of old Ben Gco—
gage; but now that he behe (1 her tricked out in
all the fincry dear tothe heart of won unkind——
robed in silks and laces—diamonds adorning her
delicate ears-her tawny hair looped here ard
there with precious gems—her perscn(mbellish-
ed with all the tricks and devi< es cc mnxon tothe
belle of the riod, he thou ht that his eyes had
never behel a more beauti ul woman.

Again the subtile spells of the charmin girl
were stealing over him, binding him hang and
foot in a silk-like chain, apparently as fragile as
the airy web of the sp er-king, erd yet in
reality as strong as the massive links of the
manacled prisoner’s chain.

f‘ You are surprised to see me, no doubt,” she
said, looking straight into his face and smilingly
inviting him to a preach.

“Yes "he rep ed; and, unable to resist the
charm, he advanced to her side and seated him-
self so near to her that he had but to reach out
his hand to touch her.

“ No more surprised, though, than I am to be—
hold (you, for you are the very last person in this
worl that I expected to see.

“But explain this mystery: who and what
are out”

“ am Mademoiselle Pauline, the bri ht, ar-
ticular star of the Alhambra Music Hal , in 4th
street,” she replied, fliml , Lut u iih aiixicus
eyes fixed upon the face 0 the young man, ea-
ger to witnem the effect of the speech.

“ The Alhambra Music Hall!” he nuimured.

“Yes, where I nightly sing: I am avocalist
by profession and I command the hi best salary
given to any artist who treads the gbcards of a
music hall. As you can plainly see, 1 lead a
double life:— when I am home with my parents.
I am plain Kitty Gccpa 9, Int here, in New
York, over a certain cii‘ce I rei n as queen,
with none to dispute my sway, an I am known
as Mademoiselle Paulina.”

'lhere was an air of bravado plain] apparent
both in the rl’s voice and manner. he feared
the effects 0 the disclcsure, but she had resolved
to make the best of it.

In brief she intimated—I am so and so, I am
not ashamed of it, althou h perhaps you may
think that I have cause to e ashamed.

To tell the truth Lawrence hardly knew what
to make of the matter. He was somuch sur-
prised by the disclosure that he hardly knew
what to think. He had not a vet high opinion
of the “bright particqu stars’ of the music
halls. He had come in contact w ith tn 0 01 three
of them, and not one of them had impressed him
favorably.

“My parents do not know what I am doing,”
the irl continued, rapidly, determined that he
shmfid know the whole story. “They have a
holy horror of the stage and all that helon s to
it. I Assist them out of my earnings, but hey
would turn from the money in horror if they
only knew how I gained it. In fact I really be-
lieve that they would rathei accept money
ruined by downright theft than the gains at the
“use. as the-v (Cuullldfll‘ it an abomination,"

 

 

 

“How did you happen to enter upon this ll
life?” Bub asked, his curiosity excited. ‘

“Ever since I was a child I had been noted l
for my excellent voice.
by good judges that if I had had proper instruc- 
tions I would have made a great opera singer.

The Winner; Oar;

' “Harrison, don’t you know who this girl
i really is?” Bub asked, abruptl

“No, of course not; how should I? but you

I have often been told J do though.”

2‘ Yes, I do,” Lawrence admitted, slowly.
“Well, I won’t pry into the secret; only all

My father was in difficulties; his inn was not . I’ve got to say is that if you want the girl she’s

paying and he expected to lose it and with it i
all his little savings which he had invesred in it. i
I resolved to use the talents which Heaven had
given me, secretly and unknown to m folks. I
made the attempt, and succeeded. be public
that I sing to is an easily satisfied monster, my
audience do not demand cultivation so much as
voice and style, both of which the world says
I have. My folks think that I am the fore-
woman of a inilliner store on Broadwa —that
I recaive an excel ent salary, and t at the
money I send to them is my surplus earnin ..
The cheat is not likely to be discovered, for t is
blonde hair and the glamour of the stage al-
most defy recognition; and. besides, there is no
sum of money in this world that would tem t
either my father or mother to go inside the wa
of a theater.”

“This sounds more like a romance than re- 
ality,” Bub observed, thoughtfully.

“ And is all the romance of the world confined
to the ges of the novelist?” she exclaimed.
“Do no believe it! The mind of man cannot
invent wilder deeds than the will of man can |
perform. The romance of fiction is weak indeed
com red to the romance of society.” '

“ es, that is truth itself.” J

The appearance of Grahame at this moment 1
interrupted the interview. |

CHAPTER XXVII. -
THE BLACK snnar’s PLAN. l

“ TEE signor is out of humor to-night!”
Grahame exclaimed, in his gay, volatile way. ,
“ Some of the critics have been scoring him with
a merciless n, and he is talking wildly of pis-
tols and co ee. ’

“The life of an artist is not always in the sun-
shine,” the girl remarked.

“ By the way, Otis, I have a little business at
the club to attend to this evening. and so, with
your mission, I will tear myself away. The
affair had nearly slipped my memory,” Grahame 5
announced.

But the stroke-oar was in no mood to stay
longer in the dangerous company of the siren. :

 

 

yours; I feel satisfied in regard to that

“ Nonsense.”

“Oh, it’s the truth, and you know it, old fel-
low.”

“ Don’t say anything more about the subject,
it is distasteful to me.’

“ All right.”

And so the conversation ended.

The two went to the club, spent the evening
there, and then returned to their hotel.

Bub’s slumbers were restless and uneasy that
night: and two fair faces haunted him, while
Grahame, on the contrary, slept like a to . His
plans were r0 ressin well, and he fe t sure
that he won (1 u timate y triumph.

In the morning Grahame excused himself to
his cousin under the pretense that he had some

, important business to attend to, and immedi-

ately sought the presence of the lady who in
such a strange manner la ed two such differ—
ent roles in the drama 0 mi;

Grahame sent up his card and craved the
favor of a private interview with the queen of

50%. .
e lady was at home, and immediately came

own.

Right in the rear of the main parlor was a
little private one, and in it “Mademoiselle Pau-
lina ” received her visitor.

“ No doubt you are an rised at my request
for a private interview,” rahame began, “but
I assure you that 1 desn‘e to see you upon most
important business.” . _

‘ I am ready to listen, sir,” the girl replied,

‘ coldly. She had taken adislike to this wily Mr.

“ Harry Gray,” although for the life of her she
could not have told why.

“ Now I am about to speak upon a most deli-
catg maftlier, and Ilse that you will not be of-
fen ed i speak p in .

“ Go on, sir,” she said? quietly. .

“ You are desperately in love with my cousin,
Otis Lawrence.’

The girl started crimsoned to her temples, for

I the speech was totally unexpected.
U n

d be, in a measure is fascinated by you.”

The charm was not yet complete, and he had  “Cease, sir, I beg!” 'tty exclaimed, rising

strength enough to withdraw.

“ I will accompany you, Harrison, and at some !
future time will again have the pleasure of call- T
ing upon Miss—” Kitty, he was just about to ‘
say, but checked himself ust in time.

‘Paulina,” added Gra ame, lau hingly, “I
think that I can guess there is a litt e secret be- .
tween you two, but I will not attempt to share ‘
it!”

A puzzled look appeared on the girl’s face for
a moment. She di not understand Grahame’s
me; it was evident, though, that he wished to
cap Bub in i norance of he fact that he tee ‘
knew her as itt , the barmaid of the Wood-
bine Inn, in fair ambrid e town.
The girl was somewha annoyed at the de-
parture of the stroke-oar. but she skillftu con-

cealed it and bid him farewell with her sweetest ,

smile, and urged him, _with almost unmaidenly
persistence, to call again. and soon.

The cousins walked up the street toward
Broadway, Lawrence (hi! and 190$? a sense
of impending evil hovering in us nd, while
Grahame,on the contrary, was unu uall

“By Jove! she is a superb girl, eh,

merrv.
ub?” he

la ed. ;
exc lm fine girl,” the stroke-oar re-'
nded, slowly, his face strangely sad for one 1

‘- Yes, a very

of his usual high spirits.

“Yes, sit, a superb girl! I’ve seen a great :

man in in time but this charming creature
is a. hut aboyve thehi all. IVhy, she has the air
of a duchess.”

“And yet she is only—” the daughter of the .

keeper 0 a common drinking saloon, Bub was

about to say, but checked himself just in time ;

to reserve the secre

t, .

‘ ' ' «girl, eh?” Grahame continued f
Onlyasingmg “ We”, may; I
ve true, but she makes a prince] income out .
Have you anv 1 on what ‘she ,

taking up the broken sentence.

of ker italliants. f r,
es n 0 course 0 a year

m?‘ Not the slightest.” And in truth the stroke-

oar mi ht have added. neither did he care.

“ W51, sir, not lem than five thousand dollars!
What do you think of that?”

“ A good income.” ' .

“ Yes, but I say, Bub, I was qiute astonished
when I discovered that you and MademOiselle
Paulina had met before.”

“ Was you i” ' _

“ Yes and I say, old fellow—of course it is

none of my business—but aren’t you and she I

prett well acquainted?”
0‘ es.”

“ I’ll bet a trifle thatnthere has been a love af-
fair between on two!

“ y shon you think so?” hmnceasked,
rather annoyed at the idea.

“ Guessed it from the way she looked at you,” '

Grahame re lied, laughing. “Oh, I’ve a rare
eye to detec that sort of thing!”

' in a 'tation.

“ h, but you must hear me!” Grahame cried.

“I will not hear you l” she replied, vehe-
mently.

“ The happiness of your whole life depends
upon it !”

“ My happiness?”

“ Yes; you love Bub, and he can be made to
love on!

“ 0 love me?” The girl was amazed.

“Yes; I can arrange the matter.”

“ 1 cannot understand how that can be.”

“ I cannot very well explain it now; all I can
say is that I can arrange the matter.”

‘You will excuse me, sir, if I doubt your
power,” Kitty exclaimed, with quite a haughty
accent. She resented the man’s interference.

“ Doubt all you like; I don’t object to that!”
Grahame answored, in his careless way. “ All
‘ 1 wish of you is to agree to do certain things
provided that I brin you and Bub together.”

“ b, you are making a bargain with me!”
The ' 1’s lip curled in scorn.

“Well, yes, it is something of that sort.”

“ And supposing that I don’t agree?”

“Ah! but you will agree 1”

“ I will! You certainly have great assu-
rance.”

“ I know that you will agree, because it is for
your interest to do so,” he calmly returned.

“ And you think that I um ruled solely by
guy interest?” The girl was rapidly losing her

em r.

“ ho is there in all this wide world who is
not ruled sole] by their interest?” he demand-
ed, sarcastical y. “ From the hi best to the
lowest man woman or child, the i 0!, self, rules
all the world.”

“ You will find that there is one in this world
who is not ruled by it!” the girl cried, spirit-

edl .

jiggm mean to imply that you will not done I
WIS

“You have guessed correctly!” she exclaim-
edz in lofty scorn. ‘

‘But you don’t know what I wish.”

“ I do not care to know!”

“_In a week you will think differently, and
until that time bid you adieu.”

Grahame bowed himself out. He had a
1 crafty scheme on hand. '

' CHAPTER XXVIII.
l A TERRIBLE BLOW.
l “TED haughty lip of the girl curled in con-

m t.

“ This fellow is an arch scoundrel,” she mur-
. inured, “ but I can defy his malice. Otis Law-
! rence can never be anything to me: to indul
in such a hope is simeg to cast reason a;
but, there is afascina 'on—sa charm in his so-
ciety which I am not strong enough to resist,

 

19

 

 

although I know full well that I imperil myse' '
by yielding to it. He will never marry me; 1h.-
thought is folly, and I tread upon the vcr}
brink of a frightful recipice when I encourage
his attentions. I wi 1 not be so weak and fool—
ish in the future; I will avoid him, although the
struggle tears my heart in twain.”

A brave resolution, and the girl fully intend-
ed to carry it out, but in this world man pro-
poses and fate disposes.

Grahame’s face was dark and his brews con—
tracted as he paced slowly d0wn the St]! r't.

“ She will have it!” he muttered; “l woulu‘
have spared her the blow but she is obstinate,
and, as I can’t bend her, 5 e must break. Proud
and willful after the fashion of her sex! Well,
within a week I will undertake to humble her
to the level of the dust.”

But the shrewd Mr. “ Harry Gray” worked
by wit and not by witchcraft, and wit depend-
ed upon dilatory time; and so, for fully a week,
nothing worth particular mention occurred.

Bub visited his siren daily: again he was fast
in her toils, and as for a] her mighty resolu-
tions they vanished into thin airin is presence.

Heart and soul the girl was devoted to the
stroke-oar, and at times there arose in her mind
a. wild determinationto win him for her own,
de ite all the obstacles that existed.

e time for the race was fast approaching.
Lured by the wiles of the siren, whose iatal fas-
cinations had taken so strong a hold upon him,
Bub neglected his training and lingered in New
York notwithstanding the remonstrances of the
rest of the crew.

“ Oh, it’s all right, boys,” he replied. “I am
in excellent health and am taking the best of
care of myself. Don’t be alarmed about me;
when the da of the race comes I will take my
place in the t as fit and in as good a fettle as
any man in the crew. I am detained in town
by important matters.”

The search after Winny he had given up'
Grahame had taken the matter upon himself an
aftera pretended search had assured Bub that old
Milligzn had removed the girl tosonie secret hid-
ingl-p cc, and that for the present it was impos-
sib e to trace her; and Bub, with that fatal weak-
ness, about the only blemish in his noble nature
tamel accepted the statement; he was quieted
thong by Grahame’s repeated declaration that
ifthe matter was left in his hands he would
most assuredly find the lost one in time.

It was no part of Grahame’s plan to brin
Bub and Winny ther. He had remove
Winny from Cambri go that she in New York
might act as a lure to entice Bub away from the
crew, but for his master-stroke he had reserved i
the other girl. He had shrewdly calculated
that, although Kitt was apparently much more
high-tem red an proud than the meek and
loving inny, at those ver qualities could be
made use of to orward his esigns.

Just a week had elapsed since the da on
which the interview between Grahame an the
girl of double life had taken ace," and Kitty,
robing herself for the street in er dressing-er
at the hotel, received word that a lady and gen—
tleman wished to see her in the parlor.

Totall unable to guem who her visitors were
and rat r astonished at the call, for she was
little used to visits from strangers, she gave the
finishi touches to her toilet, adjusted the
diamon s in her ears and then descended to the
reception-room.

She entered, carelessly swinging the door to
behind her. The lady and gentleman rose to re-
eeive her, their faces convulsed with emotion
and, oh horror! Kitty recognized her father and
mother!

A wild cry came from the lips of the girl: she
staggered back, her face as pale as the face of
the end, and but for the support of a friendly
chair, which involuntarily her trembling hand
had , she would have fallen prostrate to
the oor.

“ Father—mother!” she gasped.

“ You see, mother, I told thee naught but the
truth!” the old man exclaimed, his voice husky
and tremblin with emotion.

A sob was t e on! reply of the old dame, and
bursting into 11 fl of tears she sunk down into
a chair.

“ Yes, this is the lass that we toiled for.” the
old man continued, “ the daughter that we
thought we were a-brin ing up to be a nod,
pious girl, the support an comfort of our 01 age.
And now, how 0 we find her? a-fiaunting it
like a princem with diamonds in her ears and
sin in her heart !”

“ Ohl, no, tfathfirfl—ggttheraébglievpdiine,{Imam a

ones y ci Wi y in .5
Eme’u down its... feet of the old man’. g I

“Don’t ’ee call me fayther! I will hav. l
nau ht to do with ye!” he replied, sternly.

“ h, Kitty, to go and break our hearts this
'ere way,” the old woman sohbed.

“ Wasn’t it enough that you should take the
wretched wages of sin yourself without forcing
us to have a part infemi” old Googage exclaim-
ed, his voice trembling with passion.

‘ But, father I haven’t done anything wrong:
I only honorany use the gifts that Heaven has
given me!”

“ And when doyou use ’emt" the father cried:
“ iii the deVil‘s house, the theater! I saw you

 

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lhere two nights ago with my own eyes. I
wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.
tricked out in silk and laces and with diamonds
all over you! Oh, girl, girl, I would rather
have seen you in your grave-clothes, dressed for
your coffin !”

A fresh outburst of sobs from the old lady in-
terrupted the father’s speech. a

“ But, father” pleaded the agitated irl, “I
am just as go a girl now as when I rst left
the shelter of vour roof.”

“ And on lied to us, too!” the old man add-
ed, fierce y. “ We accepted your earnings—the
money that we thought you had gained by hon-
est toil, and that money kept a roof over our
heads when, if it h .dn’t a-been for it, we should
have been houseless, homeless wanderers in the
streets me be; but, we’re here now to pay it
all bac . went home to the Woodbine arter I
see’d you tricked out in your stage flnery and I
told your mother all about it and she wouldn’t
believe me; she thought that there must besome
awful mistake about it, and so I brought her on
here to this great'overgrown city, for I wanted

 

"her to see With her own eyes: and now she has

seen; she’s seen your diamonds—your false yal-
ler hair and all your fine fixings, and—”

“ Oh, Kitty giggve broken my heart!” the
old woman so

“ Father—mother, forgive mei” the girl im-

lored, with streammg eyes. “ I did it all for
be best. I could not bear to see you toil so: I
desired to hel you along in the battle of life.”

“ And to he us ]you have sacrificed your im-
mortal soul!” t e o (1 man replied, solemnly.

“ Oh, Kitty, Kitty think of the jud .ment in
the world to comei’ Mrs Googage exc aimed.

“My fault is not such a terrible one; I am
still a good, honest girl, and I defy the world to
prove that I am otherwise!”

“ Oh, lass; we don’t 0 by the opinions of the
vain, wicked world ” oogage answered. “ n
our own hearts we IJudge you, and our jud ent
cgnldlel’nns you. ever more will we you
c i l '

“ Oh, father, for Heaven’s sake have mercy!”
the unhappy girl lead.

“ Ask mercy o the Heaven that you have
outraged with your sinful ways—with your dia-
monds and your fine clothes! answered the old
man, sternly; “ but as for us, we are done with
you forever. Wasn’t it enough that you should
eat the bread of sin and shame in secret, with-
out making us share it with you? And we took
your money, Heaven forgive us for doing it
but we thou ht that Iyou had wrought for it an
mined the s' ver by onest toil; we had no idea
"that it was the devil’s ware!”

“ Oh, the bread it bought ought to have choked
usl” moaned the old woman.

“ But we’ve come to give itall back,” and old
Googage produced his old-fashioned, ca ions
pocket-book as he spoke; then he an id the
strap which bound it and took out some legal-
looking documents. “ Here’s a deed of the
Woodbine Inn; and here’s a bill of sale of ev-
ery thing that’s in the house. We don’t want
anything, neither the old woman nor 1, except
the clothes we stand in. We don’t know how
much money you’ve given us; we never kept no
account of it, cos we never expected for to have
to give a reckoning of it; but we’ll just give up
everything and go out into the world again as

r as we began.”

“ Oh, father, for God’s sake, don’t talk this
we ; you will break my heart!” the unhappy
gir cried, in her keen a ony.

“ And what regard di you have for us or for
our hearts?” the enraged father demanded,
sternly. “You made us eat the wages of sin,
and we lived and thrived on it. Heaven’s curse
fall on your head you vile 1!”

“No, no, Ben, don’t curse er!” cried the aged
mother, inte ng. “ Come away i”

“ Oh, don’t eave nae—take me with you i” and
Kitt clung to the old man’s knees.

“ ' ake on with us now that we know what
you are! y, we would rather cherish a ser-
pent in our bosoms, vile girl that you are. ” And
the father rudely cast her off. .

With a pitiful er the unhappy irl fell faint-
in to the floor. 0 mother won d have gone
to or assistance, but the old man forced her
am and hurried her from the house.

on Kitty recovered her senses, she dis-
covered Harrison Grahame bending over her.

CHAPTER XXIX.
A nusoucu. some.

Esoer she looked around for her ts,but
they had departed. For a moment she t ought that
ahe terrible scene through which she had jus

“as mi i ii“? “mild or a th eighthehi

iers ng ierseupon e ,wter
my old nyilan ha cast them was ample proof that all
that had trans ired was sober, stern ty.

“By Jove! lss Paulina, you gave me a terrible
=’.'.-i ht!” Grahame exclaimed, perceiving that the

ir had recovered her senses. “l was afraid that
v in were dead."

“ A —a sudden faintness, that is all," she replied,
~ hing to her feet as she s ke, assisted by the sym-

' ‘Llletic Mr. Grahame, then almost s ng
- it mohair soweak was she after the to or-
v i 1.! ihrough which she had paued.

“ tun-o are some papers—legal
 "l , which you have dropped,
.' trim . picking up the folded pavement! present-
ing Littm to her.

 

The Winning Oar.

A shudder passed over the girl, despite her en-
deavors to applear calm, as her fingers closed uplon
the articles. ese paper bullets had wounded or
terribly, and the shock had been so severe that the
blow had dazed her.

Of course she had not the sli htest suspicion that
the gentleman who had come to er assistance knew
aufi t of the dreadful interview which had preceded
an had occasioned her fainting spell.

Astonished indeed would she have been if she had
known that it was solely to Mr. Harrison Grahame
she was indebted for her parents’ visit!

But it was the truth.

In dark and devious ways this arch plotter worked.
By sheer accident he had discovered that the old
tram , Milligan, was a relative of the innkeeper,
Ben engage and upon sounding the fired vagrant
upon the subject, he had learned that iiligan bore
his prosperous relative no very great amount of
love. A cunning scheme at once suggested itself; so
he remarked, careless! , to the old rascal that he
knew a secret conce the Googage famil which
would trouble the old man very much if t efacts
came to his knowledge. Milligan was all ears, and
earnestly he besought Grahame to reveal to him the
particulars, as he coarse] said:

“Idon’t owe him no ove; he never did nothink
for me wot heo ht to. Wot’s a bit of bread an’
meet an‘ a sup 0 beer when a man wants the ready
chink! Blow me tight! if I wouldn‘t like to give
him one for his nob! ’

This wretch really was ignorant of the meaning of
the word gratitude. He envied and hated his rela-
tive because by honest toil he had rospered.

Finding the in the tramp be ad awilling and
ready tool to serve his purpose, Grahame revealed
to him the secret concerning the lnnkeeper’s da h-
ter, and then s ested a plan by means of wh ch
he, an, co deeply wound the old man. e
tramp g dly assented to the scheme; but, with all
his low cunni ,he never for a moment suspected
that Grahame k any particular interest in he af-
fair. He thought that the astute Mr. Grahame
planned the trick sim ly to oblige him.

Mllllgan wrote to o d Googage that he had some-
thing important to tell him in regard to his dau h-
ter; that she had rossly deceived him and tha if
he valued her at all come at once to New York or
it would be too late.

Of course as was but natural under the circum-
stances old Googage took alarm and hurried to
great otham where Miilgan met him as r flee-
ment. He told the excit father of the to w ch
his daughter was leading. Googage was furious,
and for a time refused to believe that the story
could be true. but Milligan swore that with his own
e es he had witnessed her ipierformance on the stage.

e milllnery store was v ted and Miss Kitty Goo-
gage inghuired for, and as had been previously ar-
ranged, e answer was given that Miss Goo age had
gone out of the city to attend to an impo t cus-

tamer.

l‘he father was s red and terrible indeed was
the a ny he suffe until the night came and he
vlsi the Music Hall where Mademoiselle Paulina
held forth to admiring audiences.

Although in a measure prepared for the shock yet
the blow fell with terrible force when he discovered
in the person of the sweet-voiced, ellow-haired
itriren, Mademoiselle Paulina, his own i olized daugh-

er.

He said vergelittle acted more like a man whose
senses were numbed with liquor than anything
else, and when the or vanished from the stage he

bbed his hat and is t the hall, closely followed bg

ii! an, who was considerably astonished by h
relat ve's silence. ,

In the street just as soon as they hadgot beyond
the glare of the bright lights that illuminated the
front of the Music Hall, Googage seized Mlillgan by
the shoulders with a gripe that was like iron.

“ Hark ye!“ he cried, " do ye know where the girl

lives?

an did; Grahame had informed him in
shrew antic! tion of net such a question, and he
at once imp the i ormatlon to the questioner.

“ That‘s all I want to know !” Googage exclaimed,
his voice husky, hoarse and unnatural. “ T is no
good turn that you have done me but anev one,
and I think from an evil motive. ‘rom this night,
then, keep out of my sight: don’t ’ee ever come
near ag‘in or I’ll break every bone in your skin!"
And then t e angry man strode away.

Little did the villainous old tram care for
threats; he had done the mischief t at he had
planned—had wounded the honest heart of the man
who had often befriended him, more cruelly than if
lie had planted a dagger in it, and now he gloated
over the ruin he had wrought, all unconscious, blind
tool that he was, that he had been only an uncon-
scious instrument to aid in the carryin out of the
deep-laid schemes of that prince of tri tors, Har-
rison Grahame.

8t ht home the old innkeeper went, told his
wife 0 the terrible discovery wh ch he had made.
and the aged couple consulted together, with that
grim Puritanicalism so strong a characteristic of the
religious sect to which the belonged, determined at
once to sever every hon which existed between
them and their only child.

The faith they professed taught them that it was
only right to do so, and that t eir chance of salva-
tion was periled if the acted otherwise.

How strange the re! gion that teaches us that we
can cnl gun heaven b sacrificing all earthly joys
and 3 ing all human ee !

The old couple fully carried out their determina-
tion, as the reader y knows.

And now that we have ully explained how the un-
expected discovery was brought about, we will re-
turn to the interview between the cunning schemer
gird “if; beautiful girl whom he intended to use as

s too .

In a mechanical sort of way she had taken the pa-
pers her thoufhts evidently far awe .

"You are lstre my dear Kitty,” Gra-
hame observed, abrupt y; “pardon me if I address
you by your own true appe lation rather than by
your anciful stage name.’

“ Yes, 1—1 am not well.” the l replied, slowly
hardl conscious in truth of wha she said, so great
was e agitation under which she labored.

“itwnsa terrible discovery for your to to
make, and yet I do not see how they find it in

I hair heart; to treat you so savagely," he contin-

A look of an h ewe t ra idly over the girl's
face, for she fel hurt and um ted that the ruth
shoul be known to any one.

“I happened to be pass in the entry and just
bmhance overheard part 0 the interview,” he ex-
p ed; “ and I trust that you will pardon me if I
played the hstener. for it was with a good purpose,

assure you, and solely to serve you.’

‘2 To serve me?" the girl exclaimed, in wonder.

' Yes; I am aware that I am not rated very highly
in your opninion, and I will own frankly that in serv-
ing you this matter I am also serving myself.
You see, I am going to be honest with you. ’

“ How can you serve me?"

“ I can arrange it so that your parents will forgive
you and again ladLv take you to their hearts.”

The eyes of e 1girl sparkled and an eager look ap-
peared u n her ace.

“Oh, on‘t look incredulous' I can do all I say.”

She shook her head sadly; s 1e doubted.

“Listen patiently while I explain my plan, but
first answer me a question or two. How do your
parents ard my cousin, Otis Lawrence?"

“They t nk highly of him.” ,

“ Suppose Otis was to marry you—would not your
father and mother extend to his wife the pardon that
the§denf to their own child 1’"

“ es, think they would."

“ That marriage would redeem you?"

“ YeS‘ but it is impossible—impossible!”

“ No, it is not—I can arrange it!” he cried, quickly.
“ Bub is madly in love with you, and each new day
his passion increases. All that you need to do is to
encourage him. Follow my instructions and I will
guarantee that within a month he is ours forever."
' “ But why doadyou interest yourse in this mat-
ter?" Kitty ask , sus iciou .

“ Because I am in ove wit your rival, Winifred,
and if you don‘t win him, she will,” Grahame an-
swered, readily.

The girl’s suspicions at once vanished, for she sax“
that her visitor had indeed good reasons for his in-
terference.

“But I fear that the task is a hogless one,” she
dgéauiiietd, in a manner that plainly trayed her in-
c y.

“And I am sure that it is not, if y n will only fol-
low my instructions,” he replied, (knickly. ‘ You
must take a house b yourse f so t at you can re-
ceive and entertain h m at all times' you must keep
him continuallyéry you, for the influence that you
exerc over so one o a sec aion

ise h f th ture f f in t ,
and absence breaks the spell.”

” Do with me as you like!" cried the girl, suddenly
and passionately. “ N o matter how great the cost—
no matter how terrible the risk—how awful the toll,
Iwilllsubmittoanythingsolong as IwinOtisLaw’
rence "

And so the compact was made.

CHAPTER XXX.
rams ms A cm.
Gianna was not a man who suffered the to
w underneath his feet, and so the instan he en-
the girl u n his side he pushed matters ahead
as fast as possi le. '

A cosey furnished house 11 n the west side of the
city, was taken; a matronly ousekee rinstalled to
play propriety, and Mademoiselle Pa ina moved her
quarters to it.

It was Liberty Hall in the truest sense of the word;
an a artment, carefully furnished, and adorned with
all one little knick-nacks so dear to a Woman’s
heart, was placed at the stroke-car‘s disposal, and,
as Grahame had shrewdly anticipated, Bub was
constantly in the presence of the siren who had be-
witched him.

And, on her part, the girl left not undone to
wmtplete her hold on the oung man. 8 ewas ilny-
ing or agreat stake and s e had determined to earn
no means untried to win, and as she perceived how
com letely Bub seemed under the influence of her
f tions the wild hope which she had cherished
of winning him for her husband did not appear to be
altogether a delusion.

Men in love had done far more foolish things, and
Bub was but mortal after all. In fine, now that she
had fairly entered u n the struggle, the goal did
not seem so far off, r all.

Grahame, too, seemed likely to succeed in his dark
and deep designs, for Lawrence, conscious that ho
was not acting htly in negleciin ' his training, and
abeenting himse from the crew r ht on the eve of
the race, sought to drown the voice of conscience by
indulging qu to freely in drink.

The veteran McShouter, too, had been introduced
to the stroke-oar, and was a very frequent visitor to
the west-side mansion; and so, on two or three oc-
casions when Bub had been drinking freely, and, as
a natural consequence, with senses befogged, the
veteran had proposed a social nine between him-
self Grahame and Lawrence an the result of these
soc al games was that at he end of about two
weeks, the bold McShouter held Bub’s I. O. U’s for
the very tidy sum of five thousand dollars.

Grahame had affec to remonstrate with Bub
for playing so carelessly; he too was apparently a

 

 

 

loser of a few hundreds, but the stro e-oar had
laughed at the warn .
“ Oh, bother!” he ed; “ what are a few hundred

dollars to me! 1 don‘t doubt that the old rascal has
cheated both of us, but he has done it scientific ,
and as lo as we can't detect it, and are foor
enlith to p y with him, we have no right to com-
p a n.”

The stroke-oar had little idea of the important
part that these little bits of lpaper whereon some
cabalistic figures were lnsc bed followed by his
signature, would play in deciding the fortunes of the
great boat-race. innocent as a child he had no idea
of the dark and wily schemes of his cousin directed
against himself. He loyain trusted Harrison (irav

e.

The Harvard crew had not home the prolo
absence of theirbest mfiiwlth tience. Letter 1
letter had they written plorlg‘gbBub to return and
not hazard the result of the race y taking his place
in the boat in an unfit condition to row.

“I am detained," he re ed: “soon I will come.“
But he came not, and at wing restive under
the delay. the crew dispatch young Peyton to en

 

doavor tn pm"!in the "want to return.

 

i
!

 

.v.

imam“.

 

They knew that the young V! ian pometascd l

t miluence over the misguid stroke-oar and
ey hoped that Bub would listen to and heedhis re-
monstrauce, if delivered in person.

Peyton sought Bub at his usual head—quarters, the
Fifth Avenue hotel, but found him not, although he
still occupied a room there.

One of the hotel clerks perceiving how anxious
the Vi 'nian seemed about the matter, took upon
himself the task of volunteerhlig a little of informa-
tion in regard to Lawrence. e clerk was well ac-

naimed with Fe ton, having struck up a friendship
for him during revious visits to the cit , for
Psyton, lilm the stro e-oar, always stopped a the
Fifth Avenue.

“ We don‘t see much of Mr. Lawrence," he re-

. ance would brea the spell.

!
!
I
i

marked. “though he does drop in once in awhile 1

(1 :id gmwrally at night, and Mr. Grahame—you know
Harrison Grahame?“ the Virginian nodded—“well,
h- usually accom es him.’

“A bad sign," eyton muttered, “ for that fellow
is no friend of Bub."

“ Well, they‘re mi hty thick, and from what I've
seen lately I should udge that Lawrence is drinking
pretty free y.”

The Virginian‘s face darkened. This was a bad
sign indeed.

“ Are you sure about this?" he asked. “ Lawrence
seldom used to drink anything.”
“ He‘s drinking now and drink! freely, too, and

gone of your common stuff, either; t’s brandy every
y me.
three times."

1 know, because I‘ve drank with them two or *

Peyton thanked the clerk for thg information al- 

though the tidings annoyed him
a brief note to Bub telling him
arrived in town and desired to see him, left it in
charge of the official and then sauntered to the porch
of the hotel.

Bub, constantly in the com .
heme, and drinkin freely; t

, wrote '
that he, Peyton, had 1

yof Harrison Gra—l
was bad news in-j

deed, and instinctively the Virginian felt that his ‘

friend was in danger.

What did it mean? What ("'il demon had taken ‘

possession of the once honest and upright stroke-
oar?

Wra in meditation Peyton took little hood of
the pm crowd, and never noticed that a plainly
dressed, rather undersized man, had detached him.

self from the mass and was approaching him with ‘

the evident intention of accosting him.

Although the man was habited well one
there was that indescribable air about him w h to
the practiced Eye of a police oificia? would at once
have suggests a vagrant and a this .

Not to make a mystery about the matter we will

reveal at once that the new-comer was the long-ab-
sent rent of Winifred—old Mill .
“ ell, blarst my blooming heyes, if it ain‘t!" he
exclaimed, upon coming face to face with Peyton.
“How are you, young governor? Well and ’earty
I ‘opes, for you look t every time! You remember
me, don‘t yer?“

Peyton nodded, for the remembrance of the old
and unsavory tramp was still fresh in his mind.

“Well, now, dash my buttons! if I he ted to
see on here!" the man continued; “an where’s
Mr. awrence, if I may make so bold as to ax?"

“ I don't know; I am in search of him now."

“And you don‘t know? Well, now, that is wot I
call a bleedi shame!“ cried mugs], emphatically3
“ When I see d you, oung governor, I made bold
speak to you cos wanted to know when m,
Lawrence was. He was kinder sweet arter my
you know—m gal, Winny' but, since we‘ve come to
mega? we i gt geeyloung overnor I ain’t tany
luc ! or, m n you, . _
objection to love-making. RVhy! I rayther kes it!

h yet i

e ner ‘air of him, worse ‘

I was young once myself, and m gal—why, she jest ;

loves the very ground that gontl man walks 0 only

in course she‘s too modest and delicate for to (i): t

that she cared forhim; and you dunno where he

eh?”
“ I do not.“
“age in New York somewhere, in‘t be!" de.
(led the tramp . -
wiggles, I believe that Eerfi" , I
u y, oung governor, you re a friend to 111,651, .
ain‘t yefy You ain’t got nothink in‘ her? on
wouldn’t go for to do anythinkto urthec, would ;
H

“ Certain] not.“ ‘

“And I szy, if there was anybody a-tryin to keep
Mister Lawrence away from my
me, wouldn’t you, if you knew it?

Pc ton surveyed 0 old man in astonishment,

“ y, what do you mean! Idon t understand
Have you reasons to supposenthat anybody in cm
to keep Mr. Lawrence away?

“ I don’t know “ and the tram shook
his £13.11}: doubtfully. 1‘ I've seen m of geviltry

’

since I’ve had my pen open. an‘ I‘m kinder
’ ’ '. 'sa wothas
s picious by natur re and he “I” “one

- to do certain thi ’ "
grmmdhediblarst me if I kin get old of im.

Like a flash came a thought into the mind of the
inian, a wild and whirling thought
“ on mean Har n G
“ and on are quite right—hols ad to

Mill gan stared for a moment. and then, as  con.
vinced that Peyton might aid bl out.

“ Yes, that’s the man, and I vs he ain t doing
the uare thing by me. Hesedthatbedfixitao
that ister Lawrence would marry my and he

ot me to bring her on here, jut so Mister
anrence would come on ha, and he was to
fetch him, but blest if he has!‘ Hes roots
onmo,Iknow that he is; andhes stoolout
of me too. Roget metofetcholdBen on
here fortosee sdartoroutatthemusic in
Idid, never thinking no miscbi but, hang me
ain’t been refiectin ‘bout it, and 'llbet that it'was
all for some little game of his own wot he did it. 1d

Peyton glam: sudden start; tlwspeechofthe o

“ had tterbelievethatshe is! She'sa
singvsyrefityou in Fourteenth street, and
she calls 11 If Mademoiselle Paulina, all unbe-

erse
knowntoheréigtd. ageiwan'ttheoldmsnjestcrasy
foun ou "
'%3?°m New York—the siren winemlb had
over proved too powerful for Bub to t! The
secret of his delay. than. was explained.

‘he'said,uie ;1
rahame. be 9 3i!

. nodded adieu.

 

21

 

 

 fritewinging Oar. .

And against such a fatal fascination what charm
could avail? Only one!
. Winifred, the rl Bub trul loved; her appear-
astily he cried:
“Old fellow, I can bring Lawrence to see your

daughter ! "

 

CHAPTER XXII.
nor or run scsN'r.

“You kin!" Milligan exclaimed, in delight; “ well,
now, blarst m bleeding eyes if on hain t a trump!
Why, you‘re e very man I‘ve u a-looking arter!
Jest you fix the matter and I‘ll stand somethin’
handsome. It’s my gal‘s happiness wot I‘m a-look-
in’ arter, you know! ’Ang me if 1 want hanythink
else. I‘m able to fight in own way in the world, I
am! Oh, I‘m a rough-an -tumble customer! I ain‘t
a-goin‘ to drive any ’ard aln with the gent. Wot
do I want 0' money? Onl est enough fur to live
on, and sich a rich nob as e is kin spare a trifle and
never feel it. I tell you, young governor, I’m one on
nature's noblemen, am I’m a tough one to look
at, but I‘m agood one to tie to! Ax anybody wot
knows me an they’ll all tell you the same i"

“ If I understand the matter rightly, Grahame
promised to arrange the affair so that your daughter
and Lawrence should be brought together."

“ That's wot he did, youn governor!“ exclaimed
the old tralnp, eagerly. “ ot a bit of a lie about
it; I'd take my ’davy to it in an court in the coun-
try! but he‘s played me she ,
if took the gal awa from
would foller artor. hl he ilanned he hull thing,
but he‘s ggne back on me, b arst ’im! I know he has,
and I'll even with him. No cove ever played
roots on me and made anythink by it, and that‘s the
kind of man 1 am i"

“ He has thrown your daughter Overboard for the
other girl ?"

“That‘s wot I‘ve been a-thin ' , and I want a
chance to square the think, I do! B ow me tight! if

t I wouldn‘t put a knife right into him! That’s the

sort of hairpin I’m made of!" And as he spoke the
old rascal Puffed out his cheeks and endeavored to
look feroc ous.

“Leave the matter to me and I'll engage to beat
Mr. Harrison Grahame in this little game, clever as
he is!" Peyton exclaimed, firmly.

“ You're a trump y governor, and no mis-
take!" Milligan cried,  .

“l willtakeahandinthe ,not only because
I am a friend to our daughter, but because I am a
true friend to 0 Lawrence and I know that Har-
rison Grahame means to bring him into trouble.
Besides, I owe Grahame a grud e and I am not
sorrytogeta chance to pa it o . Do you know
where I can find this Kitty e?"

“Blest if I do!" the tramfil replied. “ Mademoi-
selle Paulina is wot she calls erse f here you know.
Mebbe you kin find out at the Music sun, the Al-
hambra, in Fourteenth street, you know."

"Agood idea! I’ll 0 there at once; and, by the
way], what is your adtfiess?"

e old man gave it, but as Peyton jetted it down
in his memorandum-book, he glared at him in a sus-
picious manner.

“I say, young governor, you’re going toact square
with me, ar‘n’t you? You won't go back on a cove,
would you i" he cried, whinineg, and yet with a

threatening air

certain , .

“Oh no, ouma u nme"Pe ton re lied.
“ I will octyhonestiyrevllth ’30:: fdr Wll’l’ny'B sage, if
not for yours." -

“ And you’ll let me know wot you find out, gover-
nor, as soon as you kin?“

“ Yes, to-morrow, perhaps.“

“Don‘t you lose no time, ‘cos this MisterHal-ry
Gray is s ro h and tough customer! Oh! I know
‘im of old. If t‘s got to come to a fight atween yer
get in the furst blow and let it be a stinger, or you‘ll
come to of; just you mind, now, wot I in telling
yer, for know ‘im of old, and he’s a rattler—as
doe nuaewellandgsuglryaasafoxl'f’ P
“ ’ on my ° never ear," e n no-
plied. “If I learn thing of importanmlwill
communicate with you tomorrow, or, at an rate,
as soon as I can. Goodnight," and then geyton

“Give it to '!m stro .

quick!“ Milligsn caution
away.

you vernor—and
, as thggVir‘glnian moved

: P0 onwent at once to the MusicH ll inF .
Quiet!“ letm to 9 mil: 3 our

street. It was easily found; such places en-
erally are. The Virginian W the gau 
rinted hills which ornamen the front of t
uildlilitig, bulges": unable wufistcgzfi; thei name he
song so once ac ve on
man who attended to thmxbme. y as
“Mademoiselle Paulina? Oh yes; she ain‘t an
ll be back nextweek,or the
arest now, Where does she
to the a door; mebbe
they’ll be able to tell you there, t will cost you
While “we h-v." 13,... ..
en.as e urn awa,theom-
cial muttered between teeth: y
“ Another fiat! Looks asif he'd ‘pan ‘ out welll
too. It stars! what a heap of money that gir
could p k up if shechose to go for these fellows
anxdhspoime ptians l" “1
ese -0 cegentlemensro w ve rao-
“gathev‘staged d ofthe blishmm ryp
001- sets out Po nmet
with an ext cold reception m
The back-door- was a surly old fellow and
he resented the a. on in ard to the song-bird‘s
whereabouts as h it had n a nalinsult.
“ Don‘t know ‘bout her!" e growled. i
For a moment Peyton felt inclined to be indignant,
for the V was tolerab hot-blooded. but so-
bersecond o httoldhim such acaseas
misgcouldn hopotogalnanythingby losinghis
“ heramyfrisn "he said, “Iamve anx-
iousto find Madam e Paulina. I know or in
rivate life; I have some important businem to
withher andIamwillingtopg‘l‘iberdeor
Efeovrmatlon. alkgive ten dollars to ber‘ and
a

irginian dollarbillfromhis ‘ k
bookandhelditi‘lg Remand. andjudgodpocwhely”,
“that” the sight of bill wor. prove a great temp-

on.

The eyes of the old man sparkled. Ten dollars

 

e has. He sed that i
brid e, your friend '

 

to

was quite a large sum to him; he only received six
for a whole week‘s service, day and right.

“ Come back, sir, in an hour and I’ll find out for
you and have a boy ready to show you the house."

“All right, and t e money shall be yours."

Peyton departed, and in order to while the time
away, went into the Music Hall. The plat-e was
crowded and the hour soon slipped away.

Returningto the stage-door e found that. the old
backdoor—tender was asgood as his word, for 126
had a boy in readiness to act as guide.

“This is my son, sir,” he said. “He carries the
baskets for the theater—the artist-s’ wardrobes, )‘i u
know, but the lady has moved and it was just by ac-
cident that he ha nod to know the man that
moved her trunks. e‘ll take you to the house, sir,
and then you can give him the money.

The bo , who was a shrewd, sharp little !ad,hcon-
ducted eyton directly to the house of the siren.
Grahame, with all his skill and cunning, had not
calculated upon this; he did not for an instant
imagine that any one would suspect that Mademoi-
selle Paulina and the stroke-oar would have any
common interest.

From the front steps one could look into the par-
lor, as the window-curtains had not been drawn
own.

“There she is," said the boy, whose keen eyes had
instantly caught sight of the siren within.

Peyton looked, and at once recognized Kitty Goo-
Eage despite the change in her appearance produced

3 the yellow hair she wore. Another form, [00,
met his eyes, the manly, well-proportioned figure of
the strokeooar and at rill of dpain shot through his
heart, for be fully comprehen ed that his friend was
fast in the siren‘s toils.

Peyton gave the boy the promised money. dismiss-
ed him, and then rung the door-bell.

A colored man answered the summons.

“You need not announce me," the Virginian said,
in his coolest and easiest way. “ I wish to give them
a surprise."

The rdian of the door, although he had been
warn b Grahame, in whose pay he was, to be
careful w om he admitted, was com pletvly deceived,
and believing the new-comer to be some intimate
friend at once stepped aside and allowed Peyton to

pass.

The Vigfiilnian advanced at once into the parlor,
and imm ater a most strikii tableau was form-
egflrBulgnghaldmbeenumlazily recilgi: ng a hug: Ieiaisy-
c , y ng a c 1'; t1 ' was ixerty
Hall, be it remem red, and the yellow-haired music-
queen was pac restlessly u and down the apart-
ment, something after the “Sum of a caged tiger
for thestroke—oar, by a chance observation in rega
to the stage and its votarles, had nettled her.

“ What would you have me do?" she had exclaim-
ed. “ Stay forever in Cambridge and rest content to
be simply the innkeeper’s daughter, with no better
ambition in life than to be the wife of some honest
country clown, and with no higher aim than to work
my fingers to the bone in daily drudgery l”

he ' l was irritated. The careless remark of flu!
man w om she idolized had, u n the instant, open-
ed her eyee to the extent an depth of the awtul
gulf that existed between herself and the handsom"
stroke-oar. She had dared all to win him, and in \‘v,
when the seemed fairly in sight, a ccreh as
word, spoken, convinced her that slight
indeed was the hold she upon the mun
whose love she coveted.

She hadfascinated him; he had lingered s -ll-
bound in her presence n ecting the. duties w n‘ch
called him ehewhere; but bring him to that pitch
of necessary before he would forget all
social ties and make her his wife, ah! that event
seemed far in the dim future. -

The entrance of the Virginian then, at this mo-
ment, produced a startling picture.

Bub jumped from his chair and grasped him by
the hand, while the girl glared at 'm with angry
eyes. Had he come to tear her prize from her?"

CHAPTER xxxn.
m nvn. ems.
Kano, old fellow! where did on from?"
y spring

wrence ex

“From New Londom where you ought to be!“ Pey-
ton replied, .

“Come, come, old fellow; don’t scold me!" the
stroke-oar exclaimed confused by the unex
answer. “ I am care of myse , and
when the day of the race comes I will take my place
in the boat as fit as any man in the crew."

“ The crew would feel more sure in regard to that
if they had you with them i“ Peyton returned, warm-
ly ‘ 0t you don’t know how you are injuring

ourself ow you are injuring the crew, y remain-
hig away from them. Do you know how e betti
stands now! It was six to four on Harvard, an
now it is five to four on Yale."

“ Take all the bets you can get, for we are sure to
win i" Bub cried.

“Yes, sure to win if you are in your place and fit
to row when we in front of the judge's boat to
receive the word; but will you be there—

oube in trim row if you are therei”

“ who says that I will not be there?" exclaim~
ed the stroke-oar in tly.

“ No one maaxhut the world when it reverses
the Odt'h from to four on Harvard to five to four
on Yale. Isn't that plain proof that there is some-
thing wrong. or that the world at large believes that .
there issomething wrong? Is there anythin amiss
about man in the crew, ourself exce 5v"

“ Oh, is all nonsense.‘ Bub replied, ushing to
thetomplos. “It is only a trick on the part of the

who are scheming to make money b in t-
ti on our race. The r the changes n the
the better chance or them to turn an honest

“Otis, the crew have sent me to you," said the
Virginian, bluntly perceiving that adesperate stroke
wasnecamsry. ' thaywantaplainanswertoaplain

n.
“Yes!” andOfls released the hand of hisfliend,

and walked over to the window, took a look out into

the met, and then, coming back, faced P

Bo mooted some

ondea to prepare for it. ‘Weil

an; you shall have a plain answer to a plain queer
on.

"1"":

.-.,.....~ . . 

Jug-V5.11: ‘ A

. 2:4,:

22

 

The Winning Oar.

 

 

“Are you coming back to take your lace in the

boat or shall the crew put another man n your posr-

tion?"
For a moment the stroke-oar turned as pale as

death, an-l his strong] right hand clutched convul-e ‘
t

sively the back of e chair upon which he was
leaning.

“Put another man in my
his onll'fi hoarse and unnatur .

it es",

“ Another man in my place?" Lawrence repeated.
as though unable to believe‘the evidence of his own

lace?" he exclaimed, , _
-' ‘ answer, and until their, adieu."

; hands with him warmly“ and with a whis
e

ears. I
“Yes, although by so doing we risk the loss of the '

race; but though defeated we still retain our honor.
What is it that the world says of the college bo 5
both here and in E land? ‘They can't beboug t
to thr0w a race!‘ e man who uts his mone
upon the college regatta does so h perfect fait
that barring accidents, the best crew wrll win."

“ don‘t understand you, Peyton; there is some -

dark meaning in your words—something hidden,"
Bub remarked, slowly, his face white and his lips
trembling.

“You are the stroke-oar—the stro man of the
crew, the man above all men who s ould leave no
means untried to win; what is the world to think

then when it rs reported that you are neglecting our v

training—that on are fingering here in New ork
when you ough to be with the crew in New London?
What can the world think when it is reported that
our own cousin has laid la
e Harvard b0 s will be (I sated in the race?"
” You mean arrison?"
“ Yes," Peyton replied, firmlgé's
“ But it is not true! He bot nearly thirty
thousand dollars on our side."
“ He told you this?"
“ Yes; I see b your face that you don‘t believe it;

but you don‘t kc Harrison, andIam afraid that 1

cu allow the dislike to bias your mind against

rm."

“I only repeat to you what is current in every
sporting circle in the town. As far as my like or
dislike of the man goes I would not allow my ger-
sonal feelings to sway me a single hair's brea th.
You absent yourself from the crew; you hazard the
result of the race' your relative is betting largely
that your crew will lose; what can the world t in
but one thing?"

“ Don‘t sa what that one thing isl" Bub cried, ex-
cited] . “ can‘t bear it even from you the man
that love like a brother. I am tied hand and foot
in this matter. I cannot go to New London at
awhile: I have given my word to remain in ew
York for a certain time.“

“Skilifully planned!" Pe on cried, lndignantly.
“ You have been hampe bya promise, so that

on will be forced to remain here and so hazard the
035 of the race!"

The strokeoar cast a quick s
the girl, and in an instant the an understood
as well as thou h the information been conveyed
in words that t e yellow-haired siren was the person
to whom the promise had been given.

on
in.

icious glance at

“ No, you are wrong' upon my life, Peyton,

are wron ! The ro which I have given
nothingw atever 0 do with the ,nor has the
party to whom I have terest whatso-

gven it an
ever in the coming con st, exce a natural desire
to see the crimson handkerchie s of Harvard lead
past the udge’s boat at the finish of the race.”

The gir cast down her e es, able mistress of her-
self as she was and on e of controlling her fea~
tures so that they won] conceal and not betray the
secrets of her heart, yet the honest faith so bluntly
expressed by Lawrence in her Integrity made her
feel sore at heart. for she was betrayi the stroke-
oar into the hands of his enemies. ' second
.ailarrtrlson had fallen into the hands of a modern Do-

In this life one false step almost invariably leads
ta another unless a terrible effort is made to retrieve
t 6 error.

Kitty had yielded her consent to Grahame's wily

Ian; she had accepted his aid in her scheme to en-

p the man for whose love she hun ere as the
aunt miser does after the yellow go d. T en, af-

r she had fairlmtered upon the scheme, the
cunning trickster represented to her that he had
disc0vered that all of Bub‘s fortune had been swal-
lowed up in unwise speculations, with the exception
of a small residue every penny of which he had
staked upon the college race.

“If the Harvard crew are beaten,“ this dark
schemer had said, “ Bub will be abeggar. Now then
which condition favors you? Lawrence with mono
ma hesitate to wed you; but Lawrence, poor, 11
tery penniless, worse than that, owing e of
honor which he has no means of paying, for in his
overweening confidence he has bet more money than
he is possessed of, will he not in his despair, think
more favorably of the woman who is willing to
cling to him in evil fortune as well as when he is
has in the smiles of prosperity? You can ad-
vance a thousand or two dollars to pay his
debts of honor; will he hesitate then to repay the
service? Oh, no; you know that Bub is as generous
as the day; you will appear to him in the light of
a guardian an el and e will not hesitate a mo-
}nent. If the arvard crew loss the race Lawrence
s ours!"

true dai htcr of our common mother Eve
Kitty listened the voice of the tempter. She di
more than listen; she u n his advice. In one
of Bub‘s unguarded mome she won from him a
promise to remain in New York with her until a dig
or two before the 0. Heart and soul she
entered into the ser cc of the schemer, and little
did she dream, wild with assion, almost frenzied
withi“love‘s deliriius th ,“ that she was but as
clay in the hands of the gotten and therefore
when Lawrence expressed mself so bluntly in
re ard to the pro riety of her course, it was but
no ural that she s ould feel some stings of con-
science, for the girl, her wild, mad love set aside,
was re and truly honest, and she would rather
have 3 with a b donea httowork
harm even a single hair, of Lawrence's .

Peyton cast a gin and earnest glance at horas
she sat with eyes wed to the ground ' and he could
har ll y bring himself to believe that she could be in-
strumental in brin the man she loved diso
grace. although from what to had heard he was in-

e sums of money that :

' walked slowly own-town toward his hotel, in

and then I'll be

 

clined to believe that she was Grahame‘s accomplice.
He determined to make one last eflort.,

Bub looked at Kitty, but the girl made no sign.

“ It is impossible,’ the stroke-oar said, shortly.

“Well, I have performed my mission in art, for
the crew instructed me to give you four-an -twenty
hours to think the matter Over. To-morrow ni ht
then, at this same hour, I will come for your

Lawrence accompanied Peyton to the door, shoojk

re ,

“ Don’t blame me, old ow; I can't help it " dis-
missed him.

mu on retreated, baffled but not beaten, for he

one wea u left Winn l
Would Bub withstand iier entli’eatlesi

 

CHAPTER xxxm
m'ros‘s llama-cracks.
Anna leavin the house of the siren, Fe 11

ta-
ting deeply as he went.

‘ Six ays onl to the day of the race," he mused-
“whatever is one must be done uicklv. I feel
sure that Bub is the victim of a te lo plot, and I
think that Harrison Grahame is at the bottom of it.
Heaven knows that I don’t want to wro the man,
even in thought. but I really believe him be capa-
bio of almost anything if the end he has in view is of
sufficient importance to justify it. T re must be
some powerful influence at wor or el the state of
the bettin would never have changed so suddenly
and so vio ently. But Lawrence is b nd; he will not
see unless the evidence I present is so stro that,
tperforce, he must acknowledge its truth. An now,

obtain certain proofs that Grahame is betting
against the Harvard crew. Even Bub, with all his
blindness and his perfect faith in his cousin will be
apt to think that something is wrong if he as un-
doubted proof that Grahame is betting that his
crew will ose."

Just as he arrived at this conclusion Peyton turned
into Broadway. and, by one of those stran coinci-
dences that so often happen in this world, e came
face to face with the ver man above all men whom
he desired to see just at his particular moment.

A shabby-genteel gentleman young, a man of
birth and breeding, and yet, with hat unmistakable
air which, to the practiced eye, denoted the slave of
dissipation.

Cooperton he was called a uate of Harvard
College a man good am y and fine gifts, and
yet he had reckl y blasted all the prospects of a
glorious life by his love for liquor, and now, instead
of holding a good position in the world, as was his
due, he icked up a bare subsistence as the keeper
of a bet lug-room.

If there was any man in New York who could pro-
cure the information that the Virginian sought,
“ Bill" Cooperton was the man.

After the usual tin for Cooperton, despite
his one besetting ce, st retained the od 0 nion
of his acquaintances, thatisthoscof t erl tsort
who had sense enough to see that the fal n man
had rich and rare manly ualities despite his lowly
station and his evil habits— eytcn came at once to
shglpgént, and explained fully and frankly what be

e r .

At first Cooperton shook his head. “Harry
Gray " was no stranger to him, and as well as any
man living he knew how difficult it would be to dis-
cover anything about him if it was to Grahamc‘s in-
terest to cover up his tracks.

“ He’s no fiat, n," he said; “in fact, from
what I know of him think that he’s a mean, miser-
able rascal without the least bit of a heart; I owe
him a grudge, too, for, with one of his cunni
tricks, he put me in the hole once for a couple 0
thousand; he took advantage of me when I wasn‘t
myself; and now, Peyton, if you say the word, to
use the slang, I’ll put up a job on him. '

“Do so by means!" exclaimed the'V

e e
suagh a thoroug .

“ From what you have told me I haven‘t the
slightest doubt that he has bet heavily against Har-
vard, and that he will do his best to to keep Law-
rence here in New York until the last minute and so
enda r the loss of the race. Now, what you want
is abso ute proof that he has bet that Harvard would
lose the race?“

“Yes, that is it exactly—proof about which there
can be no dis ute."

“ You shall ave it if you have sufficient confidence
in your crew to bet a thousand dollars that they will
"‘“éfi‘hnrmlniamfifl an i

u e  l o ‘ g y.¢

“Well, then, I think I can trap cunning
tleman, smart ache thinks himself. I ow a certain
place where I am likely to find him, between now
and mid ht. I’ll Just lag. in wait for him and
tempt him y announ t t I‘ve a thousand dol-
lars that has been left wi me to bet at even money,

t Yale. The chances are that he’ll an? at the
0 or, for of course he won’t suspect any as crhand
game from me. As the keeper of a bettin it
is my business to arranfisuch things. I‘ k the
bet, and of course he’ll ve to his name."

“ But, (‘13 éou think that he” do that?" asked

c .

Peyton. q y

' Yes, on the spur of the moment, for he will have:
no suspicion that there is any use to be made of it.
Then with his name to the bet, and my evidence in
regard‘to it-for weak fool as I am my word has
never been doubted—I am sure that b will be con-
vinced that his cousin is laying him false."

" Do you require the hi my now?"

“Oh, no; your word is cnou but it had better
be done through a second party. or the name must
besigned. I had fo¥ott0n that. Getthc landlord
to represent you. on are stopping at the Fifth
Avenue as usual?"

The Virginian nodded assent.

“Sn we fix the matter up, then, right away.

wanared for my gentleman."

Thi 4 agreed wrth Pevton‘s ideas exactly, so the two

roceeded to the hotel, 'the affair with the
lord, and then the bettin -man roceoded on his
mission, and so skillfully an qui y did he work
that at oxacti ten minutes past twelve that night
he laced in cyton shandthoovidsnco whi

 

, all irginian,
rly. “Angling is fail; when contending with‘

that the Harvard crew would be beaten in the com
1112' race.

This was work enough for one day, and so Peyton
retired to rest quite satisfied. The conviction had
been gradually growing upon him that, in the end,
he would succeed in baffligg the crafty schemer who
was striving such unf r means to compass the
defeat of the arvard crew.

The Virginian was up early in the morning made
a hearty breakfast, and then, adjouming to lie por
tico of the hotel to enjoy a cigar. encountered the
old vagabond, Milligan.

This worth had not been able to restrain his im-i
patience, an so he had come in search of the Vir
finish to ascertain if there was anything new upon

6 ca t.

In bit-1%? words Peyton told him how matters stood,
and the indignation of the old fellow was something
won erful.

“ Bet ag‘in’ the Harvard crew? Why, in course he
has! and he told me, as a friend, that if I ’ad an
stamps to invest that there was a fOrtin for me in i .
An' so he’s gone and thrown my gal Overboard and
fixed things for this other beauty! Wouldn’t I like
to spile it for her neither!" and the rufiian doubled
up his fist and shook it menacingl .

" Yes he uscdjour daughter to ure Lawrence on
to New ’York, an then, after he got him here, took
him to the other girl i"

“ Oh, blarst ’im l" howled Milligan, in righteous
wrath; “ wouldn’t I like to get a crack at ’iml But
I say, yomlgdgnovemor, you ain‘t a-goin’ to stand it,
are you? i ‘t you say as ’ow you was a friend to
m gal, and are you a-goin’ to see this other heifer

e the man she bankers arter away from her in
this here scaly manner?”

“ When can I see your da liter?" asked Peyton,
paging but little attention to t e lamentations of the
ol rascal, as he knew well enough that all Milligan
cared for was his own precious self, and that he was
only eager to bring his daughter and the stroke—oar
together so that he might profit by it.

‘ Right away, your: governor just assoon as you
like, and the sooner e better if so be as how you
are a-goin’ to do anything fur to help my gal, and
you ought to, for she‘s an old spark of yourn, and
what do on care for this other one, anyway? and if

on kin x the thing up right and money is any ob-
lect to you, why, blow me tight! if I wouldn‘t stand
a 'sh pile when I makes my little rake l”
eyton restrained the strong impuhe he had to
kick the rascal, and signified that he was ready to
accom any him at once; so oh the two went.

The irglnian now was to set about his most dim,

cult task. He did not under-rate the amount of toil

: involved in the attem . but for the sake of the

z interview with

 

i air myown way

friend whom he loved e resolved if it laid within
the compass of his power, to save him from on-
or.
In due time the two arrived at the door of the
giodefitteapartments occupied by old Miliigan and his
a r.
“ ave you an objection to my having a private
inny?" Peyton asked.
“ Wot do you want to do that fun" Milliglan cried.
the at once. “ Why carn‘t I ear wot
ou‘re going to sa 1 It‘s a blooming shame. you
ow, i I arn‘t to ow wot‘s oing on."
“ I don‘t think that I cangio anything with the
rl if you are around, and if I can't arrange the af-
I might as well give it up," and

i the Vi nian made a movement to retreat.

i cried, in
‘ hurry. I‘m willing to listen to reason, I am

vernor!" the tramp
in sich a recious
There

“Hol on hol' on young
haste: “don‘t you

1 never was sich a reason‘ble creatur’ as I am; so go

" ahead if
i vernor

 

chclear~ 1 and I fear that'if he cvsrloarns

honome a their-and dollars i

so be as ‘ow you must; but I say, young
, you’re goin‘ to do the fair thing, ain tyou
ou won t go fur to play any roots onto me!”

“ If you doubt me don't trust moi" Peyton re-
Pi°%h'°“‘°"ll%.a’ ' b t it’ bl ming bleeding

‘ . ; u s a 00 . .
shame a feller can‘t ask .a question or two when
it‘s his own gal wot’s the matter!"

“ Show me in and then get out i“ Peyton command-

\

Milligan grumbled but obeyed.

Winny had changed for the worse durl the brief
period of time that elapsed since she left ambridgs
and the protecting care of the old doctor, but it was
with something of her old spirit that she arose and
greeted the Virginian.

Milligan ill-nagroved the opportunity to put in a few
parental wo .

“Listen wwot he seys. and dowothetcllslyer
for he‘s the ntll‘lmws‘n got inoazs wott;s onxtl.d mind
yer e e an we‘ n a 9 ye " on,
after {his ambiguous givlvng out, he do

It is of little use to repeat in detail he scene that
followed. Suffice it to say that at last. won by Pey-
tgg’s pleading, and truly a us to save the man

so dear loved from dishonor. Winny consented

to do as the tan nested
Like a skimlaymcyton was about to match
one queen against the other.

CHAPTER XXXIV.
A wom‘s revs. _

As fate would have it Grahame did not learn of
Peyton‘s visit until the follow: morning; and then.
when Kitty rented to him all t e particulars of the
interview, the dark and cunni trickster was con-
siderably annoyed. Ho medita carefully for a few
moments in to the matter, and then spoke:

“Thisvisit means mischief: Pe on me no

will and he wrll strain himse to the utmost to
0 no harm. And he told Bub thatI was betting
against the Harvard crew?"

“Yes; but Otis refused to believe it."

“I don‘t mallyseewhat harm he cando,” Gra-
hame observed, after a few moments of anxious
against bmlt linings 1:11: {film

W ' ' n B in
'u‘riicgdow isdbg‘o'jcctcd fills 3° id ," ill

‘ an - ; e ev on at case.
He hsaid iItorni hgl‘was to give me
8110 a romscas e l , '“mtrug
friend tophim if I held him to it."

31 ther “Wilt? am“, .m.

V Day ‘ bit
ter accent. “ know mafia: 
o truth wi
despise me forever."

“All. but he will never loan the truth?“ reg.“

 

 

-~ new s'v‘.

we.»

 

‘f‘

as

 

 

The Winning Oar.

 

the tempter, in his smoothest manner, “ unless you
are foolrsh enough to tell it to him."

“But will I garn the end I seek?” she cried, impet-
uousl . “ Already I fear that he is beginning to
tire 0 me. I think I can detect it in hismanner and
after the race is over, and his crew is beaten, w he
not blame me for all his misfortunes!"

“ Oh, no; on the contrary, humiliated and dis-

r i
then from the outer darkness came two forms, and i “ You may change your mint ," Peyton sug ,esied.

couraged, he will seek in our society to find fo t- ‘

fulness and rest. He (gladly leave this
the country, and in some stant spot with your aid
build up a new life. Hold fast and on wril surely
win him; but if you betra the slrgh t uneasmess
now, then most surely Bu will take the alarm, and
hen, goodby to all your hopes of ever becoming his
wife."

It is easy in this life to persuade usto take the 1

[with toward which our inclinations lead us.
The tempter was successful and the girl promised

to stand firm.

Grahame then do rted, his mind buta little re-
lieved, for, instinct vely he scented danger. He
prepared to ofler a bold fight, though. To the
colored servant who attended the door he gave
strin'rcnt instructions.

“ lFuny strangers come send for me on the instant,
particularly if one of them be the young man who
came last ni ht.“

Grahame really no reason to suppose that an
one would come, for Peiton had a parently rem-1%
foiled in his quest, for t e girl in let agitation h
neglected to rnform him that the Virginian had arr-

! 000

the Virginian admitted them to the house.
first was Cooperton, the keeper of the betting-
house; the second, a woman, closely vailed.

“ You know Mr. Cooperton, and know that he is a
man of his word," Pe u said. “He will bear wit-
ness that last night arrison Grahame bet a thou-
sand dollars a ainst the Harvard crew.”

“ I will. and ere is his signature to the agreement,"
rton remarked, stepping forward and placing
the ocument in Bub s hand.

The stroke-oar could hardly believe the evidence
of his efiesight.

“ By eaven! it is his signature !“ he cried.

“And who denies it?” cried the voice of Grahame
himself, and that individual stepped boldly and defl-
antly into the room. “It is my signature, and did

i not you ourself, Otis, urge me to hedge—to bet
against arvard, so as to be safe no matter how the
race went?"

“It is the truth," Bub answered staggered and un-
decided. “I did u him to hedge and make him-
self safe, for he ted me that he had bet a large
amount—too large for him to lose—that Harvard
would win the race."

“And I def; him to produce a single particle of
evidence pro ng that he has wagered even a copper

‘ coin upon the Harvard crew!" Pe 'ton cried.

nounced that he would give Bub four-and-twenty ‘

hours to consider the matter. This, the most im-
portant fact of all, she had neglected to peat.

Grahame was simply provrd ng against contingen-
cics— roviding most wisely, as after events proved.

All ue precautions having been taken the schemer
dc rarted.

'}‘ Only a few days more of this terrible suspense,"
he murmured, as e walked slowly down the stmet'
“only a few days more, and then fortune will land
1116 a winner, or else cast me up0n the shore, wreck-
ed and ruined forever!"

Leavin this cunnin trickster who was “aim-
and pla ng so ably— or his rent me, to oliow
his own devices, merely pre mg at they were of
little interest to the reader—we will mm to

Virginian.

Psyton having full repared his plan of attack
waited patientlyun t e twenty-four hours‘
should have expired, and the prompt
merit, he ascended the steps 0 the m est dwelling
within which the song-bird had taken re an
where she had lured old Harvard's wmn oar.

The colored servant answered the as usual
and recognizing Peyton at once, hesitated to admit
him.

“ Hol’ on, boss!" he ejaculated, interposing his r-
son so as to prevent the
“who does yer want to see?’

“Mr. Otis Lawrence.“ replied Peyton, promptly,
drawing himself together as bespoke and preparing
to make good his position by main force, and. slight
ly built as he was, the irglnian was no mean
antagonist. for he was extremely powerful and as
spfi as a cat.

e sound of Peyton’s voice reached the ears of
the stroke-oar himself, who was pacing restlessly
up and down the parlor, and he came at once into

the entry.

“ Come in, Pe ton " he said, his voice strange]
altered, and his {one 'strangeléy differ-e Lawrenog
was no ion er the same llgh -h vial fellow

as in the 0] time. He was ermt-
lessly, against the spells of the en

The servant reluctantly made w and Peyton
followed Bub into the room, whic was already
occupied by the girl. But the moment the two men
entered the parlor, the colored fellow seized his hat
and hurried off to warn G as been pre-
viously arra .

“Well, old ellow, you’ve come for my answer, I
sup Se," Bub said, hk manner nervousand
exerted.

“ Yes; the four-and-twenty hours are up now, you

know.

“ Peyton, I am bound to remain here, asI told on;
I have iven my word. I begin to believe now hat
I actedfiike a fool in so doing but I have done ii, and
the less that is said about he matter the better. I

su pose.
goth the voice and manner of the stroke-oar .be-
trayed stro irritation. '

“ Will not he party to whom you have given the
pledge release on under the circu i‘ Pey-
ton asked. “ e or she, man or woman. is no friend
to on if the release is not given." The Vir-
ginfan felt perfect] sure that
whom the promise been given,
termined not to spare her, but to boldly give utter-

ance to the truth.
“ about the i" Dubro-
It is idle to speak now I

lied, im atiently. “It cannot be.
a) know v’vhat the crew intend to do

“ What would you have them do under thecir-
cumstancest" Pe ton demanded.

’H

“ Wait for me " Bub cried. implo . “ For
Heaven‘s sake, wait for me! I am all ; I will
takem placeintheboatonthedayof race.ilt

to row or a man’s life!" "

“ And would you do so under like circumstances?
the Virginian exclaimed. “ Would you, as captain
of the crew, allow a? one man of the eight to ab—
sent himself until t 0 very eve of the race. and
by so doing put in peril the result? Would you
sanction it?

“No,b Heaven, I would not!" thundered Bub.
“I would put another man in his place, even
though the substitute was the poorest oarsmanin
the collegel"

Lawrence was honest, even though

“ Do not bla’Ino us, then, for acting
act. Lawrence, you are the victim of a
finalise has been extorted from you on

sure the loss of the race to our crew.

plot; all“:

our is

a... m r...

(1on that Yale would win
“Impossible!” cried

i" Peyton»-

amased.
“His own dgnatureglfil prove the truth of my , her

meatlon."

Peyton stepped to the window and tapped upon it;

atthemo-r

I am not aware that am at an account-
oun gentleman for rrry actions!" Gm—

“ Real]
able to

The '

 

inso ently. He ’saw that the Virginian ‘

hams

had empped him.
“But you can produce the proofs, though, that

you have but largely on Harvard?" Bub asked, an;-

gmsly. It was strange how he clung to his belief in
ris‘marr.

‘ “Of course I can!" Grahame cried, at once; “and
after the race is over on shall see them but, as my
Word is doubted now, do not intend to be forced to
produce them ly to oblige this young 1;
man here,“ and speaker nodded inso: .

le-

gut

. Peyton.

“Lawrence, it is not a question now of men‘s

' words, but of proofs that can not be disputed," the

the‘

Virginian observed calmly. “I here resent to you
the actual evidence that this man has t against the
arvard crew. Now, then, is his bare word to avail
ainst this undoubted proof? I tell you, Lawrence.

on are the victim of one of the vilest conspiracies ‘
’ State of New

t ever existed. This man deliberater planned to

' lure you to New York; then he brou ht you in con-

young man from ente ; =

- body, and'that he bror

that with this lady,“ and he indica Kitty. “Aer
you, miss, you are a tool in this conspirator's hands;
t was he that brought your father to see you at the
Music’Hali. You can probabl tell why he did 90."
With a half—scream the 'r sprung to her feet, a
look of utter despair upon er face.

CHAPTER xxxv.

eman’s LAST mew.

“ IT is a lie-not a word of truth in it!“ the trick-
ster exclaimed, amazed at .this sudden revelation,
which he had not at all expected.

“ It is the truth i" reterted the vailed woman, firm-
ly. remov her var] as she spoke and exposing the

pale face 0 Winn . “ father told me that he
sent for his , Mr. at your instiga-
tion. and then took him to e usic Hall by gour

ordertnnlie also told me that it was you who coun-
seled about taking fie away from Doctor Pea-

 

t me to New York by your
orders; and that Mr. rahame, furthermOre prom-
isedlrimthsthewould arrange itsothatlcouldbe
married to this gent man."

' It was a hard fbr the ntle and modest girl
to speak out so bluntly, but was resolved to do
all in her power to save the stroke-oar from the plots

_ of enemies

' that you should treat me in this terrible

miguided.
as you would ‘

G outhlnk‘
rahamo, our;
hthebetathouzand‘
themes

“hgh merciful Heaven! what a ready, miserable
tool I . vnbeen in' the hands of this man!" Kitty

cmwildl , her eyes at last to the folly of
w she, M.Menmm§h8“0tis, I give you back, '
your promise, for it was vile man that persuad-

edme toextort it from you. You are free to de-

partat once if you chooseto go; I will not hinder

air and yogil wretchi“ she turned violently upon

me as e spoke, “what didI everdoto you

manner

Guided by our evil counsel I have lost all thatI
prized in t world!"

“ And do you believe this absurd sto 1" dunand-
e, otermined to brave it on .
agéeafigéhis bong; or I shallY do on atr‘xlrmdischief l"

* - II . “ ou ave in
brain and niggepnore all?" bi y
e sitated a moment' a tter s
was on tongue; glut his custemary p nce
M'Tdhtinallof” lIll again‘ h
“ a, you ‘ see you ." e ex-
claimwd. , and then he itehrgwou'sfih 000
u n o rtuni n, ‘
tantalum“: W
“ I will myou at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, in half
an hour " Lewrgnce said. as they departed.
Upon her hen ed knees the unhappy girl craved
the strokeoar's
“ The temp on was great; my fall terrible! Oh,
have mercy u a me!" she cried.
“Wait unti the race is over; give me time; Iwill

do on justice if I can," Lawrence, re lied, sober .
Aid so they p 1y

Bubwasasgoodashisword; hewent s ht to
the Fifth Avenue Hotel. where he found Pay 11 in
waiting for him.

“Now, I am at your service,” the stroke-oar said,
"nu": “norm (1 part the better!
e rwe e " ex-

irgnian, gleefully.

“ Yes; the sooner the better. ‘
“There is a train to-night; we have just about

nay—do ,you not want to say a part

word to her?" Peyton asked. me

“ It would be better to leave it unsald," Lawrence

replied. with bitter accent. “By my own folly I

have raised up a barrier which must forever sepa-

rate us. I am in honor bound now to marry Kitty."
‘: find do you love her well enough for that r"

oi" cried Bub, uhigrly, andflvgth an air‘oft
loathing. After passed ve o
is to me, but I am bound hand" foot

now. will marry her, and then in some fonign
land hide myself and Li,- despair forever."

 

“ No, not. unless some great change takes p ace in

m affairs which I do not anticipate."

erceiving that he had fully made up his mind,
Peyton understood that further words were useless,
and so the two friends proceeded at once to the
depot, embarked on the train, and an hulll‘ or two
after midnight they arrived safely at New London.

To decribe the joy of the crew as they crowded
around and welcomed their captain would be no
easy task; full of confidence were they now that the
crimson would lead the blue in the coming race.

Bub went at once into active t-rainin , and the
shrewd betting-men who ran on to New orrdon to
watch the crews at their ractice-work on the bosom
of the smiliérg Thames, 8 00k their heads shrewdly
and predic that if the Harvard crew was beaten
in the race the Yale boys must pull over the course
in less time than the same distance had ever been
coyfirexliwbeforebegun d l

e tting to veer aroun ; no surer s
than this of the way‘ that public sentiment is terfii!I
ing in regard to sue events. From five to four on
Yale, it went even money that Harvard would win;
then the sporting fraternity began to offer odds;
no frrendly sentiment governs these wily gen-
tlemen; they bet to Win, and would lay odds
against their own brother if they thought they stood
fair to succeed. Finally on the day before re race
the odds were two to one on rvard.

Nothing had been seen or heard of the scheming
Mr. Grahame, and as far as a ances went that
cunning gentleman had ' rom active life.

But never s ke of him, for his cousin’s treachery

was a sore su ject.
The  berore the race came. The Harvard
boys in t rr' quarters were just preparing to retire
to rest, when suddenly the premises were invaded by
three stmnsfrs, hangdog-lookin fellows, who asked
to see Mr. rs Lawrence, and w ren that gentleman
stepped forward, they coolly announced that they
were constables and had a warrant for his arrest.

At once then there was an uproar in the cam and
but for Bub and Peyton the intruders woul have
been roughlfivohandled.

“No, no, ys, no violence!" Bub cried. “ If these
men are acting under authority I will not resisi !“

Tire chief ‘of the intruders instantly produced his
warrant, a uintlon signed bylsthe Governor of the

ork for one 0 Lawrence, an ab-
sconding debtor.

“A' debtor!“ cried Bub, in wonder. “I owe no
man."

“I beg your pardon I" exclaimed the bold Mc-
Shouter, appearr sudden] in the doorway, "but

on owe me five t ousand ollars, and I‘ve got your

0 Us for the ambuut."

The nature of the tragat

once flashed upon all.
This was Grahame's wor

Of course it was clearly

illegal, and ma Bub‘s arrival in New York the
whole 3 as far as it affected his liberty
would quashed, but the design was to remove

him so that he couldnot row.
“ It is a fraud! do not yield to it, Lawrence!” Pey-

tonoried.
And then through the door, followed by eight

or ten rough-loo men. came Harrison Grahame.
“This man is our risoner, and we‘re going to
take him, alive or d E" be exclaimed.

“ Clean ’em out!" yelled one of the Harvard boys,
excited alniost to madness. and, snitin the {ICUUII
w the would: vs the foremost constafiile a clamp
in the face elled him as if he had been shot.
The rowat once became general, but the crew would
have fared badly, being outnumbered, had not a

of the natrves,.]ed by a woman, come rushing
in to the rescue.

There was the sharp. uick bark of a pistol, and
the panic-stricken, e foemen scattered. The

headed wrahame, fled into the darkness;
1) at the first of the con-‘
themst, wondemhickemgazed down 11 n
bleedi andd girl, for the eadly bullet ad
done d y wor

The girl was the errlngobut repentant Kitty! 1

Bub forward harassistance and raised
her in arms.

“ The end has come, Otis." she said. faintly, “ and
I won‘t trouble on any more with my love. That

man. on: i to hrs counsel and
was lost. e intended to murder, or at least disable
you tonEht. I b0 t the old villain over to my
side and e bet ed and I have saved you, and

‘d a rice f0r t. too, but I don‘t regret it; it is

tier t us. Don’t forget me very quick, for oh,
Bub, I love you so much]"

With a powerful effort she essayed to wind her
arms whuneekhbut the attempt was too much
for her mm and with a ong-drawn sigh
she yielded up her. song life

There was not a eye in

CHAPTER XXXVI.

m mos.
Tin morning broke bright and beautiful; no bet-
ter day for the eventful contest could be desired.
The race was fixed for two o'clock, just an hour
gore high water, so that the current was almost

k.

Longlbefore the appointed time, though. the banks
on bot sides of the river were lined with specta-
tors, for if there 8 one aquatic contest above an-
other that comman the atronage of the public
itis collegerdoemlnce issnpposedtoberow
upon the “ square." Never yet in all the hotly-con-
tested races betwcen the college crews has there been
the slightest suspicion of “ foul play.“

Blue and crimson ribbons, the colors of the con-

the room.

tending crews, were freely displayed by the multi-
tude, and it would have been no easy matter to de-
oidewhich crew wasthe greatest favorite.

The Yale boys were the first to show, and as the
light shell urns down the stream a shout of
welcome arose from t e crowd.

And then right in the wake of Yale came the Har—
vard boat, the crew stripped to the waist and so
tanned by the sun that they more resembled red In-

An the 81h“: t f [lowed b h is

o r on wen u o t e rein

co cry “ Bah—Tabla" sofamiliaryte thepears 0

those who have ever seen the crimson handkerchief!

come the Judge’s winners of the contest
The were called the word.

“ are you ready, “dugout—Go!“

 

26’?

And even with the word away they went. Yale the
first to take the water and so secure a lead. The
pace was terrific Yale pulling fort -two to the min-
ute, but a re 'ged stroke and the s ell rocking lper-
ceptibly, whi e Harvard on the contrary, was pu ing

about thirty-eight, but as smoothly and nicely as 

though it was only a practice row.

The Winning Oar.
Beadle’s Dime Library.

1 A HARD CROWD. B Philip S. Warne........... 100
2 THE DARE-DEVIL y Col. P. In raham . . .. . 100
3 KIT CARSON, JR. By Buckskin In . . . . . . . . ..

 

in
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Speakers.

BEADLE AND ADAiis have now on their lists the fol-

The first mile is over and Yale holds her own, a i - . - _ . . '
nor-xenon in advance; the  is  away : iii: semi... 3m."   ls l 3g;g§eg“%§¥,gii"tgl°sifi’goi‘é‘ififiifi'fs 
Withom a tum' 6 WILDC‘T 1303' By Edward 1" Wheeler ' ' ' ' ' '° 10° i volume contains 16% large pages: printed ’from clear,

“Yale wins!” the cry went up, but the old boating- .

men present shook their heads.

ning Oar speaks to her crew:
The race is ours!“

7 DEATH-NOTCII, TIIE DESTROYER. Oll Coomes. 100

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19 RED CEDAR. By Gustave Aimard . , . . . . . . .. . 1°C

the best collection of Dia-

open ty )e. comprisin . .
Citations, (burle ue. comic

logues. )ramas and

er.
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At the end of t e second mile Yale drolpped to , u Mmsmpm my, By Capt. Maryatt .,  10c volumes viz . A
to” to the minute; the? ‘0 tmny‘e‘ght" mind . 12 THE DEATH-SHOT. B CAPT. Mayne Reid... . 100 1. Ame’ficah' Speaker 13 schoolspeaker
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g 8
9

“ $1781th '97", bow! , 20 THE BANDIT AT BAY. By Gustave Aimard. . .. 100 - peak .
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Clear water between the boats—Harvard leads by , 25 T2: $2.313: 953m yBy $3333.? 513221201, ,_ _  SChOOl loom' the Ex ‘bmon' for Homes’ ew‘ They

a length—two lengths, three lengths—four, and by
the judges” boat the gel
Harvard wins an in the best time ever made.

Harrison Grahame, from the hillside, saw the re- .

suit, realized that he was irretrlevably ruined, and
fled from the scene never a sin to be seen in the

|
r
l
I

27 THE Sm DETECTIVE. By Albert W.A1ken.. 10c

I 28 TBREE-FINOERED JACK. Joseph E. Badger, Jr. 100

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The Dime Dialogues, each. volume 100 pages, our

ea. tern c t , althou h anxious creditors , brace twenty-three books viz..
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up from a thousand throa there was a commotion
—a fight on the Groton hills de.
A roughly-attired old man, who had bet largely

twig) of the country roughs with whom he was quar-
re mg.

Of course he was hurried of! to all at once, and
when he arrived there, after think what a hob<

34 ROCKY MOUNTAIN Ros. By Albert W. Aiken.. 100
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. Dialogues No. Fifteen.
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Dialogues No. Three.
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agaiitllst filflal‘d, attempted taiiialeak awa . wfilien he i 36 INJUN DICK. By Albert W. Al ken . . . . . . . . .. . 100 i  11:3- gg-em 18:33:32: 3:33- 
saw 0W emce was 0113- 0mm “8‘ SW9" ' 37 HIRL, Tali: HUNOBBACK. By Ji H Robinson 100 - ' - i r ‘ '
‘ ' ' '  Dialo es No. El ht. Dialo es No. Twent .
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i
l

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i ble he had ot himself into he sent at once for .
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3-: ‘ t a w or me out o , _ ve , r .
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-~v

.. - A... .-... -.....>....;. .-

Winny beams the wife of Lawrence, and the fair
Helena also rewarded Peyton for his faithful ser-

Vices.
At the close of their college career Bub accompa-
nied Peyton to his Virginian home, and perceiving a

 

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