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"but none that have any use for me." Try as he would, he could not keep the bitterness out of his voice.

"Now I was thinking," said his mother, with the cunning air of a strategist about to pull off a master-stroke, of a young lady that came here and bought some of my dressed dolls. She was from Oxford. I told her how I had a son there. She said she knew you.” She did n't add, though it was on the tip of her tongue, “And she blushed crimson when she said it.” Instead, after a moment's hesitation she said, “She was a sweet girl.”

Walton had sprung involuntarily to his feet. His face was turned from his mother, but she had found out his secret. The trouble was a girl.

"Was it Dorothy Pelham?” he asked in a strained voice.

"She said I was n't to tell you she came," replied Mrs. Walton, without assent or denial. But Walton had had his answer. He understood. Dorothy had known for months. No wonder she despised him. He must think it all out now, at once. He turned.

“Mother," he said, stooping over her and kissing her, "I'm dog-tired, and I'm going to bed, and I want you to go, too."

Mrs. Walton yearned to ask more, to comfort, but her innate delicacy kept her silent. Walton caught the look, but it was not until he reached the door that he could answer it. Then with a slight tremor in his voice he said:

“Mother, I want you to know that Dorothy Pelham would not look at me if I were the last man on earth. Now, will you come?"

Yes, my son," answered Mrs. Walton in a barely audible voice. If Graham wanted her like that, he should have her just as soon as she could dispose of her little shop, which for many years had been both husband and son to her.

Walton ran up the dark, narrow stairs to the large attic room he had always occupied as a boy. He lit the

a gas. It was coolly papered with appleblossoms on a white background. His bed was just where it used to stand under the sloping eaves, and beside it was an old-fashioned chest of drawers. Opposite, by the window looking out

Bed was far from his thoughts. He sat down by the table, and step by step reviewed the happenings of the last days. So Dorothy knew, and the end, as far as he and she were concerned, had come some time back. How she must have hated and despised him when she found him unwilling to talk about his home! Innumerable openings that she had no doubt intentionally introduced into the conversation came back to him, but he had refused to take any of them.

It was folly to try to end what was already ended, he reflected, but he felt as if he must at least say good-by. She could not grudge him that. He fumbled in the drawer for writing materials, and then, as if in a hideous nightmare, he wrote:

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My dear Miss Pelham:

I am glad that you have met my mother. For having seen her, you must realize that the pettiness in me, the desire to make the outer show stand for inner greatness, are things quite alien to her. As you have reason to know, I could not have said that a short time ago. But perhaps if I enclose “Fairest Adonis," a poem written by one of my students, you will understand what has brought me to myself. You will realize the force of it more when I tell you that it was written not by a man who disliked me, but by one who thought me a rather decent sort. I have betrayed the trust and confidence of my friends, but my mother's sweet humility, or perhaps her fine simplicity, has made her blind to my failings. My chief wish now is to bring her back to Oxford and justify as far as possible her faith in me.

Of course I realize the impossibility of your ever caring for me as I had hoped you might some day. In the circumstances I

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He did not, could not, read it over. He folded the poem and slipped it into an envelop. He felt he could not rest until it was mailed. Lest he disturb his mother, he took off his shoes, and quietly stole down-stairs, let himself out the door, and hurried to the corner post. Then as quietly he stole back to his room, while behind her closed door his mother knelt by her bed, listening to the stealthy footsteps, and longing with all the intensity of her soul to find some way to comfort him.

The week-end passed. There was an idyllic Saturday at the zoo, and a Sunday in London, with a morning service in the abbey, and an afternoon when they wandered arm in arm like lovers along

the embankment. Dorothy's name was not mentioned again.

Monday morning Walton packed his bag, and in the cold, gray drizzle of a windy day made his way back to Oxford. The usual high-priced cabby drove him back in the usual drafty hansom to his college rooms. He found Scroggs, his scout, lighting the fire in his grate.

The kindly, wrinkled old servant cast one look at his master's white, exhausted face, and hobbled off for coffee.

Walton sat down by the fire, trying to prepare himself for that day and the days and days to come. The blaze had warmed him a little, and a suggestion of color had come back to his face when Scroggs returned with a large tray neatly set with white-and-gold dishes, with coffee, toast, and jam.

“''Ere, sir," he said, "that ought ta put 'eart into you. And 'ere 's the post, sir, 'as just came.

Walton took the tray indifferently.

Why, that was Dorothy's writing on the little, square, gray envelop. His mind failed to conjure up any probable explanation. With trembling fingers he tore open the letter. He almost wished she had not written. It would have been easier. He read: My dear Mr. Walton:

I did not care for the poem you sent me, and am writing another I like better. Come around if you care to hear it. It is called "Dearest Adonis."

Always yours,

DOROTHY PELHAM.

For a second time Walton cut Wyckham-Smith's coaching.

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In this second instalment of the account of his travels in the West Indies Harry Franck covers the fascinating, old-new city of Havana. Its people, customs, sports, and buildings are discussed in the author's inimitable manner.

A

CONSTANT procession of however, of the front-row places we motors, their mufflers wide obtained except that, in the free-for-all open, went hiccoughing Spanish fashion, all the riffraff of venout the Carlos III Boule- ders crowded the foot-rests that were

vard toward the Havana supposedly reserved for front-row occuball-park. The entrance-gate, at which pants. Nine nimble Cubans were they brought up with a snort and a sud- scattered about the flat expanse of den, bronco-like halt that all but jerked Almendares Park, backed by Príncipe their passengers to their feet, was a Hill, with its crown of university buildseething hubbub. Ticket-speculators, ings. Royal palms waved their plumes renters of cushions, venders of every- languidly in the ocean breeze. A huge thing that can be consumed on a sum- Cuban flag undulated beyond the outmer afternoon, were bellowing their fielders. A score of vultures circled wares into the ears of the fanáticos who lazily overhead, as if awaiting a chance scrimmaged about the ticket-window. to pounce upon the “dead ones” which Men a trifle seedy in appearance wan

the wrathful “fans” announced every dered back and forth holding up half a time a player failed to live up to their dozen tiny envelops, arranged in fan- hopes. On a bench in the shade sat shape, which they were evidently trying all but one of the invading team, our to sell or rent. The pink entradas I own "Pirates" from the Smoky City. finally succeeded in snatching carried us The missing one was swinging his club as far as the grand stand, where another alertly at the home plate, his eyes maelstrom was surging about the chick- glued on the Cuban zurdo, or “southen-wire wicket behind which a hen- paw," who had just begun his contorminded youth was dispensing permis- tions in the middle of the diamond. sions to sit down. He would have been The scene itself was familiar enough, more successful in the undertaking if he yet it seemed out of place in this tropihad not needed to thumb over a hundred cal setting. It was like coming upon a or more seat-coupons reserved for spe picture one had known since childhood, cial friends of the management or of to find it inclosed in a strange new himself every time he sought to serve frame. a mere spectator.

I reached for my kodak, then reWe certainly could not complain, strained the impulse. A camera is of little use at a Cuban ball game. Only a to be made of linoleum. Bets passed at recording phonograph could catch its the speed of sleight-of-hand performchief novelties. An uproar as incessant ances. The fanáticos bet on every as that of a rolling-mill drowned every swing of the batter's club, on every ball individual sound. It was not merely that rose into the air, on whether or not the venders of “El escor oficial,” of a runner would reach the next base, on sandwiches, lottery-tickets, cigars, ciga- how many fouls the inning would pro

. rettes, bottled beer by the basketful, duce. Most of the wagers passed so who created the hubbub; the spectators quickly that there was no time for the themselves made most of it. The long, actual exchange of money. A flip of the two-story grand stand behind us was fingers or a nod of the head sufficed to packed with Cubans of every shade from arrange the deal. There were no dividebony black to the pasty white of the ing lines—either of color or distance. tropics, and every man of them seemed Full-fledged Africans exchanged wagers to be shouting at the top of his well- with men of pure Spanish blood. Cabatrained lungs. I say "man" advisedly, listic signs passed between the grand for with the exception of Rachel there stand and the sort of royal box high were just three women present, and they above. Across the field the crowded had the hangdog air of culprits. But sol, as the Cuban calls the unshaded scores of men were on their feet, scream- bleachers, in the vocabulary of the bulling at their neighbors and waving their ring, was engaged in the same moneyhands wildly in the air.

waving turmoil. The curb market of "Which do you like best, base-ball or New York is slow, noiseless, and phlegbull-fights?" I shouted to my neighbor matic compared with a ball-game in on the left. He was every inch a Cuban, Havana. by birth, environment, point of view, The game itself was little different in his very gestures, and he spoke from one at home. The Cuban players not a word of English. Generations varied widely in color, from the jetof Spanish ancestry were plainly visi- black third baseman to a short-stop ble through his grayish features; I hap- of rice-powder complexion. Their playpened to know that he had applauded ing was of high order, quite as "fast" many a torero in the days before the as the average teams of our big leagues. rule of Spain and "the bulls" had Cubans hold several world championbeen banished together. Yet he an- ships in sports requiring a high degree of swered instantly:

skill and swiftness. The umpire in his "Base-ball by far; and so do all protective paraphernalia looked quite Cubans.”

like his fellows of the North, but behind But base-ball, strictly speaking, is not his mask he was a rich mahogany brown. what the Cuban enjoys most. It is His official speech was English, but when rather the gambling that goes with it. a dispute arose he changed quickly to Like every sport of the Spanish-speaking voluble Spanish. The "bucaneros, race, with the single exception of bull- the present-day pirates who had defighting, base-ball to the great majority scended upon the Cuban coast were best is merely a pretext for betting. The known locally, won the game on this throng behind us was everywhere waving occasion; but the day before they had handfuls of money, real American money, not scored a run. for Cuba has none of her own larger Base-ball-commonly pronounced than the silver dollar. Small wonder "bahseh-bahl” throughout the islandthe bills are always ragged and worn and has won a firm foothold in Cuba. Those half obliterated, for they are constantly familiar with Spanish can find constant passing, like crumpled waste-paper, amusement in Havana's sporting pages. from one sweaty hand to another. The "Fans" quite unfamiliar with the tongue Platt Amendment showed incomplete would experience no great difficulty in knowledge of Cuban conditions when it catching the drift of the Cuban reporter, decreed the use of American money on

though it would be Greek to a Spaniard the island; it should have gone further speaking no base-ball, as

,

a brief and ordered the bills destined for Cuba example will demonstrate:

as

EL HABANA DEJO EN BLANCO ceeded in slamming the door really shut, A LOS PIRATAS

there you are at Perez's zaguan. José del Carmen Rodríguez realizó varios Fords scurry by thousands through doubleplays sensacionales

the streets of Havana day and night, BRILLANTE PITCHING DE ever ready to pick up a passenger or two TUERO

and set them down again in any part of El catcher rojo, Miguel Angel González, the business section for a mere twentycerró con doble llave la segunda base a los cent piecea peseta in Cuban parlance. corredores americanos

More expensive cars are now and then

seen for hire; by dint of sleuth-like obTHE visitor whose picture of Havana servation I did at last discover one Ford is still that of the drowsy tropical city that was confined to the labor of carryof our school-books

ing its owner. But is due for a shock.

those are the excepHe will be most

tions that prove the surprised, perhaps,

rule, and the rule is to find the place

that the instant swarming with au

you catch sight of tomobiles, like an

the familiar plebeopen honey-pot

ian features of a with fies. First of

"Alivver" you know, all there is the ubiq

even without waituitous Ford. A

ing to see the hospilocal paragrapher

table "Se Alquila" asserts that “a

("Rents Itself”) on Havanese would

the wind-shield, rather die than walk

that you need walk four blocks." There

no farther, whatare several perfectly

ever your sex, comgood reasons for

plexion, or previous this preference.

condition of pedesThe heat of Cuba

trianism. They is far less oppressive

are particularly than that of our

suited to the narrow most Northern

streets that the States in mid-sum

Spaniard, in his mer. Indeed, it is Officers of the Cuban army

Arabic avoidance of seldom unpleasant;

the sun, bequeathed but the slightest

the Cuban capital. physical exertion quickly bathes the body There is many a corner in the business in perspiration, and nowhere is a wilted section which larger cars can turn only collar worse form than in Havana. by backing or by mounting one of the Moreover, one must be exceedingly scanty sidewalks. The closed taxi of nimble-footed to trust to the prehistoric the North, too, would be as much

out of means of transportation. The custom place in Havana as overcoats at a Fourth of always riding has left no rights to the of July celebration. A few of the horse pedestrian in the Cuban capital. The carriages of olden days still offer their chances of being run down are excellent services; but as neither driver, carriage,

, and the result is apt to be not merely nor horse seem to have been groomed or broken ribs, but a bill for damages to fed since the war of independence, even the machine. Hence, the expression those in no haste are apt to think twice "cojemos un For'” is synonymous with or thrice, and finally put their trust in going a journey, however short, any- gasolene. Hence the Ford has taken where within the city. Your Havanese charge of Havana, like an army of friend never says, “Let 's stroll around occupation. and see Perez," but always, "Let's catch Unfortunately, a Ford and a Cuban a Ford,” and by the time you have suc- chauffeur make a bad combination.

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