Jewel Weed

"In a certain western city which is famous for its flour and lumber

interests, there lives a bachelor who has made it still more

illustrious in the realms of art and literature. It is a standing insult

to feminine humanity that a man both famous and wealthy should remain

single, but, so far, all attacks upon the citadel of his heart have

proved futile. Rumor now has it that a capitulation is imminent, but the

besieging force has been driven to unusual measures to secure it. A

college training gives a girl the advantage over her fellows, both in

expedients and in determination. Not content with the extraordinary

attractions conferred on her by her own beauty, the young lady who is

ahead in the race for the gay bachelor's heart has been carrying the war

into Egypt. Gossip saith that there are quiet hours spent by these two

in the seclusion of the bachelor's stately home, when, doubtless, his

masculine heart melteth within him, and the bonds of his servitude are

tightened. Still, it is a dangerous game for a supposedly reputable girl

to play, isn't it? and a little--well, let us call it unconventional."

Mrs. Lenox shut the magazine and her own teeth.

"It is inconceivable that such stuff should be printed, and that people

should buy it," she said. "But you see it is so vague that it might

refer to any one at any place, and even if we knew who was meant, it is

too insignificant a piece of small malice to receive anything but

contempt. And now good-by, Mrs. Quincy. I hope these coming spring days

are going to help you to better health."

"Good-by. I always appreciate your visits," whined Mrs. Quincy. "I'm

sure, with all you have to do, I don't wonder you don't come oftener. I

know there's nothin' to draw you."

Mrs. Lenox went away with a deep breath and a longing for fresh air. She

shook her head at the waiting coachman and said, "I am going to walk,

Emil."

She moved along in a cloud of conjectures, not that the small paragraph

seemed to her very important, but she was a little sickened by the

sudden glimpse of petty minds, who, being rich, stay by preference in

the slums.

"Mrs. Quincy, like Mrs. Percival, makes me feel that life is not a big

thing to be lived for some big reason, but an affair to be scrambled

through day by day, grabbing everything you can, and hating those who

have grabbed more. What a way to worry through seventy or eighty years!"

she groaned to herself.

Almost at her own door she met Ram Juna, who turned with her to make one

of his ponderous calls, while she sat and talked with him of emptiness

and philosophy, with that vivacious patience that becomes a habit with

women of the world; but when the door opened and her husband appeared,

accompanied by Dick Percival and Ellery Norris she heaved a distinct

sigh of relief.