16 
THE GUEST 
OF QUESNAY 
By Booth Tarkington 
Copyright, 1908, by the McClure Company 
Copyright, 1907, 1508, by the Ridgway Company 
e- 
H 
[CONTINUED.] 
“You weren’t alrald to come tnrougn 
the woods alone?” I asked, uncomfort- 
ably conscious that her gayety met a 
dull response from me. 
“No 
“But if Miss Ward finds that you're 
not at the chateau”— 
“She won't. She thinks I’m asleep. 
Ske brought me up a sleeping powder 
herself.” ; 
“She thinks you took it?” 
“She knows I did,” said Miss Elliott. 
“T’'m full of it! And that will be the 
reason—if you notice that I’m partic- 
ularly nervous or excited.” 
“You seem all of that,” I said, look- 
ing at her eyes, which were very wide 
and very brilliant. “However, I be. 
lieve you always do.” 
“Ah,” she smiled, “I knew you 
thought me atrocious from the first 
You find myriads of objections to me 
don’t you?” : 
I had forgotten to look away from 
her eyes, and i kept on forgetting 
sJaZZlines od 4.6 “ashioned 
word for eyes like hers. At least it 
might define their effect on me. 
“jf I did manage to object to you,” } 
said slowly, “it would be a good thing 
for wie, wouldn’t it?” 
“Oh, I’ve won!” she cried. 
“Won?” I echoed. 
“Yes. I laid a wager with myself 
that I’d have a pretty speech from 
you before I went out of your life’— 
She checked a laugh and concluded 
thrillingly—‘“forever. I leave Quesnay 
tomorrow.” 
“Your father has returned from 
America?” 
“Oh, dear, no,” she murmured. “T’ll 
be quite at the world’s mercy. 1 must 
go up to Paris and retire from public. 
life until he does come. I shall take? 
the vows in some obscure but respect- ; 
able pension.” F 
She gazed at me thoughtfully and 
seriously for several moments. “I 
suppose you can imagine,” she said in 
a tone that threatened to become trem- 
ulous, “what sort of an afternoon 
we've been having up there.” 
“Has it been”— I began. 
“Oh, heartbreaking! Louise came tof 
My room as soon as they got back 
from here this morning and told me 
the whole pitiful story. But they 
didn’t let her stay there long, poor 
woman!” : 
“Thev?”’ I asked 
‘eARUBRRAUMSET ANAL n. 
vv 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
“Oh, Elizabeth and her brother. 
They’ve been at her all afternoon, off 
and on.” 
“To do what?” 
“To ‘save herself,’ so they call it. 
They’re insisting that she must not 
See her poor husband again. They’re 
determined she shan't.” 
“But George wouldn't worry her.” 
“Oh, wouldn’t he?” The girl laughed 
sadly. “I don’t suppose he could help 
it, he’s in such a state himself, but 
between him and Elizabeth it’s hard 
to see how poor Mrs. Harman lived 
through the day.” 
“Well,” I said slowly, “Il don’t see 
that they’re not right. She ought to 
be kept out of all this as much as pos- 
sible, especially if her husband has to 
go through a trial.” 
“Are you’— the girl began, then 
stopped for a moment, looking at me 
Steadily. “Aren't you a little in love 
with Louise Harman?” 
“Yes,’’ I answered honestly. 
you?” 
“That’s what 1 wanted to know,” 
she said, and as she turned a page in 
the sketchbook for the benetit of Mr, 
Percy I saw that her hand had begun 
to tremble. 
“Why ?’ I asked, leaning toward her 
across the table. 
“Because if she were involved in 
some undertaking—something that, if 
it went wrong, would endanger her 
happiness and, I think, even her life, 
for it might actually kill her if she 
failed and brought on a worse ecatas- 
trophe”— 
“Yes?” I said anxiously as she paus- 
ed again. 
“You'd help her?” she said. 
“I would, indeed,” 1 assented earnest- 
ly. “I told her once i’d do anything in 
the world for her.” 
“Even if it involved something that 
George Ward might never forgive you 
for?’ 
“I said ‘anything in the world,” I 
returned, perhaps a little huskily. 
She gave a low cry of triumph, but 
immediately checked it. Then she 
leaned far over the table. “I wasn’t 
afraid to come through the woods 
alone,” she said in a very low voice, 
“because I wasn’t alone. Louise came 
with me.” 
“What?” I gasped. “Where is she?” 
“At the Baudry cottage down the 
road. They won’t miss her at the 
chateau until morning. I locked her 
door on the outside, and if they go to 
bother her again—though I don’t think 
they will—they’ll believe she’s fasten- 
ed it on the inside and is asleep. She 
managed to get a note to Keredec late 
this afternoon. It explained every- 
thing, and he had some trunks carried 
out the rear gate of the inn and carted 
over to Lisieux to be shipped to Paris 
from there, It is to be supposed—or 
hoped at least—that this woman and 
her people will believe that means 
Professor Keredec and Mr. Harman will 
try to get to Paris in the same way.” 
“Aren't 
“So,” I said, “that’s what Percy 
meant about the trunks. I didn’t un- 
derstand.” 
“Hes ON Watcn, you see, sone conu- 
tinued. “Mr. Percy!’ She laughed 
nervously. “That’s why it’s almost 
necessary for us to have you.” 
“If you have me for what?” I asked. 
“T’ll help you”—and as she looked 
up her eyes, now very close to mine, 
were dazzling indeed—“I’ll adore you 
forever and ever! Oh, much longer 
than you’d like me to!” 
“You mean she’s going to”— 
“I mean that she’s going to run 
away with him again,” she whispered. 
CHAPTER XIV. 
T midnight there was no mis- 
taking the palpable uneasi- 
hess with which Mr. Percy, 
faithful sentry, regarded the 
behavior of Miss Elliott and myself as 
We sat conversing upon the veranda 
‘of the pavilion. The lights of the inn 
were all set. The Spanish woman and 
M. Rameau had made their appear- 
ance for a moment, half an hour ear- 
lier, to exchange a word with their 
fellow Vigilant, and soon after the ex- 
tinguishing of the lamps in their re- 
spective apartments denoted their re- 
tirement for the night. In the “grande 
suite” all had been dark and silent for 
an hour. 
I kept going over and over the de- 
tails of Louise Harman’s plap as the 
girl beside me had outlined it, bend- 
ing above the smudgy sketchbook. 
“To make them think the flight is for 
Paris,” she had urged—“to Paris by 
way of Lisieux. To make that man 
yonder believe that it is toward Li- 
sieux while they turn at the cross- 
roads and drive across the country to 
Trouville for the morning boat to Ha- 
vre.”’ 
It was simple. That was its great 
virtue. If they were well started they 
were safe,_and well started meant 
only that Larrabee Harman should 
leave the inn without an alarm. With 
two hours’ start and the pursuit spend- 
ing most of its energy in the wrong di- 
rection—that is, toward Lisieux and 
Paris—thev would be on the deck of 
the French-Canadian liner tomorrow 
noon, sailing out of the harbor of Le 
Havre with nothing but the Atlantic 
ocean between them and the St. Law- 
rence. 
Suddenly I saw a light shine from 
Keredee’s window. 
I remarked, “Now, if you will permit 
me, I’ll offer you my escort back to 
Quesnay,” | said to Miss Elliott. 
TI went into my room, put on my cap, 
lit a lantern and returned with 
the veranda: We crossed the andor 
as far as the steps. Mr. Percy signi- 
fied his approval. “Gunna see the lit- 
tle lady home, are you?’ he said gra- 
ciously. “I was thinkin’ it was about 
time m’self.’’ 
The salon door of the “grande suite” 
opened above me, and at the sound 
the youth started, springing back to 
see what it portended, but | ran 
quickly up the steps. Keredec stood 
in the doorway bareheaded and in his 
shirt sleeves. In one hand he held a 
traveling bag, which he immediately 
Bave me, 
> Went hylmoom, closiDe 
a b. Oor, ang e steps as 
TDidly gg 1) mp, Witb- 
out Pausing the rear of 
a CoUrtyary gecompany 
Ng me, 
ss Sentry famed these Pr 
Eka fe Oey more ae 
J DQ al i, bere, ; 
Said, “] wout this 
Means,” 
“Anythin think it 
means.” q \k 
108,” | |gygimmping to Wa 
4 little More glanced up 
at the windo ande suite, 
Which Were galmmand began to 
follow US glo you gut in 
that grip» be 
‘You don't carrying off 
rt. Harman) 
“I reckon halmon all right, 
8a the youffmm “unless he’s 
flew out.” 
We emerged gmt of a lane be- 
hind the inn, jg and narrow, 
bordered by gms and at the 
other end dqgmupon a road 
Which passed mot the Baudry 
coitage, 
Miss Elliottimmarm, and wé 
entered the lal 
Mr. Percy gammdccidedly. “I 
Want t’ knowmmou think y’re 
doin’,” he rogmmerily, calling 
after us. 
S very sijmeeilled in turn. 
“I think youjimyell go back. 
We’re not golif™m™mgh to need a 
guard.” 
Mr. Percy all@@oath to escape 
him, and we iig™™m muttering to 
himself, Thenjlmmilsteps sounded 
behind us, 
“Fe’s coritimm Blliott whis- 
pered, with n@@imtultation, look- 
ing over her sim He's going to 
follow.” 
We trudged Mim, followed at 
some fifty pilfthe perturbed 
watchman. Wiiitbarked upon 
a singular adv@i@tot unattended 
by 2 certain dae were tingling 
with a bundrdlensions, oecu- 
pied with the MaMsity of draw- 
was called t mulous whis- 
per close to! se she 
has denied it Si@rertheless she 
said it—twiceMamlended not to 
hear her the fi I made nd ane 
mind that aft this girl saw 
Mr. Earl Way back to 
the inp pefore Md him to go it 
would be bec Mi killed. mo, 
We were id of the lane 
when the ose sounded 
sonorously a i 
Mr. Percy “es up swiftly 
and darted bY 
1 set my lantern aown close to tne 
wall, and a horse and cart drew up 
on the road. It was Pere Baudry’s 
pest horse, a stout gray, that would 
easily make Trouville by daylight. A 
woman’s figure and a man’s (the lat- 
ter that of Pere Baudry himself) could 
be made out dimly on the cart seat. 
“who is it, I say?’ shouted our ex- 
cited friend. “What kind of a game 
d’ye think y’re puttin’ up on me here?” 
A glance at the occupants satisfied 
him. “Mrs. Harman!” he yelled. ‘Mrs. 
Harman! | knowed 1 was a fool to 
eome away without wakin’ up Ra- 
meau. But you haven’t beat us yet.” 
He drove back into the lane, but 
just inside its entrance I met him. 
“Where are you going?” | asked. 
“Back to the Pigeon house in a hur- 
ry. There’s devilment here. I want 
Rameauwi” 
“You're not going back,” said I. 
“The h— I ain’t! said Mr. Perey. “I 
give ye two seconds t’ git out 0”? my— 
Take yer hands offa me?” 
I made sure of my grip, not upon the 
refulgent overcoat, for 1 feared he 
might slip out of that, but upon the 
collars of his coat and waistcoat. 
“You long legged devil!” he yelled, 
and I instantly received a series of 
concussions upon the face and head 
which put me in supreme doubt of my 
surroundings, for 1 seemed to have 
plunged eyes foremost into the Milky 
Way. I was conscious of some one 
screaming, and it seemed a consoling 
part of my delirium that the cheek of 
Miss Anne Hlliott should be jammed 
tight against mine through one phase 
of the explosion. I hung to him, as 
Pere Baudry testifies, for a minute and 
a half, which seems 00 inconsiderable 
japse of time to a person undergoing 
such experiences aS were then afflict- 
ing me. 
It appeared to me that we were re- 
volving in enormous circles in the 
ether and I had long since given my 
last gasp when there came a great 
roaring wind in my ears and a range 
of mountains toppled upon us both. 
We went to earth beneath it. 
“Ha! You must create violence, 
then!” roared the avalanche. 
The voice was the voice of Keredec. 
Some one pulled me from under- 
neath my struggling antagonist, and, 
the power of sight in a hazy, zigzag- 
ging fashion coming back to me, I 
perceived the figure of Miss Anne El- 
liott recumbent beside me, her arms 
about Mr. Percy’s prostrate body. The 
extraordinary girl had fastened upon 
him, too, though I had not known it, 
and she had gone to ground with us, 
put it is to be said for Mr. Harl Percy 
that no blow of his touched her, and 
she was not hurt. Even in the final 
extremities of temper he had eareful- 
ly discriminated in my favor. 
Mrs. Harman was bending over her 
and as the girl sprang up lightly 
threw her arms about her. For my 
part, I rose more slowly, section by 
section, wondering why | did not fall 
apart, lips, nose and cheeks bleeding, 
and I had a fear that I should need to 
NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
pe tea lke a pind man corouga My 
eyelids swelling shut. That was some- 
thing I earnestly desired should not 
happen; but, whether it did or did not 
or if the heavens fell, I meant to walk 
back to Quesnay with Anne Elliott 
that night, and, mangled, broken or 
half dead, presenting whatever ap- 
pearance of the prize ring or the abat- 
toir that 1 might, | intended to take 
the same train for Paris on the mor- 
row that she did. 
For our days together were not at 
an end, nor was it hers nor my desire 
that they should be. 
It was Oliver Saffren—as I like to 
think of him—who helped me to my 
feet and wiped my face with his 
handkerchief and when that one was 
ruined brought others from his bag 
and stanched the wounds gladly re- 
ceived in the service of his wife. 
“J will remember”— he said, and his 
voice broke. “These are the memo- 
ries which Keredec says make a man 
good, I pray they will help to redeem 
me.” And for the last time I heard 
the child in him speaking: “‘l ought to 
be redeemed. I must be, don’t you. 
think, for her sake?” 
“Lose no time!’ shouted Keredec. 
“You must be gone if you will reach 
that certain town for the 5 o’clock 
train of the morning.” This was for 
the spy’s benefit. It indicated Lisieux 
and the train to Paris. Mr. Percy 
struggled. The professor knelt over 
him, pinioning his wrists in one great 
hand and holding him easily to earth. 
“Ha, my friend”—he addressed his 
captive—“you shall not have cause to 
say we do you any harm. There shall 
be no law, for you are not hurt, and 
you are not going to be. But here you 
shall stay quiet for a little while—till 
I say you can go.” As he spoke he 
pound tite other’s wrists with a short 
rope which he took from his pocket, 
performing the same office immediate- 
ly afterward for Mr. Percy’s ankles. 
“JT take the count!” was the sole re- 
mark of that philosopher. “I can’t go 
up against no herd of elephants.” 
The two women were crying in each 
other’s arms. “Goodby!’ sobbed Anne 
Elliott. 
Mrs. Harman turned to Keredec. 
“Goodby for a little while!” 
He kissed her hand. “Dear lady, I 
shall come within the year.” 
She came to me, and I took her 
hand, meaning to kiss it as Keredee 
had done, but suddenly she was closer, 
and I felt her lips upon my battered 
eheek. I remember it now. 
I wrung her husband’s hand, and 
then he took her in his arms, lifted her 
to the footboard of the cart and sprang 
up beside her. 
“God bless you, and goodby!” 
called. 
And their voices came back to us, 
“God bless you, and goodby!” 
: THE END. 
we 
And the most discouraging thing 
about it is that whether we get it or 
not after awhile we don’t want it 
17 
THE RESTLESS. 
d tow hope of doing better 
How we jump from town to town, 
Looking for a pleasant prospect 
To annex and settle down, 
Always trying something different, 
Taking fliers on the way, 
Looking for some newer projects 
That will mean a larger pay! 
In a far and distant city 
Of a splendid job we learn 
That will pay us so much money 
That the surplus we can burn, 
And we rush to make us ready 
Like a person quite insane 
As we pack our small belongings 
And proceed to take the train. 
If the job is there as painted 
And we land it in a bunch 
We remain a month of Sundays 
Vill we get another hunch, 
Till we hear of something better 
Up the road a little piece, 
And the old one couldn't hold up 
With the aid of the police. 
Thus, like pioneers who journeyed. 
Singing out, ‘‘Pike’s peak or bust!” 
Here and there we move responsive 
To the calling wanderlust, 
In response to hope illusive 
Going on from town to town 
Till our joints get so rheumatic 
We're obliged to settle down. 
Sounded So Like Him. 
“Did you think of me, dearest, when 
1 was away ?”’ 
“J certainly did.” replied the dutiful 
wife. 
“And did you miss me much?” 
“Well, fortunately an automobile 
proke down in front of the house 
nearly every day, and the way those 
men talked made it seem sO home- 
like.” 
Not Desirable. 
“Ig he ap intimate friend of yours?’ 
sey thin kas. = 5 
“Think so?” 
“VY es.,’’ 
“Don’t you know?” 
“Well, as he finds it impossible to 
distinguish between my property and 
his 1 think 1] might say that-we are.” 
Preferable. 
“He is a very promising young man.” 
“1 don’t care for that kind.” 
“No?” 
“No; 1 prefer a discharging one.” 
“Discharging?” 
“Yees; one who discharges his duties 
instead of promising. to do so.” 
EB don’t know any more about the 
north pole than we did six months 
ago, but we know a lot more about 
Cook and Peary. 
Our own country is long on climate 
of varying degrees of intensity. 
Anybody can play the fool, but few 
get encores from their audiences. 
_ The Kind That Bites. 
“What is Scroogs in such a hurry 
for?’ 
“Maybe he has just got a wireless 
from his wife.” 
“Wireless nothing. You can bet 
there were barbs on it.”. 
te aan Rat 
