NORTH SHORE BREEZE 
AND REMINDER 
Vol. XIil 
Manchester, Mass., Friday, September 3 
No. 36 
Turned Tables 
A Story of Love and Adventure in the White Mountains 
HELEN CHRISTENE HOERLE 
T had been raining for over twenty-four hours and 
looked as if it might continue for twenty-four more. 
The rain fell in torrents, while the wind shrieked and 
howled uncannily as it raced wildly around White Cap 
Mountain, sweeping every movable thing before it, and 
leaving total devastation in its wake. 
In the tiny store in Grantville, at the foot of old 
White Cap, Marie Holland moved busily to and fro, light- 
ing the two great lamps that shed a cheerful radiance over 
the interior of the store, and seeming to penetrate even 
the remotest corners under barrels of sugar or flour and 
numerous boxes, containing a general miscellany. A 
smaller lamp burned in either window, casting a flickering, 
feeble beam of light, and only serving to intensify the 
blackness without, and the utter desolation of the scene. 
As from far off came the muffled shriek of the whistie 
ef the train as it drew into the miniature station, but a 
few yards away. The girl raised her head as if listening, 
and then shrugged her shoulders disdainfully. 
“No one will be in a night like this. I wonder the 
train got through the Notch,” she murmured. “Oh, I 
wish this rain would stop, it’s positively terrifying. i 
might as weil close up. I guess” Going to the foot of the 
stairs in the rear of the store, she called: “I'll be up in 
a minute, Anne; you may get things ready.” 
Almost as ‘if in contradiction of her statement, the 
door at that moment burst open, and a tall figure muffled 
in a Tain coat, and with a dress-suit case in his hand, 
greeted the girl’s astonished eyes. 
“Close the door,” Miss Holland commanded sharpiy 
as a gust of wind drove the rain in, soaking the floor. 
With a low laugh of amusement, the man donne his 
suit case, and silently obeyed. The feat accompl ished, he 
turned. A low cry of wonderment escaped him and he 
whistled softly. Standing there in her black gown of 
some soft, woolly material clinging to her supple figure, 
the girl seemed i incongruous w ith her surroundings, that of 
a village store. The lamp threw the small head, set proud- 
ly on a pair of slender shoulders, into gentle relief, and 
intensified the milky whiteness of her fair skin. A great 
mass of red hair (yes, it was a real red) was caught in a 
knot at her neck, while a pair of trusting brown eyes 
regarded him with a steadfast gaze. The man felt rath 
disconcerted by the cool, calculating stare, and wondet ea 
with beating heart who the beauty was. 
“Oh, I say,” he began, then paused abruptly. 
girl’s calm gaze never wavered. The man gulped and 
began again. “My name is William Allan, from New 
York. I’m on my way to visit the Pattersons—I guess 
you know them. ‘Could you tell me where I can get 1 
machine to take me there? It’s a beastly night, isn’t it?” 
shaking the water from him. 
The girl laughed, a low, musical laugh, rich with 
enjoyment. “An automobile, in Grantville? The Patter- 
sons own the only one for miles around. Do they expect 
you?” she added. 
The 
“No—well, that is, not until tomorrow,” Allan admit- 
ted. “Well, then couldn’t I get a carriage or something?’ 
Marie shook her head. ‘No; you won't find anyone 
willing to ride over to Patterson’s tonight. Even if they’d 
go themselves, they wouldn’t take their horses out a night 
like this. Male Grantville thinks more of their horses 
than their wives; horses cost more,” she laughed. 
“Do you mean I'll have to stay here til! tomorrow or 
whenever the rain stops?” the man demanded. ‘The girl 
nodded. “Oh, Heavens,” he groaned. ‘“Where’s the 
599 
hotel : 
“Isn’t any,’ the girl affirmed 
enjoying the stranger’s plight. 
“What?” gasped the man, 
Grantville. What am I to do?” 
Miss Holland acknowledged she didn’t know. From 
upstairs was wafted the tempting odor of fried bacon, 
mingled with that of hot biscuits and fragrant coffee. The 
man sniffed hungrily. 
“Do you know,” he demanded, 
to eat—except chocolate (with 
o'clock this morning.” 
Miss Holland saw the hungry look in the 
She hesitated a minute, then said softly: “Will you have 
tea with me, Mr. Allan. I'd be awfully glad if you wil; 
then we can think how you are going to get over to Pat- 
cheerfully, evidently 
“no hotel? A fine place 
“T haven’t had a thing 
a wry face)—since eight 
ran’s eyes. 
terson’s. It’s a long drive up the mountains. Please 
stay,” she pleaded as he made a pretense of protesting. 
“As tar as that goes, I’m afraid you'll have to stay. 
Nobody has been here since yesterday, and it has to be 
pretty bad to keep Ben ‘Web away. And if he, who knows 
his way, doesn’t venture out, where would you be, a 
stranger here?” } 
“And Ben Webb 1s?” Allan inguired politely. 
“The village constable,” Marie laughed. “He carries 
the mail to me from the depot; that is about all his duties 
as constable consist of. I guess there hasn’t been any 
mail since yesterday because of the rain. You go upstairs, 
and Pll be up direct! ve!) L wantto. lock ap." 
“And may I inquire who my fair hostess may be?” 
Allan paused in his ascent of the stairs to ask the cuestion, 
his eyes portend with the novelty of the situation. 
“My e?” the girl inquired. “Mazie Hol’end.” 
tie Holland,’ William repeated softty, “of Grant- 
ville ?” 
“Formerly a New York stenographer; 'o-t ry health, 
came up ere: nd am now postmistress and general shop- 
keeper of Grantville, N. H.,” she laughed, sweeping him 
a mocking courtesy. 
Even if she had lost her health, what in thunder did she 
want to bury herself in such a God-forsaken hole as Grant- 
ville, was more than Mr. William Allan could fathom, 
though he turned the matter over and over in his fertile 
brain. 
The girl hastily crossed the store and blew out the 
large lamp in the front. A feeling of exultation possessed 
