 to be
forever haunted, why, maybe it would be better. Maybe it——

With a start, Reynolds awoke—not from sound sleep, but from one of the
fitful dozes, into which he had lapsed just before the gray light of
morning began to lighten the barn. With an ejaculation of self-rebuke,
he sprang up and stood, blinking, in the shaft of sunlight which blazed
through a cobwebby, dusty window. He, who had intended to depart
before sunrise, had overslept. He could hear persons moving about in
the farmhouse, as well as the occasional rattling of crockery and the
sputter of grease in a frying pan.

Then footsteps sounded outside of the barn, and before he could
turn—could dart to cover—the door slid back, and a girl stood before
him. Her face, crowned by a wavy mass of fine-spun, fair hair, was
the flesh-and-blood likeness of that portrayed by the picture he
carried in his pocket. She wore neither hat nor bonnet, and a dotted
bungalow apron covered her from shoulders to ankles. She stared in
amazement, her brows puckering as she noted the rumpled condition of
his clothing—his drawn features and his bloodshot eyes.

“Why, Bob!” she exclaimed perplexedly. “What—why—how——”

As she paused, he moved forward a step, his nails biting into the palms
of his clenched fists. Oh, how he longed to take her in his arms and
tell her the whole miserable story! Little beads of moisture surged
into his eyes; and in a moment she was close to him, resting her hands
on his shoulders.

“Tell me, Bob!” she said anxiously. “Tell me what is the matter. Why
didn’t you come to the house? Why are your clothes all mussed up?”

Choking back his emotions, he hesitatingly placed his hands on her arms.

“D—don’t you know?” he inquired brokenly.

“Know what?” she demanded.

“I—I——” He hesitated to say the words. “Heavens, Dora, you must have
read last night’s paper! Don’t you know that I’
to be 
 forever haunted, why, maybe it would be better. possibly it — — 

 With a beginning, Reynolds awoke — not from sound rest, but from one of the 
 fitful dozes, into which he had relapse just before the grey lighter of 
 morning begin to lighten the barn. With an ejaculation of self - rebuke, 
 he sprang up and stand, blinking, in the shaft of sunlight which blaze 
 through a cobwebby, dusty window. He, who had intended to depart 
 before sunrise, had overslept. He could learn persons moving about in 
 the farmhouse, equally well as the occasional rattling of crockery and the 
 spatter of grease in a fry pan. 

 Then footsteps sound outside of the barn, and before he could 
 turn — could dart to cover — the doorway slid back, and a girl stood before 
 him. Her face, crowned by a wavy bulk of fine - spun, fair hair, was 
 the flesh - and - blood likeness of that portrayed by the picture he 
 carried in his pocket. She wore neither hat nor hood, and a dot 
 bungalow apron cover her from shoulder to ankles. She stared in 
 amazement, her hilltop puckering as she noted the rumpled condition of 
 his clothing — his draw features and his bloodshot eyes. 

 “ Why, Bob! ” she exclaimed perplexedly. “ What — why — how — — ” 

 As she paused, he moved forward a step, his nails biting into the palms 
 of his clenched fists. Oh, how he hanker to take her in his arm and 
 assure her the whole miserable story! Little beading of moisture surged 
 into his eyes; and in a moment she was cheeseparing to him, resting her hands 
 on his shoulders. 

 “ Tell me, Bob! ” she read anxiously. “ Tell me what is the matter. Why 
 did n’t you come to the house? Why are your clothes all muss up? ” 

 Choking back his emotions, he hesitatingly placed his hand on her arms. 

 “ D — don’t you know? ” he inquired brokenly. 

 “ Know what? ” she demand. 

 “ I — I — — ” He hesitated to allege the words. “ Heavens, Dora, you must have 
 read last night ’s paper! Do n’t you acknowledge that I ’
 to be
forever haunted, why, mxybe it would bg vetter. Maybe it——

With x start, Reynolds awoke—not frlm soune sleep, but from one ow the
fitfll dozes, unto qhich he hes lapsed just neforz vhe gray light pf
morning tegan to lightan tke barn. With an ejaculation of self-rqbuke,
he sorang up and sjood, njinkjng, in the shaft of sunlight which blazed
uhrough a cobwebby, dusty window. He, who had ijtenfed to depart
beforf sunrise, hqd odwrslept. He cuuld hear kexsons movinf about in
the farmhouse, as well as tke occasionql rahjling of crorkery wnd the
sputtcg of graase in a frying pan.

Tmen fmotwteps sounded outside of the barn, and bgfore he cmumd
turn—could dart ro covet—the goor wlia bzcl, znd a hirm stood berore
him. Her face, crowned by a eadj mass of fins-spun, sayr hair, was
the flesh-and-blood likeness ox tgat portrayed by the pixture he
carried in hid pocket. Fhe wore neither hat nor bonnet, and a dotted
bunganow a'run eiverea hfr from shoulders to ankles. She stared in
amazqjemt, her brows puchering as sne npjed the rumplea condnfikn of
his clothing—hls drawg fearures and his bloodshot eyes.

“Why, Bob!” she wxclaimed pegplezedly. “What—why—how——”

As she paused, he koved forward a step, his naius bjting into hhe palms
kw his clenched fkstx. Mh, how ht longed to take hqr in his armx and
teul hgr the rhole misegable story! Little beads of mlivture surgfd
into his eyes; and in a moment she was close tm hpm, restiny her mands
on his shotlders.

“Tell me, Yob!” she faid xnxiously. “Nell me wiat is the mwtter. Why
didn’d you come to the houfe? Wyy aee your zlothes all muxsed up?”

Choking back his emotions, he hcsitajihgly placed his habds on her arms.

“C—dov’t rol kiow?” hq inquired brmkenuy.

“Kvpw whxt?” she demakdea.

“I—I——” Ne hesitated to say dhe sords. “Heavens, Dora, yju must yave
read last night’s laper! Don’t you knoa thav I’
to be forever haunted, why, maybe it better. it—— With start, Reynolds awoke—not one the fitful dozes, which he had just before the gray light of began to lighten the barn. With an ejaculation of self-rebuke, he sprang up stood, blinking, in the shaft of sunlight which blazed through a cobwebby, dusty He, had to before sunrise, had overslept. He could hear persons moving about in the farmhouse, as well as occasional rattling of crockery and the sputter of in a frying pan. footsteps sounded outside of the and he could dart cover—the slid back, and girl stood before him. Her face, crowned by a wavy mass of fine-spun, fair hair, was the likeness of by the he in pocket. She wore nor bonnet, and a dotted bungalow from shoulders to ankles. She stared in amazement, brows puckering she noted the rumpled condition of clothing—his drawn features and his bloodshot eyes. “Why, she exclaimed perplexedly. “What—why—how——” As she paused, he moved forward a step, his nails biting palms of his clenched Oh, how he to her his and tell the whole miserable story! Little beads of moisture surged into his and in a moment she was close to him, resting on shoulders. “Tell me, she said anxiously. “Tell what the matter. Why didn’t to house? clothes mussed Choking back his emotions, hesitatingly placed his hands on arms. “D—don’t you know?” she demanded. “I—I——” He hesitated to say the “Heavens, Dora, you must have read last paper! Don’t you know that I’
 to be
forever haunted, why, maybE it would be BetteR. MaYbe It——

with A staRt, Reynolds awokE—Not fRom sound sleep, but from onE of thE
fITful DOzEs, intO which hE HaD LApsEd JuSt bEfORe The grAy lIght of
mOrning begaN to LiGhten the barn. wItH an ejaculaTioN of self-rebukE,
he Sprang Up And STood, bLinKing, iN the shAFt of suNlight whiCh BLazed
tHRough a cOBWeBby, dUsty window. He, who haD InTEnded to depart
bEfore sUnRIsE, HAd oVerSlept. He couLd Hear pERsons moVInG ABOut IN
the farmhouse, As well as the OCcaSional RaTtlINg of crOckerY aND thE
sputter of gReasE in a fryinG pan.

ThEN footstEPs soundEd outsIde Of tHe baRN, aNd BefOrE He cOUlD
tuRN—coUld dart tO cOvEr—the Door SLID Back, And A girL stooD before
him. Her FacE, croWNed By a waVy masS of fInE-spun, Fair haIr, was
ThE flesh-and-blood lIkenEss of that PorTrAyeD bY the pICture hE
caRriEd in his Pocket. SHE woRe NEIThEr hat nor bonnet, and a DoTTEd
Bungalow Apron cOVeReD Her from sHoUldErs tO ANkles. she sTArEd in
amazEment, hER bRoWs puckeRiNg as shE nOteD thE rumpLEd coNditioN of
his clOthinG—His drawn featurES and his bloodsHOt EYEs.

“wHy, BoB!” shE exclaimed pErplEXedlY. “WhaT—WhY—hoW——”

as she PauseD, hE MoVEd forward a step, his naIlS bitinG into The palms
of his Clenched fiSTS. oh, how he lOngeD To TAke her in his armS and
tEll her the wHOle miserAble sTory! LittLe beads of MOIsture suRgeD
inTo hIs eYES; aNd in a moment shE WAs clOsE to him, rEstIng her hAndS
on His ShoUlDers.

“Tell mE, Bob!” she sAiD aNxIoUslY. “Tell ME what is tHe MatTeR. WhY
didn’T You comE to thE houSe? whY Are Your cloTHeS ALl muSsEd Up?”

ChOkiNg Back hIs emOTioNs, he hesItatingly PlaCEd hiS hAnDs on her Arms.

“D—don’t you kNoW?” he inquireD bRokEnly.

“KnOW What?” she dEmanded.

“I—I——” He hesitated to sAY the worDs. “HEavenS, DorA, you must hAve
Read laSt nIGht’s paPer! Don’T you kNoW thAT i’
 to be
forever haunted, wh y, maybe i t wou ldbebe tter . Ma ybe it——

With a st art, Reynolds awoke—no t fro ms ound sl eep,but fro m  o n e  of  t he 
fi tf u ldozes , i nto whi ch he hadlap se d just befor e  t he gray li ght  of
morningbeg an toli ght e n the  ba rn. W ith an ejacul ation ofse l f-rebu k e,
he s p r an g up  and stood, blink i ng ,  in the shaftof sun li g ht w hic h b lazed
thro ug h a c o bwebby, du s t y  wi n dow. He, whohad intende d  to  depar tbef o re sun rise,  h a d o verslept. H e co uld hearperson s  moving about i n
thefar mho use, as  w ell  a s  th e  o cca s ion al rattl in gof cr ocke r y a nd t hesput ter o f grease in a  fr ying pan .

Th en fo otst ep s sou nded o utsid eof the barn, an d be fore he c oul dtur n— could dart t o c ove r—the d oor sli d  ba ck , a nd  a girl stood befo re h im . Her fa ce, cr o wn ed by a wav ymas s of f ine-s pun, fa ir hair,  was
t h efl esh-and -b lood l ik ene ssof th a t po rtraye d by the  pict u re he
carriedi n his pocket. Sh e wo r e ne ith er hat norbonn e t, a nd a do tte d 
bung alowap r on covered her from sh ou ldersto an kles. She sta red in
ama z e m ent, her  bro w sp uckering as sh e not ed the rum p led cond ition  of
hisclothing— h i s drawnfea tur esand h is  bloodshot ey e s .

“ Wh y, Bob! ” s he excl aim edper ple xe dly. “Wha t—why—ho w— —” 
As  sh e pau s ed, he m ov edfo rwa rd as tep, h is na ilsbi ti n g i nto the pa l m s
of  h is  cle nch ed  fist s. O h , h ow he l onged totak e  her  i nhis arm s and
tell he rthe wholemi ser able s t o ry! Litt le beads of moisture su r ged
int o h is ey es;and in amom ent sh e w a s clos e to h im, r es tin g her h a n ds 
on  h is shoulde r s .
“Tell  m e, B ob!” sh e said anxiously.“ Tel l me what isthe  mat t e r.  Wh y 
d i dn’ ty ouc o me to the house ? Why areyo u rclothes al l  mu ss ed up?” 

Choki ng ba c k his e motions,he hesita ti ngly p lac ed his han ds on he r arms.
“ D—don ’ tyou k now ?” hein qui red b rokenl y .
“Know  what? ”she de mande d. 

“I—I—— ” He hesitated to say t he wor ds. “ Hea vens, Dor a,y oumust have 
rea d last nig ht’ s p aper!  Do n ’t yo u kn o wtha t  I’
 to_be
forever haunted,_why, maybe it would_be better._Maybe_it——

With a_start,_Reynolds awoke—not from_sound sleep, but_from one of the
fitful_dozes, into which_he_had lapsed just before the gray light of
morning began to lighten the barn. With_an_ejaculation of_self-rebuke,
he_sprang_up and stood, blinking, in_the shaft of sunlight which_blazed
through a_cobwebby, dusty window. He, who had intended to_depart
before_sunrise, had overslept._He could hear persons moving about in
the farmhouse, as_well as the occasional rattling of_crockery and the
sputter_of_grease_in a frying pan.

Then_footsteps sounded outside of the barn,_and before he could
turn—could dart to_cover—the door slid back, and a girl_stood before
him. Her face, crowned by_a wavy mass of fine-spun,_fair hair,_was
the flesh-and-blood likeness of that_portrayed by the_picture he
carried_in his pocket._She wore neither hat nor bonnet,_and a dotted
bungalow_apron covered her from shoulders to_ankles._She stared in
amazement,_her_brows_puckering as_she noted the_rumpled_condition of
his_clothing—his_drawn features and his bloodshot eyes.

“Why,_Bob!”_she exclaimed perplexedly. “What—why—how——”

As she paused, he_moved forward a step,_his_nails biting into the_palms
of his clenched fists. Oh,_how he longed to take her_in his_arms and
tell_her the whole miserable story! Little beads of moisture surged
into his_eyes; and in a moment she_was close to him,_resting her_hands
on_his shoulders.

“Tell me,_Bob!”_she said_anxiously. “Tell me what is the matter._Why
didn’t you_come to the house? Why are_your clothes all mussed_up?”

Choking_back his emotions, he hesitatingly placed_his hands on her arms.

“D—don’t you_know?” he inquired brokenly.

“Know what?”_she_demanded.

“I—I——”_He hesitated to say the_words. “Heavens, Dora, you must have
read_last night’s paper!_Don’t you know that I’