Tales Of Men And Ghosts

n the day of the Bankshires' dinner; but in the middle of the f

tant matter. Expect me

aragraph of the morning paper describing a fancy-dress dinner which had taken place the nig

ille were Miss Daisy Bankshire, looking more than usually l

constantly the names of the young people appeared together in the society notes he so insatiably devoured. Even the soulless rep

ng a gavotte, all patches and plumes, or fingering a guitar, all tulle and lilies; and once he had caught a glimpse of her at the theatre. Hearing that Ronald was going to a fashionable first-night with the Bankshires, Mr. Grew had for once overcome his repugnance to following his son's movements, and had secured for himself, under the shadow o

on. The late Mrs. Grew had no more resembled Miss Daisy Bankshire than he had looked like the happy victorious Ronald. And the mystery was that from their dull faces, their dull endearments, the miracle of Ronald should have sprung. It was almost-fantas

d, with his fatal tendency to reach too far when he reached at all, had singled out the prettiest girl in Wingfield. When he recalled his stammered confession of lov

you know-have you ever thou

: Addie Wicks was the dullest girl in town.

contingency. His own wants were few: he had transferred the Wingfield furniture to Brooklyn, and his sitting-room was a replica of that in which the long years of his married life had been spent. Even the florid carpet on which Ronald's tottering footsteps had been taken was carefully matched when it became too threadbare. And on the marble centre-table, with its chenille-fringed cover and bunch of dyed pampas grass, lay the illustrated Longfellow and the copy of Ingersoll's lectures which represented literature to Mr. Grew when he had led home his bride. In the light of Ronald's romance, Mr. Grew found himself re-living, with a strange tremor of mingled pain and tenderness, all the poor prosaic incidents of his own personal h

Mr. Grew's marriage, that he had taken his wife to New York to hear the great Dolbrowski. Their evening had been magically beautiful, and even Addie, roused from her habitual inexpressiveness, had quivered into a momentary semblance of life. "I never-I never-" she gasped ou

I wisht I knew how!" she burst out sudd

ted his head an

heepish laugh. And they continued to stare at each

l, I owe her that anyhow-poor Addie!" he said, with a smile at the inconsequences