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. "l 4-»; .. ' c c o o o e c o o o c o o o o c c c o e o o 3.0‘o.o~o.wc.~o.cm.o‘0.9%0.9‘o.w0¢$0,fl0.¢~~.~0.~.0‘o.o§o.o$0.0‘0.0$0.0‘ 0,0 ‘0.“ 0‘ o .9 m a e The Gypsy’s Saerlfiee A SECRET O ‘ C A ’o’ ‘5‘ "o CIlAPTE R XXII . Madge want down the stairs on Royce's arm, her heart beating fast, her face pale. Two footmen stood at the bottom of the stairs like sen- tinels. and one of them advanced to the drawingâ€"room door and opened it. with head bent respectfully. They passed in, and for a moment Madge saw nothing; a mist seemed to swim before her eyes, through which the room in all its luxury and SUbdued grandeur came dimly. Then she saw the countess, a tall, upright figure in gray satin. with jewels sparkling on her bosom and on her fingers. Beside her stood Seymour in even- ing dress, with a barely suppressed sneer of contempt on his thin lips; but as his pale eyes wandered over Madge a momentary expression of surprise and admiration shone in them. The countess came forward and held out her hand. "How do you do?" she said. She did not kiss her or say that she Was glad to see her; and to Madge the jeweled hand felt like ice. “Did you have a pleasant jour- ney? You are looking well.” Royce said “yes.” Seymour held out his hand to Madge, and bowed over hers; then extending it to Royc'e as if they had never had a difference in their life; and Royce shook it and nodded. "Won't you come near to the fire, Madge?” said Seymour with a slight hesitation before her name, as if he had half intended to call her Mrs. Landon. Madge sank into the seat he drew up for her. She had not spoken a Word as yet. The countess sat op- posite her and looked at her. She saw that she was more beautiful than ever she, the countess, had thought, that she was dressed in good and modest taste, that the evening dress seemed to have grown upon her; that no one could see her without being struck by the loveliâ€" ness of her face, the grace of her form; but all the While, as she look- ed at her, she was saying: “A gypsy, a gypsy; a common girl, a Vagabond!" She could find no word to say to her. She could not ask after Madge’s motherâ€"or fatherâ€"or any of her relations. The mere thought of them sent a shudder through' the countess and made her hot. And she was her daughterâ€"in-law, her son’s wife! Royce and Seymour stood talking together, in the forced and unnatural manner in which men talk who, though closely related, dislike and distrust each other; but Royce glanced now and again at the two women, and his heart ached for his beautiful Madge. He knew what she was suffering. "I suppose you have been traveling a great deal?” Madge looked up, and the countess felt a spasm of unwilling admiration stealing through her as the dark, pure eyes with their timidly sad ex- pression met her own proudly cold ones. “No, madam,” said Madge. ‘have not traveled much. We only been in London.” Another silence. ’Ihe countess not- iced the "madam," and the clear bell-like voice; but neither the tone of respect nor the sweetness of the tone in which it was uttered softened her heart. "Royce has coached her,” she thought bitterly. “London is xery empty just now, I suppose." she .‘said. “Oh, no, it is quite full! The crowd was so great that sometimes Jack and I could scarcely make our way along the streets." “Jack?” "Iâ€"I mean Royce." "I did not know." "It is the name he gave meâ€"” She stopped. “Pray call yOUr husband what you please," said the countess with a fine blending of courtesy and con-! tempt, which passed over Madge like a cold wind. ‘ But her eyes droopcd meekly. This, was her first lesson, and she would not forget it. “Did you like London?" asked the countess. “I thought it was wonderful. I had never been thcrc before. But I should not like to live there; it is too big and too noisy; one feels as if one were quite alone there." “You had 'never been to London?" “N0,” saill Madge. “Our people â€"â€"-â€"" She stopped the blood rushed to her face. the room swam beforei her. The countess drew herself upi and turned away from her, palpablyn to the men. “ls it not dinner time, Seymour?" she said. I “Yes, madam," he replied, looking: at his Watch: “but we are waiting; for Irene, I imagine." “.\‘he had a headache and went to lie down," said the countess. Madge remembered Irene, started slightly at the sound of her name. She looked around the room. She had not only" n-3\ ‘r seen such i: ‘l x ~:nit limli newer read of one. ' ' [(We have I l l i l .i':l‘ctl c 'il 0 O c o c o o O O 0 O. o c c o a o 0 e o <>9.0M.0M.0§0.0N..‘0.o‘o.o$o.o~.ov.om. bopsagas...Q...s..oso..5..o§¢¢‘c..~m;9 , light. REVEALED ‘6 .0 ing, picked out with olive and gold; the painted walls, the pictures, the marble statuettes, the great marble and ormolu fireplace; the Venetian mirrors and rich silk hangings, all filled her with a sense of wonder which oppressed her. Then she glanced at the countess and sighed. She seemed to Madge to belong to a different species to herself. She had seen ladies as they drove past the string of caravans on the road, and hail sometimes spoken to themâ€"asked them to permit her to tell their fortunesâ€"at raco meet- ings; but never until now did she understand the vast difference be- tween them and herself. 'And she had married the son of one of the proudest and haughtiest of these “gentry.” Her hcait sank; she longed for Royceâ€"no longer Jack, alaSlâ€"to come near to her and encourage her with a word or a smile, or a pres- sure of the hand. sense of loneli- ness fell upon her like a chilly cloud. The vaulted ceiling with its painted flowers and birds seemed to be crush- ing down upon her. And then the door openedâ€"a figure in white stood for a moment at the Opening, and glided toward her. It was Irene. all in white, with. a pale orchid mauve in her golden hair. To Madge she appeared like a. V1- sion, ethereal; her feet seemed scarce- ly to touch the ground; her loveli- ness was so spiritielle that, in her state of confusion and bewilderment, Madge would not have been surprisâ€" ed if she had seen the slim, graceful figure float ceilingward. Irene passed Royce and Seymour with a, murmured “Royce!” and made straight for Madge. Madge rose, as if compelled, and her handsome face flushed. She ex- pected Irene to say, coldlyv "HOW do you do? Have you had a pleas- ant journey?" But Irene took her hand and, bending forward, kissed hen; not on the brow, but on the red, Pure lips; nota cold kiss, which means "I hate you," but a warm, girlish tender kiss that went straight to poor Madge's heart, and brought tears to her eyes. “Oh, I am so sorry I am late!” said Irene, seating herself beside her, and still holding her hand. “But I had a bad headache and went to lie down, andI fell asleep, and did not hear the bell. 1 am so sorry! for I meant to go down to the lodge and meet you. Will you forgive me dear Madge?" Madge was speechless for a mom- ent. The sweet voice rang in her ears, echoed in her heart, filling her with gratitude and love. “I am sorry your head ached," she said in a low voiCe, tremulous with the feelings Irene‘s tenderness had called 'up. “Are you better now?" “Quite,” said Irene with a smile, but even as she answered M‘adgel noticed that the lovely face was pale: and looked worn, and that there were dark shadows under the eyes; that the smile was sad as well as tender. “Quite; I am used to headaches"â€" lately, she was going to add, but checked herself. “And have you had a good time? How well Royce looks.” She glanced at him; only just glanced. “I have so much to say to youâ€"" “Dinner is served, my lady." Seymour came across the room to the two girls and offered his arm to Madge. ‘ She did not know what he meant for a moment, then she rose and put her hand in his arm. He smiled covertly at her hesitelion, but said courteously enough: “I hope you have a good appetite, Madge. You should have after your long journey." He led her into the (liningâ€"room, and put hcl‘ in a scat; and the sense of bewilderment came rushing back upon her. The room, with its oak panelling and pictures, its old tapestry hangâ€" ings, loomed richly in the subdued The table glittcred with cut-‘ glass and silverâ€"plate. In the centre. and in shinning epcrgnes were choice flowers, which shone like colored gems against the white cloth, and fillcal the air with their fragrance. : There were three footincn in ri.h. livery as well as lllt‘ butler, and, to Madge, they all seemed to he lookâ€" ingr at her, watching- for some mis- take, some blunder on her part. She 10okerl down at her platen noticed that there were two knives and forks, and three wint- glasscs at‘ the side, and her hmrt sank. Sliei knew that she must blunder, must do SOlllcthing wrong. Seymour went to the bottom of tlzcl table, Royce Sat Oliptrilc l-ni', anal1 Irene by her side. Scymor pronounc- ed a long grace with a sanctified ex- pression on his face, and in :1 kind of (haul, and llllllli'l' commenced. Madge watchtnl lrt-uc before she ventured to take up bwr \lun'll [my the soup, and when ilic foolinnu brought round lllv hot-k said. “Tao. thank you," as iron» tlltl. 'l‘lhthinpx. they brought bu' \ nun-vi i-n'llt-ss, an I. 'xllt‘ 11-5125 «'l tin-m one after the nth-u" until lrenc, who talked continuously, said: "But you are eating nothing, M'adg‘c, door. You must take some of these cutlets." Madge might have responded, “You _\'()urr.clf, ent. very little," for Irene seemed to have as little nppolilc as Madge; but she took the outlet withâ€" out a word. She noticed that some of the things were eaten with a fork only. for no apparent reason, and flint when she put her knife and fork down in her plate the footman in- stantly removed it. lie seemed to her to be watching her every inâ€" stnnl, as indeed he was; and she wondered how the rest. could go on eating and talking as unconcernedly as if the servants were not present. far to wander, only a few rluys!~to the meals she and he had eaten around the camp-fire; and it Scemol to her marvelous that he coul-zl ever have endured the roughnch and wildâ€" ness of his surroundings; and as she listened to his deep, musical voice as he talked to the countess, she asked herself if it could be possible that the aristocratic gentleman in evening (lrcsz‘u with the footman beâ€" hind his chair, could really be Jack, the horse dealer of the gypsics; and whether she could be Madge Lee, who a week ago lived in a caravan and wore a red shawl, with Mother Katie and Lottie and Tony for compan- ions? And even at that moment the camp rose before her, and her heart ached with a wistful tenderness for them all! Did they miss her? Hail ’l‘ony cried much? Had be forgotten her? Meanwhile she listened to the talk going on round her. It was as strange to her as the great house, the magnificent rooms, the cutâ€" glass, the plate, the noiseless serâ€" vants. She heard Jackâ€"no, Royceâ€"asking his mother about Lord and Lady Balfarras, and Sir William and the Duchess of Kingford; and she realiz- ed how widely she was separated from all these people. The dinner proceeded, and, marvel- ous to relate, she had made no great blunder as yet; but presently the footman put on the desert service; 'the plates were of rare Sevres. To each person was placed a finger- bowl of old English cutâ€"glass, as rare and almost as precious as the Sevres. Now Madge had declined all the wines excepting a glass of claret, and thinking that the Water in the finger-glasses was for drinking, was about to take it in her hand, when Irene quickly, yet so softly, said: “You are admiring theSe old glass- es, dear? They are very, very old; I think they came from Holyrodd Pal- ace; and it is just possible Mary, Queen of Scots dipped her fingers in them as We do now," and She dipped her fingers in the scented water, and wiped them on her napkin. “I did not know." “Are they not beautiful with the bloom on them?" she said. "1 want to show you the hot- houses, and the conservatories. Are you fond of flowers, Madge? But what a silly question. All women love flowers. I cut nearly all these myself. Mr. Thomas, that's the head gardener, was in a good humor this morning. Sometimes he is not, and thenâ€"-" She laughed. She talked on, the kind of talk. which does not iequire anything more than a. monosyllable in rc‘ sponse, and so, as it were, covered and protected Madge in her shyness and ignorance, Royce bent forward every now and then, and said a word or two, and smiled enCOuragingly and lovingly; but the countess sat with averted eyes, and Seymour watched his new sisterâ€"in-law with a smile which bareâ€" ly Concealed a, sneer; waiting an op- portunity to embarrass and dis- comfort her. He waited until there was a pause in the conversation and amid pro- found silence said, bending forward with a sauve smile: “Do you take any interest in mis- sionai'y workâ€"erâ€"Ma-dge’?” Madge looked up with a start, glanced at; Royce almost appcalillgly. and then looked at Seymour timillly, the Color coming and going on her beautiful face. “Missionary vaguely. Royce bit his lip and Came to her resetle. He saw that Seymour's inâ€" tention was to humiliate Madge, and mortify him. work?" she repeated “No! Why should she?" he Said, grimly, almost fiercely. “011, why should she not? You do hcr an injustice, I am sure, my dear ltoycc. l was going to tell her about our mission at ’l‘inibuctoo. Perhaps you have heard of iLâ€"â€"cl‘â€" Madge?" lrcnc COUltl fccl .guiirst her dress Madgc's hand trembling. 'l‘licf‘o was 'nu intense Sllt-llCL‘, l{U_\Ct"S face growing dark and angry as he saw Mailgc's distrc». 1"01' a lllt)lllt‘.ll slu‘ was speechless, thcn she lifted lit-r glorious cj.t.’$ and juruell tlit-ii' light upon her lorincir tor. “'l‘iznlmcioo?” Silo Slid in a 10w \‘oitc wl'ich lliltl ti‘l'llll'll lrcuu when r‘ll': first licnzil it. “'l‘invbu-gfoo is a lawn in Central Africa, clnsi- to the and solemn border of the l‘vsmt of Sulfur-.1, about eight mills north of the Niger." She hml learnt-ll it from .nw of lin- bimks sht- buzl ll't’ilflli'i‘li up in Iii-r (VIIIRHU, 21ml will! that \x'ouliwa'lul Iii-uimz') \‘-lrl"ll :lcvmubanil-~ Invil'v-‘t ‘ luull‘b I'ci-z-ati-l tile ])L.l‘il'_”xti‘.-il word for cur-l Suciilovlrs {:1‘1- \l..~' n St'ltl)’. l‘t turn-if l'k‘ll, null his lllOllll and >hiit. llc |lltl not lurwr.‘ any, Oiu‘ mil inl .guod rtsults. As she looked across at Royce her’ mind wandered backâ€"it had not vcry : ‘clotli for a moment, looked full into Soy»: WINTER SPIIAYING. Th“ Practice of spraying tl‘ccs and shrubs when they are (lormunt is becoming widespread. it has bccll recogui/evl that in this way many of llll' s; ores of fungi are killed be- ful‘c they can do harm by reproducâ€" l”f=.' tilt-insulves in the fruit, leav'es or the tree. Just what eflicacy there is in Winter spraying we do not yet know, but it is bclicvcd that much “inter spraying is in- Cllzsive of that done at any time beâ€" fore lhl' buds open, even late in March, while the buds are swelling. Run many people that are in doubt al out the necessity of spraying trees When dormant. yet follow the prac- tht', to be on the Sdfc side. It is certain that if, as some have sup- posed, the. spores of the apple scab fungus lucs over in the bark of the trcc or on rubbish on the ground, spraying will do good. The man that is prepared to spray late in til-e winter is in a position to be prompt with the. same work later; and it is proniptness that is necesâ€" sary. Some men do not spray till a few days after they should have completed the \Vka, and the pests for which they sprayed get the upper hand and keep it. The first spray- ing of the apple should be while the tree is dormant. This is likely to check the apple scab. If this sprayâ€" ing is omitted, the first one should be given when the leaf buds are open and before the flower buds exâ€" pand. This spraying should be with llordcaux mixture for the scab. If the bud worm has been prevalent in the neighborhood, spray with Paris green as soon as the. leaf tips ap- pear in the buds. This treatment will also check the caseâ€"bearer. If the apple trees are affected by San Jose Scale, then spray with whale oil soapâ€"two pounds to a gallon of water, when trees are dormant), or use crude pctroleum at the rate of 25 per cent. or kerosene in the pro- portion of one to live in water. Ap- plv the soap or petroleum before the buds start. DOES POULTRY PAY? Poultry may be successfully raised on land that is both thin and hilly. The rental for such land is low. If the poultryman has a fifty-acre plot of which half is fertile, 2:“) acres may be devotcd to breeding yards and the balance to the raising of grain with which to feed the flocks. Willi a hO-acre farm, oneâ€"half de- voted to poultry culture and the other to the raisingr of grain, a man can with one hired assistant. clear more money in a year than he could had he worked a section of land for all it was worth. He can grow fowlsâ€"chickens, turkeys, ducks and geeseâ€"both for eggs and meat and with our rapidly growing population and the consequort increasing deâ€" mand. there will never be a time when a young chicken will beg for a place in the market at from. 25 to 30 cents. On the contrary, the mar- ket will beg for the fowls at prices from 25 to 50 per cent. higher. I'oultry is as sure a crop as any that may be grown on the farm. True, you may have cholera or some other troublesome disease, and your flocl: may be greatly reduced, but are not droughts and cyclones likely to play equally as much havoc with growing crops? To the man who is interested in say, for though Timbuctoo was often on his lips, he had not the least idea as to where it stood in Africa. And this “common @1sz girl" had turned his weapon of sarcasm upon him and beaten him! Royce stared from one to the other, then he lean- ed back and laughed; the laugh which had in the old time been so keen a delight to the countess and Irene. “Bravo, thlgc!" he said with grim exultation. “You’ve given my brother some information, eh, Sey- mour'?” “My dour Royce We are not all so ignorant as yourself. Every seliool- boy knows where ’l‘imbuctoo is." “Every schoolgirl does not, any way." said lrenc in her soft, sweet voice. “I (lid not, for instance." “Come tlcnr," said Irene. Seymour rose to open the door, but Royce sll'mlu before him, and as Irene passed him be bent his head and whispered: "Thank you, her." lri-nc l‘tll<0ll her eyes to his for a moment only, but Said nothing, and the ladies passed out. "\\'ill you have Royce!" Royce stood looking down at tile then lll' raised Irene. llc kind to some IJOl‘i , his bead and [Hours eyes. “i “nut 21 ‘x'ul‘tl with yet," ll“ snivl, and in: lllufll' a sign to thu- lm‘llvl‘ to have the rn um. Wilt-n tic (llnil‘ hull (’llrl‘d Iil'on tl-nl gl'u‘m- fun"limi;ir_\, liogt'c rail; alt-:‘nly: ">‘ug\in..-ir, l \‘.'.:llf to ask you 3 (llll‘,'if!i‘.n ‘ (‘1‘! vi :i._\ «ll-.ii‘ “JIM-f. S'lll Seaman , l 311‘ !:I.~ cluss an". (‘j‘wfng' hip. is. v-uw 'i:- :l- mun .nul it i tlnis- is it to to ]:4'_lt"c or war be- (“:n‘iimel.) poultry we say by all means go into the poultry business. Select a suitâ€" able location, go a little slow the [lust year until you acquire a little experience, and then let people know that you are in the business by a judicious use of advertising space. Even if you are raising poultry for purva nmrkct usos, it Will [my t0 make it known that from you strictâ€" ly fresh ('p'g's in any quantity, and lhn finest fowl: may always be had. Thin bear in mind that cleanliness is the life of poultry and strive to keep yonr plan‘u scrupulously clean. Pcrsevcrance and hard work. only will he required to crown your ef- forts with success. FEEDING ON THE FARM. There is no better way of keeping land fertile than by feeding all crops upon it, because manure is fertility pretty quickly available, and we are loss (lcpcmlcnt upon the natural strcngth of the soil. More than this, the incorporation of manure Willi the soil furnishes both physical an-i clicmiCnl conditions that enable. the plant to use some of the origin- ul soil clemt-nts; but we have a class of writcrs who assume that this is the only rational way. regardless of illt‘ fact that the Creator must have inttnded that people eat something besides meat and milk, and that grains. vegetables and fruits must be taken away from the farms pro- ducing them. If that be true it is a narrow view that is taken by any‘ one urging all to feed their farin- producls for the sake of the land's fertility. Other ways of maintain- ing it are open to us. Half of the fertility of the crops now fed on the farm fails to get back to,the land through the manure on account of careless methods. This is woeful waste. because the plant-food in it is so readily available; but it is men- tioned to show that many a stock- man is far more dependent upon the natural strength of his land for [:1nnlâ€"footl than another may wholly be by keeping his soil in good phyâ€" sical cendition through sods and fertilizing crops Without any feeding upon the farm. The method is unâ€" safe in careless hon-(ls, and a good supply of manure is the best key for unlocking additional soil fertility; but the chief need of farmers today is to rccognlm the importance of good physical condition of the soil and to regard it rather than the amount of plant-food they may be putting into the ground or taking out of it. BOYS ON THE FARM. Lots of boys are driven from the farm by the treatment they receive there. You cannot work a boy from ten to fourteen hours a day. be- grudging him a day off and depriv- ing him of an opportunity to make a. little money, and have a little fun on his own account. and then expect that he is going to stay on the farm. Boys are not built that Way. But if you treat tluun right, encour- age their originality and foster their development and the doing of things for thcinselves, the average boy is levelâ€"headed enough to realize the ad- vantages (.fi’ercd by rural life. Some fathers make the mistake of trying to drive boys instead of working with them. or fail to recognize the rapidity with which a bright boy gains knowll‘dge and experience heâ€" tWCcn 1‘3 and 20, and how quickly he m-iy know more or have better judgment in some matters than his father. The parents are quite as often at fault as the boys in those cases when the complaint comes that the boys Won't stay on the farm. DA l RV NOTES. Skim the milk before the cream is sour. if the cream is eXCtzsinvely sour there will be a loss of butter fat. When the cows haV'e been long in milk, the churning becomes more difficult. Working out the buttermilk and working in the salt are where the overworkng is done. All the cremn should be stirred thoroughly every llllllC fresh cream is added. One cause of Suit butter, especialâ€" ly in winter, is (:‘lllllllillg too long. The chum should always be stopped when the butter is in granular form. Always churn as soon as thcre is cream enough aml Sllfllf’ll‘nt acidilv develops. If cream is held beyond that, it will be injured. Cream should :idt be allowed to get too warm while ripening. Keep it at. about ($0 'll'g‘l‘vl‘s. if allowed to become too warm. the butter will come Soft and white. _â€"-_._+.__.â€"_ A PICKUX POST SERVICE. The only regular pit-yon post scr- \'ice is run betwwn Los Angl-lcs (in ('aliforbiu; and flu- liltln town of Avalon, (m ('utnllmt bland, during the Sflnlllll‘l' months. The Cl-lmity with which those messages are dc- !i\..>in-l car. only be beau-n by tclts l‘llwl!" or H-lwg‘raph. The air line is :.:t,\- mi'ws butwi-cn the two plut‘t-=, "(l m:- of lhc [vigil-ous mmm’nplisli - chlulz'» llll'lll‘ thl- llnlll’. ,\ um“! ruivli‘w' .< worn 1! ju-zL'l: Iv}: tlzv sun'm‘. Small Iiills lm-lu,‘ uluiilt ‘nul n .iznnolnz'm that “l’li’mlv- m nus hurl lm-i‘. ,. orrlm‘c ll': lw fn"r "fir-lull a! mi, hour if lbw «l-y. (:lhl‘ i, 1-..;,r.~n_li«;'. \zi h 11m tl-l plum; ~': olul Iul‘lw lim: in nu; 31> HH'l 1. ‘.l,.l . '1 l‘vrorui' r 0 2'3, III. M‘” "\W‘zf.‘ ob tini'm " "'l'lrv.'.'.'~ :h‘ 2' 1:1?" “About lb.- :.,