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AWAKENING By Jean Berthe Translated by Wm. L. McPherson She was a tall young woman, with 'pale cheeks and dark hair. She enter- ed the office on the ground “00", where the minor officials had their quarters, and asked if she could speak to the Colonial Service Director. “Yes, but you will have to wait some timeâ€"half an hour, possibly three- quarters.” “I'll wait," she said. She took a seat on a bench where some others were already waiting- 'There was a working woman, who had a baby on her arm; also a very 01d Sister of Charity and two soldiers with worn tunics. Although it was 2 'o'clock in the afternoon, the electric "lights had to be turned on in the 'gloomy, ill-cared-for room, and they brought out all its ugliness. Marthe closed her eyes and asked herself once more why see had come. She was astonished at the ease with which she had decided to take a fresh start in life A disappointment, a shat- tered dream! Certainly she knew well that such setbacks are common in the lives of oversensitive people who let their hearts carry them away too quickly in the hard competition for happiness. Others take up the strug- .gle again and buoy themselves up with eternal hope. But she, through weak- ness or pride, had renounced that bit- ‘ter effort. What she sought now was another skyâ€"and forgetfulness. Plunged in her reverie, she didn't notice that her companion had left the bench and that she was sitting there alone. A door opened and an em- ployee approached her. The director has l‘een called out. You will not be able to see him to-day. But his secretary will receive you.” It made little difference to her. She followed her guide through a corridor that seemed interminable. Then she found herself, without knowing how, in a clear, bright room, whose win- dows opened on a garden. A young man arose and bowed to her. On his desk was a bouquet of fresh red roses.~ “You want some information?” She felt embarrassed. To speak of herself and tell her story seemed trt- terly impossible. Nevertheless, his courteous manner inspired confidence. She answered, after a slight hesita- tion: “Yes. It is for a friend of mine who thinks of expatriating herself. She is of my ageâ€"twenty-twoâ€"and conse- quently legally a major and free. She has diplomas, speaks several lan- guages and doubtless could be of some service wherever you sent her." "Doubtless," the young man repeat- ed.‘ “We need, in fact, all kinds of as- sistance, all sorts of willing workers. Let your friend make out a formal ap- plication and I will do what is neces- sary, ‘I promise you, to obtain a prompt answer for her.” “Thank you!" said Marthe Lesner, with a glance that conveyed her grati- tude. _ "Since your friend is free," the young man continued, “she will have a good opportunity to establish herself satisfactorily, if she becomes accli- matized in her new place of residence. We encourage marriages among the French colonists. We want to see homes founded. That is the best means of assuring a prosperity which is too often lacking.” She blushed and didn’t dare to look at him. She had expected to find 11er- self in the presence of some gruff-man- nered personage, perhaps an old man, and she hadn't recovered from her as- tonishment. The cordial voice rattled on, with a frankness in which there was perhaps a touch of irony. “It is a. good example to follow. Doesn't it tempt you?" “Not in the least,’ she assured him. “One can do one's duty anywhere,” the secretary added. His voice had become grave. She took her leave without offering him her hand. He conducted her to the end of the interminable corridor. I t t I .1 Now she was walking on the quais, along the Seine. It was a spring day, clear and mild. The stream flowed in a. scintillating mass. reflecting the golden rays of the sttn. The trees on both banks were heginning‘to bud. Their little green leaves opened in the light as if with hands greedy toiseize‘ it. Ahd the old buildings, in their robe of grayish stone ,seemed to be rejuve- nated. Marthe was not in a hurry home. A sudden .change had come1 over her and she wasn't able to analyze its causes. She had got up that morning with her will firmly fixed a and her reason in accord with her will. She had weighted everything for and against. She had ardently desired to? have the matter settled as promptly as possible. But when she came into the: presence of the man who cculd aid: her she had changed her mind. She‘ hadn’t even dared to tell him the! truth. to admit that she herself was’ the applicant. Why? Had felt to go she ‘then, two youths had smiled at each: 'tiny. troubled, undoubtedly, with theE T seemsto be generally accepted now that anyone who is interested in a motor car must consider the Gray-Dort. ' a More and more men are coming to regard the Crayâ€"Dori as the best light car and the biggest value at any price. ,7. '9‘.‘ 4 This intensely favorable attitudeflto the Gray- Dort is the result of the complete value of this carâ€"low price, gasoline and tire econ- omy, unusual good looks, power, speed, comfort and long trouble-free life. feature is sacrificed. Not one Naturally, such value makes it difficult to . supply the demand. Gray~Dort dealers are able to make early deliveries to a few owners. See yourdealer now. W. G. BALDOCK, RICHMOND Hill, ONT. A. A. BRILLINGER, THORNillLL, 0N1. G CHATHAM, ONTARIO RAYa-DORT Morons, LIMITED y some sudden attraction unknown, who had talked so sym-Justice on earth. pathetically with her and had seemed J differently. for a moment to be interested in her; Go away! that was the use? Spring ‘sang its cradle song ~â€" the eternal‘ fate? Not the least in the world! But’lwords which we listen to and only half believe. There was an immediate other, and that was enough to rid her promise or joy i“ the am She “1”.”an ‘ of her desire to go away. She would , go. She would try to meet again on not return to that clear. bright Office E her old. pathway the changing visage in which he had received her. She}0f mppmess' would probably never see him again! Thefidor Of the “9d r0595 “'33 With But out of that brief interview had 1 her Sum come an idea of compelling force. To go away! To exile herself and! . . . seek beyond the SC‘flS a different dcs- Now she thought -.y-‘___ Vaccinating Alfred. A weil-knsv.’r itrnnlist, Mr. Arthur \Vztrrcn has \yt.tttr.i an entertaining: bcrl; of reminiscences ext tied Lon- tlcr. Days. Among the unit; ng stories in ll is one about Lord Tennyson and a qucm‘ neighbor of l: . a Mrs. Camer- ller' (‘21. viii.) photogra} v.11 the Celebri- tms \Vlzo mine to Mm: the chief cele- brity of then! :tii. )irs. same inqnictudcs? “One can do onc's duty anywhere." the young man he] said. in his c'tlm. surc voice. She no longer saw life under the sum[3 deco-i lute aspect. Hope llfltl revived in heart. Became site had Sufi-rel. because she had shed the first imr; of dish-1 she had bclicvcd hat‘ .. n.1,. . a co citric lady who were velvet gowns u-tralit‘.‘ ‘ -~ ,. .. (illllE‘itui new: lusicttnzent. toward this lthere was no longer either loyalty or in the dusty roads," as an old coun- tryman described her. Her graphy was that of an amateur, but her skill in it was remarkable. So was . her persistence. She was intimate with the Tennysons and always called the poet by his Christian name. One day during a smallpox scare she rushed with a stranger in tow to Ten- nyson's house and into the room where Tennyson was sitting. “Alfred,” she cried, "I have brought a doctor to vaccinate you: You must be vacci- nntedf" Tennyson, horrified. fled to an adm joining room and bolted the dcor. "Alfred! Alfred!" Mrs. Cameron cullcl. “l'vc brought a doctor to vac- cinate you. You must be vaccinated; you really innstf" There was no reply. "0 Alfred, you‘re a cowardf” cried the un'luuntctl and resourceful lady. "Come and be vaccinated!” And at that the reluctant poet came [crib and surrendered. photo- v r i , l 1 i I l i 1 What’s the Difference? "We have filmed your book, profes~ sor," said the moving picture director, "and a check for $5,000 is waiting for you.” "But I hardly feel that I should take it," replied the college professor. “I saw the photoplay and it doesn’t re- semble the book at all. You see there has been a mistakeâ€"” “Oh don‘t let that trouble you. Our : scenario writer can turn anything into a photcplziy, no matter what it is. By the way, what was the name of your novel?” "That's what I want to explain." an- swered the professor. "I made a mis- take; instead of sending you my novel [sent you my text-book on algebra." o .o- _â€" Goods Not Received. liacPherson (at the box office)â€" ‘ “Will ye kindly return me the amount I paid for amusement tux?” Clerkâ€"“Why, sir?" . MacPhersonâ€""We wasna amused.”