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By ABEL ao RDON CURTIS, Author of * The Woman from Wolvertons"' CHAPTER VI--(Cont'd.) "Now, old man," Andrew jumped to his feet and began to pace the room impatiently, "I want to rush it on the stage--quick! Quick, I say. Hecht will take it, I know." "1 suppose you'll play the convict?" "Good God, what else could I play?" Andrew stopped suddenly and looked down at Wentworth. "You'll kill your reputation as a comedian." "Perhaps you'll be interested in knowing that I've thrown up my part in 'The Left-over Bachelor." No more doddering idiots for me! Why, it will be easy sledding to get this on." "Audrew, you're a steam engine." "Did you think I was a steam rol- ler?" "Well, it's 'waked you. up. That's dead certain. ~ Who did jy. e woman--1I told you" Merry turned aside and stood with his back to Enoch running his eyes over a vol- ume he had lifter from a bookshelf, "Say old man," suggested Went- worth, "leave that with'me over night. You've given me a lot to think about. 1 want to read it again--when I'm alone." The closely written sheets fell re- luctantly from the comedian's hand. He fondled the paper as if it were a' beloved child. "You'll be careful of it, won't you, Enoch?" he said anxiously. "It's all 1 have. My first draft was a garbled, dirty mess; I threw it away." "Bless your soul, I'll be careful. When I've finished I'll put it in safe. I'll have it typewr!!ten tomor- row." Merry laugher. "Good night, pard; I'm grateful for your faith in me." "Good night, boy." Enoch gripped his hand, "I'm terribly glad tp have you make good. Your play is won- derful." Merry went down stairs whistling. A few seconds later he turned back. He put his head in at.the door and said in a melodramatic whisper: "Rush the business, my lord, I'm ow- ing thee a hundred and much else. It shall be paid with compound interest from the first night's returns." Then he laughed and shut the door. "A hundred!" whispered Wentworth. He dropped into the chair 'beside the fire and covered his face wtih his hands. The room had grown dark and it was go silent that when a cinder fell from the grate it made him start to his feat. He searched for a small brass key on his ring, hurried into the library, and unlocked a drawer in the desk. He took a slip of paper from a yellow envelope and stood staring at it for several minutes. His brows whinkled and a curiously, startled ex- «pression came into his eyes. He drew a long breath, put the paper back in bed the envelope Taid it in the drawer, and' turned the key in the lock. He walked to a window, which looked down on the square, and stared at the life of the city. has solved many a knotty = problem with his eyes fixed unconsciously upon | the busy street, «< The thought-spell lengthened out indefinitely, then ended abruptly. He! hurried: to his den, lifted . Andrew's | manuscript, and, seated: himself before, 'he "the desk. From a lowr drawer took a heap of paper filled the ink- well almost to overflowing, and tried Thorough mixing is what makes cake delicate and tender old I It was a habit of his, He| Then, he Torr wih steady laboriousness' to copy Merry's play. Tht clock struck three before his task was ended. He gathered the manuscript into two neat piles. One he placed in his safe, the held the bit of paper he had studied so intently. * He returned to his chair beside the ghost of a fire, laid his face between his palms, and fought a battle between two antagonists, his conscience and temptation. He felt as if his soul was in shackles. CHAPTER V. The telephone in Enoch Went- worth's room 'rang insistently. - He had gone to bed three hours bclore, and he struggled to shake off sheer, stupid drowsiness. ~~ He. :ushed to the telephone: Its ring had become peremptory. "Hullo," he called briskly. "Hullo, old chap," Merry answered him gaily. "The top o' the morning to you." "Good morning," Wentworth's alert- ntss died in a second. Something flashed back to his mind, something unpleasant, and an ugly frown corru- gated his brow. "Grouchy this morning?" crial Merry with a laugh. "Op say, did I wake you from your beauty sleep?" "You certainly did." "Old man, I'm sorry, blamed SOITY. ¥ Some' day I'll show you I'm grateful I couldn't sleep last night, I lay think- ing 'of something Ican do for you when my production begins to pay. I'm going to drag you away from/the everlasting grind.- We'll go to Switz- erland next summer and carry out your dream. We'll sit on mountain tops crane our necks over the edge of a crevasse, and skid dcwn a glacier." "I'd rather go back to bed," growled Wentworth, "Your lazy old duffer, you may § vo in a second, only Iwant to talk to you about the luckiest sort of accident. Last night I ran across a fellow who's rolling in money. He's crazy to get in on a theatrical venture. We can catch him, I know. I want you, to-have a big share, to manage the thing and make all you can out of it" =< "Did you tell. him it was--your play?" Enoch's tone was brusque. "No, I thought I'd break that gent- ly. He thinks now I'm a devil of an actor; he might imagine I couldn't have so much versatility; that my play might be of the brand some actors out," "Good," cried Enoch, warmly. "You have more sense than I gave you credit for." "Really? Now, old pal, go back to But tell me first when I can see 'you. I wani a long talk with you." "Make it four. I've a pile of work to do before that time." | "All right, four o'clock. Good-bye." Wentworth hung up the receiver and passed a hand across his forehead; it was cold and damp. He did not Te- tugn to bed; but dressed. hurriedly, ,bausing once or twice to stare at him- self in the mirror, His face looked unfamiliar, It seemed to have aged There were lines about the clean-shav- en mouth he had never noticed before. At four: o'clock Enoch sat in his library. He was so absorbed that he did not hear a step in the hall. When he lifted his eyes Merry stood before him. Wntworth stared for a second j before he took the outstretched hand. Merry had changed. He looked ; young, handsome- and vivacious--he was better groomed. A few stems of Roman hyacinths sat jauntily in his buttonhole." His trimness seemdl odd in contrast to the old whimsical care- lessness, as if he had alrtady achiev- ed fame and was living up to it, dress- ing up to it. These were the thoughts that flashed through 'Wentworth's mind while Merry took his hands af-| fectionately between his own. drew was only a few years younger several pens before he found id that Io orited im. switching the, electricity under a halen d bul, other he locked in the drawer which do.' fire. A little fae big fo endl up kinjlled them into a wavering blaze, ers; re, Enoch, old fellow," : "say, don't--this is a wicked thing. to E Wentworth paid no heed to Bim: He gathered the sheets together with} them as|' quiet deliberation, "crus! one would crush some hated, despised living thing, and burned them stond satisfaction. "That funeral's over," he said ab- ruptly. "Now 'm.in a mood for-- business," - He turned to his desk.| "They | were dim with unspoken sympathy, Merry's eyes followed him. but he knew the man well enough not to put it into words, | Wentworth pulled out his Yey-Ting, opened a drawer, and took the slip of paper from the yellow envelope. He stood staring at it for a momnt, A wave of crimson swept across his mouth straightened into Merry's|- eyes were still fixed on him. Enoch face, then a truel, inexorable ' line. did not speak, but crossed the room with the paper in his hand and laid it on the table besite Merry. Andrew's eyes took it in with one 'sweeping glance; it was the bond he had Li when they played that last: hand of poker, "Do you remember this 2" Wentworth abruptly. "Of course. has that to do with our business? Oh, I know." relieved glance. ~ and as for money, Lord, I don't for money. Take all you want of it. It's fame my heart's set on; I've a grand ambition and a thirst for great- ness--as I told you--but it runs only one direction; to win a name as a dramatist, a name that will live I want a halo; not such an aureole as when my capering days are over. Shakespeare's," his eyes sparkled and ~--1I demand a halo. *I'll' be satisfied with nothing smaller that a cart wheel," He rose and went prancing ova antly about the room on his toe tips, 'humming a fantastic waltz from "The _ with asked | Say old chap, what He lifted his eyes with a "Of course it's an understood thing you're to run things] in| sunk' fae kb ---- lished concerns wh oughiisher concerma whe pain A description be Go Fe wd aT of the King at Large." Wentworth sat with| > a grim, brooding look in his eyes. An-|' drew stopped to stare at him, "Why so mum, sweet Sirrah?" he asked Blithely. "Merry," Wentworth spoke in an through--carefully: Read it alour." The actor picked up the sheet df paper and read it with dramatic ges- tures, bowing almost prostrate at: each pause. . To Enoch Wentworth, | : I hereby pledge myself to you until death--to do. your every bidding--to obey your every demand--to the ex- nt of my physical and mental ability you to furnish me with support. Andrew Merry. (To be continued.) reermteteirm------ A little girl, being lost, was taken to the police-station, and the officers in charge tried u fully to find out her name. "What pame does your mother 'call your father?" said one. "Why," replied the child in- nocently, "she don't call him any names; she likes him!" than Enoch, but occasionally he fell| || into fond, demonstrative ways which | were boyish. ~~ Wentworth drew his hand a way suddenly and pointed to , the low r Spposite, Ar 8 friend | doe i 2 hp mel n't Jo lf nro You| While almost any man can make substantial profits in feeding hogs at present prices: an lligent consid- eration of ¢ management will tend to Eo increase them. Every stage in the hog's development | should be carefully studied, the object to get maximum results at min- imum cost, - Great care is particularly necessary {2 weaning time to get the pigs safe- ly over this crisis of their lives" and | well started without any serious set- back, ~ Very: often the profits are sacrificed from a batch of pigs be- cause of lack of-skill at this time. A stunted animal of any kind is always 'unprofitable and this is doukly true of a pig. The feeding period in his life is too short to reeover the loss due to a setback at weaning, A common error which must be avoided is that. of feeding a strong grain ration to compensate for the loss of the mother's milk. - If pro- ing so freely at the 'trough as nearly to: wean themselves." About the only change to be made in the ration 'is to give them a sufficient quantity of skim milk. and it is better to do this be- fore the removal of the sow, as the loss of the dam's milk, small though it i mdy have become in quantity, is change enough at one time. 'A good the pen; protected from the mothers in which the young pigs are fed. "If this is done there should he no set back at-all when the pigs a1» weaned. i+. Build Frame, Not Fat. The very young pigs require a ra. perly managed the pigs will be eat 'many farmers make a small trough in' ae It is also palatable and easily di-| ested. ' Skim milk should always be provided where possible. If it, can't be secured, some product such as tankage, which can be obtained from the large packing houses in Toronto. should be given i the proportion of lone part of tank! Ao eight or nine parts of meal. For pigs under twelve weeks, the oat chop should be passed over a coarse screen to remove the hits, ihe very best rsults will be obtained if a quantity of bran is ad- desl, equal to that of the oat hulls ; moved. : The bran is more palata and more easily digested than the is hulls and it lightens "up the ration, preventing the meal from lying in too close-and solid a mass in the stom- | ach. Green Feed Half the Rati As the pig grows older, roof er, rape or some other kind of green food, either in the form of pasture or soilage- crop should b gradually in- troduced, until they constitute ; abouf , clov- rape after "that ane The outsile oF hom were the Yogs were killed it was was found-that there was no. fiperense: i : in the quality of bacon produced. --------r------ ne \ HAS. BUILT SE. SEA TERROR. 7 Startling Innovations: on New Bi » ' War Craft. 'While some of the newspapers in England are making a great display over the New York reports of a Ger- fan submarine service between Ham- burg' and New York, the general atti tude is one of skepticism ,on the as- SumpHoR that, Germany's shipbuilding . ards are more likely to be employed the construction of vessels of an offensive type instead of of "mail-car- AGEN Naturally what is being done is kept a profound secret. Strict pre- cautions are also taken in Great Brit opmats news of British naval Pp! ments from Peacliing enemy half of the ration oe the time the pig | nce is, three 'months old. In whatever form the green hs Sd is given it has| heen proven that it enables gains to be-made much more cheaply. In On- tario the practice has baen to the hogs.' Owing to pres conditions this practice no dof be rather asionaivly year, - Experime the Ontario A proven, however, : gains can be made hen the green crop is 'fed as REL fed in no trouble with plone ah an and there will be da Br = The ; cynosure of al British naval' eyes for some time, Hor. 'novel racteristics