The Sonora Sun. (Sonora, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 37, Ed. 1 Saturday, March 27, 1909 Page: 3 of 8
eight pages : ill. ; page 22 x 15 in. Digitized from 35 mm. microfilm.View a full description of this newspaper.
- Highlighting
- Highlighting On/Off
- Color:
- Adjust Image
- Rotate Left
- Rotate Right
- Brightness, Contrast, etc. (Experimental)
- Cropping Tool
- Download Sizes
- Preview all sizes/dimensions or...
- Download Thumbnail
- Download Small
- Download Medium
- Download Large
- High Resolution Files
- IIIF Image JSON
- IIIF Image URL
- Accessibility
- View Extracted Text
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
r knows noth-
Jad for the
for the paint,
the property,
e a skilled
leave every,
ouse-owner so
e or the other
every commit,
t incompetent
*«d a const i-
titractor, and
t generally by
> next place,
is hired, they
to him, as so
■last they do.
inorantly and
st sometimes
t without in-
are good or
nsist on the
rk.
that painter's
mouth,” the
> says goes—
sted painting
away a few
0 thoroughly
hat painters
‘sa he's side-
ork. I won t
terhavetodo
s continually
rwitse handi-
?aning It, of
le inevitable
Be.
houseowner
It might
tctical paint
ons and in-
paint adul-
>?ad Co. are
of House
No. 49. Ad-
1902 Trinity
lis company
eave that to
they make
loy Painter”
ty can tell
by securing
te.
led Freddie.
1 medicine.”
my dear,”
very doubt-
t in7"—liar-
:t“d Instru-
ilreme, re-
t ttiiluence.
tire to diug
roubles are
5 externally
a< soothing
he druggist.
e maid. “I
Hunter, but
cannot be
lilied, pock-
king about
ats all my
planned a
nagined we
i have had
s the ordt-
et in which
tking uten-
tiian natur-
ler comes
falteringlv.
ssty. Give
ik It over,
hat—”
thows how
lly Was.
ting coffee
listing that
iscure but
•offee and
d is often
'ks which,
y, become
recently:
ad a good
ee. I con-
the cause
> it causes
had sick
tiize that
till about
un In my
iervous I
run down,
medicines
quit oof-
n. After
recovered
Mon*. can
ism It all
o. , Rattle
oils little
" in pkgs.
? a an*
>e. TSey
it tiaiaa
CHAPTER I.
The Man with the Moles.
The first time that Col. Rupert Win-
ter saw Cary Mercer was under cir-
cumstances calculated to tl* the inci-
dent firmly in his memory. In the
year 190:1, home from the Philippines
on furlough, and preparing to return
to a task big enough to ultract him
in spite of Its exile and hardships, he
had visited the son of a ftieml at Har-
vard. They were walking through the
corridors of one of the private dormi-
tories where the boy roomed. Halher
grimly the soldier's eyes were noting
mat hie wainscoting and tiled floors,
and contrasting this academic en-
vironment with his own at West Point.
A caustic comment rose to his lips,
lint it was not uttered, for he heard
the sharp bark of a pistol, followed by
a thud, and a crackle as of breaking
glass.
"Do you fellows amuse yourselves
shooting up the dormitory?” said he.
The boy halted; he had gone white.
"It came from Mercer's room!" he
cried, and ran across the corridor to
a door with the usual lahellng of two
visiting cards. The door was not
locked. Filtering, they passed into a
vestibule, thence through another
door which stood open. For many a
day after the colonel could see just
how the slender young figure looked,
the shoulders in a huddle on the study
table, one arm swinging nerveless; be-
side him. on the floor, a revolver and
a broken glass bottle. The latter
must have made the crackling sound.
Some dark red liquid, soaking the
open sheets of a newspaper, filled the
room with the pungent odor of alco-
hol. Only tlte lop of the lad's head
showed—a curly, silky, dark brown
head; hut even before the colonel lift-
ed It lie had seen a few thick drops
matting the brown curls. He laid the
head back gently and his hand slipped
to the hoy's wrist.
"No use. Ralph,” he said in Hie sub-
dued tones that the voice takes un-
consciously in the presence of death.
‘ And Kndy was going to help him,"
almost sobbed Ralph. "He told me
lie would. Oh. why couldn't he have
trusted, his friends!"
The colonel was looking at the
newspaper—"Was It money?” said he;
for a glance at the dabbled sheet had
brought him the headings of the stock
quotations: "Another Sharp Break
in Stocks. New London Records." It
had been money. Later, after what
needed to be done was over, after doc-
tors and officers of the law were gone.
Col. Winter heard (he wretched story.
A young, reckless, fatally attractive
Southerner, rich friends, college so-
cieties, joyous times; nothing really
wicked or vicious, only a surrender to
youth and friendship and pleasure,
and then the day of reckoning—duns,
college warnings, the menace of black
disgrace. The young fellow was an
orphan, with no near kindred save one
brother much older than he. The
brother was reputed to be rich, ac-
cording to southern standards, and
young Mercer, who had just come into
a modest patrimony of his own. Invest-
ed in his brother's ventures. As to
the character of these ventures,
whether flimsy or substantial, the col-
onel's informants were absolutely
ignorant. All they knew of the elder
Mercer was that he was often In New
York and had "a lot to do with Wall
street.” He wasn't a broker; no, he
was trying to raise money to hang on
to some Idg properties thut he had:
and the stocks seemed to be going at
remarkable rates Just now, the bot-
tom dropping out of the market. If a
certain stock of the Mercers—they
didn't know the name—could be kept
above 2? he would pull through. Col.
Winter made no comment, but he
remembered that when he had studied
the morning's stock-market pages-for
himself, he had noted "had slump in
the southern steels," and "Tidewater
on the toboggan slide; off three to
four points, declining from 27 and a
fraction to 2:i."
"Another victim of the Wall street
■Bates." was the colonel's silent judg-
ment on the tragedy. "Lucky for her
his mother's dead."
The next morning he had returned
and hatl gone to his young friend's
rooms.
The bov was still full of the horror
of the da> before. Mercer's brother
was In Cambridge, he said—arriving
that morning from New York. "ICndy
is going to fetch him round to get hint
out of the reporters' way sometime
this evening: may he there's something
I can do"-thin In explanation of
his declining to dine with the colonel.
As the two entered the rooms, Win-
ter was a little In advance, and caught
the first glimpse of a man sitting in a
big mission arm-chair, his head sunk
on his breast. So absorbed was this
man in Ills own distempered mttslngs
that the new-comers' approach did
not arouse hint. He sal with knitted
brows and clenched bands, staring
Into vacancy; his rigid and pallid
features set in a ghastly Intensity of
thought. There was suffering In the
look; hut there was more, the colonel,
who had been living among the ser
pen* missions of the orient, knew
deadly anger when he saw It: It was
branded on the face before him. In-
voluntarily he fell back: he fell as If
he huil blundered in on a naked soul.
Noiselessly he slipped out of the range
of vision. He spoke loudly, halting to
ask some question about the rooms;
this made a moment's pause.
It was sufficient; in the study they
found a quiet, calm, although rather
haggard-looking man, who greeted
Winter's companion courteously, with
u southern accent, and u very good
manner. He was presented to the col-
onel ns Mr. Mercer. He would have
excused himself, professing that ho
was just going, but the colonel took
the words out of his mouth: "Ralph,
here, has a cigar for me—that is all I
came for; see you at the Touralne,
Ralph, to-morrow for luncheon, then."
He did not see the man again; neither
did he see Ralph, although he made
good, so far as In him lay, his fiction
of an engagement at the Touralne.
But Ralph could not come; and Winter
had lunched, instead, with an old
friend at his club, and had watched,
through a stately Georgian window
the shifting greenery of the common
in an east wind.
All through the luncheon the sol-
dier's mind kepi swerving from the
talk in hand to Cary Mercer's face.
Yet he never expected to see it again.
Three years later he did see it; and
this second encounter, of which, by the
way, Mercer was unconscious, was the
beginning of an absorbing chapter in
his life. A short space of time that
Miapler occupied; yet into it crowded
mystery, peril, a wonderful and awful
spectacle, the keenest happiness and
the crudest anxiety, Let his days be
ever so many, the series of events
which followed Mercer's reappearance
will not he blurred by succeeding ex-
periences: their vivid and haunting
pictures will burn through commoner
and later happenings as an electric
torch flares through layers of mist.
Nothing, however, could promise
adventure less than the dull and chilly
lute March evening when thp chapter
began. Nor could anyone he less on
the lookout for adventure, or even In-
terest, than was Rupert Winter, In
truth, he was listless and depressed.
When he alighted from his cab In
the great court of the Rock Island sta-
tion he found Haley, his old orderly,
with a hand on the door-hasp. Haley s
military stoicism of demeanor could
not quite conceal a certain agitation—
at least not from the colonel's shrewd
eye, used to catch the moods of his
soldiers. He strangled a kind of
sigh. "Doesn't like it much more than
1," thought Rupert Winter. "This Is
mighty kind of you, Haley,” he said.
"Yes, sor,” answered Haley, salut-
ing. The colonel grinned feebly.
Haley, busy repelling a youthful por-
ter, did not notice the grin; he strode
ahead with the colonel's world-scarred
hand-luggage, found an empty settee
beside one of the square-tiled columns
of the walling room and disposed his
burden on the iron-railed seat next the
corner one, which he reserved for the
colonel.
"The train ain't in yet. colonel," said
he. "I'll be telling you—"
"No. Haley," Interrupted the col-
onel. whose lip twitched a little: and
he looked aside; "best say good-bye
now: don’t wait. The fact Is, I'm
thinking of too many things you and I
have gone through together.” He
held out his hand: Haley, with a stony
expression, gazed past it and saluted,
while he repeated: "Yes, sor; I'll he
back to lake the hags whin the train's
made up." Whereupon he wheeled and
made off with speed.
".lust the same damned obstinate
way he's always had,” chuckled the
colonel to himself. NevertnHess,
something ached in his throat as he
Downed and winked.
"Oh, gel a brace on you. you played-
out old sport!" he muttered. "Tho
game's on,the last four cards and you
haven't established your suit; you'll
have to sit back and watch the other
fellows play!" But his dreary thoughts
persisted. Rupert was a colonel In
the regular army of the United States.
He had been brevetted a brigadier
general ufter the Spanish war, and
had commanded, not only a brigade,
but a division at one critical time in
the Philippines: but for reasons prob-
ably known to the little knot of poli-
ticians who "hung it up," although In-
comprehensible to most Americans,
congress had failed lo pass the bill
giving the wearers of brevet titles the
right to keep their hard worn and
empty honors; wherefore Gen. Winter
had declined to Col. Winter.
He had more substantial troubles,
Including a wound which would prob-
ably make hint limp through life and
l>osHibly relfre him from service at f>b.
It had given hint a six months' sick
leave (which he had not wanted!,
and after spending a month on the
Atlantic coast, he was going for the
Sluing to the Pacific. Haley, whose
own term of olfire had expired, had not
re-enlisted, hut had followed hltn. Mrs.
Haley and the habv uncomplainingly
bringing up the rear. It was not fair
to Haley nor to Mrs. Haley, the colonel
lelt. He hail told Haley so; he hud
lound a good situation for the man.
\
At First He Did Not Recognize the Face.
and he had added the deed for a little
house In the suburbs of Chicago.
If Haley wouldn't re-enllst—there
never was a better soldier since he
had downed a foolish young hankering
for wild times and whisky—if he
wouldn’t go hack to the army, where
he belonged, let hint settle down, take
up the honest carpenter's trade that
he had abandoned, be a good citizen
and marry little Nora to some class-
mate in the high school, who might
make a fortune and build her a
colonial mansion, should the colonial
still obtain in the twentieth century.
The colonel had spread a grand
prospect before Haley, who listened
mires pensively, a dumb pain in his
wide blue Irish eyes. The colonel
hated it; but, somehow, he hated
worse the limp look of Haley’s back
as he watched It dwindle down Mich-
igan avenue.
However, Mrs. Haley had been more
satisfactory, if none the less bewil-
dering. She seemed very grateful
over the house and the J:lf>0 for Its
furnishing. A birthday present, he
had termed it, with a flicker of hu-
mor because the day was his own
birthday. His fiftieth birthday it hap-
pened to he, and it occurred to him
that a man ought to do something a
little notable on such an anniversary.
This rounding of the half-century had
attributes apart; it was no mere an-
nual birthday; it marked the last van-
ishing flutter of the gilded draperies
of youth; the withering of the gar-
lands; the fading tinkle of the light
music of hope. R, should mark a man's
solid achievements. Once, not so long
ago, Winter had believed that his
fiftieth birthday would see wide and
beneficent and far reaching results In
the province where he ruled. That
dream was shattered. He was gen-
erous of nature, and he could have
been content to behold another reap
the fields which he had sowed and
tilled: It was the harvest, whether his
or another's, for which he worked; but
his hid been the bitter office to have
to stand aside, with no light to pro-
test, and see his work go to wasie be-
j cause his successor had a feeble brain
and a pusillanimous caution In place
of his own dogged will. For all these
reasons,, as well us others, the colonel
found no zest in his fiftieth birthday;
and his reverie drifted dismally from
one somber reflection to another until
it brought up ai the latest wound to
his heart—his favorite brother's death.
There had been three Winter broth-
ers—Rupert. Melville and Thomas.
During the past year both Thomas
Winter and his wife had died, leaving
one child, a boy of 14, named Archl
bald after his father's uncle. Rupert
Winter and the hoy's great-aunt, the
widow of the great uncle, were ap-
IHiInted Joint guardians of the young
Archie. To-night, in his jaded mood,
he was assailed by reproaches be-
cause he had not seen more of his
ward. Why, he hadn't go much as
looked the Mlt’e chap up when he
passed through i'airisirt—merely had
sent him a leitei and some truck from
the Philippines; nice guardian he was!
By a natural enough transition, his
thoughts swerved to his own brief and
not altogether happy married life. He
thought of the graves in Arizona
where he had left his wife and his
two children. and his heart felt
heavy. To escape muslngs which
grew drearier every second, he cast
his eyes about the motley crowd shuf-
fling over the tiled floors or resting
in the massive dark oaken seals. And
It was then that he saw (’ary Mercer.
At flrst he did not recognize the face.
He only gazed Indifferently at two
well-dressed men who sat some paces
away from him In the shadow of a
great tiled column similar to his own.
There was this difference, it happened:
the mission lantern with Its electric
bulbs above the two men was flashing
brightly, and by some accident that
above the colonel was dark. He could
see the men, himseif In the shadow.
The men were rather sulking In ap-
pearance; they were evidently gentle-
men; the taller one was young, well
set-up, clean shaven and quietly hut
most correctly dressed. His light-
brown hair showed a slight curl in its
closely clipped locks: his gray-blue
eyes had long lashes of brown darker
than his hair; his teeth were very
white, and there was a dimple in Ills
cheek, plain when he smiled. Had his
nose been straight he would have been
us handsome us a Greek god. hut the
nose was only an ordinary American
nose, rather too broad st the base;
moreover, his jaw was a little too
square for classic lines. Nevertheless,
he was good to look upon, as well as
strong and clean and wholesome, and
when his gray-blue eye* strayed about
the room the dimple dented his cheek
and his white teeth gleamed in a kind
of merry good-nature pleasant to see.
But it was the other man who held
the colonel’s eye. This man was
double the young man s age. or near
that; he was shorter, although still of
fair stature, and slim of build. His
face was oval In contour and deli-
cate of feature. Although he wore no
glasses, his brow hsd the far pucker
of a near sighted man. There was a
| mole on his cheek bone and another
just below his ear. Both were small.
| rather than large, and in no sense
disfiguring; but the colonel noted
them absently, being In the habit of
photographing a man In a glance. The
lace had beauty, dlailnction even, yet
alsiut it hung some association, slid*
, ter as a |s>lson label.
"Now, where," said the colonel to
himself, "where have I seen that
! man?" Almost Instantly the clew
i came to him. "By Jove, it’s the broth-
er!” he exclaimed Three years ago,
and he had almost forgotten; hut here
was Gary Mercer—the name came to
him after a little groping—here he
was again; but who was the pleasant
youngster with hltn? And what were
they discussing with so little apparent
and so mu h real earnestness?
One of the colonel's physical gift*
was an extraordinary aruteness of
healing It passed the mark of a fac-
ulty and became a marvel. Bart of
this uncanny power was really due,
not lo henrfug alone, hut to an alliance
with another sense, because Winter
had learned the lip language In his
youth; he heard with his eyes as well
as his ears. This combination had
made an unintentional and embar-
rassed eavesdropper out of an honest
gentleman a number of times. To set
off such evil tricks It had saved Ills
life once on the plains and had res-
cued his whole command another time
in the Philippines. While he studied
the two faces a sentence from the
younger niun gripped Ills attention.
It was: “I don’t mind the risk, hut
I hate taking such mi old woman's
money."
“She has a heap,” answered the
other man carelessly; "besides—” He
added something, with averted head
and in too low a voice to reach the lis-
tener unassisted. But it was convinc-
ing, evidently, since the young man's
face grew both grave and stern. He
nodded, muttering: "Oh, 1 under-
stand; I wasn't hacking water; I know
we have lost the right to lie squearn
Ish. But I say, old chap, how long
since Mrs. Winter has seen you?
Would she recognize you?"
The colonel, who had been a trout to
abandon his espionage us unbecoming
a soldier and a gentleman, slowed
away till his scruples at the mention
of the name. He pricked up his ears
and sharpened his eye, hut was careful
lest they should catch Ills glance. The
next sentence, owing to the speaker’s
position, was inaudible amt Invisible;
hut he clearly caught the young man's
response:
"You're sure they’ll he on tills
train?"
And lie saw the interlocutor's head
nod.
"The hoy's with them?”
All Inaudible reply, but another nod.
“And you're sure of Miss Smith?”
This time the other's profile was to-
ward the listener who heard the reply:
“Plumb sure. I wish I were as sure
of some other things. Have we settled
everything? It is better not to be seen
together."
"Yes, I think you’ve put me wise on
the main points. By the way, what Is
the penalty for kidnaping?"
Again an averted head and hiatus,
followed by the younger man's spark-
ling smile and exclamation: "Wow!
Riskier than football—and even more
fun!” Something further he added,
but his arms hid his mouth as he
thrust them Into his greatcoat, prepar-
ing to move away. Ho went alone;
and the other, after a moment's
gloomy meditation, gathered up coat
and bag and followed. During that
moment of arrested decision, however,
his features had dropped Into sinister
lines which the colonel remembered.
"Dangerous customer, or I miss my
guess." mused the soldier, who knew
the passions of men. "I .wonder—they
couldn’t mean my Aunt Rebecca?
She's old; she has millions of money—
but she's not on this train. And there's
no Miss Smith In our deck. I'm so
used to plotting I go off on lake hikes!
Probably I'm getting old and dotty.
Mercer, poor fellow, may have his
brain turned and he an anarchlst*or a
bomb-thrower or a dirty kidnaper for
revenge; but that boy's a decent chap;
I've licked too many second lieuten-
ants Into shape not to know something
of youngsters."
He pushed the Idea away; or, rather,
his own problems pushed It out of his
mind, which went hack lo his WHrd
and his single living brother. Mel-
ville had no children, only hls wife's
daughters, who were both married —
Melville having married a widow with
a family, an estate and a mind of her
own. Melville was h professor In a
state university, n mild, learned man
whom nature Intended for science hill
whom hls wife was determined to
make Into I he president of the uni-
versity.
"Kv n money which will win,”
chuckled Rupert Winter to himself.
"Mlllkent hasn't much lad; but she
has the perseverance of the saints.
She f anted Mel; he doesn't know,
hut she surely did. And she bosses
him now. Well, I suppose Mel likes
to be bossed; he never hsd any strenu-
ous opinions except shout the canals
of M u—Valgame dlos!"
With a gasp the colonel sprang to
hts loot. There tiefore him. In the
flesh, was hls slstcr-in-law. Her state-
ly flctire, her Roman profile, her grace-
fully gesticulating hand, which indi-
cated the colonel’s iiosltlon to her
lies'llv laden attendant, s lad In blue
—these he knew hy heart Just as he
knew that her toilet for the Journey
would he In the latest mode, and that
she would have the latest fashion of
gall and mien. Millicent studied such
llil i s.
She waved her luggage into place—
an i xrellenl place—in the same breath
dls nfsslng the isirter and Instructing
hltn when he must return. Then, but
not mill then, did she turn graciously
to h«r brother-in-law.
"I hoped that I should find you.
Bertie," she said In a voice of such
cti my richness that it was hard to
credit the speaker with only three
I ibi t trips to Kngland. "Melville said
| you were to take this train; and 1 was
so delighted, so relieved! I am In a
most harassing predicament, my dear
Bertie."
"That's bad,” murmured the colonel
with sympathetic solicitude; "what's
the trouble? Couldn't you gei a sec-
tion ?"
"I have my reservations, tint 1 don’t
know whether I ahull go to-night."
"Maybe I'm stupid. Millicent, hut I
confess I don't know wlmt you mean ”
"Really, there’s no reason why you
should, Bertie. Thai's why 1 wus so
anxious to see you—in time, so that 1
might explain to you—might put you
on your guard."
"Yes?” the colonel submitted; he
never hurried a woman.
"I'm going to visit dear Amy—you
remember she was married two years
ago and lives In Pasadena; she has a
dear little baby and the loveliest
home! It's charming. And she was
so delighted with your wedding gift,
It was so original. Amy never did
cure for coally things; these simple,
unique gifts always pleased her. Of
course, .my main object Is to see tho
dear child, hut I shall not go to-night
unless Aunt Hebeeea Winter Ih on the
train. If for any reason she waits
over until to-morrow I shall wait
also."
"All,” sighed the colonel very softly,
not Hilrrlng u muscle of his politely
attentive face; "and does Aunt Re-
becca expect to go on the train?"
"They told me al the Pullman office
that she had the drawing-room, the
stateroom and two sections. Of course,
she has her maid with her and
Archl—"
"Does he go, too?" the colonel
asked. IiIh eyes narrowing a little.
"Yes, she's taking him lo Cali-
fornia; he doesn't seem well enough,
she thinks, to go to school, so lie Is
to have u tutor out there. I'm a lit-
tle afraid Aunt Rebecca mollycoddles
the boy."
"Aunt Rebecca never struck me ns
u mollycoddler. I always considered
her a tolerably cynical old Spartan.
But do you mean there Is any doubt
of their going? Awfully good of you
fo wait to see if they don't go, but I'm
sure Aunt Rebecca wouldn't want you
to sacrifice your section—"
Mrs. Melville lifted s shapely hand
In a Delsarllan gesture of arrest; her
smiling words were the last the col-
onel had expected. "Hush, dear Ber-
tie; Aunt Rebecca doesn't know I am
going. I don't want her to know un-
til we are on the train."
"Oh. I see, a surprise?” But he did
not see; and, with a quiet Intent ness,
he watched the rolor raddle Mrs. Mel-
ville’s smooth cheeks.
"Hardly," returned the lady. "The
truth is, Bertie Melville and T are
worried about Aunt Rebecca. She, we
fear, has fallen under the Influence of
a most plausible adventuress; I sup-
pose you have heard of her com-
panion, Mlsa Smith?"
"Can’t say I have exactly." said the
colonel placidly, hut hls eyes nar-
rowed again. "Who Is the lady?"
"I thought—I am sure Melville must
have written you. But— Oh, yes, ho
wrote yesterday to Boston. Well, Ber-
tie, Miss Smith Is a southerner; she
says she Is a South Carolinian, hut
Aunt Rebecca picked her up In Wash-
ington. where she was with a kink of
cousin of ours who whs half crazy.
Miss Smith took care of her and she
died"—she fixed a darkling eye on
the soldiei—"Hhe died and she left
Miss Smith money."
"Much?"
"A few thousands. That Is how
Aunt Rebecca met her, and Hhe pulled
the wool over auntie's eyes, and they
came hack together. She's awfully
clever.”
"Young? Pretty?"
"Oh, dear. no. And she’s nearer 10
than "0. Just the designing age for a
woman when she's still wanting to
marry some one lint beginning to he
afraid that she can't. Then such
creatures always try to get money. If
they can't marry It. and there's no
mun to set their caps for, they try to
wheedle It out of some poor fool
woman!” Millicent was In earnest,
there was no doubt of that; the sure
sign was her unconscious return to
the direct expressions of her early
life In the middle west.
"And you think Miss Smith Is try-
ing lo Influence Aunt Rebecca?'’
"Of course she la; and Aunt Re-
becca Is SO. Rupert. And often while
people of her age show no other sign
of weakening Intellect, they are not
well regulated In their affections;
they take fancies to |H<ople and get
doting and clinging She Is getting to
de|M-nd on Miss Smith. Really, that
woman has more Influence with her
than all the real of us together. She
won't hear a word against her. Why'
when 1 tried lo suggest how little we
knew about Miss Smith and that It
would be better not to trust her too
entirely, she ismltlvely resented It. Of
course I used tart, too. I was so hurt,
so surprised"' Mrs. MIMIcent si a
plainly aggrieved
The colonel, who had hla own
opinion of the tact of hls brother*
I wife, was tint so surprised, but he
| made an inarticulate sound which
: might pass for sympathy
| (TO l»K CONTI NO ED.)
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Matching Search Results
View two places within this issue that match your search.Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
Woodruff, D. B. The Sonora Sun. (Sonora, Tex.), Vol. 6, No. 37, Ed. 1 Saturday, March 27, 1909, newspaper, March 27, 1909; Sonora, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth979200/m1/3/?q=Lamar+University: accessed June 7, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; .