Who Was Alicia?

Young Mrs. Waterhouse finished the writiug of a dutiful letter to her mother. The letter aasured the anxious old lady that the writer was quite happy; tliat there wsa really no necessity for worry, and that mamma might make herself quite content at Biarritz. Geoffrey was the best of husbands, and although, of course, much engaged at South Kensington with hisfearfully abtruse experiments and his new book on steel fibers he was extreniely attentive and kiud. And she was, -with much love, mamma's affectionate daughter, Helen Waterhouse. "Mamma won't believo it, " said young Mrs. Waterhouse, with a kind of comio despair. "She is alwaya wantiug to know about the skeleton. Thank goodness there isn't one!" On the clean blotting pad was an impress of somp of her husband's writing. A palette shaped mirror stood on the table, and half uncousciously she turned the pad toward it. "Wonder to whom he has been writing?" It was quite easy to see. Mrs. Waterhouse glanced at it casually at first, then, her face fiercely pink, with much attention: "I want you, my dearest, to believe that I am qr.ite true toyou. lam boimd by certain ties to others, but to you, my sweetheart, my own dearest Alicia"- "Alicia!" cried Mrs. Waterhouse aloud as she paiited and sat back iu her chair. "Alicia! Alicia who, I wonder?" She knew his writing so well thatshe conld scarce be deceived on that point. The whole thing in a moment was clear. Her dear mother, with a less cramped experienceof the world, had beenright, after all. "There is a skeleton, " said thetrembling Mrs. Waterhouse. She tore her letter to Biarritz into many pieces. As the last fragment went into the f erns in the fireplace she feit a kiss upon her neck. "Don 't do that, please, " she cried. "Beg pardon," said her husband. "Did I frighten yon?" He took off his nat and adjusted his pinoenez. His coolness almost took her breath away. "I must say, Geoffrey, " she declared, ' "that I can't help admiring your - your cheek. ' 'My love, I admire yours. I ineant to have kissed it just now. " She took up a newspaper, and twisting it violently in her excitement made aa endeavor to speak with calmness. "I have been reading rather an interesting fragment, Geoffrey. Shall I teil you what it is?" "Quote away. " Mrs. Waterhouse recited from the coign of vantagofnrnished by a rug the letter to Alicia. The professor dropped his glasses and looked intensely disturbed. "Now, my dear love. " "Oh, no!" said Mrs. Waterhouse. . "My dear Helen then, will you allow me to say" - "I only want to knowone thing. Did yon write this ridiculous stuff, please?" "Why, yes. I'm not going to deny that. Of course it's only a part of the letter to the girl, but if you like I can teil you what happens afterward. " "I don't want to know. If this gets known, what will be thought of you? Yon will be the laughing stock of all your colleagues. ' ' "That's very true, " acknowledged Professor Waterhouse, with concern. "That's very true, and it must never get known. I can 't drop the affair now, unfortunately, but, you know" - he smiled at his wife a little anxiously - "there really is no hurm iu it, and I'm not the only man who" - "Eeally?" in a tone of remote and frigid interest. "I frankly admit, tliough, that I should be very sorry for itto get known. Of course it seems to you a very foolish thing to do. " "By no means. " "But I really don't believe that I could have endnred the strain of writing that new work of miue if at the same timo I had not" - "Let me ask you one more question, please. I understand, Geoffrey, that you are sorry now that you ever Jent i self to such a - sueh a dospicable i ness. " "That's pot quite the poiut, dear." ! He was recoyering now his usual ! posure. '"Chafa not what I'm sorry for. I'm sorry to be found out. I wantcd o keep it quiet. But there's no eürthly reasou why anybody but ourselves Bhomd know. After all every man has hto hobby. " "Geoffrey, I won 't listea to yon. " "Wel!, my dear, I oan't force youto, 3an I? I believe if you would only let me teil yon the whole affair from nintr to end you wouldn' t be 80 mnch ! I I annoyert aliout it. Jt really isn't s liad as you think. Alicia is a most delightful girl, and ithas been a recreation for me, you know, and I have been slogging away so of late, and" - The door slammed. ÏIrs. Waterhonse ■weut up stairs tolier room and hnrriedly, very hurriedly, packed a portrnanteau. There was time to catch the mail at Charing Cross, and she moant to p:et away to Biarritz, away from thestii::.);; atmosphere of this house, away frciia Lomion. She rang for her maid. "Parker." "Y!s, cna'am. " "Tho mail goes at 8 from Charing Cross. I thiuk?" "It nsed to go at 8, ma'am, " said Parker cautiously. "When we went away, if you rcmember" - "Yes, y, of coursa I want you to pack a bug for yourself, and we will catch the mail touight. " "Catch the mail, ina'am, tonight?" "Yes, yes. Lose no time, please, and send out for a cab. " x "Well, I never!" murmured Parker. Mrs. Waterhouae had some intention of having one fine, big, square scène with her husbaud before she left, but there was little time to spare. Moreover, it occurred to her that she couid be quite as bitter in a well compoüed letter to be dispatched from Biarritz as in a hasty interview. "Come along, Parker," she called. "It's all very well to say come along, " muttered Parker discontentedly, "but this is a rum sort of a game, and I don 't 'alf cotton to it. " ' ' We've got 20 minutes. Teil the man to drive carefully, but to drive very fast. " The most galling thing about the wholo deplorable aífair was the certain;y that her mother would meet her at ;he statiou with an I-told-you-eo-mypoor-lamb expression. Still there was no ono else to whom she could go, and at any rate she could always control mamma. She always had done so. Chisring Cross. "Tho ruail, lidy?" said the porte civilly. "The mail goes at ite fifteen It's later'n it use to be. " "Parker, wíl! yon get some papers Get one or two for yourself, you know. ' Parker, still rather inclined to be cross, went to the bookstall. It half re stored the excellent maid to complacen submission to what she teriued all thi ramping about to fiud the new number of "The Lady's Own Chatterbox" on sale. It was her own particular favorito Journal. "We'll get hi uow, Parker, " saic Mrs. Waterhouse. "There's 20 minutes to wait, but we may as well take oui seats. Seconds, please, porter. " They found comfortable corner seats. For awhile they watched the stout, perspiring ladies and the slim daughters and the pet dogs. The nsually demure Parker sniggered so much when she saw two Frenchmen kiss each other that she dropped "The Lady's Own Chatterbox." Mrs. Waterhouse took it up and held it in her hand. "I must read, " she wbispered to herself. "I must do something to keep myself from thinking. I shall faint if I dou't divert iny thonghts. " Tho "Lady's Own Chatterbox" lay on tar lap. She put one small foot against the seat opposite and leaned forward to get the steady glare of the electric light on the page. "Any more going on?" cried the inspector oh the platform aggressively. "We commence this week a story by a new writer, Walter House, entitled 'Alicia's Only Love. ' It -will be replete with romantic interest, and, in short, a wonderful picture of high class life of the present day, with all its faults and foibles. " "Now, then, " cried the inspector on the platform in an aggrieved tone to a belated passenger, "are yon going on there, or are you not going on?" Mis. Waterhouse began to read. Chapter 1 was headed, "The Countess. " Alicia was half leaning, half reclining on an ottoman reading a delicately scented letter from Sir Harold de Beer. It opened thus: "I want you, my dearest, to believe that I am quite true to yon. 1 am bound by certain ties to others, but to you, my sweetheart, my own darling Alicia" - "Parker!" screamed Mrs. Waterhouse, with a gasp of delight. "Come out quickly. " "Right away," shonted the inspector. "Stand away there, please. " "Here, stop!" cried Mrs. Waterhouse. She caught up her skirts and jumped ninjbly out. Aa active porter seizedher bags, and as the train was moving caught tho desceuding Parker neatly and swung her round npon her feet. " 'Ow's that, umpire?" asked the porter. "O - u - t, out!" said the inspector. He turned his hand lamp to Mrs. Waterhouse. "Hope you're all right, ma'ani?" "Thank you, yes," said Mrs. Waterhouse breathlessly. "I'm all risrht now. "