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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
"And I certainly think father knows whether Mr. Jason was asleep or not," retorted Louise, with flashing eyes. "We have no apologies to make, and I wish to return this to you. ' ' She drew the ring from her finger, and held it out to him. Infected with the virulence of the discussion, he angrily took the ring and thrust it into his pocket. Then, turning his father's chair, he rapidly wheeled it across the lawn. The old men, in the meantime, had kept up a running fire of accusations and denials, passionately expressing their disappoint* ment in each other.
' ' There, there, father, ' ' said Louise, trying to soothe him, as his adversary disappeared around a bend in the shrubbery.
" It 's abominable for a man of his age to act so !" he declared. "And such a fine game as I had developed, too! Bah!" In his anger, he struck d o w n t h e chessmen with his cane, and sent them rolling to the lawn.
"The nasty little things!" exclaimed Louise, tearfully, thinking of her broken troth and the sparkling pledge she had forfeited. With a sweep of her hand she cleared the board, and sent the remaining men toppling from the table. Then, noting that her father was still agitated, she put her arm about him and stroked his gray head, the while crooning affectionately. Gradually his excitement abated, his eyes closed drowsily,
THE RE-PROPOSAL
and in a short time he was sound asleep. Spreading his handkerchief over his face, Louise left him, to wander sadly toward the wall that divided the two properties. She leaned disconsolately upon the ivy-covered stones. Her romance was ended. Her iridescent bubble had burst, and life would henceforth be dreary, as it is for all who have loved and lost.
Jack had wheeled his father thru the gate in the wall, the old man still recounting, with diminishing wrath, the incidents of that ill-fated game of chess. Jack listened, with a sore heart. His hot partisanship had died a quick death, and now he wondered miserably if Louise would ever speak to him again. The ring seemed to acclaim its presence in his pocket. He took it out, and shook his head over it. He was very wretched.
"Jack," said his father, drowsily, "instead of going right up to the house, I would like to rest here in the shade a while. I always did like this little grove. It's very peaceful and cool —
and — and ' '
His head nodded, and wobbled, then lay back against the chair. Jack bent over him. He smiled. "Dead to the world," he said.
Looking about for some source of amusement, he saw something moving down the wall. A second look assured him that it was a small brown head. Tiptoeing along the wall, he reached