The Rhondda Leader

Welsh Topics. Several now Jx>i)ks will be issued soon, especially Tvvm o'r Nant by I'■ D. Willi atiis..Manchester Yr Iaifh (»ym- raeg-El Horgraff a'i Ohystraivon," by n. Teewyn Evans Elements of Orion- • tat-ion," by .1. Griffith; and a New Dictionary by D. I). Williams, Man- chester. The Official List oi Subjects and Prizes" tor the Wrexbam Eisteddfod of 1912 has just been issued. The ill-looking practice of interlarding eisteddfodie items and advertisements of business houses is again perpetrated. When shall we have an Eisteddfod programme free from this profanity" CYMRU. The current 'number maintains ilie reputation of this magazine to provide .suitable articles <>n literature, history, and art. The main feature of this num- ber is the contribution ol Air. T. Matthews on the work of our renowned Welsh artist. Sir W. Goscomhe Joh n, R.A. Apart from a t-.t)urt sketch of Ills life and work, it contains several illus- trations depicting his work, viz., tli" carved figure of Dean Yaughan in Llati- daff Cathedral, the Charge of the Light Brigade" from the pedestal oi Lord Tredegar's monument in Cathays Park, Cardiff, the-statue of Tom Ellis in Bala, "Grief," Spring," Hmd of an Old Lady," and the plaster cast of "Llywe'vii the Great." Among the literary contributions are loan Ylynyw Rhyddiaith GYlll- reig." by Penar: Cofio Cejriog." and "Ceiriog fd Uardd CynghaneddoL" hy Tecwyn Parry. The editor's notes to his readers arc as much a Ireasure as ever. Y GENHINEN. •' Y Genhinen Eisteddfodol" a particular attraction to all lovers ot the muse. It is a special edition containing only successful competitions at previous eisteddfoda n. Among some of the numerous contri- butions are Teihvng NN- Ot-ii (Towyn, 1910); Mynydd Duw (Meirion, 1908); Y Tan Cymreig (Llanrwst. lOOJ); Iorweith y Seithfed (Colwyn Bay, 1911) Unigedd (Pont- neddtechan, 19(H)) Y Wt"-r (Poitt- lottyn, 1909) Rhyddid (Y Fenni, 1911); Hiraeth (Pent-re, 1911), and a host of nt-her jjoeins and englynion. Eifionydd is to he complimented on the production of wholesome and attractive material. • WALES." Wales," the youngest ol the Welsh magazines, whoise editor is Mr. J. Hugh Edwards, M.P., continues to hold the Welshman' s approval. The current num- ber is a, -'Special Eisteddfod Member," and contains a number of interesting articles. The opening article is The National Eisteddfod and Literature," by W. J. Gruffydd, M.A., who writes in a sense an appreciation of our great Eis- teddfod. For instance: In our coun- try, the Eisteddfod has been evolved anperfected by natural processes, just as the nation itself and the nat ional ideals have been evolved and perfected. It is part of our organic life, and any ailment which it may suffer will, in time, influence the corporate whole; con- versely, any access of new life into the Bisteddfod will mean new vigour as a whole. For good or for evil, the Eis- teddfod is part of our existence, and no attempt should be made to change its conditions, or even to criticise it, with- out the most serious consideration of this fact." After reviewing the position of those who wish to reform the Eistedd- fod, the great service of the Eisteddfod to literature, and the relation of the Eisteddfod and the University to litera- ture, he asks why is it that the Eistedd- fod has not offered a prize for the best work of imagination," whether in prose or verse. He concludes: The Eistedd- fod should be governed entirely by a reformed Gorsedd, freed from the tyranny of the examinations, and not by the local committees, who have neither the know- ledge nor the lime to ileal ik-;t,i Eistedd- fodic questions. With a lew reforms, and a few concessions to the spirit of the age, the Eisteddfod will become one of the most powerful literary organisations of the world." Other articles are:—The Welsh Lan- guage in Relation to Welsh National Life," by Sir Edward Anwyl: The Eis- teddfod as a, National Institution," by c. Prys Williams; The Cymric Race and its Characteri-ties Cambria's Part in Empire Building The Women of Wales": The Bards of Wales" and a "Tribute to the Memory of Tom Ellis," by tho Right Hon. D. Lloyd George, M.P.

SORE FEET AFTER HOLIDAYS. I Tortnriaf Pail from Ruaaiif S.rel. I AHOTHXL GRANI) ZAM-BUK CUl*. I After his holidays, little Wilfred Wright arrived home with hit feet very sore. They were in a shocking state," said his mother, Mrs. F. Wright, of 14, Crab Lane, Arrnley, Leeds, to a reporter, "and if it hadn't been for Zam-Buk I really don't know what we should have done. Wilfred's feet were all inflamed and swtllen, and blisters formid ittwet" all the tte*. These blisters b"t into sores, which discharged thick matter. The poor child was so tormented with the itching and pain that he couldri t wear his beets. I had to dress Wilfred's feet when he was asleep, for he couldn't bear them touching when awake, and often it took me two hours at a time to dress and bandage them up. You can imagine my disappointment, there- fore, after all my trouble, to find the sores getting bigger, and discharging more matter. I had often heard Zam-Buk talked about, and decided at last to test it for myself. A I mean just what 1 say when I tell you k"at Zam-Buk euttd like magic. We were sur- prised at its soothing effect, while it drew' the tores so nicely that I was able to dress Wnfred feet while he was awake. The swelling and inflammation went down, and all the matter waii drawn from the sores. Zam-Buk then 1"111.1 1IIW ',tán over the old sore places, and Wilfred's feet were sound and healthy once more.

V ^HYARCHERaC^lB PLOENRETURPJI Fmc-iimtk ej Ont-Owt PuOkL Archer's Golden Returns r L.f .r" 18! C I

lA .L RIGHTS BMBBVSD/J THE NEW PARTNER By ALLEN CLARKE 'Author of "The Miser's Mine," "Tales of a Deserted Village," "TheKnobsttek," "John o' God'¡;; Seeding," arc. 1. Trouble, that sooner or later comes to all, had come to Garner and Son," and, as so often happens in this planet of pounds, shil- lings, and pence, it was financial trouble. The firm of Garner and Son was in diffi- culties. Garner and SOil was the cotton-spin- ning factory in the little village of Birchen- dene, situate in a valley amid the Northern moorlands. For three generations the Garners had run the business, which had been founded by thrifty John Garner, originally a poor hand- loom weaver, who wore clogs and talked dia- lect but whose descendants, as is the way ol the whirligig, wore shining boots and Talked educated polish, and, as it docs not always happen, were none the worse for it. The factorv of Garner and Son was the in; dustrial mainstay of the 'there wa.s dustrial mainstay  the i )!u g no otlier big works in the neighbourhood not a coalpit, nor a, foundry, nor another factory, for miles. The bread and butler ot hi.chen- dene depended upon the enterprise of Garner and Son, who knew their responsibility and were decently proud of it. The firm had always been noted tor its fair- j ness and its consideration of the workpeople. The Garners were moneymakers of the phil- anthropic- type. They gave generously out of their protits they inaugurated and kepi going a wol-iiiilg-niell s institute, library, gym- nasium, a.nd public bowling green for the village; scholarships for the schoolcimuren, enabling those with the (jualifictti??l i'll their way into colieges and even iiiv I i\er- sity. There were at lea.st three barristers (one an M.P.), two successful editors, several schoolmasters, and professional gentlemen in other avocations, who, being the sons of poor working men without means to pay for the higher education of their children, owed their start and their career to the munificence of Garner and Son. In short, the firm of Garner and Son watched over Birchendene like a w ise and kind father; and the village was one of the happiest little communities in all the smoky I ahire of shuttles and spindles. But now trouble had cume to the firm. Long-continued trade depression was telling a II tale. The present head of the firm, John Garner I the second, sat in his office in the factory II basement, poring seriously over the account books. From the window there was a wide view of the beautiful solitudes of the moor- lands, with farms conspicuously white on their dark-green slopes; but John Garner was not interested in that picture this day. He was a man approaching fifty years of age; his hair was rapidly growing grey. He was of medium height, with a long, thought- ful face, that just now looked very weary and worried. Near him stood a young man, taller, more athletic, than hit. father, with a face full of I health. This was John Garner the third, who, after study at the Manchester Technical School and University, had recently begun to I take part in the management of the mill. "Well, dad," said the young man, Bar- ney (the odd man, general factotum about the works) told me you wanted me." Yes, John, I've something serious to say," said the father, turning round in his revolv- ing chair. I've been thinking about it all day, indeed, for many days. To get straight to the point, the firm of Garner and Son is in a bad way—a very bad way. Unless there is a.1 speedy cilauge-xvell, we shall have to stop the mill, and it may mean bankruptcy." I've known we weren't doing well lately," said John, for the last few years have been gloomy for all manufacturers; but I didn't think that matters were so bad." As you know, we're running short time— three days a week-and I didn't like having to do that. But now we shall have to think of closing the mill altogether, a thing that's never occurred to Garner and Son since the cutton famine and even then we ran longer than anybody else—ran at a loss, so as not to deprive our people of wages entirely. But this is a different affair from the cotton famine. That was bound to end with the American War; this-well, Heaven knows when it will end. If we have to close the mill I'm afraid it will be for ever, a.nd we can write finis to the story of Garner and Son. I shouldn't like that to happen; I shouldn't like our factory and this village to become empty and deserted like the village of Rockleys over the moor, and sundry other villages now lying like skeletons along other valleys. It's a pity to see a hive of industry Turned into a ruin and a desolation. Oh, it won't come to that, dad," said John. You're in a pessimistic mood to-day." No, I'm only looking at the facts a.nd the logical probabilities. We are overstocked, and there's no demand for goods. I see no signs of the market brightening, and so I tell you that unless we very quickly raise some money to keep going it's all over with Garner and Son. How much money is needed? Twenty thousand pounds—at the very least ten thousand." Can you not get it anywhere? I've tried all I knew, all means except one. And what's that? Mr. Garner looked at his son for a moment, then he said, averting his eyes: You might marry someone with money." The young man flushed. I can't think of that," he said. The father, as if he had not heard what the son had said, went on, in the manner of one talking as much to himself as to his hearer, There's Miss Mossley, who has always shown a marked partiality for you." I haven't noticed it," said the voung man. That's because you are blind/' said the father. She has twenty thousand pounds, possibly double. A most excellent match for you, and—that money would save Garner and Son. I don't want to marry Miss Mossley," said John. "Why, what's amiss with the lady?" de- manded Mr. Garner, in a tiliarp tone. Isn't she handsome? "Yes, I suppose so. Intelligent? I should think so." And would make an admirable wife? I've no doubt she would," said John. Then what 011 earth have you against the lady? said the father, in an offended voice. Nothing, only that I don't want her," answered the son. Nonsense You could count yourself ex- tremely fortunate if you secured Miss Mossley for a wife. She is a woman in a thousand. But not the one woman for me. dad. Besides, isn't it a mean sort of thing to dis- cuss a lady in this cold-blooded £ s. d. s"i°n? I thought you were made of nobler stuff, dad." Mr. Garner looked uneasy, and somewhat ashamed. Then he said, It can't be helped, my lad. People in extremity clutch at any- thing- But, so long as the lady is inclined towards you, in fact, only needs asking, and so long as she happens to be an orphan, and to have this fortune. I don't see why you shouldn't propose to her and get the marriage over as soon as possible." No, dad, I can't marry Miss Mossley," said John, stubbornly. What objection have you? Isn't she good enough for you? Yes—perhaps too good for ine. But I don't want her. For one thing, she's several years older than I am." < i lint's a- trifle, a nothing. There's so mo other reason. You are in loye with someone j else. Ah! 1 remember now 1 heard Hemt'- thing about you and the Vicar's daughter—a I child of seventeen." She's dad-,iii(I she'll grow older, 1 guess. And we weren't thinking of being married this year, anyhow." "Ishoutd think not. Yon wouldn't think of marrying the girl at all. She is penniless. It takes her father all his time to scrape along." 1 didn't think you took such mercenary views of matrimony, dad." "Common sense—and compulsion. As I have already pointed out to you, our firm is in | exceptionally ominous circumstances HI pre- s?nt. i.? save it we've got to get money from somewhere; and I see no other course, j limn the one 1 have suggested—a most happy j | course, in my opinion- If Miss Mossley were j old and ugly, f could understand your I ob<tijii!cy. But: liti-e i, a woman, young, beautiful, good, and wealthy-in my honest view, the finest girl in all the shire—and ;J1 \ou liave to (10 t?) lisk t4) lie your iio. | No; 1 won't ]is?'f) to you any longer. 1 ex- peer you to follow my wi";hes?for the honour j <> tfie firm as well as for your own sake. V--k j Afi-^ Mossley to be your wife- -aud sa e I Garner ;uid S011 from destruction. If YOU don't, the crisis is coining, LIILi c a I (-ra,t). (-art go now." | Tin- young man. looking sad and rebellions, left the office. The father sighed. "He loves the Yie.r's (laughter." he said. "What a brute J've j been more than once I felt like giving way, ) but the thought of the firm's position hardened me. What desperate devilries a innn think* v. hen he's hard up. and commits if he onlv gets the chance. Poor John And vet w richer ILieli could he have than Miss Moss],-v for wife? ]*(I fiiarj*N; her myself "—Mr. Gar- ner was a widower—" I almost begrudge j liii IlI,-tt's hopeless. She'd n^er think of taking an old fogey like me! II. A quarter of au hour before the factorv engine stopped for the day Air. Garner i io>ed his desk. and set off for home, to the villa amid the trees half-way up the hill fit the welter:! end of the village. As a rule..John accompanied his father! home at the clo>e of ihe day" work but this afternoon so Mr. Garner went off alone. Mr. Garner smiled rather grinio,. •• 1 mis- pect John has something to say to-(Ia t I IL! Vicar's daughter—about cruel hither* and tiiat kilJd (If thing." For every day John pas^d the Vicarage, rejoicing that it lay in his route to and from the factory. As Mr. Garner approached the Vicarage garden he saw a prerty girlish form ai the j gate. 1 The Vicar' daughter." he said to him- j self; then, with a'to?' ?Lir<? the bat'l and a Good ai'ternooo. AL*s \V.)t?!<?." he passed bv. Mr. Garncr tuo?? \er\ st-riou* to iht\ said ?i?' orsJey 10 i;- i.t!; I sup- pose a)i'n?--in?s'- people a.i\ thai \\?\ some- times. Even faitier looks seriou. when he's troubled over the composition 01 his sermons. And that trouble ,*eems to g-ci. into the ser- mons, and to fall on the congregation, to C, judge by the weary faces," and Miss Worslev smiled. Even her father's theological exposi- tions were not exempt from the sunny play- 11 ,f ,s thai was a great part of b?j. nature. Abo'tTnvcnunutes after his father John Garner came along, and Miss Worsley laughed at sight, of his doleful i'nce. Your dad's just gone past with a face like a chief mourner," she cried; and now vou come along with its awful twin. Whatever is tije matter to-day? I '• Jt's dismal enough, Vi," said John. II Ult said Viola Worsley, "whatever is it? Well--w-ell," blurted the young man, I dad says it's to be all up between you and ine, and that I've to marry Miss Mossley-and that'* what it is iola looked perturbed now. Tragedy was coming upon their sweet little romance, was it? But how did your father know that you and I—I thought he knew nothing at all about our affair, and hadn't to do yet awhile. "He didn't know anything till this after- And why did you tell him ? "1 had to." Why had you? "Just come up the lane, and I'll tell vou I all a.bout it. The Vicarage stood at a corner, where a moorland lane branched off the high road. The two strolled together up this lane, which was a delightfully quiet and snug little lane, with a high hedgerow on either side, and the young man began to pour out his tale of sadness. It was such a piteou* tale, such a. pathetic narrative, calling for so much sympathy, that he could Hol hdp putting his arm round the girl's wai.*t—and it. was a wonderfully sweet waist for the purpose—in order, no doubt, to keep up his heart, and help him through with it. It was sueli a woeful tale, such a catas- trophe for Cupid, that to keep himself from utterly breaking down, and the maiden too, no doubt, he needs must kiss her on the lips —and it was a wonderfully sweet mouth for kissing, too—at least once, and murmur as he kissed: But I'll not give you up, Vi-not even to save Garner and Son from wreck." The girl did not burst into tears and hewail the bitter draught, at which the youug man was rather surprised. He thought ishe would have cried a little at least. She did not seem to he very much concerned about the terrible business. After a silence, into which fell the golden fluting of a blackbird, Vi said, with downcast head I Mippose you'll have to fall in with your father's wishes, Jack? Never! said John. And she nestled against him. ag"?1 wish I'd a )ot of money. You should have it all for the stupid old factory," said Vi. But as I haven't, I'm afraid your father will force you to marry Miss Mossley— that's if she'll have you—and—I—think—she will. I've—noticed— If there were no tears on the surface, they were very close now. You've noticed what ? cried John. That Miss Mossley always looks on you as I if- Slie hesitated. As if what? As if she'd like to be a wife to you." Dad hinted the r;arne thing. I'm sure I feel flattered. But I must eonfes6 that I haH;lI't noticed it." No, you dunce, because you've only had eyes for poor little silly me This speech, of counse, could create nothing less than some very diligent osculation. Ah, well," said Vi, I suppose it's all over now—you mustn't kiss me any more. Well, I daresay Miss Mossley will make an excellent wife; she's a good woman, and if she is getting on in years but, no, HI not be spiteful. I like her, and she's very nice, and if I can't have you myself "—here a sob burst out of bounds—" why, I'd rather she had you than anybody else I know." Don't talk nonsense, Vi. There's nobody for me but you." Oh. it's easy to say that, but you'll see. Your father will have his way. I quite see the force of his argument, and he'll make you tsee it too. He'll beg. he'll implore, he'll alik you bliall the long-established and long-honoured name of the firm fall into shame because of a sentimental whim—an amorous fancy-for a moneyless girl. And you'll give way-and I shall be sacrificed; but that doeen't matter a bit—not the least bit! And now the tears were flowing. But she soon checked them, and said: Listen, Jack. We are both being very silly and sloppy. You have a duty to your father and to the business. I see it all ouite clear i I'.ow. and I won't be selfish but it t<> *.ive the old firm it is necessary "h/r \.>iee faltered, but &he eouraged herself od for voit tTiff Tn, to give each other up. wl-v v>v --Heaven helping me—I'll suffer ine ( a./g bear the I)ttrkleii--for your sake, because i lo>e you l li.Av4, He would have gathered her in his arms, but she had broken from him. and was hastening away, running towards a ^de-door ti iit opened into the Vicarage ground" Irom the lane. Before he could overtake lier she had vanished into the house. Give you up, darling? he said, ra ro;t«ly, as he stood ill thc lane al(,rie. -N, .-y And after this, twice never! T hen he went thoughtfully home. He w.;s determined he would not give Vi up, bur- well, his father could certainly make things very awkward for the pair. Ill. Much may happen in a day, and many a bit- terness be turned to sweetness ere bedtime — if only the right person gets a hand in the job. Unfortunately, right persons do not seem very prevalent. But happily. in this instance. Miss Mossley was a. right person and. what is just as essential, she liad the knack of going about things in the right way- Mis,, Leonora Mossley was a woman of twenty-eight—and a charming woman, too. To very young and prejudiced persoiis-S 11(lb as the factory master's son and the Vicar's daughter—she was relegated to the category of the hopelessly grown-up—the ageing adult; but to those with any true discernment she was a young woman in the very flower of life. Mr. Garner, senior, was not altogether off the liuli's eye in deeming Mr. Garner, junior, guilty of given idiotcy for not being lavishly in IpH' v.?'h Miss Moss!ey. Bm, then, tastes differ, and youth i* youth. Mis> Mossley was mor< than a pretty woman. She w a- a good fairy. Her compas- j sion In1 her into philanthropic and charitable j work. Hlw was desirous 111 lessen the suffer- ing in the world. The poor in the next nearest, manufacturing town — Friarport. seven miles away- blessed her for her be,untilul deeds and comforting speech. She dwelt half-way between the village aud the town, in an uld llall in glorious grounds. On this particular evening, alter the heart broken alld abrupt parting between .Jack and A'i, Miss Mossley, driving homewards in her carriage from a visit to a friend's 011 the other side of the village, requested her coachman t< hah at the Vicaraye. Of course, she knew nothing of what had happened to upset two young hearts: she nici-elv thought that a.* she wa* passing she would slop for a moment and s-ee how Vi— v.hoie, sii. had not seen for a few days, and of v. I10111 she, w as sisterly fond—was getting 011. she found the girl in a little summer-house in the corner of the garden. Why, Vi." she said. you've been crying. What's the matter? Vi dejeetedlv would have it that nothing at all \v;i>s ihe matter; but Mis* Mossley gently insisted that, the i ale was otherwise and lea rful. Now, tell me all about your trouble, Vi. I and let. us see if I can't help you. You know 1 would do anything for yon," can do anything for me," said Vi. But it doesn't matter." Now. just loll me all about it. dear." said Miss Mossley. slipping her arm sympatheti- cally round the girl. ovi look broken- hearted." A, I lllt I",Ii(i Vi. oil And that's juRt what 1 am." said Vi. on a sudden instinct to confide in Miss Mossley. But it doesn't matter. I'll bear it if it's for his good, and the salvation of the firm." oil I said Miss Mossley, .smiling, 7<7< good, and the firm. Now J inuxt- know all about it. Tell me. and let's see if we can't discover how to bring back your happiness." So frasmentarily, shvlv, Vi told the story of her wooing and its woe. When all was told Miss Mossley clasped Vi in her aruis and kissed her. Have no fear, Vi," she said, I shall not take vour sweetheart from you. 1 will not marn; Jack Garner." (')h, but vou must do, you ought to. to save the firm," said i. I'm willing if-it- save the iu'm, said Vi. it's for his good." But !'m HoL" Maid Miss Mossley. "Oh. bat. sure]y you')) agree, to save the I firm. 1 would if 1 were in your place—1— anvho?," went on Vi. with energy and with sorrow, the firm must not be ruined. The firni shall not be ruined, Vi; but you shall not be sacrificed to save it. We'll find a. way out," and suallt-d the smile of one who sees a way and has resolved. IJest easy, Vi; Garner and Son shall be saved, and you shall keep your lover in the bargain." How? asked wondering Vi. "Ah! that's my little secret," said Miss Mosslev. smiling aga-in. Twilight touches were now upon the world. The wide sunset fires had burnt down to one small fast-fading glow. Over the grey, dim moors the evening star was leading up the iiigilt. ° Let us go indoors. said Miss Mossley. The dusk is coming. But there shall be sun- shine in the morning." After some brief chat with the Vicar and his wife. Miss Mossley departed. As six; stepjted into her carriage she said to the coachman: "Stop at Mr. Garner's please. When Miss Mossley got out of the vehicle at the gates of the millowner's house, the dusk concealed a smilingly-perplexed face. I've got to go through with it now," the said to herself, and as it's for the happi- ness of two hearts, if not of four, why should I shrink? Her own pure, modest heart answered the question, and it was a secret the lady and her heart kept between them. Mr. Garner said lie was very glad to see Miss Mossley. He was seated at the drawing- room window, which overlooked the valley in which stood the factory of Garner and Sou; but for the gathering darkness the huge five- storeyed building and the tall chimney would have been visible. We'll have a light," said Mr. Garner, standing, and taking a box of matches out of his pocket. No, please don't, not just v et," said Miss Mossley, in some slight agitation, and feeling t.hat she could broach her errand best in the veiling shadows- I"d rather you didn't light up till I've said what I have come to say. Please sit where you were—where you could see the mill if it were daylight." Mr. Garner thought Miss Mossley's talk rather strange; but he said: "Very well. Ta-ke a seat. Miss Mossley sat on a chair from which she also could see through the big bay window. "Isn't the evening star beautiful?" she eaid. And it's shining right over the fac- tory, isn't it? What star is it, Mr. Garner? I'm afraid I don't know much of astro- nomy," replied Mr. Garner. But I do know that star is Venus—J ack told me so last night. The planet of love, then, isn't it? I guess that's why .Jack is interested in it. Let us look at it while we talk, for I've come to say something about love and lovers, and to plead for sweethearts. Forgive me if I am intrud- ing upon affairs which ought to be private. I assure you I am in all goodwill; but I have heard about your difficulties, and how you want Jack to marry-to give up the Vicar's daughter—and She hesitated. Ha.ve you seen Jack? Who's told you? asked Mr. Garner, uneasily, and not pleased, wondering if his son had been ass enough to tell everything to Miss Mossley. No, I haven't seen Jack. He hasn't told me anything. But I've seen Miss Worsley, and she is in misery, for Jack has been tell- ing her that you said he must give her up." What a mess he's made of it all! said Mr. Garner. veratUmslv "1 sunuose vou Ni, e call it." he went on, bitterly, and the part you were })!a,nlled to play in it? Miss Motley smiled. Yes, I know all the dreadful conspiracy," she said. For the moment Mr. Garner wished he were ten thousand miles away. What would Miss Mossley think of him, arranging to barter her into wedlock with his son? "I beg your forgiveness, Miss Mossley," he • said. My only excuse is that a desperate man dreams desperate schemes." You have my fulwsl, pardon, with all my sympathy. But you should never think, even for the sake of saving a firm, of making mar- riage a business transaction. The happiness of two souls is of even greater importance than the affairs of Garner and Son. You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Mr. Garner." I am. Miss Mossley. But I was in sore strait I know, and I want you to let me have the i privilege and the pleasure of helping you, Mr. Garner. I understand that you need ten to twenty thousand pounds. You may have it I immediately." I appreciate your kind offer more than I can say, Miss Mossley, but-" "Oh. there must be no 'huts.' Take tiio money, and let us put two sa.ù young hearts into bliss." 1 would like to accept your offer, but there are one or two future matters in connec- tion with such a loan that you have perhaps not taken into consideration." What are they, pray? Isn't my money my own. to do with as I plea.se? At present, yes. But some day vou may marry: and your husband might object to the money being tied up in Garner and Son; for J should say, fraTikly, that I don't know when it can be paid back." Pay it back when you like. I shall never ask for it." Yes, k know you would be all right. But when you marry—as such a desirable woman is sure to do—your husband—well, I shouldn't like Garner and Son to be the rause of any domestic difference or un- pleasantness, and particularly in your case." M'>* Mos-iuy ?rmled. I am sure my hue- band v, i1 i a II p rove." sh e said. Ah one never knows what husbands will do." said Mr. Garner. assure you that husband will ap- prove." Miss Mossley. emphatically. T am po*iti\e he will." Fven i: you knew now who your husbaud t; in fit- von could hardly lie sure on that point. Perhap- you do know who the fortu- u!?-m..u?-(\)?c me if 1 am presuming." ll, Tit-, If I ain P'-E'Aumi n g ?t,-tifilifig iiiat you know who your liti- band is to may be already en- gaged for I know to the contrary, though 1 didn't tliliik s4)-T would like you first to nsk his opinion. Ask the man you love if lie approve.* of his prospective bride lending her fortune to Garner and Son." The lucky dark hid Miss Mossley's rosy ex- citement from Mr. Garner as she said. in a low but sweet and steady voice "Very well, I will ask him. She paused two seconds. Do j'ou approve of me letting Garner and Son have this Mr. Garner ptat erect. What! he cried, f do not understand." and he rose to hie feet. Miss .VI ossley stood up also. If you ap- prove, there's no ojie else to ask," she said; then, with a sob Oli why have you forced me to be so bold? In a, fl ash and a thrill he understood, and clasped her in his arms. "I never dared dream of this," he said, as he kissed her. I really thought yon were interested in Jack," lw went 011. So I was. and am," she said, playfully. 1 thought I should like to make him a good mother -that's all." I rejoice now that Jack blabbed to the Vicar's daughter, and thus brought you to me--10 he my partner and my bride!" And he kissed her again. They stood looking through the window UJKIU the mystic moorland nignt. Venus shines golden bright over the fac- tory, -s he said. Ay. all is well with Garner and Son-and especially with Garner," said he. Ihe re wa* a knock at the door, which opened, ami a voice: Why, dad, you're all in the dark." Nay, Jack, all in the light." Mr. Garner struck a match and lit the gas. .Jack was astonished to see Miss Mossley in the room; and surprised at the blithe look on his father's face, from which all the grim anxiety had been swiftly conjured by the magic of love. Jack," said Miss Mossley, let us dis- solve your amazement. I have some news for you. Prepare yourself for the blow. You are not to marry Jack started. Me said Miss Mossley, with a smile. Jack looked tremendously relieved. Your change of countenance is Bcarcely complimentary, Jack," Miss Mossley pleas- antly continued, but, under the circum- stances. I'll forgive you. For I'm coming into the family and into the firm all the same. Your father and I—well, I am not going to be your wife, Jack, but your mother! aek looked surprised, but delighted. I am jolly glad," he said. "Dad, I congratu- late you." And now, my dear boy," said Miflf Mossley to Jack, get your hat on, and run as fast as you can—but I hardly need tell you that—down to the Vicarage—you'll find a pretty little girl moping there, and you can give her sweet relief—and tell Vi that I shall want her to be my bridesmaid." And so the joy of deliverance, that sooner or later follows all trouble, came to Gamer and Son. [THE END.]

Tonypandy Labour Exchange. Opening Ceremony Next Week The Tonypandy La bour Exchange will be formally opened on Tuesday next at 3 p.m. by Councillor D. R. Jones (chair- man of the Rhondda Council). Mr. W. P. Nicholas (Clerk to the Council and solicitor to the Miners' Federation) will preside, and at a meeting which will be held subseqnently several prominent local people will deliver addresses, and the work of Labour Exchanges will be ex- plained.