The Carter Girls' Mysterious Neighbors. Speed Nell

the extremely tactful and suitable thing of addressing his remarks to their mother, not forgetting to give the hostesses a full share of attention. Mr. Carter, who since his illness had been inclined to be very quiet, was drawn into the conversation and held his own with his old time power. Little wonder that his daughters were grateful to this interesting stranger who had this effect on their beloved father.

      The young man told them he was Hungarian and had bought the estate of Weston with a view to entering into intensive farming.

      “Then you are not Prussian!” exclaimed Douglas. “Oh, I am so glad!”

      “Ah!” and his handsome eyes flashed for a moment. Then he looked amused. “And why are you so glad?”

      “Why, of course anyone would be glad,” and Douglas blushed. “Who would want to have a Prussian for a neighbor?”

      “Do you dislike them so much then?”

      “I hate them!”

      “And you, too?” turning to Helen.

      “I am trying to remain neutral as our president has asked us to. I don’t feel so terribly Anglo-Saxon as my sister.”

      Of course this started the question of the war, which was in the minds of everybody. Count de Lestis rather surprised Mr. Carter by his frank announcement concerning his connection with Berlin.

      “I, no doubt, would be fighting with the Central Powers if I had not committed political suicide four years ago.”

      “And how was that?”

      “I wrote a book in which I made a plea for a democratization of Austria-Hungary. In it I intimated that the Hohenzollerns had no right to dictate to the universe. I was requested to leave the country. I was then living in Vienna, making short trips to my estate, which lies partly in Austria and partly in Hungary. Now there is danger of my entire possessions being confiscated.”

      “Oh, but when Germany is finally whipped you can come into your own again,” asserted Douglas. “The outcome is merely a matter of time.”

      “And so Germany is to be whipped?” his eyes flashing again.

      “Of course,” said Douglas simply.

      “And why of course?”

      “‘Because God’s in his Heaven,’” whispered Nan, but the count heard her.

      “Yes, but whose God?”

      “The God of Justice and of Right.”

      “How about the God of Might?”

      “There is no such God,” and this time Douglas’s eyes did some flashing.

      “I believe the United States will intervene before so very long,” said Mr. Carter as he and the count strolled out on the veranda to enjoy their cigars. The older man was enjoying his talk with this young foreigner. He looked forward with pleasure to seeing much of him, since Weston was only about three miles from the farm. They made plans to do some shooting together, as the open season was only a week off.

      When de Lestis learned that Mr. Carter was an architect he asked him to visit him at his earliest convenience at Weston to advise with him concerning the restoration of the old house to its original grandeur.

      “I’m not supposed to be doing any work for at least a year,” sighed Mr. Carter, “but I might look it over and tell you what I think and then recommend a suitable architect to take it in hand.”

      Douglas and Helen had a talk with Miss Louise on the subject of a country girl to come to them as maid of all work.

      “They are all of them thoroughly trifling,” declared that lady in her soft round voice, “but this creature we have has a sister who could come to you. I beg of you not to give her any more wages than ours receives, as in that case we should have to go up.”

      “Certainly not,” said Douglas. “Just tell us what that is.” But on learning that it was only seven dollars a month, the girls felt that it was no wonder the creatures were thoroughly trifling.

      “Did she cook this wonderful supper?” asked Helen.

      “No, indeed! Ella and I always cook everything we eat and this Tempy washes the dishes and cleans.”

      “But we want someone to cook. Do you think I might train the sister?”

      “Well, I have heard you can train monkeys but I have never seen it done,” laughed the fat old lady. “Come with me now and we can speak to Tempy about her sister Chloe.”

      They found Tempy in the pantry, peacefully sleeping in the midst of the unwashed dishes. Not in the least abashed at being caught napping, she waked up and told Helen that no doubt Chloe would be pleased fur ter come. She promised to fetch her on the morrow.

      “I will pay her just what the Misses Grant pay you,” said Helen.

      “Lawsamussy, missy, she ain’t wuth what I is. She ain’t nebber wucked out ter say much. I done started at six and wucked up ter seben, an’ if Chloe gits now what I gits, she’ll be too proudified. You jis’ start her at six same as Miss Ellanlouise done me.”

      CHAPTER IV

      GRANTLY

      Since our girls were to become quite intimate with the peculiar old sisters and their home, perhaps it would be just as well for me to give my readers some idea of what Grantly was like.

      The first thing that struck a visitor was the wonderful box bushes in the hedge enclosing the yard and in a labyrinth in the garden. These bushes were so thick that one could really walk on the tops of them if they were kept clipped, which they were not. In the labyrinth the bushes met overhead and even after a heavy rain the paths between were perfectly dry. It took days of soaking rain to make those winding paths wet. Beyond the labyrinth was an old-fashioned garden, but now in October chrysanthemums and late roses and cosmos were all that was left of the riot of color that could be seen there during the spring and summer.

      The house was of a very peculiar architectural design: a long, low body with a tower at each end. In each tower was a square room with many windows overlooking the country for miles around. Miss Ella claimed one of these rooms as her own especial property; Miss Louise the other. To approach Miss Ella’s sanctum sanctorum it was necessary to climb a narrow spiral stairway; Miss Louise’s was more accessible by reason of a broad stairway of many landings, but the ceilings at the landings were so low that anyone of ordinary stature must stoop to ascend.

      These rooms were used only as sitting-rooms by the erratic sisters as, strange to say, the two old ladies slept in the same room and in the same great four-posted tester bed. There were many other bedrooms in the mansion, but they both preferred the great chamber leading from the parlor, and there they slept and no doubt quarreled in their sleep.

      “This is my sitting-room up here,” said Miss Ella as she showed her guests over the quaint old house. “You may come up if you like. I had the steps made this way so Louise can’t get up here and worry my soul out of me with her eternal chatter. She’s too fat for the spiral stairway. Elephant!”

      “Yes, and my sitting-room is in the other tower, and thank goodness, Ella would find it a back-breaking job to get up my steps,” retaliated Miss Louise. “Giraffe!”

      Those strange old ladies had actually had the original steps to the towers changed to suit their particular grouches! They really spent very little time in their tower fastnesses, however, as they were much happier when together and quarreling.

      A tale was told in the neighborhood that once Miss Ella had neglected or forgotten to contradict Miss Louise on some vital subject such as whether it was or was not going to rain, and Miss Louise was so uneasy that she sent post haste for Dr. Allison.

      “I was afraid it was a stroke or something,” whimpered Miss Louise. She worried herself into a sick headache before the doctor arrived, and then the fat one had to go to bed and take the medicine and Miss Ella was forced to repent of her misbehavior by nursing her sister. Dr. Allison left strict injunctions that she was not to worry her poor sister again by agreeing with her.

      Grantly