The Wild Olive

enty feet-into the hold of the Walmer Castle. The sturdy little Italians who carried the bags from the warehouse in long single file might have been those he had superintende

ground; but it was rejuvenating Rosario de Santa Fé Faust-like, with its golden elixir. It interested the man who called himself Herbert Strange-resident manager of Stephens and Jarrott's great wheat business in this outlet of the great wheat provinces-to watch the impulse by which Decrepitude rose and shook itself into Youth. As yet the process had scarcely advanced beyond the early stages of surprise. The dome of the seventee

h him, two hundred miles to the Atlantic, with the wheat fields stretching behind him to the confines of Brazil and the foothills of the Andes-to be a moving element in this galvanizing of new life into the dormant town, in this finding of new riches in the waiting earth. There was, too, a kind of companionship in the steamers moored to the red buoys in the river, waiting their turns to come up to the insufficient quays a

emental hugeness of its characteristics-its rivers fifty to a hundred miles in width, its farms a hundred thousand acres in extent, its sheep herds and cattle herds thousands to the count-were of the kind to appeal to an ardent, strenuous nature. There was an exhilarating sense of discovery in coming thus early to one of the world's richest sources of supply at a minute when it was

of business, he was astonished nevertheless at the rapidity with which he climbed. Men of long experience in the country had been more than once passed over, while he got the prom

him, on the day when his present appointm

a gray complexion, a gray mustache, and wearing gray flannels, with a gray felt hat, he produced a general impression of neutrality. Strange would have gone on his way unheeding had not the snarling tone arrested him. He had igno

sked, with an air

after," Green repe

hy

know that as

is it? Out with

ct in overawing the little man, though th

l for getting hold of what belongs to some one

nd by it, too. But have I ever

taken my job-the job I've w

f so, you would have come by it more

en't I been in this office for going on seventeen

ne, "I'm sorry for you. If I were in your place, I dare say I should feel as you do. But if I were in your place, I'll be hanged if I shouldn't make myself fit to get out of it. You're not fit-and that's the only reason why you aren't going as resident manager to Rosario. You're

do a kindness; and when he hurt any one's feelings he hurt his own still more. Even now, though he felt justified in giving little Green to understand his intoleration of impertinence, he was obliged to fortify himself by appealing to his creed that he owed no consideration to

most of whom had been his superiors as Green had been, less inclined to bark at his heels. He got respect from them, even if he could not win popularity-and from popularity, in any case, he had been shut out from the first. No man can be popular who works ha

ung man, evidently bound to make his mark, and apparently of respectable antecedents. The first menace of danger had come from Mr. Jarrott himself, who had unexpectedly invited his intelligent employee to lunch with him at a club, in order to talk over a commission with which Strange was to be intrusted. On this occasion he was able to stammer his way out of the invitation; but when later, Mr. Skinner, t

own by his wife. It came in the shape of a card informing Mr. Strange that on a certain evening, a few weeks hence, Mrs. Martin would be at home, at her residence in Hurlingham. It was briefly indicated that there wo

s of the world Norrie Ford had known being thrown open to Herbert Strange, but the one was being moved by the same thrill-the thrill of the feminine-that had been so

They were handsome girls-blonde and dashing-whose New York air was in pleasant contrast to the graceful indolence or stolid repose of the dark-eyed ladies of the Argentine, too heavily bejewelled and too consciously dressed according to the Paris mode. St

check it. He began again to think of the feminine, to dream of it, to long for it. For the time being it was the feminine in the abstract-without features or personality. As far as it took form at a

or in the Florida. When this happened he would have a day or two of acting foolishly, in the manner of the Bonarense bucks. He would stand for hours of his leisure time-if he could get away from the office at the minute of the fashionable promenade-on the pavement of the Florida, or under a palm-tree in the

appreciation of art. Those were the days in which he first began to be able to dress well, and to have a little money to throw away. For ten days or a fortnight he threw it away in considerable sums, being either in love or in a condition like it. He respected Mademoiselle Hortense, and had sympathy with her in her trials. She was desperately sick of her roving life as he was of Mrs. Wilson's boarding-house. She was as eager to marry and settle down as he to have a home. The subject was not exactly broached between them, but they certainly talked round it. The decisive moment came on the night when her troupe was to sail for Montevideo. In the most delicate way in the world she gave him to understand t

han ever, and in the course of time got his appointment at Rosario. It was a great "rise," not only in position and salary, but also in e

ut to leave the private office one day, after a consultation on some matter of secondary import, was already half-way to

ns is going to represent the house in New York. W

old man liked his subordinates to receive momentou

hin. Raising himself, Mr. Jarrott looked about uneasily, as if trying to fi

rs. Ja

that air of gentlemanly awkwardness-something like an Engli

me to say she hopes you will-a-com

oung man searched wildly for some formula

" he began at last to stammer,

you on Sunday at

erceptible emphasis which, as the whole h

had kept, in the outlines at least, to the old Spanish style of architecture, as being most suited to the history and climate of the country, though the wealthy Argentines themselves preferred to have their residences look-like their dresses, jewels, and carriages-as if they had come from Paris. The interior patio was spacious, shaded wi

t Strange across the table, smiling at him with her large, thin, upward-curving smile, comic in spite of itself, and with a certain pathos, since she meant it to be charged with sentiment. Over the party at table,

south, and languid from the same cause. Her handsome hazel eyes looked as if they had been used to weeping, though they conserved a brightness that imparted animation to her face. A w

trange did belong to the Virginia Stranges, she was sure they could find relatives in common. Oh, he didn't? Well, it seemed really as if he must. If Mr. Strange came from New York, he probably knew the Wrenns. Her own mother was a Wrenn. She had been Miss Wrenn before she was Mrs. Colfax. He thought he had heard of them? Oh, probably. They were well-known people-at least they had been in the old days-though New York was so very much changed. She rarely went back

rom time to time by a response from himself, or an interjectory remark from o

He noticed that as this lady led the way her figure was as lithe as a young girl's and her walk singularly graceful. "No one is ever old with a carriage like yours," Miss Jarrott had been told, and she believed it. She dressed and talked according to her figure, and, had it not been for fea

own the b

ut its li

into prose, it

te of inarticulate grumbling. When coffee was poured, and the young man's cigarette alight, Miss Ja

I've known a young lady of the same name. That is, I

bject, Strange presumed she was one of the Stranges

ave to interpret for themselves It's funny I should be like that, isn't it? I wonder why? Can you tell me why? And this Miss Strange-I never knew her really-not really-but I feel as if I had. I always fe

red on that poin

o me, is it? And yet I feel as if it was. I've always called Mrs. Colfax my sister-in-law, and I've taught her little girl to call me Aunt Queenie. They lived here once. Mr. Colfax was Mrs. Jarrott's brother and Mr. Jarrott's partner. The little girl was born here. It was a great loss to my brother when Mr. Colfax died. Mrs. Colfax went back to New

tion that she had been born

ld gal!" screamed the parrot

ors. She's nearly eighteen now, and she wasn't eight when she left us. Oh yes, of course we've seen her since then-when we've gone to New York-but that hasn't been often. She will have changed; she'll have her hair up, and be wearing her dresses long; but I shall know her. Oh, you couldn't deceive me. I never forget a face. I'm like that. No, nor names either. I should remember you, Mr. Strange, if I met you fifty years from now. I noticed you when you first began to work for Stephens and Jarrott. So did my sister-in-law, but I noticed you first. We've often spoken of you, especially after we knew your name was Strange. It seemed to us so strange. That's a pun, isn't it? I often make them. We both thought you were like what Henry-that's Mr. Jarrott's oldest son-might ha

not the leisure, in the excitement of his removal to Rosario and the undertaking of his duties there, to follow up a set of clews that were scarcely more palpable than odors. Nevertheless the words came back to him from time to time, and always with the same odd suggestion of a meaning special-perhaps fatal-to himself. They came back t