Mary Louise | Page 6

makers of pictures may
consider it beneficial to emphasize good by exhibiting evil, by way of
contrast, but they are doubtless wrong. I've an old-fashioned notion that
young girls should be shielded, as much as possible, from knowledge
of the world's sins and worries, which is sure to be impressed upon
them in later years. We cannot ignore evil, unfortunately, but we can
often avoid it."
"But why, if these pictures are really harmful, does Mr. Welland exhibit
them at his theatre?" asked the girl.
"Mr. Welland is running his theatre to make money," explained the
Colonel," and the surest way to make money is to cater to the tastes of
his patrons, the majority of whom demand picture plays of the more
vivid sort, such as you and I complain of. So the fault lies not with the

exhibitor but with the sensation-loving public. If Mr. Welland showed
only such pictures as have good morals he would gain the patronage of
Miss Stearne's twelve young ladies, and a few others, but the masses
would refuse to support him."
"Then," said Mary Louise, "the masses ought to be educated to desire
better things."
"Many philanthropists have tried to do that, and signally failed. I
believe the world is gradually growing better, my dear, but ages will
pass before mankind attains a really wholesome mental atmosphere.
However, we should each do our humble part toward the moral uplift of
our fellows and one way is not to condone what we know to be wrong."
He spoke earnestly, in a conversational tone that robbed his words of
preachment. Mary Louise thought Gran'pa Jim must be an
exceptionally good man and hoped she would grow, in time, to be like
him. The only thing that puzzled her was why he refused to associate
with his fellow men, while at heart he so warmly espoused their uplift
and advancement.
They had now reached the mill-race and had seated themselves on the
high embankment where they could watch the water swirl swiftly
beneath them. The mill was not grinding to-day and its neighborhood
seemed quite deserted. Here the old Colonel and his granddaughter sat
dreamily for a long time, conversing casually on various subjects or
allowing themselves to drift into thought. It was a happy hour for them
both and was only interrupted when Jackson the miller passed by on his
way home from the village. The man gave the Colonel a surly nod, but
he smiled on Mary Louise, the girl being as popular in the district as
her grandfather was unpopular.
After Jackson had passed them by Gran'pa Jim rose slowly and
proposed they return home.
"If we go through the village," said he, "we shall reach home, without
hurrying ourselves, in time to dress for dinner. I object to being hurried,
don't you, Mary Louise?"

"Yes, indeed, if it can be avoided."
Going through the village saved them half a mile in distance, but Mary
Louise would not have proposed it herself, on account of the Colonel's
well-known aversion to meeting people. This afternoon, however, he
made the proposal himself, so they strolled away to the main road that
led through the one business street of the little town.
At this hour there was little life in Beverly's main street. The farmers
who drove in to trade had now returned home; the town women were
busy getting supper and most of their men were at home feeding the
stock or doing the evening chores. However, they passed an occasional
group of two or three and around the general store stood a few other
natives, listlessly awaiting the call to the evening meal. These cast
curious glances at the well-known forms of the old man and the young
girl, for his two years' residence had not made the testy old Colonel any
less strange to them. They knew all about him there was to
know--which was nothing at all--and understood they must not venture
to address him as they would have done any other citizen.
Cooper's Hotel, a modest and not very inviting frame building, stood
near the center of the village and as Mary Louise and her grandfather
passed it the door opened and a man stepped out and only avoided
bumping into them by coming to a full stop. They stopped also, of
necessity, and Mary Louise was astonished to find the stranger staring
into the Colonel's face with an expression of mingled amazement and
incredulity on his own.
"James Hathaway, by all the gods!" he exclaimed, adding in wondering
tones: "And after all these years!"
Mary Louise, clinging to her grandfather's arm, cast an upward glance
at his face. It was tensely drawn; the eyelids were half closed and
through their slits the Colonel's eyes glinted fiercely.
"You are mistaken, fellow. Out