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J Cuyler Mitchell got out of his landau in the porte cochere of his stately residence on Peachtree Street, and, aided by his gold-headed ebony cane, ascended the steps of the wide veranda, where he stood fanning his face with his Panalanced over his shoulder after hi h with the horses for to-day," the old man returned "Put the the curving drive to the stables in the rear Mitchell sauntered around to the shaded part of the veranda and went in at the front door He was tall, seventy-five years of age, slender and erect, had iron-gray hair and ahis hat on the carvedcolored ht She had a feather duster in her hand and wore a turban- like head-cloth, a neat black dress, and a clean white apron

"Where is Irene?" he inquired

The maid was about to anshen a response came from above

"Here I am, father," cried Miss Mitchell "Can't you co my hair; I've left it loose to dry There is more breeze up here"

"If you want to see entleman said, crustily "I put myself out to ed if I cliain till bed-tihter replied "I know you have no very bad news, or you would have been runted, dropped his stick into an uain encountered thea bookcase

"Leave it, leave it!" he grus on a day like this There is enough dust in the streets without having actually to eat it at home"

With a sly look and a low iirl restored a vase to its place and turned into the study adjoining

"Get out of there, too!" Mitchell ordered "I want to readand knocking about"

"I can slide the doors to," Jincy suggested, as she stood hesitatingly in the wide opening