The Weber Literary Journal out, Janis toiled. She tried every way possible to be congenial. How she wished she could get out of it all! One day Mariner was brought home from his work badly injured. In some way, no one knew exactly how, a strong solution of some mixture had splashed into his eyes, blinding him for awhile. His eyes were bandaged and would have to be kept so for at least a month. At home all day, Mariner was worse than ever. The poor wife had endured as much as she could, so she finally conceived a plan whereby she could have at least one afternoon off. She had no relatives, so she decided to write a letter to herself, having it come from an imaginary cousin in the city. As soon as the idea seeped into her mind, it was acted upon in an instant and she quietly slipped out to mail the result. The next morning a letter arrived for Mrs. Durant. Hastily opening it she read the contents to her husband. "Dear Janis: "I am leaving here today for Texas. Would like to have you meet me at Aunt Kate's. I can talk to you for a whole afternoon, if you can stay that long. Hoping you can get away long enough to bid me goodbye, I will close. Your cousin, Cameron." "Hmm," grunted the selfish Mariner, "so he wants you to bid him goodbye!" "O, Mariner," pleaded Janis, "won't you please let me go? Just this once?" For once in his life Mariner gave in to his wife's pleading tones. "Well," he remonstrated, "if you don't stay away too long, you may go." He even gave her a little extra change for carfare. Janis happily ran to get her coat. On her way out she heard the gruff voice of Mariner, "Now don't be gone a week. I want you to bring that Cameron fellow back with you." The very soul of Janis grew sick with fear. How on earth she was to bring the cousin back with her she did not know. Eugene Brent stood in front of the Angeles Theatre. In The Weber Literary Journal front of the same theatre, a young woman also stood. Every time Brent glanced her way he found her eyes fixed upon him in a steady gaze. Once he looked her way and smiled. She quickly responded. He turned, purchased a ticket and entered the theatre. He had immediately dismissed the little occurence from his mind. He had not been in the theatre long when the young lady at whom he had smiled came in and sat beside him. For the life of him he couldn't see why she took that seat when there were plenty of other seats. He didn't in the least care. For a while she sat there in silence and then, while removing her hat, her gloves slipped to the floor. "Ah," thought Eugene Brent, "another one of those little vamps." He reached for the gloves and gave them to her. "Thank you," she said simply. And as he encountered her eyes he saw that trouble brooded there. But thoughtlessly he told her he was wise to her little game. Janis, for it was she, looked at him with frightened eyes and rose to go. "Don't go," said Brent quietly. "What seems to be the trouble?" The woman sat rigid for a time. Then Brent rose to go, thinking he had offended her by his thoughtlessness. This time Janis placed her hand timidly on his arm and asked him not to go. "I am in trouble and I want you to to help me!" she stammered. Then Janis briefly told him of the letter she had written to herself, supposedly from a cousin. She told him how harsh and cruel her husband was, and that he wanted her to bring the cousin home with her; " and," she broke off, "won't you please come with me and be that cousin?" Eugene Brent looked wonderingly at her. What could he do? How could he resist that pleading look? Finally, as if in a daze, he found himself consenting to go with her. Leaving the theatre, they took a car. It was a long ride and Janis had plenty of time to tell him about her imaginary relatives. After getting off the car they walked about a block and finally came to the Durant house. On entering the room 25