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Wham” 1.8451535; = | ■ M 1 - ♦ # SHEPHERD I rikyE.Phillip* Oppetxheitn /IC* nWtrsiiea/ by JJ. N t V T * C i by Litll*.Browa.af twCtch at toe corners of her 1 ** Francis, dear,” she. ronf “1 am afraid you are right. I can not even look toward the Walled House without wondering why it was built—or catch a glimpse of that dome without stupid guesses as to what may go on underneath." “I think very likely,” he said soothingly, “we have both exagger ated the seriousness of your fa ther’s hobbies. We know that he has a wonderful gymnasium there, but the only definite rumor I have ever overheard about the place is that men fight there who have a grudge against one another, and that they are not particular about the weight of the gloves. That doesn’t appeal to us, you know, Margaret but it isn’t criminal. • t “If that were all 1” she mur mured. I I dare say it is,” he declared. . London, as you know, is a hot bed of gossip. Everything that goes on is ridiculously exaggerated, and I think that it rather appeals to your father’s curious sense of humor.to pose as the law-breaker. »* She pressed his arm a little. The day was overcast, a slight rain was beginning to fall. >• Francis,” she whispered, “we had a perfect day here yesterday. Now the sun has gone and I am shivery. He understood in a moment. “We’ll lunch at Ranelagh,” he suggested. “It is almost on the way up. Then we can see what the weather is like. If it is bad, we can dine in town tonight and do a theater. “You are a dear,” she told him fervently. “I am going to get ready. Francis went round to the garage for his car and brought it to the front. While he was sitting, there, Sir Timothy came through the door In the wall. He was smoking a cigar and he was holding an um brella to protect hfs white flannel suit. He^-as as usual wonderfully groomed and turned out, but he walked as though he were tired, and his smile, as he greeted Francis, lacked a little of its light-hearted mockery. In the distance they could hear the sound of hammering on the other side of thd wall. Francis moved his head in that direction. “I hear that they are preparing for another of your wonderful en tertainments over there,” he re marked. • * On Thursday," Sir Timothy as sented. “I shall have something to say to you about It lateppn.” “Am I to take inrf|ation?” it I am likely to receive an Francis asked. “I should think it possible,” was the calm reply. What about Margaret?” My entertainment would not ap peal to her,” Sir Timothy declared. “The women whom I have been in the habit of asking are not women of Margaret's type.” ' “And Lady Cynthia?” Sir Timothy frowned slightly. “I find myself in some difficult! as regards Lady Cynthia,” he ad mitted. am the guardian of no body’s morals, nor am I the censor of their tastes, but my entertain ments are for men. The women whom I have hitherto asked have been women in whom I have taken no personal interest. They are necessary to form a picturesque background for my rooms, in the same way that I look to the garden ers to supply the floral decorations. Lady Cynthia’s instincts, however, are somewhat adventurous. She would scarcely be content to remain a decoration.” “The issuing of your invitations,” Francis remarked, “is of course a matter which concerns, nobody else except yourself. If you do decide to favor me with one, I shall be de lighted to come, provided Margaret has no objection.”, “Such a reservation promises well for the future,” Sir Timothy observed, with gentle sarcasm. ■ Here comes Margaret, looking very well, I am glad to see. Margaret came forward to greet her father before stepping into the car. They exchanged only a few sentences, but Francis, whose In terest in their relations was almost abnormally keen, fancied that ha could detect signs of some change In their demeanor towards one an other. The cold propriety of de portment which had characterized her former attitude toward hen fa ther, seemed to have given place\to some something more uncertain, to thing less formal, something which left room even for a measure of cordiality. She looked at him dif ferently. It was as though some evil thought which lived in her heart concerning him had perished. ** You are busy over there, fa ther?" she asked. - In a way,” he replied. We are preparing for some festivities on Thursday. M Her face fell. “Another party? ii “One more,” he replied. "Per haps the last—for the present, at any rate.” She waited as though expecting him to explain. He changed the subject, however. “I think you are wise to run up to town this morning,” lie said, glancing up at the gray skies. “By the-bye, if you dine at Curzon street tonight, do ask Hedges to serve you some of the ’99 Cllquot. A marvel ous wine, as you doubtless know, Ledsam, but it should be drunk, Ail revoir! »» Francis, after a pleasant lunch at Raqrlagh, and ha vi ng .arranged wfth Margaret to- dlfib With her- in Curzon street, spent an hour or two that afternoon at bis chambers. As he was leaving, just before five, he came face to face with Shopland de scending from a taxi. “Are you busy, Mr. Ledsam?” the latter inquired. “Can you spare me half an hour?” “An hour, if you like,” Francis assented. Shopland gave the driver an ad dress and the two men seated them selves in the taxicab. Any news?” Francis asked curl ously. Not yet,” was the cautious re-. piy- It will not be long, how ■ ever. r .. Before you discover Reggie Wil more?” - -----------.....-V The detective smiled in a supe rior way. -1 I am no longer particularly in terested in Mr. Reginald Wilmore,” he declared. “I hawe come to the conclusion that his disappearance is not a serious affair. It’s serious enough for his rela tives,” “Not Francis objected. If they understand the sit uation,” the detective rejoined. “As sure them from me that nothing of consequence has happened to that young man. I have made inquiries at the gymnasium in Holborn, and in other directions. I am convinced that his absence f'om home is vol untary, ana that t lere is no cause for alarm as to liis welfare. "Then the sootuyou make your way down to Kensington and tell his mother the better,” Francis said, a little severely. “Don’t forget that I put you on to this. “Quite right, sir,” the detective acquiesced, “and I am grateful to you. The fact of it is that in making my preliminary investiga tions with regard .to the disappear ance of Mr. Wilmore, 1 have stum bled upon a bigger tiling. Before rmtny weeks are past, I hope to be able to unearth one of the greatest scandals of modern times. “The devil!” Francis muttered. He looked thoughtfully, almost anxiously at his companion. Shop land's face reflected to the full his usual confidence. He had the air of a man buoyant with hope and with stifled self-satisfaction. > ■ I am engaged,” lie “upon a study of the methods and habits of one who I believe to be a great criminal. I think that when 1 ?>lace my prisoner in (he bar, Wnin wright and these other great artists in crime will fade from the mem ory.” “Is Sir Timothy Brast your man?” Francis asked quietly. Hts companion frowned porten tously. No names,” he begged. .. Considering that it was I who first put you on to him,” Francis expostulated, “I don’t think you need be so sparing of your confi dence. > • Mr. Ledsam,” the detective as sured him, "I shall tell you every thing that is possible. At the same time, 1 will be frank with you. You are right when you say that it was you who first directed my at tention towards Sir Timothy Brast. Since that time, however, your re lations with him, to an onlooker, have become a little puzzling.” “I see,” Francis murmured. “You’ve been spying on me? M Shopland shook his head In dep recating fashion. A study of Sir Timothy during ’the last month,” he said, has brought you many a time into the focus.” Francis for the first time was con scious of an utterly new sensation with regard to his companion. He watched him through half-closed eyes—an insignificant-looking little man whose clothes, though neat, were ill-chosen, and whose tie was an offense. There was nothing in the face to denote unusual intelli gence, b,ut the eyes were small and cunning and the mouth dogged. Francis _ looked away out of the window. A sudden flash of realiza tion had come to him, a wave of unreasoning but positive dislike. When do you hope to bring your case to an end?” he asked. The man smiled once more, and the very smile irritated his com panion. tt Within the course of the next few days, sir,” he replied. «> And the charge? The detective turned around. Mr. Ledsam,” he said, “we have been old friends, if you will allow me to use the word, ever since 1 was promoted to my present po sition in the force. You have trust ed me with a good many cases, and I acknowledge myself your debtor, but in the matter of Sir Timothy Brast, you will forgive my saying with all respect, sir, that our ways seem to lie a little apart. •• Will you tell me why you have arrived at thnt conclusion?” Fran cis asked. “It was 1 who first in cited you to set a watch upon Sir Timothy. It was to you f first men tioned certain suspicions I myself had with regard to him. I treated you with every confidence. Why do you now withhold yours from me?” ** it Is quite true, Mr. Ledsam, ■ Shopland admitted, “that it was you who first pointed out Sir Timothy as an interesting study for my pro fession, but that was matter of months ago. If you ill forgive me saying so, your relations with Sir Timothy have altered since then. You have been his guest at the Sanctuary, and there Is a rumor, sir—you will pardon md if I seem to bo taking a liberty—that you are engaged to be married to hts daughter. Oliver Viattfih’gjgldfiM." GRIFFIN DAILY NEWS ~’~rm eetm to be toiertMy ~wet informed as to my affaire, Shop land," Francis remarked. “Only so far as regards Timothy," your as sociations with Sir was the deprecating reply. “If you will excuse me, sir. this is where I should like to descend.” <« You have no message for Mr. Wilmore. then?” Francis asked. “Nothing definite, sir, but you can assure him of this: His broth er is not likely to come to any par ticular harm. I have no absolute information to offer, but if is my im pression be that Mr. Reginald Wilmore will home before a week is past. Good afternoon, sir.” Shopland stepped out of the taxi cab and, raising his hat, walked quietly away. Franks directed the man to drive to Claries street. As they drove off he^as conscious of a folded piece of paper in the cor ner where his late companion had been seated. He picked it up, opened it, realized that it wns a let ter from a firm of lawyers, ad dressed to Shopland, and deliberate ly read It through. It was dated from a small town not far from Hatch End: Dear Sir: Mr. John Phillips of this firm, who Is coroner for the district, has de sired me to answer the enquiry con tained in your official letter .of the 13th. The number of bodies recov ered from the Thames In the neigh borhood to which you allude, dur ing the present these year, has been seven. Four of have been identified. Concerning the remaining three nothing has ever been heard. Such particulars as are -on our file will be available to any accredited repre sentative of the police at any time. Faithfully PHIiXlPS yanra, _ __, & SON. • The taxicab came to a sudden stop. Francis glanced up. Very breathless, opland put his head in at the window. “I dropped a letter,” he gasped. Francis folded It up and handed It to him. “What about these three uniden tified people, Shopland?” He. asked, looking at him intently. The man frowned angrily. There was a note of defiance in his tone as he stowed the letter away in his poeketbook. ' “There were two men and one woman,” he replied, “all three of the upper classes. The bodies were recovered from Wilson’s lock, some three hundred yards from the Walled House.” Do they form part of your case?” Francis persisted. Shopland stepped back. “Mr. ^.edsam,” he said, “I told you some little time ago that so far as this particular case was con cerned I had no confidences to Share with you. I am sorry that you saw that letter. Since you did, however, I-hope you will not take l “Mr. Ledsam," He Said, Told You Some Little Time Ago That So Far as This Particular Case Was Concerned, I Had No Confi dences to Share With You.” it as a liberty from one in my po sition if I advise you most strenu ously to do nothing which might impede the course of the law. Good day, sir! CHAPTER XIV F RANCIS, hour before in that dinner pleasant which half- he spent in Margaret’s sitting-room, spoke to her of her father’s kind ness to the carter's horse, of the dogs’ home near Wardour street. She listened sympathetically to his description of the place. “I am not in any way surprised at the incident," she remarked. “My father spends nt least an hour every day, when he is down at Hatch End, amongst the horses, and every time a fresh crock, is Jbnmght down, he is as interested as though It were a new toy.” “It is a remarkable trait In a very remarkable character," Francis commented. tt I could tell you many things that would surprise you,” Margaret con tinued. “One night, for Instance, when we were staying at the Sanc tuary, he and I were going eut to dine with some neighbors- and he heard a cat mewing In the hedge somewhere. He stopped the car, got out himself, found that the cat had been caught in a trap, released It, and sent me on to the dinner alone whilst he took the animal back to the veterinary surgeon at the Walled House. He was simply white with fury whilst he was tying up the poor thing’s leg. I couldn't help HsWng him what he would have done if he could have found the farmer who set the trap. He looked up at me, and I was almost frightened. ‘I should have killed him,’ he said—and I believe he meant it. And, Francis, the next day we were motoring to London and saw a terrible accident. A mo tor bicyclist came down n side road at full speed and ran into a motor lorry. My father got out of the car, helped them lift the body from under the wheels of the lorry, and came back absolutely unmoved. 'Serve the silly young fool right!’ was his only remark. He was so horribly callous that I could scarce ly bear to Bit by hl» ride. Do you understand that ; lint easy,* he admitted. There was a knocfcr’at the door. Margaret glanced at the clock. << Surely dinner can't be served alreadyshe exclaimed. Come In.” Very much to their surprise, it was Sir Timothy himself who en tered. He was in evening dress and wearing several orders, one of which Francis noted with surprise. “My apologies,” he sold. "Hedges told me that there were cocktails here, and as I am on my way to a rather weary dinner, I thought I might Inflict myself upon you for a moment." Margaret arose at once to her feet. “I am a shocking hostess,” she declared. "Hedges brought the things in twenty minutes ago. ■i She took up the silver receptacle, shook it vigorously and filled three glasses. Sir Timothy accepted his and bowed to them both. “My best wishes,” he said. “Real ly, when one comes to think of it, however much it may be against my Inclinations I scarcely see how I sfyfll sent. be I believe able to thut withhold both my have con you at heart the flair for domesticity. This little picture, and the thought of your tete-a-tete dinner, almost touches me. “Don’t make fun of us, father, Margaret begged. “Tell us where you are going in all that splendor?" * Sir Timothy shrugged his shoul ders. "A month or so ago,” he ex plained, "I was chosen to Induct a scion of royalty into the under standing of fighting as it Is indulged in at the National Sporting club. Tills, I suppose, Is my reward—an invitation to something in the na ture of a state dinner, which to tell you the truth, 1 had forgotten until my secretary pointed it out to me this afternoon. I have grave fears of my being bored or of misbehav ing myself. I have, as Ledsam here knows, a distressing iiabit of truth fulness, especially to new acquaint ances. However, we must hope for the best. By-tlie-bye, Ledsam. in case you should have forgotten, I have spoken to Hedges about the ’99 Cliquot.” , ; “Shall we see you later?” Mar garet asked, after Francis had mur mured his thanks. “I shall probably return direct to Hatch End,” Sir Timothy replied. “There are various little matters down there which are Interesting me just now—preparatory to my party. Au revoir! A delicious cocktail, but I am inclined to resent the Angostura." He sauntered out, after a glance at the clock. They heard his foot steps as he descended the stair's. “Tell me, what manner of a man is father?” Francis asked im- pulsively............................................................ “I am his daughter and I do not know,” Margaret answered. “Be fore he came, I was going to speak to you of a strange misunderstand ing which has existed between us and which has just been removed. Now I have a fancy to leave it Until later. You will not mind?” “When you choose,” Francis as sented. “Nothing will make any dif ference. We are past the days when fathers count seriously .in the things that exist between two people like you and mej who have fek life. Whatever your father may be, what ever he may turn out to be, you are tire woman I love—you are the woman who is going to be my wife.” She leaned toward him for a mo ment. * j “You have an amazing gift,” she ' whispered, “of saying just the tiling one loves to hear in the Way that convinces. Dinner was served to them in the smaller of the two dining-rooms, an exquisite meal, made more wonder ful still by the wine, which Hedges himself dispensed with jealous care. The presence of servants, with its restraining influence upon conversa tion, was not altogether unwelcome to Francis. He and Margaret had had so little opportunity for general conversation that to discuss other than personal subjects in this pleas ant, leisurely way had its charm. They spoke of music, of which she knew far more than he; of foreign 1 travel, where they met on common ground, for each had only the tour ist’s knowledge of Europe, and each was anxious for a more individual acquaintance with it. She had tastes in books which delighted him, a knowledge of games which prom ised a common resource. It was only whilst they were talking that he she realized how with few a shock the how that young was, years lay between her serene school days and the tempestuous years of her mar ried life. Her school days in Naples were most redolent of delightful memories. She broke off once or twice into the language, and he lis tened with delight to her soft ac cent. Finally the time came when dessert was set upon the table. “I have ordered coffee up in the little sitting room again," she said, a little shyly. “Do you mind, or would you rather have If here?'” “I much prefer it there,” he as- sured her. They sat before an open window, looking out upon some elm trees in the boughs of which town sparrows twittered, and with a background of roofs and chimneys. Margaret’a coffee was untasted, even her ciga rette lay unlit by her side. There was a touch of the old horror upon her face. The fingers which lie drew into his were as cold as Ice. “You must have wondered some times,” she began, “why I ever mar ried Oliver Hildttch.” “You were very young,” he re minded her, with a little shiver. “and very Inexperienced. I suppose he appealed to you in some way or another. »* “It wasn't that,” she replied. "He came to visit me at Eastbourne, and he certainly knew all the tricks of making himself attractive and agreeable. But he never won xny heart—he never even seriously took my fancy. I married him because I believed that by doing so I was obeying my father’s wishes.” "Where was your father at the time, then?" Francis asked. "In South America. Oliver Hlk ditch was nothing more than a dit charged employee of hte, discharget for dishonesty. He had to leava South America within a week to es cape prosecution, concocted and on the way to Europe he the plot which yery .pearly ruined joy_.life. He (To b« continued) t • mmmmmmmm Our Daily Story Water From His Canteen By ANTHONY REIMERT Holding the sheriff's five-year-old boy before him on the saddle, the Kid had dashed through the encir cling posse and won his way to safety. Not a man had dared to fire. It had been a daring and spec tacular move, this of the Kid, bad man, multiple piurderer, stealing the sheriff’s child at dawn from his own house and dashing away. There was not a horse that could overtake the Kid’s in flight. The. Kid was safe once he put the moun tain pass behind him. And, once across the ninety-mile stretch of desert, he was safe from pursuit The Kid drew rein at last, and for the first time cast a glance at the sleeping child he carried. He was a fair-haired little boy. Some thing leaped into the Kid’s heart. Bad man though he was, there had once been a time—shucks, he didn’t want to think of that I Only the Kid was so absolutely like Marne’s child, the little boy that should by rights have been his, if Mame hadn’t gone back on him and start ed him down the long, very long road. He rode on. The child awoke and cried in the stranger’s arms. The Kid drew his slicker over the kid’s face, shielding him from the sun. They were entering the dee ert now. He poured a little water from libs canteen down the kid’s Id^Oe C0ffif0rt * The ninety miles were a long dis tance and tire well was very far. Even the child’s additional slight weight was u handicap. The sun glared down more fiercely. Again the child awoke. He cried for wa ter. The Kid poured him out a lib eral drink, and he drank it greedily. The Kid looked at his canteen. The water problem was one thing that he had not considered, fie poured a few drops down his own parched throat. He urged on his tired horse. Only half the dis tance covered, and the heat was fearful. The sweat had all but ceased to flow from his pores. The Kid felt burning to a cinder. The child was awake now, and w hining continuously. He stretched out his hands. The Kid refused to look. He refused to listen. He kept his eyes fixed on the faint blue ridge against the distant sky that was his Suddenly the horse stumbled. It regained its feet and stood with heaving flanks and drooping head. The Kid. with the kid in his arms, slipped from its back. The horse slipped to its knees. It lay on the sand. The spurt, the long run, combined with the lack of water, had finished it. Already its eyes were glazing. The Kid, who was merciful to his beast, having ascertained that there was no hope, put a bullet through its brain. The child was moaning feebly. He looked at his canteen. Just enough to take him afoot to the well. Not enough for two. slick-| t Wrapping the child in his er, he deposited it in the shadow i cast and started. by the body of the dead horse, j “Reckon he’ll live till the posse finds him,” he mumbled. He walked unsteadily on. His throat was burning. He stopped and took down (jfis canteen. He raised It to his lips. He let it fall with a curse. Why was he think ing of Mame and that boy of hers? An oath broke from him. Again he raised the canteen. Again he lowered it. * Then, with sudden, resolute steps, he strode back to the child. It lay upon its back, moaning feebly. The kid poured a long drink down its throat It was odd how, with that, his own torture seemed to decrease, the burning pain to become less unbear able. All through the long afternoon the Kid poured the contents of the canteen, little by little, down the bid’s throat. “Thunder! fit The sheriff sprang to the ground and snatched up his child. It was alive. It knew him and snuggled up to him. He poured water down Its throat. He had no eyes for the dead man beside iL “Sheriff! One of the posse touched him on the arm. "He died of thirst. Burned out And the child—’’ “My God!” the sheriff muttered, fighting back the tears.*' (<S). 1924, Western Newspaper Union.) The average age of a clergyman jn the Church of England is said to be 60. SENORITA EVA PLATT £ ■: •; J / : ;■•'?*! :• •• . Ov - jb&jK Wm % J 8enorlta Eva Platt received a million and a half votes In a beau ty contest held under the auspices of s Mexico City newspaper, win ning the title of most beautiful girl in Mexloo. 8h r comes from the state of 8onora. — ■MM T?iirc* (Continued from Si Page 3) possible. We are also trying to sustain our • reputation for excel lent deportment. Sixth Grade B. In our grade we are striving to have perfect order. Those that were perfect in or der are O. D. Adams, Jack Bow den, Neary Buckner, Wil lie Cox, Elizabeth Collier, Mary Crenshaw, Gordon Futral, Irene Golden, Reba Jones, Cecil Putman, Mary Turner, Lovie Thaxton, and Blondine Underwood. Tuseday we held our presiden tial election. The men in the race were Calvin Coolidge, John W. Davis and Robert La Follette. Our class voted for and elected Davis, Davis had 36 and Cool idge 4. MILLER GRANT, Class Reporter, Sixth Grade A . v! Last Friday we had a Hallowe en program in our class, which we u enjoved nJOytU verv very roueh rouen ’ Thoso ln08e tak lak _ ing part on the program were Jo I Hem P hi ”. Elizabeth Yar brough, Sarah Lou Byrd, Mollis sa Patrick, Louise Smith, Martha Henslee, Charlotte Tyus, James Pailey and Frank Lindsey. Molisa sa Patrick brought a real pump kin, fixed as a jack-o-lantern and it, together with the spooky ghost stories told by several in the class, made us glad we didn’t have to wait until dark to go home. CHARLOTTE TYUS, Class Reporter. Seventh Grade B. This class has been standing monthly tests during the past week. MILLARD SMITH, Class Reporter. Seventh Grade A. This class has been trying to reach a grade average of 100 per cent in spelling per pupil for the month of October, but so far only the writer has succeeded. However, 17 out of 35 have made A this month. Another aim of this class, is to make 100 per cent in attendance, and ... thls P**t week the has score been made, NELLE ENGLISH, Sam Bailey School Reporter. NORTHSIDE. The boys of Northside were de lighted with the new football which was purchased this week for the school. We Sincerely regret that illness prevented Miss Stallworth from being present Tuesday and Wed nesday, but welcomed Mrs. H. P. Powell, who taught during her ab sence. Friday being circus day in Grif fin, the children were very en thusiastic over being able to con tribute to the parade with the animals they made Wednesday up der Miss Flemister’s direction. The first grades made elephants; the second monkeys holding balloons; the third lions in cages; We hope every one saw the menagerie. Third Grade A. The pupils of third grade A en joy thoroughly the stories in the new Elson Reader, This book goes hand in hand with the Elson Good English, adopted two years ago, and a great deal of the work can be nicely correlated. Edna Belle Oates has the honor of being the only pupil in the class having made t wo headmarks so far in spelling. Third Grade B. Third grade B has done some good work in penmanship this week and is doing nicely with the arm movement. In “Good English” we are learn mg a poem, I. Wynken, Blynken and Nod,” which the children have enjoyed. Willie Cook has a star in spell ing this week. Tuesday in "Good English,” Lewis Miller wrote’ this sentence on the board to illustraty? the use of I as a word: “When I went home today I had a fight.” After school that day, the first thing that greeted the teacher was a fight between Lewis and Wayne McKneely. Wayne said, "Miss Mary, I just wanted to is’ sentence true." ■; .v Ip FOURTH WARD SCHOOL The second grade children are very glad to have two of their former school mates back with them, Mary Langford, who moved to Florida in September and on account of sickness, joined us this week. For two weeks we have not had any children tardy. Second Grade A. /..|| In our arithmetic match this week Opal Putman led the entire grade in rapid answering of com binations up to twenty. Her name was placed on the honor roll in arithmetic to remain there u some member of the class i ceeds in having his name repl Opal Putman's by being able give the answers to the combina tions more rapidly. Several members of the class have challenged Opal Putman for another race next week. .. Third Grade. Do you know that we have an R.O.T.C. at the Fourth Ward m School? Yes, the third grade is a military room, only the govern ment doesn’t furnish our boys with uniforms and we don’t have to come back to school afternoons. Each month, six captains are elected by popular vote. They in turn select six lieutenants. This gives two officers to each section. They are responsible for the law and order of their respective dom panies, have charge of the water line, pass the paper baskets, and use brooms and dust cloths when needed. "£k This past month Capt. Margaret Mitchell has served with Lieut. Eugene Banks; Anne Scott Gunter and Oliver Sholl; Ruth Austin Cedi Sofley; Marion Slade- Felton Jones, Eleanor Brisc; ,B - and Ben Stuckey. We also had an election day n fourth to see about a prt dent for the United States i f America. After our teacher ha i talked and explained it all, s o said, “Now children, who is the democratic candidate for presi dent?” and before any of the girls could answer a boy hollowed out: “Mr. Gumming. *1 Half holiday Friday for the cir cus. We hope the crowd all got to go and had a good time. 34 CHILDREN. Report of the Fifth Grade. v We appreciate Mr. Lester’s letting ub out in time to see the parade and the half holiday. Those who made headmarks in spelling this week are Winifred Wilborn, Elerson Jenkin.-, Jessie Milam, Za ra Westmoreland and Malcolm Newman. In the arithmetic match the boys are 22 and the girls 31. We had only one tardy this week. The children enjoyed the story that Mr. Jones read us the other day. The name of the story was “The Negro Excursion.” . WINNIFRED* WILBORN, Reporter. Seventh Grade. The seventh grade has had ne tardies this week and only one pupil abseht. This is remarkably considering Friday being circus day. Friday this school let out at 10:25 on account of Sparks cir cus. We all enjoyed the holiday and wish to thank out benefactor, Mr. Lester. MARGUERITE POWELL, Reporter. Sixth Grade M. Those who made a perfect rec ord for the week in spelling are Marie Pannell, Joe Caldwell and Nashli George. James Cook’s name has been oil this roll since its beginning un til this week. He missed a word this time, the only one since we’ve had the record. We are proudeof his work. Our grade is enjoying the prac tice tests in arithmetic we began recently. m MS® ETTA JONES, Rep *