Newspaper Page Text
•~9-~9~9-~9~9~9~9-~9~9—9-~9-*- ^—9—9A-9-9—
e Hooly-Gooly
. 'By.,
Lottie “Retie IVylie
Never Too
By
Charles B. “Roberts
Sunny South
'PAP of paper, blown on
‘4. "sufnmer whirlwind, foil
at the feet of Helen Neuf-
ville as she sought shelter
In the vestibule of the big
hotel from rain and wind.
She stooped, and peeked
the fragment up. Had
Helen been aslced why she
did that particular thing, at
that moment, she could
have only answered that
Fate compelled her. Her
act was involuntary.
There w as writing on the sheet of pa-
P> r. Fresh ink, scarcely dry. Indicated
that the writer had just finished the mis
sive Ordinarily, Miss Neufville would
hare fluttered the letter on the sueeeed-
fe gust of wind to see it whir! away,
l-ia@ same reason that <r,fli|eneed her
"pick It up directed her 10 read what
Written there.
1"—pay you $500, if you will secure
JEhe photograph of some representative
% southern girl, for the Hoo'y-Gooly Com-
I pony, who will give her indorsment She
7(/ must be the daughter of a governor.
beautiful, and widely known throughout
the south. The . Hooly-Gooly Is the best
Investment I ever put upon the market.
If has doubled the Invested capital many
times since floated. I am still congratu
lating myself on having taken hold.
Faithfully yours,
“JOHN EbblMGTON"
As Helen finished reading the page, her
hand closed spasmodically over it. She
was thoroughly excited.
Five hundred dollars! That was the
exant amount her mother needed to lift
the mortgage off their little home. The '
cosy, sweet little home her father had
left as his only legacy, along with his
unblemished political name. Her mother
hafi been obliged to mort A,! ’ > f? place.
and now the notes w,vr«.^_ ,:: l_frs3 they
were paid in a lVrtnlght,^85g-i(J women
-would fte ijorpeb-PS. , ’■ r -,4^
* 1 <- 0ffrr.'?vg ne ; »*|
self as a possible suitable candidate '
seemed Inspired by heaven. Why should
, not she apply a= a candidate for the
honor of Indorsing Hooly-Gooly, whatever
that might mean? Surely, the $500 would
relieve her mother of a great stress of
anxiety and sorrow!
Next moment, Miss Neufville was deter
mined to apply for permission to testi
fy to the virtues of Hooly-Gooly. She
was a woman not to hesitate, when
once her mind was made up. nor to
spend any time in regretting afterwards
what she had done. She thought clear
ly and decisively, and It seemed tc her
that an indorsment, a mere recommend-,
ation, of something named lloolyGooly,
with a bonus of $500, was a windfall
just at that especial time.
The letter h i.l biown from an upper
window of the building In which she
stood. This was proof that the writer
thereof was upstairs. That was another
encouragement of Fate!
Going up to the clerk's desk. Miss
Neufville asked that Mr .Tohn Elling-
on bo summoned to the parlor. She
• O'tld wait for the gentleman there.
\ftcf having seated herself eomfort-
Helen realized for the first time
her mother, her highly respected,
West,'.and thoroughly southern moth-
\might shrink from seeing her daugh-
portrait in the daily papers with
g headlines, stating that “Miss
Neufville heartily endorsed Hoo-
Truly the pridfe of the
n:iiiF, bolstered up for .generations
lAioney. and blood, would have a
1^1 '-n skilled, but did not falter
intention. Surely the Hooly-
? better than the sheriff, and lie
Written for Z&>a Sunny South
TRANGE — incredible—abso
lutely unbelievable!” That
was what Sanderson was
thinking as, somewhat
dazedly, he removed his
great coat and sat down
before the fire in his
library.
Doubtless many would
have called Campbell San
derson, verging now on
two-score years, a fine-
looking man. His clean
shaven face, ird easing
though grave, bore unmistakable tokens
of ki^c'rress and amiability and no one
wouie' have hesitated to approach him,
notwithstanding that it might be seen ;
at a glance that his place and bis in
terests were not of the ordinary. Ho
had come to New Tork and gone into
business with a fortune gleaned from
the mountains of South America, where
he hiad been for four or five years after
leaving his native southern state. Al
though not a fashionable man In the re
ceived sense, he entertained now and
then a few congenial spirits. He lived
very quie^y—a-way antithetical to that
of another time, for in other days he
had Ieen the wildest of j-oung bucks;
indeed, It was tbe result of a youthful
escapade that had put an alloy of bitter
Into is life, and his wealth today was
but > e to efforts to efface remembrance
by a nental activity which should leave
no ic, im for looking backward. At
though, after the busy day, the
heavy
it
nig!
face.," Laura Hayden would always
'" T / l ','tally—faintly, as If typifying the
cv t* .' dricc--o-.it of the darkness of his
Picked Up the Fragments, Which Fluttered to the Grou^
would certainly foreclose the mortgage
-t nmtrtj we. nor Turri-i-Bminff.
But Hooly-Gooly! Whet a funny name!
TVas it a spook, or a book, or—Oh, }f It
should prove to be a cigar, or a patent,
supporter of some kind! The girl’s heart
misgave her at the thought.
Her mind was so concerned on the
possibility of lifting the burden of debt
from her mother’s mind that she did not
see a tall distinguished looking man at
her side until he addressed her.
“I am John Ellington,” the man said.
“I believe Miss Neufville, you did me
the honor to call for me.’’
’“Tes. I—— That is, I stammered
Helen, with furious blushes rioting over
her face, “you see, a whlrwllng blew
this to me,’’ handing Ellington the let
ter, “and, and. I thought perhaps I
might do 1 am all that!” Indicating
the sheet of paper.
”Oh, I see!” responded John Elling
ton cheerfully, noting the tears that
trembled on the girl’s lashes, “you wish
employment. You would like to take a
position with the Hooly-Gooly Company.
Have you ever had any experience of
the kind?”
The situation was growing embarrass
ing. Helen was feeling hysterical, but
she could not back out.
"No.” she answered stoutly, “It Is
not that. I thought maybe you would
use my picture—and testimonials! I am
all that you are looking for. I am the
daughter of the late Governor Anatol
Neufville, and and ”
She broke down and wept, letting the
tears fall upon the bosom of her dress.
"Come, you must not cry," said Mr.
Ellington kindly, “but tell me your
troubles. 1 might be In position to as
sist J’OU.”
ail
>ret
i dei
3 There was so much svmrj.yhy }
'«nf» manner that iifslen To'ok»d
into his eyes for the first time. They
were blue, and frank, and the face one
to inspire confidence.
Meantime John Ellington was wonder
ing if heaven or earth had ever held a
fairer, sweeter face than that of the
girl before “him.
Then—all in a moment, Helen found
herself confiding her simple story to the
proprietor of Hooly-Gooly.
It was not much of a romance or
tragedy, but it combined the elements
of poverty, political rise and fall, and
the protecting love of an unselfish
daughter, who colored photographs to
make a support for an Invalid mother.
Almost before she had begun Its re
cital. Ellington had divined it. Divined
it, and with splendid magnanimity, his
generous nature had leaped to fts ad
justment.
“I thank you for your confidence,”
said he, when Helen had ended her
story, "for It has decided me to give
to you the five hundred dollars for the
endorsement, and not to my regular
agent. I must ask you, however, to
send me at once your photograph, and
On the fifth day from this, to mall me
a letter, stating that you have wit
nessed the beneficial qualities of Hooly-
Gooly. Tonight I leave for Asheville,
and your letter will reach me there.”
Helen agreed to this proposition, and in
a short time was hurrying home with—
a bottle of Hooly-Gooly, in her hand
for It was a patent medicine and a
check for $500 in her purse. And-—she
blessed the whirlwind for bringing to her
suburbs Cq.hd abide until succeeded by
his h-, ne ir. iJie old happv days which
ty old jtwn of 1 lend were dear realities.
S&r t * ru ms for Sanderson. To
il! age's o, , ftev- ' vt be, an informal little
c!”, private a, ;;
. grounds pnd c . , .
.eres. The sil?*®'’exclusive
, front lawn -
CONTINUED ON FOURTH PAGE.
establishment
Culture and the piano and
taflght, and he had gone
there. The entertainment did not in
terest him a great deal, hecause vocal
music, for which he did not care much,
seemed to predominate, he saw that the
next number but one was to be a violin
solo by a Miss Jones. He would stay to
bear it. A violin solo! What memories
that brought of Laura’s playing!—of the
symphonies of the strings under her
touch—sweet melodies which seemed as
echoes of the songs singing in his own
heart. That was way back in the past.
He began to ponder or, dead years and
dead events, forgetting that he should
forget. He looked away from the plat
form and rested Ills eyes unconsciously
on the assemblage. What he saw was
Laura Haydon as she might look tonight.
First of all. he knew that she had never
married—friends who came up every now
and then from the south had told him
that. From the same source he hu<^
learned of the passing of her sweet
mother and of the fact that, through
credulous investments, her aged father
was no more in his once easy circum
stances. She wore black now, and the
bereavement and the other family trou
bles must show in her face, thought San
derson. Therefore, although there were
no seams and it kept well the old ruddy
tinge, it was a sad face and told of the
endurance of trials which had left
psychic vestiges—and it was some thin
ner. Her eyes, the same pleasing gray,
very dark. The lips, from not smiling
often, might he thought to be a trifle
compressed, but possibly he was mis
taken. No silver strands yet marked
ttie brown of her exquisitely glorious
hair, and the soft lines of her figure were
quite as comely as in girlhood.
“Yes, she must look just about like
that—a splendid woman still, at thirty-
three.” He called to mind the last time
she played for him as they sat that eve
ning on the broad piazza of her father's
house. It was in the summer and very
warm. She was dressed all in white and
liis fancy saw In her an Immaculate god
dess of grace set in the ebony of the
moonless Alabama night, for he could
discern but her silhouette as she drew
the bow back and forth across the
strings. . “When other lips and other
hearts”—the song had always strongly
appealed to him. How tenderly, sweetly
melancholy was her Interpretation of its
music! Ho seeffred to hear it even now-,
and the words came to him Whelfl!
other Ups and other hearts—Then you’ll
remember .me!” Why-why-he actually,
ilid hear It! Its charm filled the place.
His revery broke.
“Great God, is it possible!” _
He was almost stunned. Upon the
platform wtas the player—a woman clad
in black and in every respect tbe em
bodiment of his mind’s portraiture.^ His
face whitened apd there was a
beating agamst his breast.
“It can’t be—and yet—yes, yes
she!” he was forced to adm^t in spite
of the Incredibility of it. He thought
she had noticed him, for it seemed she
hesitated once, as her eyes roved In
his direction, and she almost stopped.
Bewildered, he listened until she had
finished and failed to reappear in ac
knowledgment of the applause.
He thought it best to make no enquir
ies just now. and he went home. He
could not sleep, but tossed and turned
the livelong night. In the ipoming he
dropped in upon the proprietor of the
ischool—nothing unusual, for he was
In the -habit of calling there, now and
then to learn the progress of a protege
c p his—a. poor boy who had evinced tal-
' 'A for the pbano a si whoso tuition he
Was paying. \
) "l -'wns aoUg-hVd,’’_he observed after
some preliminary 'conversation, ' he
v.olin solo last night. She plays q-uite
wonderfully.”
“Ah. yes—indeed she does!” acquiesced
the professor appreciatively.
“New York?" queried Sanderson.
“No—from the south. Applied to us
a couple of months ago and been here
ever since. Just heard by telephone
that she won’s be here today—she faint
ed after finishing last night and had to
go home in a cab. I rather think she s
wltrked too -hard or something.”
Sanderson stared imperceptibly.
"Too bad—too bad! Miss Jones—com
mon enough name,” he said, casting
about.
•’Oh, that’s not it. Her name’s Hay
don. She lias a. shrinking disposition,
it seems, and we had hard work get
ting her to play at all last night. When
finally she did agree, she asked us to
put ih£r down on the programme as
‘Miss Jones.’ She’s a remarkable wom
en. but reserved and uncommunicative—
we don’t even know where she lives.”
Having procured all the information
he could, Sanderson returned home, lie
informed his office that lie would not ar
rive until late that day, perhaps not
at all, and then directed a servant to
endeavor to find the cabman w(ho had
driven Miss Haydon and to ascertain
from him her address. As the cab had
doubtless been called from the stand
in front of a near-by hotel, this was
not a very difficult matter, and before
nightfall he had the information.
Early in the evening -he found himself
before a large brick apartment house
•...»... •... e-.....«■•• €>
of the second class. The hall letter
boxes did not show the name of Hay
don, and lie sought the janitor.
"Yes, she lives here,” said that per
son. “hut she can’t see nobody. I’m
just goin’ for a doctor for her.”
Sanderson became alarmed. “She’s not
seriously ill, is she?”
”1 don’t know; My wife’s been with
her and she says she’s sick and needs
a doctor."
The man hgsitated a bit, and then ac
cepted the proffered bank note which the
visitor had taken front his pocket.
“Wait a moment,” directed the latter,
and he wrote a few words on one of his
cards. “-I’m interested in this lady, and
if I can be of any help to her”—he was
saying. He stopped short, for the man,
peering into his face with a searching
and as if divining look, seemed about
to hand him bacle'fhe money. Ho was
evidently satisfied, J though. with the
scrutiny, as he took the card.
“Take this immediately to Dr. Ledler.
And, by the way, I don’t want Miss
Haydon to know, a thing about this.”
After seeing the janitor hasten off,
Sanderson went to the club to which he
had requested Ledler, who was his close
friend and intimate, to meet him and
there he waited in the greatest anx
iety. a.
The physician -was noted as a wag and.
as being very plain-spoken, and he had
a merry twinkle in his eye wihen he came
in about I I.
T ou re a sly dog!” was the greeting
which accompanied his hearty hand
shake.
Sanderson, while affecting not to notice
the rallying innuendo, wondered why peo
ple should be so predisposed to impute
evil.
”My dear fellow,” he said, “this lady
is a dear friend of mine—of my youth
rather: i n fact-.except for a mischance
she would havSe been my wife. Until last
night I hadn’t seen her for fourteen
years!” »
”1 be- I
prise m.^Jt
iff " A
our mrdon, my hoy! You sur-\
you find her?" was the eager
“Wen. I she might have been in some-,
thing of "a nad way—uer--*u;s pre-I ration
“Ho.,
inquiry. <
attention .lens
perhaps—if she , hadn't had'
She’ll bei all right with a rest.”
Over a! bottle Sanderson narated the
whole sjiory. “Marry her.” exclaimed
l.ed.er at the end. “I’ll be your best
man!”
II.
Through a narrow hallway—not actual
ly unclean or grimy, but so Impressing
one—which, throughout the day and
when the weather was not too cold, as
late frequently as 10 o’clock at night,
heard the laughter and cries and foot
falls of many truly dirty- children; up a
flight of stairs, ascending spirally to a
landing where were thin doors which
seemed-to have been closed always, but
which supplied ingress to apartments of
three or- four rooms that, taken all to
gether, would hardly have made a sin
gle commodious chamber; on up four
rnore flights of the same kind, passing
at Intervals windows that looked out
upon a murky court across which could
he. seen other apartments of tiie same
building—and one would haye arrived,
somewhat in want of breath unless pos
sessed of considerable wind powers, be
fore a door which was of a piece with
the others and tacked to which was a
card bearing in feminine characters the
announcement:
_*neys. a
”s. \Yh
I
bo
(1 t
' y
* i
fe
Svg,
If.
tv.
“MISS HAYDON.”
Teacher of the Violin.”
She had come to this. Major Hav-
don's fortune had, s'!! but vanished and
CONTINUED ON FOURTH PAGE.
• ■*-9—9-»-9-~9— • a.
Woman Who Hesitated ^
By 'Walter Barr
Tenth in Political
Series
-5
<9--9--9—9-^9-
an.
He last week's story was
' to -hiding the . political se-
ion should have ^pfUied
' ele.l
|a-9 — 9-»-9 — 9 — 9 — 9 — 9—9 -•■9-~9 — 9-»-9 •~9 »-9-t-9 — 9 — 9 — 9-*-9 — 9--9—9-" 9-*-99
■ 9 — 9 — 9 — 9-<
t.,.9.,.9 -19 -9—9 — 9-—9»-9—9*-9»-9 — 9 — 9 — 9—9‘-9 — 9‘-9 — 9 — 9‘-9—9»-9 — 9 — 9 — 9~9»-9»-
.9
1ETT'smiled when b®
morning paper and
especially amused
’scare head 1 ?" in
>ppo^|tion press
'mere had been
aice speculation,
men gathered
nes office the
as to how ha
‘when he read ,
*ich the man-
ad just ord-
vitrolic pen '
■ one of the
i\:>T none
- second
"Sve eau-
icn.i for.
4
ca-t in
^ fore-
the federal senate was to be selected by
that Caucus which met daily, fought
•ciMittnually and refused admission to four-
ninths of the members of the legislature.
Such were the actual conditions—with
some additional details of the fighting
about which Shaeklett knew more than
anybody «isr and some of which he never
told—as the first week passed wkh no
choice and snaeglett gaming a little each
day over his opponents.
Then came tn e big sensation. Every
body but west heard of it at the time,
and every politician still nemembers It.
It was cunningly desigiitfd to kill off
Shacklett,' and seemed to have done so
the day it appeared. But hardly any one
expected- Shacklett to take it in tne way
he did, for every one supposed him to
be a thoroughly practical politician, al
ways fighting to a finish.
*The result of the conference between
.Swart, the managing editor of Th* Times;
Pickens, Who was managing Sommer'-
(Mfiipaign, and a man from Illinois,
wjlose name was noit mentioned ‘at the
•firiie,, was not known' to another soul
uh-tfl.T#ie Times appeared the next morn
ing. Part ot the rt»rc» : of the publica
tion lay in its unexpectedness; the rest
of the momentum it had carm- from its
boldness. People generally believe any
charge that Is made with surneient ener
gy and particularity.if it he something
they-jipver ^reamed of before. Thev be
lieved "this one; but they expected Shack-
let t to deUy it In a way tnat would keep
things -botling for weeks at least.
Released from the thralldom of allit
eration -and debased from wood type, the
bendli-nes told quite as much as did the
article below, lacking only- a few minor
details. They said that Shacklett had
been a member of the lobby at Spring-
field before coming west, and had been
thoroughly mixed up with the notorious
Chicago bills, the scandal of which had
been carried even to the mountains.
They also ,.said -that. In ease of his elec
tion, the opposition party had arranged
to begin prosecutions back in Illinois,
and send a requisition for the new sena
tor from the splendid state, the Insignia
of Which was never sullied, and whose
sun should not be sent down in disgrace
for Sbacklett’s sin.
Fletcher and Van Steen took It dirrer-
enuy.
They came in, with angry faces and
flashing eyes, to tell Shacklett that the
trick was the most dastardly ever seen
and that they would shoot Swart at
sight, if Shacklett thought it would not
do further injury to their campaign. Be
fore they were entirely through the door
Shacklett had banished the smile, and
ills face was the inscrutable mask that
was the only one the westerners knew.
He had come out from Illinois five years
before, 'and the rapidity of his rise had
been phenomenal, except to the inner
circle, which at once recognized that
politics was an old play to the newcomer,
and that legislatures were to him but
as the collection of toy soldiers played
with by boys. They lioil recognized the
fresh finesse of Shacklett at once, and
they took him up quickly. Incidentally,
it may be said that they did not cease
to profit by it for many years.
“I tell you men that I’m all right.”
Shacklett said to the two chief lieuten
ants, "and you know that when I say
that. It ends it. If you fellows stick to
me and let me play this thing out, we'll
all win. I’m going to take you through
lire and hot water; but, if you fall by
the wayside, you’ll miss the train that's
going right into the station. The first
thing T want you to do is to stay away
from me till I I o’clock; then I want you
to come here.”'
When they had gone Shacklett took
a carriage down to a hotel, and as he
got to his room, sent for a messenger.
Next he wrote two notes and told the
messenger boy to hurry with them as fast
as a dollar could make him go. Then he
sat down, took a letter from his pocket
and read it all over twice. There is no
means of telling what he thought, for
his face showed nothing; but the letter
was from the only girl that Shacklett
ever even thought he loved. He had come
west to gain money enough and posi
tion sufficiently high to marry her, and
for five years the girl had been the ob
ject of all his work and the expected
reward for all his successes. The fact
that he might'have married at* any time
cut no figure, since Shacklett knew per
fectly well that he ought not to marry
the girl until he was rich enough to give
her the life she deserved. That had been
all argued out and settled—by Shacklett
—in spite of the views of the girl herself.
He had left -what qome of his friends
had thought a very fine position back in
Illinois to come west and take the
chances of politics and incidentally of
the profession of law, with a well-work-
ed-out plain in his head. He came detcr- v
mined to be senator from the state that
had attracted him as affording the best
opportunities for a skilful manipulator
of politics; but that, after all, i*as only
incidental to becoming able to marry the
girl witli whom he had a complete Under
standing, withal one of bis own crea
tion.
When he had gone to bed at 3 o*clock,
that morning ^hacjclett knew the sena
torial dignity would be his within a week;
but lie did not feel the toga on his shoul
ders—he felt only the hand of the girl
upon his hot forehead. He did .not im
agine the cheers of his party when the
final vote should be declared. He heard
only the words of the young Presbyte
rian minister back in the Illinois city say
ing the simple niarriage service. When
Shacklett arose at 7 o’clock the same
morning, the .first tiling he picked up was
the letter from the girl which he -was
reading-in the- room at tli6' hotel while
he was waiting for answers to Ws notes.
It was a warm, carefully written letter,
sensible enough, no doubt, and showed
the greatest faith in Shacklett. It said:
“I have Just heafd, from a man whom
1 shall hate to my dying day, that you
were part of the gang which bought
up the legislature for tb^notorious Ctfi-
cago bills; that you were given $20,000
to get the vote of a senator named Mc
Namara from down in tht> state, but ha
was so honest that even that fortune
could not touch him, and you failed-
Do not imagine that I believe this. If I
did I would not tell you. But the evi-
- dence is so strong that I must ask you
about it. Did you approach Senator Mc*j|
' Narnara wftHi a large sum of money in;;
the interest of the bills ip the legl^j
laturie? If your answer is no, v ire it
me quick, for T shall die if Jhfc state
mind continues much'longqr.
“If you cannot answer nett you h a d
not answer at AH- You .will receive
on Monday morning. Your telegram ca^j
reach me by noon in any event. If it n
not here by Monday noon I shall know"]
that you cannot say no, and—
“I do not know just what will becomi
of me, for unfortunately pe0P I(i dP no *
die when they ought to. I suppofe ij
w’ill be like a bad wound fliat fina11 ^
well, hut always leaves scar
not see how mine can .oyer heal, but the|
tell me that wounds do sometimes.
“Tt Is not that I am nfraifl for niysi
entirely. The essential question
Whether I could love y° u then ’ 1 !<
the man l learned tlJ- know ne * e:
could I love the other man I found
on I had married, as development wolifl .
come along the lines of character lie
chose? That is the great rhino', for, 1 f
I did not love , my husband. b °th o* ms
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