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•~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 'ffJZStszx >orc \ ■■ iSP'-m, , • ^ V “J Jy.'.adkuire s >'-a. . .Ufkii the bank IS gk U“ Jp r xiio i srnd . ttirm- a no b X CREW COMPJ ^NTA, OA., AGENTS EOK AV. KN'UtK. FISC X. Kill -E A! [OMAN LI MB VI. PIANOS. THE I’lAXOI,' Lthe OKCHESTI HU ^n«l Tbe Victor Tal machine.