Newspaper Page Text
SEVEN KEYS TO BALDPATE
EARL DERR BIOOERS
Copyright 1913 by the Bobbs-Merrill Co.
THE MANICURE LADY
,;ued from Yesti
| th** bedding Magee bad presented to
^ I the haberdasher, hastily thrown book
“The point is,” said Mr. Bland, “I
don’t want you here. Why? Maybe
because you recall beautiful dames—
on book cover*—and In that way. Ara
bella. Maybe— bot what's the use? I
J>Ct It simply. I got to be alone-alone
on Baldpate mountain
you out tonight”—
“See here, my friend." cried Mr. Ma
gee, •‘your grief has turned your bead.
Ton won’t put me out tonight or to
morrow. I’m here to stay. Yoo’ro
welcome to do the same. If you like.
J3ut you stay—with me. I know you
fire a man of courage, but It would
take at' least ten men of courage to
put me out of Baldpate Inn.”
They stood eying each other for a
moment. Bland’s thin lips twisted Into
Ji yoeer. “We’ll see.” he said. “We’ll
settle all that In the morning.” His
tone took on a more friendly aspect
“I’m going to pick out a downy couch
In one of these rooms.” he said, “and
Jay me down to sleep. Say, 1 could
greet a blanket like a long lost friend.”
Mr. Magee proffered some of the cov
ers that Qulmhy had given him and
accompanied Mr. Bland to suit 10,
across the hall. With a brisk good
night Mr. Magee returned to No. 7.
Rut he made no move toward the
chilly brass bed In the Inner room.
Instead he sat a long time by the fire.
Ho reflected on the events of his first
few h'Mu-s in that supposedly uninhab
ited solitude whore lie was to be alone
With liis thought*. He pondered,the
way and manner of ihe flippant young
fnan who posed ns a lovelorn haber
dasher and under whose flippancy
there was certainly an air of hostility.
.Who was Andy Butter, down In Iteu-
ton? What did the young man mean
when he asked if be should “dose up
thop?” Who was “he” from whom
ftm? the orders, and. most important
of all, what was in the package now
resting in the great safe?
Mr. Magee smiled. Was this the
Staff of which solitude was made?
He threw off his dressing gown and
began to unlace his shoes.
“There has been too much crude
melodrama in my novels,” he reflected.
“It’a so easy to write. But I’m going
to get away from all that up here. I’m
going’’ -
Mr. Magee paused, with one shoe
phiaed in his hand. For from below
came the sharp crack of a pistol, fol
lowed by the crash of breaking glass.
| like golden wire—even she must nev-
By WILLIAM F. KIKR.
“There ain’t much in the papers
lately to keep folks gabbing,” said the
Manicure Lady. “The Mexico situa
tion is in hock for the present, and
there ain't no heiresses disappeared
for some tinie, and Jack the Jabber
isn’t using the needle none that 1
can read about. We* are about due
fo r something startling to hapj en,
hat it is go
by the lovelorn one on rising.
“You prefer to sleep down here,"
Mr. Magee commented.
“Near the letters of Arabella—yes,*’
replied Bland. His keen eyee met Mn
gee’a. There was a challenge In them, j
Mr. Magee turned, and the yellow i
I won’t put light of the candle flickered waniy over I
the great front door. Even as be looked !
at it, the door was pushed open, and
a queer figure of a man stood framed
against a background of glittering
a now. Mr. Bland’s arm flew up.
“Don’t shoot!” cried Magee.
“No, please don’t,” urged the man
in the doorway. A beard, a pair of
round, owlish spectacles. And two ri
diculous earmuffs, left only a sugges
tion of face here and tbere. “I have
every right here, I assure you. even
though my arrlvil is somewhat uncon
ventional. See—I have tho key.” He
held up a large brass key that was
the counterpart of the one Hal Bentley
bad bestowed upon Mr. Magee in that
club on fur-off Forty-fourth street.
“Keys to burn.” muttered Mr. Bland
sourly.
“I bear np ill will with regard to
the shooting.” went on the newcomer.
He took off his derby hat and rueful
ly regarded a hole through the crown.
His bald head seemed singularly frank
aud naked above a face of so many
disguises. “It is only natural that
men alone on a mountain should de
fend themselves from invaders at 2
In the morning. My escape was nar
row. but there is no ill will.”
He blinked about him. his breath a
white cloud in the cold room.
* i
And I saw, a. In a droam-.hnm, I «n , r , n ho compared with and I wonder
rust yon, gentlemen-a girl supposed Ar , lM , lla sbe _ gbe h , d _,_ fa c^.v 0 ah ln 5 I t ? ln b .?'
I had forever forgotten In the mold u..__ „ , I aln t got
CHAPTER IV.
Blonds and Suffragettes.
R. MAGEE slipped Into his
dressing gown, seized a candle
and. like the boy in the nursery
rime with oue shin* off and one
•hoe on. ran into the ball. All was
•Rent and durk below. He descended
to the Inndiug and stood tbere, holdiug
the caudle high above his head. It
threw a dim light an far as the bottom
Of the stairs, but quickly lost the bat
tle with the shadows that lay beyond.
“Hello!” the voice of Bland, the
ktberdasber, came out of the black-
Bees. “The Goddess of Liberty, as I
Hve! What’s your next imitation?”
“There seems to be something do
ing,** Mid Mr. Magee.
Mr. Bland came into the light, par
tially disrobed, his revolver in hla
hand.
“Somebody trying to get in by the
front door,” be explained. “I shot at
Idol to acare him away. Probably one
of your novelists.”
“Or Arabella,” remarked Mr. Magee,
coming dow n.
“No,” answered Bland. “I distinct
ly nw a derby hat.”
With Mr. Magee descended the yel
low candlelight, and, bnishing aside
shadows of the hotel office, it re-
He Woefully Recorded a Hole Through
the Crown.
vea led a mattress lying on the floor
dose to the clerk’s desk, behind which
stood the qaff. On the nftrip was
“Life, young gentlemen.’' he remark
ed, setting down his bag and leaning
a green umbrella against It. "has Its
surprises even at slxty-two. Last
night I was ensconced by ray own II
brary flrer preparing a paper on the
Pagan renaissance. Tonight I am on
Baldpate mountain, with a perforation
in my hat”
Mr. Bland shivered. “I’m going buck
to bed,” he aaid in disgust.
“First,” went on the gentleman with
the perforated derby, “permit me to
introduce myself. I am Professor
Thnddcus Bolton, aud I hold the chair
of comparative literature in a big east
ern university.”
Mr. Magee took the mittened baud
of the professor.
"Glad to see you, I’m sure," he said.
“My name Is Magee. This Is Mr. Bland
—he is impetuous, but estimable. I
trust you will forgive bis first salute.
What’s a bullet among gentlemen? It
seems to me that as explanations may
be lengthy and this room Is very cold,
we would do well to go up to my room,
where tbere la a Are.”
“Delighted,” cried the old man. "A
fire. 1 long to see one. Let us go to
your room by all means.”
Mr. Blund sulkily stalked to bis umt
tress uud secured a gnvly colored bed-
quilt, which be wound about his thin
form.
“This is positively the last experience
meeting I attend tonight,” he growled.
They ascended to No. 7. The pro
fessor removed, along with other im
pedimenta, his ear tabs, which were
connected by a rubber cord. He waved
them like frisky detached earn before
him.
“An old man’s weakness,” he re
marked. "Fooliah they may seem to
you. But I assure you I found them
useful companions in climbing Bald-
pate mountain at this hour.
“But I am not bore to apologise for
my apparel, am I? Hardly. You are
•tying to yourselves 'Why Is he here?’
Te>, that ia the question that disturbs
you. What has brought this domes
Heated college professor scampering
from the Pagan renaissance to Bald
pate Innt For answer, I must ask
you to go back with me a week’s time
and gaze at*a picture from the rather
dreary academic kaleidoscope that is
my life.
“I am seated back of a desk on a
platform in a bare yellow room. In
fronj of me, tier on tier, sit a hundred
young men in various attitudes of in
attention. I am trying to tell them
something of the ideal poetry that
marked the rebirth of the Saxon gen
ius. They are bored. I-well, gentle
men, In confidence, even the mind of
a college professor has been known to
wander at times from the subject In
band. And then—I begin to read a
poem—a pqem descriptive of a woman
dead 600 years and more. Ah, gentle
men’’—
He sat erect on the edge of his great
chair. Back of the thick lenses of his
spectacle* he had eyes that still could
flash.
“Thia is not an era of romance." he
said. “Our people grub in the dirt for
the dollar. Their visions perish. Their
souls grow stale. Yet
at most inopportune times, comes the
fifcsh that reveals to us the glories that
might be.”
Mr. Bland wrapped bis gay quilt
more securely about him. Mr. Magee
smiled encouragement on the newest
raconteur.
“I shall be brief,” continued Profes-
aor Bolton. "Heaven knows that ped
agogic room was no place for visions,
•or were those athletic young meu fit
companions for a soul gone giddy. Yet
— I lost my head. As I read on there
returned to my heart a glow 1 had not
known In forty year*. The bard spoke
of her hair:
and dust of my later years. I will not
go further into the matter. My wife's
hair is black
"And rending on. but losing the
thread of the poet's eulogy in the gold
en fabric of my resurrected dream, it
came to me to compare that maid I
knew in the long ago with the women
I know today. Ah. gentlemen! Lips
made but for smiling fling weighty ar
guments on the unoffending atmos
phere. Eyes made to light with that
light that never was by land or sea,
blaze instead with wbat they call the
injustice of woman’s servitude. White
hands made to find their way to the
hands of some young man in the moon
light carry banners in the dusty streets.
It seemed I saw the blue eyes of that
girl of long ngo turned, sad. rebuking,
on her sisters of today. As I finished
reading my heart was a whirl. I said
to the young men before me:
“‘There was a woman, gentlemen—a
wotnau worth a million suffragettes.’
“They applauded. The fire in me
died doiVn. Soon I was my old meek. J
academic self. The vision bad left no
trace. I dismissed my class and went
home: I found that my wife—she of
the black hair—had left ray slippers by
the library tire. I put them on and
plunged into a pamphlet lately pub
lished by a distinguished member of a
German university faculty. I thought
the incident dosed forever.”
He gazed sorrowfully at the two
young men.
“But. gentlemen. I had not counted
on that viper that we nourish in our
bosom—the American newspaper. At
present 1 will not take time to de
nounce the press. I am preparing an
article on the subject for a respectable
weekly of select circulation. Suffice it
to record ivhat happened. The next
day an evening paper appeared with a
huge picture of me on Its front page
and the hideous statement that this
was the Professor Bolton who had said
that ‘One peroxide blond is worth
million suffragettes.’
“Yes, that was the dreadful version of
ray remark that was spread broadcast.
Up to the time that story appeared 1
had no idea ns to what sort of creature
the peroxide blond might be. I pro
tested, of course. I might as well have
tried to dam n tidal wave with a table
fork. The wrath of the world swept
down upon me. I was deluged with
telegrams, editorials, letters, denounc
ing me. Firm faced females lay In
wait for me and waved umbrellas in
my eyes. Even my wife turned from
me. sayiug that while she did not ask
me to Hold her views oq the question
of suffruge, she thought I might at
least refrain from publicly commend
ing a type of woman found chiefly In
musical comedy choruses. I received
a note from the president of the uni
versity asking me to be more circum
spect in my remarks. Me—Thaddeus
Bolton—the most conservative man on
earth by instinct!
“And still the denunciations of me
poured in; still women’s clubs held
meetings resolving against me; still a
steady stream of reporter* flowed
through ray life, urging me to state
my views further, to name the ten
greatest blonds In history, to—heaven
knows what. Yesterday I resolved I
could stand it no longer. I determined
to go away until the whole Shing was
forgotten. ’But,’ they said to me,
’there is no place on land or sea where
the reporters will not find you.’ I talk
ed the matter over with my old friend,
John Bentley, owner of Baldpate inn,
and he in his kindness 'gave me the
key to this hostelry.”
Wisely
. ,. . . , , . i am u b'ai uu time to puzzle about
Webster fouldu t tiave found w°rda to the flIture> .. Bald the Hpad Barber .
describe It. And her heart was true to .. The pagt |g hard Pnough lo forgPt
Toura truly—at least I thought that It and t be present is hard pnough to
Wfis ” live In without me fussing about what
Mr. Magee rattled on. The haber- is going to be.”
dasher, bis calling and bis tragedy “Well, I suppose it is foolish to try
snatched from him by the humorous to pierce the veil of that which lies
Magee, retired with sullen fnoe into his betore us,” said the Manicure I^ady,
bedqullt. Carefully Mr. Magee led up " but >'° 1 ' k "°"' Ceorge, a girl is
to the coming of tbe man from Jersey
City; In detail he laid bare the duel of
haberdashery fought in the name of
the fair Arabella. As he proceeded his
enthusiasm grew
that bad escaped Mr. Bland. Lie paint
ed with free hand the picture of trag
edy's dark hour; tbe note hinting at
suicide he gave in full. Then he told
of how his courage grew again, of how
he put the cowardice of death behind
him, resolved' to dare all- and live. He
finished at last, his voice husky with
emotion. Out of the corner of his eye
he glanced triumphantly at Bland.
That gentleman was gazing thought
fully at the blazing logs.
to dreaming of the
always more ga
future than
you would
future any, George, would be to know
how the fifth race was going to come
Ided hue bits otIt g0 you C0U IrI he there powerful
with your wager. Girls is more ro-
mantic. They are especially romantic
when they are single, and the future
naturally has more charm for them
than it has for married women be
cause they are naturally curious to
know what kind of a looking gu
going to lead them up to the altar
or to the Justice of the Peace.
“Brother Wilfred knows more about
bow a girl feels about them things
than you would, because he Is a poet
Temperament Is No Excuse for Excess;
Character Better Than Genius
By Ella Wheeler Wilcox.
A man was telling a story of some
friend* of his—people of talent, who
were gifted and cultured, but whose
self-made staudards caused them to
lose sight of all ordinary laws of so
ciety.
With much sangfroid the ipan re
lated their doings—doings which in
cluded drinking to excess and defying
the rules of decency in dress and be
havior.
“These people, you see, have stand
ards of their own,” he said. “They do
not look at things as we look at them.
It is a matter of temperatraent. We
cannot class them with the ordinary
mortal.”
But the possession of talent and
temperament does n^t necessitate
such standards.
It does not excuse such behavior
commented 1 ’ ,aH
“You did quite right.’
Professor Bolton, "in making up jour
mind to live. And now, the gentleman
in the—er—the hedqullt. Has he. too.
a story?”
“Yes.” laughed Mr. Magee, “let's hear
now from the gentleman in the bed-
quilt. Has he. too. a story? And if
so. what Is It?”
He smiled delightedly into tbe eyes
of Bland. What would the ex-haber
dasher do. shorn of his fictional expla
nation? Would he rise in his wrath
and denounce tbe man who had stolen
'his Arabella? Mr. Bland smiled back.
He stood up. and a contingency that
bad not entered Mr. Magee's mind
came to be.
ho
gent is. The only thing , ^
nt to know about the a “ a 11 , doeB indlC » te m a h ‘«* typ ®
of genius. Very great men and wo
men have lived of order and system.
They have kept the Commandments;
they have not indulged in beastly or
gies and called them the result of
temperament, and they have not
flung their loose ideas or morals or
religion In the face of the world.
Hundreds of thousands of people
HAVE DONE those things, wh# were
merely moral weaklings and hufiiaq
derelicts, and they have been hauled
into court the next morning to pay a
fine for disorderly conduct.
Half-witted apd half-demented men
and women there are by the thous
ands who do the same sort of thing
e as tender as a squab,
*m last week and I got
look at it when it came back from
* editor yesterday. All I seen
e fir:;! verse, because ho jerked
st of it out of my hand. This is
the first vei>
'A maiden fair with golden hair
Was gazing at the moon.
‘My goodness me!’ said she, said she*
‘I hope I’ll marry soon.'
Til grant your boon. You’ll marry
On some not distant day;
But the man you yoke will be a joke!'
The moon to her did say.
CHAPTER V.
A Professional Hermit Appears.
BLAND walked calmly to
tbe table and picked up a pop
ular novel that lay thereon.
On Its cover was the picture
of a very beautiful maiden.
“See that dame?” be inquired of the
professor. “Sort of mukes a man sit
up and take notice, doesn’t she? Even
the frostbitten haberdasher here has
got to admit that in some ways she
has this Arabella person looking like a
faded chromo In your grandmother's
parlor on a rainy afternoon. Ever get
any notion, professor, tbe way a pic
ture like that boosts a tv»v«*I Id the
busy marts of trade? No? Well”—
Mr. Bland continued. Mr. Magea
leaned back, overjoyed, in bis chair.
Here was a man not to be annoyed by
the mere filching of bis story. Here
was a man with a sense of humor,
an opponent worthy bis foe’s best ef
forts.
“I used to paint dames like that”
Bland was sayiug to tbe dazed pro
fessor. He expluinod how bis pictures
had enabled many a novelist to “eat
up the highway lu a buzz wagon." As
be approached the time when the nov
elists besieged him be gave full play
to bis imagination. One, be said,
sought out his apartments In an aero
plane.
“Say. professor/' he finished, “we’re
In the same boat—both bidlug from
writers. A fellow that’s spent bis life
selling neckties—well, he can't exactly
appreciate our’sltuatlon. Thero’s what
you might call a bond between you
and me. D’ye know, 1 felt drawn to
you Just after I fired that first shot
That’s why 1 didn't blaze away again.
We’re golug to be great friends. 1 can
read it in the stars.”
He took the ^Ider man's hand feel
ingly. shook It and walked nwny, cast-
•rofessor Bolton blinked j log a covert glance of triumph at Mr.
“I only mention this verse. George,
to show that nearly every girl wishes
to know at leust that much of her fu
ture, Girls is kind of confiding, any
way. and they ought to know some
thing about the makeup of the gent
in which they confide in. It is a ter
rible thought for any girl to have,
George, that she is likely to get
hitched to a man with the face and
figure of a Greek god and the intel
lect of a Slav shoveller. It's enough
to give one the gooseflesh. That is
why I olten like to peculate about
what Is in store for me in them misty
years to come.’’
“Well, I suppose the men ought to
do a little doping out the future them,
selves,” remarked the Head Barber.
“Think how many poor Joes have
took fair brides to the altar and then
found out that the girls had married) the slaughter
them for their money. I know a fel j crasy put out
which our temperamental c ,. r
wish to have regarded : j evi.Tn,
special talent.
There is a much larger conin
of low, ignorant and vicious 1
with whom the “temppranun*-
nius” puts himself on „ ;^ vol '
he makes his own standards ri.,
be found In higher walks 0 f
among the gifted and great.
Hla Strong Appetites.
The man of genius is. of murs
dowed with strong appetite
emotions and passions, as a rule
He Is subjected to greater v
tion than his more prosaic j )r ,
But Just in the degree of his g.
he Is given the brain power t~
his emotions. If lie falls by tin-
side he possesses the strength to
and go on. His fall can l>* u
stood and forgiven; hut when
vaunts his position in the d Mli -
mire, declaring it to be the nriv
and right of a genius to dwell •
and he bids those who are not ii
mire to do him homage and to
shier L'ueii ov*ii clean ganur-i,;,. d
evidence of their lack of “tenu
ment” it Is disgusting an.l pit
In one.
Talent Is a very small thlnc cr
Itself is a small thing when conn
to CHARACTER. For all work
all the arts pass and perish, v
Character lives eternally.
Only as talents adorn a great r
acter do they assume dignity
value.
low who thought the girl he married
was in love with him, and who got
the rol.1 shoulder from her as soon
as she found out that he was only on
a salary instead of owning the firm
he was with. I guess the girls has as
much .right to confide in tlie men
they marry ns the men has to confide
In them. And even when they con
fide in each other, marriage is still
something of a confidence game."
To Soeli or Not to Spell
(From the New York Tribune.)
The great Brooklyn spelling bed.
devised by our neighbor across the
bridge. “The Eagle,” seems to have
been at once a glorious and a heart
rending success. Sixty-one girls and
forty-three boys of the public and
parochial schools 'stood up on the
Academy of Music stage and spelled
for dear life—until finally one small
thirteen-year-old boy alone survived
to tell the tale and be pronounced
the champion of all Long Island.
Easy little words like legible. In
eligible, hydrangea, stylographic,
harass and Impassable constituted
the first round of words fired at the
children. Nine flunked. Next came
disillusionized, desiccate and such,
with ten more victiroa. After that
the word* grew steadily fiercer and
as terrific. Idiosyn-
nlne, phlox seven.
triphthong four. Schlsm^mni the
whole line in a panic. Syzum.
scycism. seism ami acissum, ii ran;
but finally a boy saved the day.
In the end three children, two bov?
and one girl, were left. All failed
on lachrymose. And it was no wore*
a word than prodigious. Dommi-
Sampson's favorite, that pinned the
gold medal on Master Ambrose
Blaoey, instead of Miss Gluzela
Greenburg or Master Eugene O'Rieliy.
As it happened, it was a paro
chial school child that won. .>*<> the
defenders of our public schools have
thrust upon them this new item is
an old indictment. The whole teach
ing of spelling, including the resur
rected spelling bee, may b,* a slaugh
ter of the innocent. Rut it is not
a patch on the slaughter of the
English tongue which orr public
school gfttduates offer t. day bv da},
year after year.
Study Tanntng.
A one-year course in tanning has
been established by Fratt Insti
tute, Brooklyn, N. Y, in cop-npe-
ration with the National Associa
tion of Tanners. The o.urse is for
men already employed in the tan
ning industries or high school stu
dents without practical experienc#
who wish to take up tanning.
Magee.
The face of the bolder of the Cran
dall chair of comparative literature
was a study. He looked first at one
about him. Mr. Bland was half asleep
In his chair, but Mr. Magee was quick
with sympathy.
“Professor,” he said, "you are a much
suffering man. I feel for you. Here, 1
am sure, you are safe from reporters,
and the yellow journals will soon for
get you in their discovery of the next
distorted wonder. Briefly, Mr. Bland
and myself will outline the tangle of
events that brought us to the <nn”~
"Briefly Is right," broke in Bland.
“And then it's me for that mountain
ous mattress of mine. I can rattle my
story off in short order and give you
the fine points tomorrow. Up to a
abort time ago”—
But Billy Magee Interrupted. Aa
idea, magnificent, delicious, mirthful,
had come to him. Why not? He
chuckled Inwardly, but bis face waa
most serious.
"I should .like to tell my story flrat,
if you please." he said.
The haberdasher grunted. The pro-
and then. I fe8,or nodded. Mr. Mqgee looked
* ' Bland squarely in ihe eye. strangled
tbe laugh inside and began:
"Up to a short time ago I was a
haberdasher in the city of Iteuton. My
name, let me state, is Magee—William
Magee. 1 fitted the gay shoulder
blades of Reuton with clothing from
the back of pages of the magazines,
and as for neckties’’—
Mr. Bland's sly eyes had opened
wide. He roue to a majestic height—
majestic considering the bedqullt
“See here” he l*>gan.
“Please don’t Interrupt,” requested
Mr. Magee sweetly. “I was. aa I bnve
aaid. a happy, carefree haberdasher.
And then-she entered my life. Ara
bella was her tmine. All. professor. [ ~
your lady of the yellow locks, crisps! i Continued TOXBOrTOW.)
young moo. then at tbe other. Again
be applied 'the handkerchief to his
shining head
A SELECTED AUDIENCE
If you had the attention of every single man in thia
community who wants to buy a home you wouldn’t
have much trouble in selling your house, would you?
If you knew all the folks who are going to move (
soon, it’s likely it wouldn’t take you long to rent that
house or flat or furnished room—would it?
If von had the name of every man within a radius
of fifty miles of you this minute who has idle money
for investment, and who is right now looking for a place
to invest it, you’d be almost certain to find a buyer for
that mortgage or investment.
I f you had all the people of this territory- grouped
together according to their needs and you had the con
centrated attention of each group to y-our own propo
sition. you sure could make money—couldn’t you?
' Well, that’s exactly what you have in HERALD
WANT ADS.
There is not a man in this community who wants
to buy real estate who is no* watching the real estate
columns of Herald Want Ads every issue.
There is not a man who wants to rent a house, a
flat or a room who is not watching the “for rent’’ col
umns of The Herald every day-.
Neither is there an individual with money to invest
who does not scan The Herald's want columns for in
vestment opportunities.
The Herald’s classified columns are the great direc
tory of human wants for this community, and the atten
tion) of all with similar nesds is concentrated on these
various classifications each issue.
Your little Want Ad in The Herald speaks to ev
ery interested person in this city and community-.
Make your little ad complete, give full description
of what you have to offer—th*yi run it several times
and vmi art- almost certain of the desired results.
If Herald Want Ads don't get it—it’s not to he
had. ' , ~ \
Use Herald Want Ads for your own profit.