Newspaper Page Text
In Her Moment of
Weakness.
By CECILY ALLEN.
Copyrighted, 10OS. by Associated
Literary Press.
Khe bad always been distressingly
capable and eoni|>etent.
“1 don’t believe Beatrice ever had a
headache or a nervous spell like you
girls have,” Henry Dalton had remark
ed one day to his two sisters, absorbed
by bonbons and new novels and wrap
ped In Indifference and silk negligees.
And the tone in which he spoke was
not entirely complimentary. In fact,
n distinct note of personal Injury rang
through it, for bow can a man assume
an attitude of protective chivalry to
ward a girl entirely capable of doing
for herself?
Beatrice never dropped her fan or
her handkerchief, nor came into the
drawing room with her glove unbut
toned, nor gave opportunity for the lit
tle services which other women seem
ed to have demanded of Henry Dalton
since be had risen to the dignity of
kniekerlKxkers.
Yet withal Beatrice Craig was noth
ing If not feminine. Site wore the
softest and most clinging of fabrics.
Hhe played golf, hut did not court bare
arms and tan. She wore tailored suits,
but she softened them with delicious
froufrou bows of lace at her throat.
Khe was rutfly and fluffy, but she never
tore her ruffles and then asked for a
pin to make repairs.
And if all these things site was be
fore her father's failure and death site
was doubly inaccessible and impregna
ble after reverses overtook her. Be
fore that she had simply fenced with
Dalton. Now site donned an armor
that seemed wyll nigh invulnerable.
Directly the estate was settled up
and the smallness of their inheritance
was made known to her Beatrice Craig
had turned breadwinner, investing (lie
pitiful little heritage in a smart shop
where layettes of the most superlative
fineness and beauty were sold.
In the front room, with its exquisite
fittings and scented presses, she exhib
ited wares selected to suit the matrons
among whom she laid grown from girl
hood to womanhood. In the rear room
she gathered the most expert needle
women her purse could command, and
till work was done under her direct su-
pen Ision.
Her delighted i-iientele said that lic*r
euctesß was founded on this personal
oversight. Her doctor said that nerv
ous prostration would Inevitably result
from her persistent close confinement
to business. Her mother wept in sheer
loneliness nt first and later drifted
from their tiny apartment lack into
the old bridge playing, novel reading
circle of gray haired friends. And
what Henry Dalton said is not for
repetition here, for, having no nieces
or nephews, how could he offer a de
cent excuse for haunting a layette
shop? And only at her shop was Bea
trice to,be found save the cruelly few
hours when outrag'd nature demanded
rest and refreshment
And now today, with Henry Dalton
thrust into the dim background of the
life when her u in k things
lovely for her well shod walk
upon, she was standing before her
chevul mirror preparing for a return
just a brief return glimpse— to the old
life.
Her mother had wept to some pur
pose. The doctor had said certain
sharp things that were more effective
than maternal tears, ami so Beatrice
had accepted the Do Haven Smiths’
warm invitation to spend the weekend
and perhaps a few days more at tHeir
lodge iu the Catskills.
Beatrice surveyed with critical eye
her smartly tailored traveling suit and
then cast a smiling glance at the suit
ease where rested a delightful matinee,
product of her own workroom. It
would be good to lie abed mornings
and drink her chocolate in a love of a
matinee like that. And she should
read a couple of new books and wear
the white cre|>e de chine, newly made
over lor.the trip, to dinner. Old times
—yes. she was strong enough now to
stand an occasional dip back into old
times.
“Beatrice, here’s a C. O. D. parcel
from Mason’s. 1 picked up a love of a
waist for $13.75. Have you any mon
ey ?”
Beatrice readjusted her veil to a
more fetching angle and murmured as
well as the pins in her mouth would
permit:
“Yes, mother, there’s a roll of bills
in my bag. the large pocket Take
what you think will last you until I
come back.”
An Lour later Beatrice leaned back
luxuriously in the parlor car. her un
seeing eyes fixed on the Hudson pano
rama It was good—just to do nothing.
And when the call for luncheon came
she felt hungry—and smiled. The doc
tor had said a change was all she need
ed, and here she was hungry already
for the first time in weeks.
The obsequious darky in charge of
her table gave her the perfection of
service, with one eye perhaps on the
beautiful pigskin hand bag that rested
against the window. That hag had
been one of Da .'to ns g.:is. and at that
very moment the giver himself was
sitting at a table behind Beatrice,
watching her every move with hungry
eyes. He knew that she was going to
the De Haven Smith lodge. Mrs. Smith
had boldly held this out as a bait in his
invitation, hut somehow lie felt that
the psychological moment for making
his presence known had not yet ar
rived. He nobs] sometimes anew
droop in her shoulders. Occasionally,
too, she leaned her head on her hand
between courses. This was the reac
tion which the doctor had predicted,
but Henry Dalton did not know this.
Jie thought only that she was slowly
but surely killing herself by reason of
her pride, anil he must stand idly,
dumbly by simply because he was so
disgustingly rich that she would not
listen.
And upon these bitter thoughts rush
ed the psychological moment.
Miss Beatrice Craig, the independent
and competent, opened her hand bag.
the darky keenly observant, and slip
ped her hand into the large pocket.
Her finger tips touched naught hut pol
ished leather. She tried the small pock
et and drew forth some cards. Khe sat
up very straight and dipped into her
change purse to find a dime, a quarter
and an old German coin, souvenir of
Henry Dalton’s student days in Ber
lin.
Her face turned scarlet, then white.
A horrible nervous tremor swept over
her. Frantically she turned everything
out of the bag to find almost anything
a businesslike yet distinctly feminine
person might own except money.
Like a flash she remembered her
mother's request. She had kept it all.
every penny of the flatly folded bills.
"Take what you think will last you
until I come back.”
Fateful words!
Beatrice sent for the dining car con
ductor and explained the situation. He
was polite, but behind tfie mask of
courtesy she read amusement, or was
it distrust?
Khe became haughty.
"My host will meet me at the depot.
Until then well, here are my rings or
my watch”—
The darkies had gathered at the ta
ble opposite Ilenry Dalton with heads
together, lips parted in ironical smiles.
He summoned His waiter sharply.
‘‘Anything happened to the lady?”
“Seems like she ain’t got the price of
her lunch.”
.lust at the instant Henry Dalton
rose precipitately. Beatrice came down
the aisle, her head high, hut her face
ghastly. It was not the attitude of the
conductor nor the grinning darkies, but
a sudden faintness, a realization that
for once her business ability, her su
preme tact, her resourcefulness, had
failed her. She did not read this as
physical exhaustion. Her one grim
thought was that she had lost her grip
on herself.
And then came Henry Dalton with
a hand outstretched and the love of her
shining in his eyes.
“Beatrice, I am the most.fortunate
of men.”
“Oh, Henry,” she said, with a queer
break in her clear voice, "will you
please’’—
Henry Dalton carried her back to the
stateroom in the parlor car. Henry
Dalton took firm possession of her
luggage and firm control of the situa
tion. Henry Dalton all but lifted her
into the I)e Haven Smith wagonette
when they left the train. And Henry
Dalton read the telegram, for which he
paid, though it was sent C. O. D. to
Beatrice Craig.
“Forgot to put money back in purse.
What shall I do with itY”
"Buy (lowers for yourself—every
body," wired Henry Dalton to the first
amazed and then understanding mother
of Beatrice. “1 am taking care of
Beatrice and always shall.”
And that was why the smartest lay
ette shop in all New York passed to a
new owner and love came into its own.
The White Flower.
There is a lady living on a main
street in a certain great city who had
a window full of flowers, all in bloom.
One day she answered a ring at the
doorbell, to find a little girl perhaps
nine years old shivering on the door
step.
“l’lease, ma’am,” said the waif, lift
ing her shy, beautiful eyes to the face
above her. “will you give me a flow
er?” The request was such au unusual
one that the lady hesitated in surprise.
“Just one little flower,” pleaded the
child, looking as if she were about to
cry.
"Why, of course," said the lady, "you
shall have a flower. Come iu. Yon
shall have a pretty red rose.”
She stepped to the window where the
flowers grew, but before she had cut
one a light touch fell on her arm.
"Not that oue. please—not a red one;
that white one.” And the little girl
pointed to a candidum unfolding its
lily petals.
"1 cannot cut that one. child” said
the lady, gently. "Why must you have
a white one? Why won't any flower
do?”
“Oh. because—because it's for poor
mamma. Mamma is dead, and 1 ran
away to get some flowers.” The next
moment she was sobbing on the bosom
of anew friend, and wbeD she went
away she carried the precious lily and
other flowers to the home where death
had been.—St. Louis Globe-Democrat
The Real Prince
... By
MARTEA COEB SANFORD
y
Copyrighted, 190S, by Associated
Literary .Press.
How Katherine Searle came to tie
Jack Farrington’s ward belongs to tlie
early chapters of a long story. It dates
buck, in fact, fifteen years, when Kath
erine was a three-year-old baby and
Farrington it young man of twenty.
But at the beginning of the present
chapter, after having been "finished
off" iit a very proper boarding school.
Katherine had just returned from a
winter in Enrol* with Carrington’s
married sister.
And Farrington as he sat In the twi
light on the luxuriously appointed
porch of his out of tow it bouse was ex
jiectantl.v awaiting a promised after
dinner talk with her.
In accordance with a long and care
fully formulated plan lie felt that the
time had now come for him to take
Katherine seriously in hand and to
prepare her for the prominent part she
was sure to play in a world of admir
ing lint, alas, inconstant men.
Katherine, radiant in a fluffy glory
of some soft, delicate stuff beyond
man’s comprehension, at length tripped
out through the casement door and
perched herself affectionately on the
arm of her guardian’s easy chair. He
took her little white hand in his and
patted it gently as he would a child’s.
"I suppose you haven't begun to
think about marriage yet, little girl?”
he asked by way of tactful beginning.
“Begun to think about it?” echoed
Katherine. “Why. I’ve always thought
about it—always and always.”
Farrington Jooked up in amazement.
"ll'm.” be mused. “I haven’t begun
a moment too soon, it seems.” Then
aloud be added: “So you’ve always
thought about marriage, my dear?
Well, well! And what have you thought
about it?”
Katherine threw her arms about bis
neck and gave hitn an energetic bug.
Then she placed a cushion at Ids feet
and settled herself comfortably.
“I’ll tell you,” she began confidential
ly. “I’ve always adored fairy stories,
and of course there's a glorious young
prince in every fairy story, you know.
Well, it was always fun when 1 was a
little girl to imagine myself the beau
tiful princess whom the prince was
looking for—and now I'm grown up,
guardy, dear, it’s just as much fun,”
she finished naively.
Carrington laughed heartily. He
was greatly relieved.
“Imaginary primes are all very
harmless and proper, little Kit,” he
commented indulgently, “but pretty
goon you’ll begin to think about real
everyday men.”
“Pretty soon?” she queried teasingly.
“Dear ( me!" exclaimed Carrington,
with an unconcern lie was far from
feeling. "You've not thought about
real men already?”
“You’d call Harvey Dunton a real
man, wouldn’t you?” Katherine asked,
looking at him roguishly.
Carrington's jesting mood passed in
a flash. He shut his teeth with sud
den vexation.
“Where did you meet Harvey Dun
ton?” he inquired searekingly.
“On the steamer coming back,” an
swered Katherine. "Your sister intro
duced him. lie's really very devoted
to me. He’s coming around later this
evening. He sings, you know, and
I’ve promised to play bis accompani
ments. Don't you like him, guardy?
You don’t look as though you do.”
“Oh, Dunton’s all right,” he answer
ed good naturedly, suddenly alive to
the fact that he must play his hand
cautiously. “Y’ou evidently like him,
little girl?” he parried.
“I don’t know really, guardy. But he
likes me. That's as far as we've got,"
was Katherine’s ingenuous reply. T m
not taking him very seriously because,
you see, somehow he isn’t exactly like
the prince I’ve been expecting.”
“I should hope not,” muttered Car
rington.
"What did you say?”
"I said he's coming across the lawn
now.” evf.ded Carrington. “I 11 stay
out here and listen to the music if j’ou
don’t mind. Kit.”
"Just as you like, guardy, dear,”
laughed Kitty. “I'll come out again
after he's gone and tell you how T we
got on.”
“Weil?” asked Carrington an hour or
so later as Katherine appeared sud
denly in the doorway.
She did not answer, but stood as if
spellbound. This was a bad sign—a
very bad sign, as Carrington interpret
ed it.
"Well?” he ventured again, this time
a trifle peremptorily.
"Guardy." exclaimed Katherine, her
rapt expression breaking into the mer
riest of smiles, "I'd forgotten you were
out here.”
"That's the way it seemed to ine,” re
turned Carrington dryly. "Dunton has
a very alluring voice, hasn't he? Come
over here, you mischievous kitten, and
confess, as you promised.”
Katherine came slowly.
“I’ll tell you. guardy.” she began
hesitatingly, perching herself, ns usual,
on the arm of his chair—"that is. if 1
can. I hardly know myself how I feel.
You see, when Iffr. Dunton isq’t sing
ing I don’t like him any better than I
do lots of other men, not nearly as well
as some, but”—
“Lots of other men, did I under
stand you to say?” interrupted Carring-
I ton.
“Oh, well, three or four, guardy!
What do a half dozen, more or less,
matter?”
“There’s safety In numbers, to be
Bure,” replied Carrington tritely.
“But let’s get back to Dunton. You
were going to tell me how you feel
about him.”
Immediately Katherine dropped her
frivolous mood and became thoughtful.
“When he’s talking, guardy, he
might just as well be any man. as 1
told you. but when he sings, well”—
“Weil?”
"I almost feel that my prince has
come,” breathed Katherine ecstatically.
“Il’ru! Very romantic,” was Carring
ton’s chilling comment. “When will
you see him again?”
“Not for a week. He was to go up
to town on important business,” sighed
Katherine.
“Well, off to bed with you now, my
ehild.” ordered the stern guardian,
“and may some good fairy tell you how
to know the real prince when he
comes.”
A week later to a night Carrington
again sat listening to Dunton’s full
magnetic voice as, w T ith seductive ease,
it glided through one love sing after
another to Katherine’s sympathetic ac
companiment.
Suddenly there came a pause in the
singing—a long pause. Carrington
waited for the sound of talking, but
the silence was unbroken.
Without stopping to weigh the jus
tice of motive or consequences, he
jumped up determinedly and made a
dramatic entree into the music room
Dunton, startled, straightened him
self stiffly. He had been loaning over
Katherine, looking into her eyes with
passionate pleading.
“This business must stop right here,”
commanded Carrington, looking Dun
ton squarely in the eye.
“I do not understand you, Mr Car
rington,” replied Dunton haughtily.
“If you have been eavesdropping you
could have heard nothing, for nothing
has been said.”
“No; that's just the trouble.” retort
ed Carrington hotly. “Nothing has
been said. Miss Searle is my ward, as
you know, and it is my duty to pro
tect her from such sorcerers as you. I
happen to know that, like the carefully
guarded ladies in the fairy tales, she
is waiting for her prince to come”—
here Carrington smiled down upon
Katherine gently and placed his arm
about her—“a real prince. Mr. Dun
ton. They wear many disguises, you
know 7 , and the lady’s protector has to
he on the alert.”
Dunton turned ashy white.
“I trust that she may find her—real
prince,” be answeftd scornfully and
walked angrily from the room.
When the sound of his footsteps had
died away Katherine flung both her
warm white arms around Carrington’s
neck. Her eyes were full of shining
tears, but her lips were smiling.
“Guardy,” she said softly, “I have
found my prince!”
“Katherine, you don’t mean”— began
Carrington joyfully.
“Yes-Jack—l do.”
“And so,” said Jack lovingly, after
he had kissed her until she protested,
“this is the end of the fairy story?”
"Oh, no!” laughed Katherine softly.
“They lived happily ever after, you
know.”
Exercise or Die.
Every man and woman must do some
muscular work or take equivalent ex
ercise, else they will die long before
their natural time. And if one's voca
tion involves the use of only one set of
muscles work must be found for the
other muscles, else the individual be
comes disproportionate in form and
eventually a prey to disease.
A hodcarricr, who is required to use
nearly all his muscles, exerting him
self close to the limit of his strength
for many hours daily, never gives any
thought to artificial exercise, for he
has no need of any. But the profes
sional man. the clerk, the typist and
the saleswoman —all these find little
real use for the muscles in their daily
employment, and they require to take
up some system of physical exercise
to maintain normal health. Then there
are factory operatives and the toilers
in various trades, whose work brings
Into play certain sets of muscles, while
others are out of use. These require
exercise adapted to giving employment
to the neglected muscles. There is
also a class of wealthy people who do
no regular work of any kind, who re
quire to follow some strength giving
sport in lieu of work. At the opposite
extreme is a class of athletes who
make a business of artificial exercise
and build themselves up into moun
tains of muscle. These almost invaria
bly overdo and in consequence suffer
later.—Charles H. Cochrane in Metro
politan Magazine.
Stella —A dreadful experience,
you say?
Bella —Ye?; I saw a bargain in
shoes when I had a hole in my
stocking —New Y T orkSun.
Announcements.
for Representative.
With assurances of profound grati
tude to the people of Jackson county
for their past support, I most respect
fully announce myself a candidate for
re-election to the House of Representa
tives, subject to the action of the Dem
ocratic primary on July 31.
John N. Holder.
To the People of Jackson County;
You have honored me as your repre
sentative heretofore, for,,' which I ex
press to you my profound gratitude
and assure you it has been highly ap
preciated. It is one of the greatest
pleasures of my life to serve the peo
ple; really and indeed I want to be your
servant and I therefore, announce mv
self a candidate for Representative
from this county, subject to the demo
cratic primary on July 31, and ask your
most hearty support, and solicit any
suggestions in the way of legislation
for the interes of the county, that I may
be able to carry out your wishes. I
think our aim should be for the welfare
and upbuilding of the county and if
elected, will do my best to carry out
your wishes. Respectfully.
L. G. Hardman.
Ordinary,
I hereby announce myself a candidate
for Ordinary of Jackson > ounty, subject
to the Democratic primary. Respect
fully, James *A. Wills.
Jefferson. Ga.
To the voters of Jackson county; I
hereby announce myself a candidate for
the office of Ordinary of Jac son county,
subject to the Democratic primary elec
tion to be held July 31, 1908, and will
appreciate your support. . his March 12,
1908. James L. A jlliamson.
To the voters of Jackson county: I
hereby announce myself a candidate for
the office of Ordinary of Jackson county,
subject to the action of the primary to
be held July 31, 1908. Your support is
earnestly solicited.
P* W. Quattlebaum.
For Clerk.
<r o the voters of Jackson county: I
most respectfully announce ntyself a
candidate for re-election to the office of
< lerk of tho Superior Court of Jackson
county, subject to the Oemocratic pri
mary to be held July yl, I9OS. thank
ing vol for your past suffragP, I earnest
ly solicit your support. Respectfully,
S. J. Nix.
for Sheriff.
I most respectfully announce myself
a candsdate for re-election for tiie office
of Sheriff of Jackson county, subject to
the Democratic primary July 31.
t B. H. toulEß.
for ireesiTer.
•>
I respectfully,announce myself a can
didate for re-election to the office of
treasurer of Jackson county, subject to
the Democratic primary of July 31st.
Geo. W. Bailey.
I hereoy announce myself as a candi
date for the office of sheriff of Jackson
county, subject to the rules of the pri
mary election to be held July 31, 1908,
and earnestly solicit the support of all
the qualified voters of the county and
will appreciate the same. Respectful
’v, J. P. Kelly.
Tex Collector.
To the voters of Jackson county I re
spectfully announce myself a candidate
for re-election to office of Tax Col
lector of Jackson county, subject to the
Democratic primary on July 31, 1908.
W. T. Appleby.
For Tax Receiver
I respectfully announce myself a can
didate for re-election to the office of
Tax Receiver of Jackson County, sub
ject *to the Democratic primary on July
31, 1908. N. B. Lord.
Chairman County Commissioner.
I hereby announce myself a candidate
for Chairman of Commissioners of
Roads and Revenues of Jackson county
subject to Democratic primary July 31.
W. A. Carter
I hereby announce myself as a candi
date for the chairmanship of the board,
of commissioners of roads and revenues
of Jackson county, subject to the Demo
cratic primary election of July 31,1908.
If elected 1 shall give my time strictly
to countv affairs. L. M. Dadisman.
1 hereby announce myself a candidate
for Chairman of Commissioners of
Roads and Revenues of Jackson county,
subject to Democratic primary.
H. C. Barnett.
I respectfully announce myself a can
didate for the Chairmanship of Board
of Commissioners of Roads and Reve
nues of Jackson county, subject to the'
action of the primary on July 31. If
elected I will devote my entire time to
the duties of the office.
A. R. Braselton.
To the voters of Jackson county; 1
hereby announce myself a candidate
for the offiA? of Chairman of the Board
of-Commissioners of Roads and Reve
nues of Jackson county, subject to the
primary election of July 3L 1908.
H J. M. Haynie.
The average man isn’t ashamed
to do a lot of things that he would
be ashamed to be caught doing.