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\me Patriotism I Of Penelope. By VIHG/S/IA BLAI'R. t Copyrighted, I DoS, by Associated Literary Tress. “A man who can vote and won't vote ought to l>e made to vote,’* said Feuelope dramatically. “Of course if you feel that way,” Oswald Peering said stiffly. “Every woman should fool that way”—Penelope's scornful little nose was in the air—“and every man. The welfare of the country depends oil it.” ‘Tin not so sure"—Dee ring was fast becoming aggressive— “that a woman knows”— And then Penelope blazed, "Of course”—becoming aggressive—“that a woiurtu ought not to dabble in such things. But the blood of nay ancestors is in me. All of my grandfathers were in the Revolution and in the war of 1812. My father tcrved with honor In the civil war and my brothers in the Spanish war. blow can I help feeling that the men who wouldn't fight were”— She Stopped. 1 Oswald was very pale. “I know what you were going to say—that be came I (didn’t light I was a coward.” Something in the stillness of his an ger frightened Penelope. “I didn't mean”— she faltered. “Yes, you did,” # lie told h r. “Yen meant that I was a coward because I didn’t go to the war when your broth ers did. But there were reasons.” “There are always reasons,” she flashed out. "You may now say there are reasons why you are not going to vote tomorrow.” “Well, I don’t think you could Under stand if I told you, Penelope.” Bhe stood up and faced him. “Oh.” she said, and her little figure in the clinging mauve gown was drawn up to Its tull height—“oh, I always thought that you put women on a low plane. Oswald, and now I know it.” “li isn’t that,” he sakl doggedly, “hut I think bought not to be made to explain my reason for not voting. It Involves someone else. 1 shall stay away from the polls tomorrow as a matter of conscience, Penelope.” Her little nose was buried in the bunch of violets he had brought her. “I don’t think it is worth arguing about.” she snid at last wearily as she lifted her head from the flowers. “But I really think we couldn't be happy If we feel so differently.” “You mean”— He had risen and was standing beside her. “1 mean that—that 1 think we have made a mistake.” “Then you won’t marry me, Penel ope?” “1 have never said that 1 would, Os wald.” “No, but you pave me hope. You knew that 1 thought”— Before his accusing eyes her owu dropped. "But I never really said ‘Yes,’ ’’ she whispered. “Perhaps not. But 1 understood that it was because you wanted to be sure.” His voice broke, and then all at once he gathered himself together and, with his head held high, said “Don’t talk of a man’s alle- Ktouee to his country, Penelope, when Hfcthave failed in your allegiance to ISEb iove -’* ■nr, n’t love you,” she began, but he her. "You do. You know But deep t yea ibu't mist in IJml or Br-I >'- j \• V. the' force of arms, but l tell you i heard something about Oswald Deer lng today that made me believe Jn a new kind of courage.” “Wbnt was it?” they demanded. “Well, the nurse - who takes care of Oswald's mother told me when I was waiting In Oswald's ' office today. It sepms that his father was killed in the civil war and that since then bis moth er lias been very delicate. "When the first news of fighting in Cuba came Oswald was wild to go, but she opposed It strongly, and at last, when she found that his mind Was made up, she had a heart attack that m arly killed her. So Oswald stayed at home and studied medicine, but he Las never really got over bis disap pointment.” renelope’s father brought his hand down on the table with a bang. “But he should have gone at his country’s call,” and Penelope's eyes flashed, “And have killed his mother?" Bruce asked quietly. Tor a moment the older man was silent, and then he said, “It was a test of patriotism, but the boy did the right thing.” Penelope leaned across the table and asked an eager question, but only her mother knew of her real Interest and why her cbdeka were pale and her eyes shadowed. “But—but do you know the reason why ’ Oswald didn't vote?" she de manded. Bruce tided. “Same reason. Ills mother Insists that he shall vote the ticket that his father always did, and his conscience won't let him. lie says conditions are different now. So lie doesn't vote at nil.” “I think he's somewhat tit and to his mother's apron strings.” Penelope's voice was scornful. “Little sister"—Bruce's steady gaze made her flush deeply—“if you knew what Oswald’s mother had done for him, the sacrifices she made that he might go to allege! She cannot live many months now, the nurse says, so l feel that he is right, even if She is wrong to demand it." And after that Penelope fled to her room and thought it over. What a lit tle prig she had been to call him a coward! lie was braver than—why, he was the bravest man in the whole world to face the world’s scorn for his mother’s sake.* And even as she thought it she re solved that she would tell him at once. It was late, and beneath the dull gray clouds in the west was the line of deep orange where the sun had set. Far down the street she could see the light In Oswald’s office, and to ward that light when she had slipped on her raincoat and hat she made her way. Her timid knock brought her lover to the door. “Penelope!” he stammered when he saw her. “Yes”—she flitted past him and drop ped' into the big chair iu front of the Art I—"l’ve 1 —"I’ve come to make up.” She was smiling up at him, but there came no answering smile. “I want you to forgive me,” she fal tered. “For calling me a coward?” There was a bitter note in his voice. “I—l understand now that it was be cause of your mother that you didn't go.” “You had to be told that?” he asked sternly. “No belief in me brought you here until you had proof—oh, Penelope!” “You should have told me, Oswald.” “After your distrust, no.” There was so much of tone that she stood up “Then there's ■ ’iv > head wrr.cr. a Frenchman, who was a j passenger, walked out on deck Just be fore dark, took a look .at the Pictured Rocks and was much pleased with the view. In the morning, before breakfast, he again came out on deck, and the panorama astonished him. “What ees dis beautiful sight you have here?” he aske He was told, “Y’otl u-e again looking j at Pictured Rocks.” “What a great countree!” he ex claimed. “Before you go to bed you walk on de deck. You have a grand | view de Picture Rock. Den you go to i bed. you sleep well all night —de steamer is go ahead all de time—you come out on deck in de morning, you i see Ticture Rock again. What a big countree you got and what big Picture ; Rock!” No one told the admiring Frenchman that the captain, finding that Lie could make no headway against the wind and the waves, had run back to White fish point during the night and that he j was then looking at the same rook pictures he had seen the evening be fore. *— j The Doctor ar.d the Dog. A family that live iu a detached house out in the suburbs telephoned , for their doctor. The call was urgent. ! It was late in the evening. When the doctor arrived at the gate the family dog was there ahead of him. The dog did not like the looks of 1 a man with a triangle shaped bunch of whiskers aud black satchel. The doctor started to brush by the dog aud go iu. But the dog soon j showed him that he wasn't joking. “Maybe they'll hear the dog and call him off,” thought the doctor, and he waited. But they didn't. There was just one thing for the doc f v to do, and that was to go to the uearest telephone and call up the fam- j ily. But lie learned that it was no easy job to find a telephone. It was then pretty late, and he had to go half a dozen blocks back toward town be fore be found a place where he could get a phone. “Dog!” repeated the man at the other end. “We haven’t any dog. You must ; ■ have stopped at the place next door. 1 They have a dog. Now, hurry back here.” —New York Press. The End of the Recitation. “And I—l am that little chap, curly and brown.”—Punch. 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