Newspaper Page Text
An
(ffiOBGE AfiNEf TIISHBEffIiIN
PAMELA THORNTON.
Synopsis. Robert Hervey Ran
dolph, young New York man-about
town, leaves the home of his sweet
heart, Madge Van Tellier, cha
grined because of her refusal of hi 3
proposal of marriage. His income,
SIO,OOO a year, which he must sur
render if a certain Miss Imogen
Pamela Thornton (whom he has
seen only as a small girl ten years
before) is found, is not considered
by the girl of his heart adequate
to modern needs. In a “don’t care”
mood Randolph enters a taxi, un
seen by the driver, and is driven
to the stage door of a theater. A
man he knows, Duke Beamer, in
duces a girl to enter the cab.
Beamer, attempting to follow, is
pushed back by Randolph and the
cab moves on. His new acquaint
ance tells Randolph she is a cho
rus girl, and has lost her position.
She is in distress, even hungry, and
he takes her to his apartment.
PART I—Continued.
—3—
The girl considered gravely for a
moment; then her face broke Into a
rippling smile that swept up and set
tled in her eyes. She reached for a
cushion, put It at her back, tucked one
foot under herself, and waved the
other in the same fashion as had Miss
Van Tellier earlier in the evening.
“Now talk,” she said.
“Do you like me?” asked Mr. Ran
dolph. 1
She nodded her head.
“You’re not afraid to be here?”
She shook denial.
“Have you ever been In a man’s
room before?”
She looked him straight In the eyes
and made no other sign.
It was Mr. Randolph’s turn to flush.
“Then,” he said, “if you like me and
If you’re not afraid, please begin at
the start and tell me all about it.”
The girl’s eyes fell and sought the
fire. Her face slowly paled to the
shade of her somber thoughts. She
was no longer pretty; she was beauti
ful, with a revealing transparency that
made her seem unfleshed, a disem
bodied spirit of sincerity and truth,
indubitably pure.
“I had a nurse ence,” she said, in a
low voice, “and a wire-haired terrier,
a show-dog and a darling. His name
was, Sport.” She raised solemn eyes
to Randolph’s, face as though measur
ing his powers of understanding. “My
nurse died and then, one day, I had to
sell Sport; I wasn’t old enough to sell
myself.”
She stopped speaking with an un
mistakable finality. Randolph was
overwhelmed by the flood of informa
tion that this slip of a girl had packed
Into two-score words. A life-story In
four lines and a revelation of the
heart thrown in for good measure!
Over and above that, he had to reckon
with the confirmation of a suspicion
which had been slowly establishing it
self in his mind that he had met her
before, that not for the first time this
night had those soft lips, curved for
merry words, cried, “My, what a
bump!” within his hearing.
So many considerations pressed to
bis immediate attention that he
awoke to the actual present too late
to stem the tide of tears that sudden
ly rose to the girl’s eyes.
“Oh,” she sobbed, “what Is to be
come of me? I was so happy here, if
you hadn’t made me think!”
If anything has been said Jn the
course of these pages to give the im
pression that Mr. Randolph was mod
eled after Joseph or hewn out of ice
or packed with probity to the exclu
sion of red blood, forget it. At the
sight of those tears, he slid the length
of the couch to first base, fielded the
girl in his arms, switched her round
so that she lay across his knees, drew
her face against his shoulder, and
rocked her gently.
“You poor kiddie,” he said softly,
“what a devil of a time you’ve had!
But believe me when I tell you it’s all
over. This is the night that starts your
old happy sun into the blue sky again.
Don’t worry.”
She stopped crying and looked up
into the honest face so close to her
own. puzzling as to how just those
words could have come from it; but
•the world had taught her a hard les
son in varying standards. She drew a
long quivering sigh.
“If you could only wait until I love
re*; b'odv and soul,” she breathed.
“What on earth do you mean?”
asked Mr. Randolph.
“Why, then it wouldn’t be so bad —
so ugly.”
“I don’t get you," remarked Robert
Hervey.
“A man told me just a little while
ago that he was making a catalogue
of reasons why women give them
selves,” she continued. “He had eleven
already, and yet he was one of the
nicest men I’ve met. He talked to me
as though he were showing me a way
that I must travel alone.”
“Really?” said Mr. Randolph, stif
fening perceptibly.
“The lowest reason of all was for
cold cash,” she went on, as though he
had not spoken. “Then came the glit
ter of precious stones, and, after that,
silk underwear."
“Silk underwear!” exclaimed Mr.
Randolph, mystified and interested in
spite of himself.
‘ Of course you couldn’t understand
that,” she said, “not unless you had
seen some poor girl bury her face in
crepe de chine and lace, tremble to try
them on, and then sob because she had
to wear clothes over them.”
“Look here,” said Mr. Randolph,
shuddering at the pity of It: “we’ll
pass on to the next, if you don’t mind.”
“Curiosity comes next,” resumed the
girl obediently. “A woman Is weak
until she knows everything. Then
comes a funny one that you won’t un
derstand at all. It’s called ‘Because.’
‘Because lie had on a coat that re
minded her of an old coat that a man
she had loved used to wear.’ ”
“My dear girl—” protested Mr. Ran
dolph.
“I said they weren’t Interesting,”
she reminded him dispassionately. Her
eyes widened. “And now,” she con
tinued. “we go up and up—spite that
stabs its own heart; the lonely soul;
consuming fire, and, last and greatest
reason of all, just love.” Her eyes
glowejl to some distant focus. “If all
myself, my honor, my past, and my
future dissolve to the single drop of a
present moment In the crystal cup of
love, then let me give myself to a
lover’s lips for, once drained, nothing
will be left upon which to hang the
badge of shame —nothing remain in
all the world but the spirit and —and
the sacrifice.”
“Girl,” said Mr. Randolph, crushing
her to him as though he snatched her
back from just beyond his clasp,
“where is your mind wandering? What
have you been thinking? That I was
asking you to —to give yourself to
me?”
Her eyes came suddenly to his face.
“Yes,” she said; “I thought that.”
He stared at her for a long silent mo
ment, his lips wavering nervously be
tween pity and severity. A flush
swept over her face, and into her eyes
crept a look of fear. “You don’Hwant
me?” she whispered; then, as he did
not speak: “Kiss me. I wish you to
kiss me.”
There was something In her insist
ence that clutched at his heart and
bent him forward. He drew her head
up slowly to meet his lips and kissed
her as lightly, as impersonally as
brother ever saluted sister, hut far
more fearfully. Immediately her body
went limp In his arms, turned to a
dead weight of uninspired flesh.
“It is true,” she murmured, des
perately. “You don’t really want me
and I can never love you now.”
Randolph awoke to that still cry.
He shook her. seized her head in both
his hands, and forced her eyes to meet
the blaze in his.
“You generous, careless, adorable
little fool!” he growled. “Why, you’re
the most desirable and precious bundle
of lovable charm that robber man
ever trembled to hold in sacrilegious
arms!”
She stared at him amazed.
“Why don’t you kiss the way you
talk?” she demanded.
“Because there's no reason for your
desperate barter, my dear Imogene
Pamela Thornton.”
In one lithe motion she was out of
his arms, on her feet, back to the fire,
head upthrown.
“How dare you—how dare you call
me by that name?” She was trans
formed ; her eyes flashed with such a
light as made the blaze in his own a
paltry thing. “Do you think she would
lie in your arms?” She asked, gulping
out the words. “Vivienne Vivierre”—
her lips curled in distaste at the name
HENRY COUNTY WEEKLY, McDONOUGH, GEORGIA.
—“ah, yes; poor despairing thing! But
I —Pamela Thornton! Oh, who are
you? Why did you?” She dropped
her face In her hands and sobbed as
though her heart had broken.
Randolph did not leap to comfort
her this time; he did not even watch
her. With his eyes on the edges of
fire that peeped from between and
round her ankles, he began to talk.
“I knew you; I knew Sport; I knew
Maggie. Just once I met you all, and
I’ve never forgotten. I couldn’t.” He
smiled crookedly. “You and I sat down
so hard together and you cried out,
‘My, what a bump 1’ and laughed and
laughed—just like tonight, back there
at the stnge-door of the Crocodile."
Pamela stopped crying.
“So you were that awfully nice
boy,” she said, disclosing tear-stained
cheeks and looking him over as though
she were inventorying a long list of
points of deterioration.
Robert Hervey Randolph, six feet
tall, freckled-nosed, open-faced, blue
eyed and broad-shouldered, looked up
at her almost appealingly as if his
whole sum and substance were crying
out to be appraised at face value but
no*ss.
“That’s me.” he said vapidly. “My
name is Robert Hervey Randolph.
Some people call me ‘Bob,’ some
‘Herv.’ and the sidey ones say
‘Randy.’ ”
“And I shall call you ‘Mr. Ran
dolph,’ ” said Miss Thornton bravely,
and then broke into: “After—after
I’ve th —thanked you again and—and
again from my heart. I’m going now\”
“That’s a wrong guess,” said Robert,
smiling happily—he didn’t know exact
ly why. “I’m the one that’s going, aft
er you promise me that you’ll stay
here until ten o’clock tomorrow. But
before we come to that, please don’t
thank me ever. It’s selfish, but I’d
simply love to have you remember me
as Bob or Herv or, at the very worst,
Randy. Won’t you?”
She looked this way and that before
she let her face ripple to its wondrous
smile.
“I’ll go as far ns Randy,” she con
ceded mischievously; then the smile
went and the shadow came. “But I
really can’t stay here, you know.”
Mr. Randolph leaped to his feet,
reached her In a single stride and
caught her by both wrists. “Look at
me!” he said. “If you won't promise
—?
“Now Talk,” She Said.
to stay here without a break till ten
o’clock tomorrow' and thereafter at
your pleasure, I’ll stay myself and
hold you. Now, do you or don’t you?
One —two —”
“I do.”
“Do what?” Inquired Robert.
“I promise.”
“Make yourself absolutely at home,
then,” he said, as he dropped her
hands and turned toward the door.
“I feel like Christmas eve,” said
Miss Thornton meekly. “Won’t you
please tell me what’s going to hap
pen?”
“You’ve guessed it—Christmas,” he
answered enigmatically, tossed the
latch-key on the table, and left her.
She can be excused for spying upon
him from the curtained window. She
saw him awake the cabman, and then
watched the pantomime of a long col
loquy.
“Oh!" she moaned. "No wonder!
The awful, awful price of those horrid
clock things! Why did I let him tell it
to wait?”
Presently she was amazed to see
both the driver and Mr. Randolph dis
appear Into the dark recesses of the
cah and close after them its door. For
twenty breathless minutes she
watched, tormented by the thought
that they had retired to have it out
where they wouldn’t he disturbed by
the police. Rut at last they Issued—
both of them. Mr. Randolph proceed
ed to crank the car and then, walking
rather strangely, went off, headed
west; the driver mounted his box,
threw In the clutch, and scurried to
the east as though he were oL to
meet the morning.
“Strange doings!” thought Miss Trao*
gene Pamela Thornton, as she turned
from the window to start on a private
ly conducted voyage of discovery.
Strange doings, indeed, and stranger
still could Imogene Pamela have heard
ns well as seen. This Is what really
happened: Mr. Randolph awoke the
cabman gently but thoroughly; then
he said:
“Look here: I want to buy your
wagon."
“Gowan, boss; wot d’yer take me
for? Here I been freezin' most to det’
fer two mortal hours an’ a gent like
you starts right in kickin’ on the clock
wddout even readln’ it.”
“Shucks I” said Mr. Randolph.
“What’s biting you? Never mind the
meter-reading; here’s twenty for you
to forget that. Now tell me: Who
owns your huzz-wngon? You?"
“Naw; the Village Cab company,”
replied the saturnine cabman as ho
stuffed the twenty-dollar bill into his
trousers pocket.
“Well," said Mr. Randolph, "you
and I are nbout the same build and
I’ve got a proposition for you. Chnnge
clothes, hand me over your cab, and
take two hundred dollars to see your
self to another Job.”
The driver showed no surprise; he
contemplated the offer with half-closed
eyes and dubiously working lips.
“Slim Hervey,” taxi-driver.
(TO UK CONTINUED.)
CAT SCORED USUAL VICTORY
Japanese Legend Merely Another
Feather In the Cap of the Ever-
Conquering Feline.
There is an enchanting story told by
the Lady Sei Shonagou, a beauty of
Japan of nine centuries past, of the
emperor’s favorite cat herself a
spoiled beauty. She had received a
cap of honor and had been raised to
the third rank of nobility, with the
title of Wiyobu-no-Ototo, or “Chief of
the Female Attendants.” and was a
cat of many grnces. Unfortunately,
on a day of disobedience, her lady-ln
wniting summoned the emperor’s dog,
Okinamaru, to startle her Into good be
havior. He barked obediently, and
the cat dashed madly behind the
screen, where his majesty sat at break
fast, and sought refuge In his arms.
The emperor, much shocked, sent for
the lord high chamberlain, and pro
nounced sentence on poor Okinamaru.
A thrashing and exile! The Lady Sei
describes him as hitherto a happy dog
and much esteemed. But a short time
before he had been carried in a proces
sion in a willow litter, with peach
blossoms and hollyhocks on his head!
He was now an outcast on dog island,
“and none so poor to do him rever
ence.” He may possibly have found
life easier without the hollyhocks, but
it Is interesting to see that the eternal
cat is victorious as ever. The dog is
vanquished ; the lady-in-waiting ruined,
and the cat lies in the emperor’s lap
and purrs. So was it always; so will
it ever be, writes L. Adams Beck in
Asia Magazine.
HAD REHEARSAL OF FUNERAL
Curious Notion Held by Spanish Mon
arch Concerning Ceremony In
Which He Would Figure.
Charles V, king of Spain and emperor
of Germany In the Sixteenth century,
w T as a pious ruler. Toward the end of
his life*he conceived the curious Idea
of rehearsing his own funeral, not be
cause he wished to have the event go
off without a hitch when the time
should come, but because he thought
the performance of the ceremony
would redound to the credit and well
being of his soul In the after-world.
His friends sought to dissuade him,
but, deeming it a holy act, the ruler
went ahead with his preparations. A
catafalque was erected and the serv
ice performed. The high altar, the
catafalque, and the entire church
shone with wax lights; the friars w r ere
all in their proper places and the
household of the emperor attended In
deep mourning. “The pious monarch
himself was there, attired In sable
weeds,” according to the monkish his
torian, “and bearing a taper, to see
himself Interred and to celebrate his
own obsequies.” While the mass for
the dead was sung, he came forward
and gave his taper to the officiating
priest as a symbol of his desire to
yield up his soul. Not only once, but
for many years, until he finally died
In 1558, Charles V performed this
strange ceremony annually.
Rank Shown by High Heels.
When high heels were introduced In
Venice they were highly decorated.
The freight of the heels proclaimed the
rank of the men and women wearing
them.
Cleaning Jet.
Brush it well. Put one drop of
sweet oil on the palm of the hand, rub
the brush over, the bund and then
again brush the jet. Rub lightly wit>
a chamois leather,
CALOMEL LOSING
OUT IN SOUTH
Mr. Dodson, the “Liver Tone”
Man, Responsible for Change
for the Better.
Every druggist In town has noticed*
great falling off In the sale of calomel.
They all give the same reason. Dod
son’s Liver Tone is taking its place.
“Calomel Is dangerous and people
know it." Dodson's Liver Tone is per
sonally guaranteed by every druggist
who sells It. A large bottle doesn’t
cost very much, but If It falls to give
easy relief in every case of liver slug
gishness and constipation, Just ask for
your money hack.
Dodson’s Liver Tone is a pleasant
fasting, purely vegetable remedy, harm
less to both children and adults. Take
a spoonful at night and wake up feel
ing fine; no biliousness, sick headache,
add stomach or constipated bowels.
It doesn’t gripe or cause inconvenience
all the next day like violent calomel.
Take a dose of calomel today and to
morrow you will feel weak, sick and
nauseuted. Don’t lose a day.
Sense Qualities.
Instead of there being only five
senses ns we usually think, there are
probably as many as 15. Four dis
tinct senses, for example, are found
In the skin. These are heat, cold, puln
and pressure. What we usually call
touch is a combination of these sense
qualities.
ASPIRIN
Name “Bayer” on Genuine
Warning! Unless you see the name
“Bayer” on package or on tablets you
are not getting genuine Aspirin pre
scribed by physicians for tw-enty-one
years and proved safe by millions.
Take Aspirin only as told in the Bayer
package for Colds, Headache, Neural
gia, Rheumatism, Earache, Toothache,
Lumbago and for Puin. Handy tin
boxes of twelve Bayer Tablets of As
pirin cost few cents. Druggists also
sell larger packages. Aspirin is the
trade mark of Bayer Manufacture of
Monoacetlcaddester of Balicycaeid.
Why It Works.
“What Is meant by senatorial cour
tesy?”
“I’ll listen to your speeches if you’ll
listen to mine.” —Louisville Courier-
Journal.
A Feeling of Security
*
You naturally fed secure when you
know that the medicine you are about to
take is absolutely pure and contains no
harmful or habit producing drugs.
Such a medicine is Dr. Kilmer’s Swamp-
Root, kidney, liver and bladder remedy.
The same standard of purity, strength
and excellence is maintained in every
bottle of Swamp-Root.
It is scientifically compounded from
vegetable herbs.
It is not a stimulant and is taken in
teaspoonful doses.
It is not recommended for everything.
It is nature’s great helper in relieving
and overcoming kidney, liver and blad
der troubles.
A sworn statement of purity is with
every bottle of Dr. Kilmer’s Swamp-
Root. ,
If you need a medioine, you should
have the best. On sale at all drug stores
in bottles of two sizes, medium and large.
However, if you wish first to try this
great preparation send ten cents to Dr.
Kilmer & Co., Binghamton, N. Y., for a
sample bottle. When writing be sure and
mention this paper.
Two Views of IL
Romantic Parent —Some still main
tain they can see people smuggling
on this beach at night.
Little Boy—Yes, I know Grandma
said It’s disgusting.—London Mail.
To Have a Clear Sweet Skin
Touch pimples, redness, roughness
or itching, if any, with Cuticura Oint
ment, then bathe with Cuticura Soap
and hot water. Rinse, dry gently and
dust on a little Cuticura Talcum to
leave a fascinating fragrance on skin.
Everywhere 25c each.
Evidence.
“I never knew until today how smart
a fellow George is."
“Why, how do you know'?”
“He told me so himself.”—Detroit
New s.
