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Fortune’s Football.
By I ZOLA FORRESTER.
Copyright, 1904, by Izola Forrester.
Ramsdell rose from the table leis
urely. He did not feel excited or
nervous, merely speculative, as he h’ad
been when he sat down. Between the
time of sitting and the present mo
ment was a difference of exactly forty
minutes, and three thousand, seven
hundred and eight dollars. It was a
small matter. During the forty min
utes, the three thousand odd h'ad fluc
tuated in splendid and most capricious
proportions. At one time Ranisdell
believed it had become forty-six
thousand dollars. That was when the
red was winning. Now it was noth
ing, and Ramsdell rose with a curious
reuse of relieved tension and specu
lative content.
There was a crowded semi-circle of
faces back of his chair. He did not
meet any of the eyes. There would
be only pity or amusement in them,
jjot that he cared for public senti
ment! He simply did not want it at
oil. At least he knew 'that one face
was not there.
It was cool and dark out of doors.
He stopped outside the Casino, lit a
cigarette and took the promenade to
ward the palace. It would be quiet
up there and he could think. There
was much to think of. He had to
think whether or not it should be his
last chance to think.
As he left the lights and the music
behind, he had an odd premonitory
feeling of separation from it all, even
the hotels and the railway station
ahead of him was the castled steep
of Monaco, beyond that the sea and
the night, and beyond that—he lifted
his face to the stars and wondered.
He was neither desperate nor mor
bid, Several times in his life when
a crisis had come, he had found him
He loosened the lad’s colar and raised him.
self acting as two distinct person
alities. There was one who simply
drifted on the tide of circumstance,
and another who watched the drifting
in a quiet, impersonal fashion, and
was extremely sorry for the other fel
low in a friendly way, but was not
troubled concerning him. The worst
tlfa.t the tide could do was to lay him
gently up on the short out of the way.
He felt In his pocket and drew out
his cigarette case. There were five
left. He replaced them carefully. It
was a time when Items mattered. He
would smoke .the five and think, and
perhaps at the fifth, the tide would
come In.
Two years exactly had passed since
he had seen Crittenden. He had gone
to him In about the same spirit as
he had sought the Casino to-night.
There was a chance of a hundred to
one that he might win.
He had known the man slightly. Be
fore the bottom had dropped out of
the market that last day he had seen
Crittenden leaning comfortably
against a pillar near the wheat pit,
watching him. When It was over he
had passed near the pillar, and Crlt
tenden had put out his hand.
Good fight, all right," he said,
briefly. "Too bad.”
It was not much of a straw to
grasp ftt> but there WM a o{ | n _
N >'bipathy and appreciation
■r ,T*' ance that coming from John
load T tten< * en mat * e I* a whole hay
had gone to him the next
„ • with the proposition. It wus not
one. Probably if It had
1 ~JI , , wou,| l have left the office on
t-SaHe street In five minutes. As it
/ he stayed over two hours.
fh „ tol<l Crittenden nothing but
inio.i f ,lc t In the case. He was
' ? ruined In the crash of May
a :‘ If he could have covered his
? n<l 1,0 held the market for
"* r . d,iy ' he rnl * ht possibly have
wo,, out. As It was. he was worse
, Penniless, and he wanted $50.-
th,. It was to be In
~,,..n a! .u r e °f a loan. He would In
f , *'■ Uf tnr $70,000 In Crittenden's
th. ' of Crittenden holdfriK
v no ** “gainst him for $50,000 would
noi. 1 lhe *hurenoe regulations. The
mi to *** m *<le payable at the
of is . \T a year " At the expiration
f 'hat time, If he failed to meet It,
’ “ v * his word of honor that he
w, uld commit suicide.
•>i h**! heard him through
ah *< I say.” itumadell had
... . *• itg ftp f an ii)gw#t , l
*ht you do," had retorted
writtend*i., *•u l had any doubt, Td
have you arrested as a crank, or a
lunatic. What will you do with the
money?”
‘ Use it as fresh capital. I could
go to work and earn It, possibly, but
it's a waste of time. This is quicker.”
“It’s all right except the suicide
clause.”
“That is merely protection to you.
I have no other security to give for
tfca money."
Crittenden nodded appreciatively.
He liked grit, but being of an older
generation, he also liked the spirit of
a man who would not ask something
lor nothing. It showed principle. On
the strength of it, coupled with his
previous opinion of young Kamsdell
as a wheat speculator, he had taken
his note for fifty thousand.
Inside of a year Kamsdell had left
Chicago with the remnants of twenty
thousand. Fortune was elusive, and
had played football with him. Sev
eral times he had approached the fifty
thousand mark but had never passed
it. He had stayed in New York ten
months, and had left for Europe with
something less than five thousand. It
had been a chance. Also, as a minor,
personal consideration, he had an idea
that it would be easier living up to,
or rather dying up to, his word of
honor in Europe than at home. There
were fewer temptations for living
than on the home side.
He had not counted on Beata.
The second cigarette became an
impossible half inch, and he threw it
on the ground and lit a third.
He had seen her the first day after
reaching Monaco. It had been a mo
mentary glimpse, when for a single
instant their glances had met. As
he stepped from the entrance of the
Hotel de Paris, a white automobile
had passed, taking the road to the
Riviera. Everything about it was
w T hite. even to the garb of the chauf
feur. The girl beside the latter had
worn and all-enveloping cloak of heavy
white silk. Her white leather cap set
closely on a mass of fair hair, as rich
in color as a clump of golden rod on
an autumn prairie back home in Illi
nois.
There was a continental repose and
finish to her that placed a barrier of,
separation between her and the girls
whom he had seen about the Casino
and hotels. Her long automobile veil
of white chiffon was lifted from her
face, and as she passed, her dark eyes
had looked directly at him.
Clancy, Ward & Jaffray's European
operator, had told him who she was
Clancy's was the only familiar face
he had seen since he left the boat at
Marseilles.
"She’s beyond you, boy; way up,
out of sight. Dog and the moon, moth
•and the flame, light of the star, and
all that sort of thing. That Is the
Marchesa Beata D’lstrla.”
"Sounds solid and Interesting,” had
commented Ramsdell. "Where does
the Marchesa live?”
"On the Klvlere, beyond Mentone.”
Clancy had benj. to fleck the dust from
his patent leathers with a narrow
hemmed linen handkerchief. "Villa
D'lstrla. doing ballooning after the
Star?"
Ramsdell had looked thoughtfully
after the dust raised by the white
automobile. Somehow Its occupant
had seemed above discussion with
Clancy, and he had spoken curtly.
"One may ride along the Riviera.”
The trouble was he had ridden
often. After one has passed the lemon
and olive groves east of Monaco, there
Is the cliff road on to Mentone, and
beyond, where the hills dip to thu
blue of the sea, one may find the
Villa D'lstrla, white and stately In the
silences of Its rose walks and orange
groves.
Ramsdell had found It. Every day
he had ridden over the cliff road,
watching for a glimpse of the girl
with the dark eyes, and hair like the
A (iotMl Mitht'N Heat,
The greatest tonic on earth Is a good
night's rest. Restless nights and the
terrible exhaustion of a hacking cough
are dread dangers of the poor con
sumptive. Hut why this four of the
night whet) a few doses of Dr. Bos
thee's Herman Hyrup will Insurs re
freshing sleep, entirely free from
cough or night sweut? Free expeeto
ration In the morning Is made certain
by taking < Jenna a Hyrup. It has cured
consumption tor forty years. Trial bot
tle, 26c. Ml* hottls, 76c. At all drug
gists. Knight's Pharmacy.
SAVANNAH MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY. NOVEMBER 27. 1904.
tint of the golden rod. And one day
he had found her, kneeling beside a
peasant boy in the road. The boy
had been run down by her chauffeur,
and was more soared than hurt, but
his sisters and cousins and aunts, to
gether with the male population of
Rudella, had gathered en masse, with
evil intentions toward the white auto
mobile. And Ramsdell had taken the
curly- headed, sobbing boy in his arms
and had carried him up the rocky
road to Rudella, a bunch of gray stone
houses set like gulls' nests in the cliff
crevices. The male population had
followed him, together with the sis
ters, cousins and aunts, and he had
soothed their evil intentions with a
goodly display of gold.
When he had returned to the cliff
road, the white automobile had been
waiting for him, and he had spoken
with her, merely a few words of
thanks, but it had been enough. In
the days that followed he had wished
devoutly that every peasant boy on
the Route de la Corniche could be
bribed to take a tumble under the
wheels of the white automobile.
And that had been all. She might
have been an empress of the Orient
for all the chance he had of meeting
her, and yet, in the few last days of
hopeless, reckless staking on fortune’s
whim, her face had been always with
him. In its lovely serenity he had
found a peace that wooed him like a
promise of forgetfulness Of his own
misery-. So he had ridden to Mentone
more frequently than the average
Casino player, and to-night when the
parting of the ways had come he
found himself musing on the face of
Beata O’lstria rather than on the fact
that his word of honor demanded that
he take a short cut to eternity within
an hour.
The promenade was deserted. Be
low it, the rocks jutted out like Ti
tanic teeth of some beast of prey
above the still waters of the Mediter
ranean. One could leap to them. Not
here, when one could see the lights
of the Casino, but beyond at the turn
of the path, where the shrubbery of
the palace gardens shut out the view.
He wished it to anpe'ar at much as
possible, an accident. Suicide carried
with it a stigma of deficient moral
courage, and the opinion of the world
was still dear to him.
At the turn of the path, he stopped
suddenly, and threw aw J ay the half
smoked cigarette. In exactly the
same spot where he had about made
up his mind to cancel his debt to Crit
tenden, a figure stood, already poised
for 'the leap to death.
It w*as not a moment for Introduc
tions. Ramsdell caught the figure
from behind. It swung around, and
he got a swift, well-set blow In the
Jaw for his pains, and a curse that
was a cry of veritable agony.
The struggle was a blessed relief to
the tension of the past hours. As he
fell to the road in a clinch with the
unknown, and wrestled with him. he
felt as if for a last moment, fate had
given that other personality Into his
hands to settle old scores with. When
he had finished, the man lay limp and
motionless on the ground.
He was young and in evening dress.
As Ramsdell looked down at the pale
upturned face with its fair, curling
hair, and clear-cut profile, he felt sat
isfied thatt the other personality was at
least that of a gentleman, according to
certain canons. He loosened the lad’s
collar and raised him.
"Are you able to walk?” he asked.
The other spoke In French, curtly.
“Leave me here.”
FY>r ansuler Ramsdell produced a
flask of brandy, and compelled him to
drink from It. With resolute, com
pressed lips, and eyes In which a gleam
of amusement shone, over the latest
somersault of circumstances, he helped
the man to rise. In less than half an
hour the two faced each other In
Ramsdell's room at the Hotel de Paris,
and it still lacked twenty minutes of
midnight.
The stranger was nervous and un
strung. He sat in a chair beside the
'table, his head resting on his hands.
"It would have been over by now.”
he said slowly. "Why did you stop
me?”
Ramsdell watched quizzically. Some
how he felt as If a crisis had been
passed safely. When he turned to the
dresser and found a box of cigarettes
which he had left there, he smiled. The
tide of being had refused to be gauged
or limited by the burning of five ciga
rettes. It still flowed on. and Rams
dell lt a sixth one from the fresh box.
"I did It because you were usurping
my place.”
“You, too?"
There was flash of fellowship In
the glance of the other. He leaned for
ward eagerly
"Why?”
Kamsdell hesitated. It was hard to
sel*<"t any deflnlts reason.
Because I had given my word to do
90.*'
"And jsni -you yourself—you did
oof d99(r If T*
n*uu<f* ll thought of
•1 pfcouid 9 y IMHe"
“No? And for me" —he rose from
the table unsteady- and excited—"lt
is all that I long for. You have not
stopped me from it. To-morrow—the
next day, or the next, whenever it
can be. it shall be. I will not live.”
Ranisdell watched the white young
face speculatively. There was a
frenzed in his despair that was pitiful.
The boy was certainly In deeper
trouble than himself.
“Be tapis vert?” he asked.
“To the very end of all. And If I
could have staked my life, it would
have gone also. But that is not all,
m'sieur." He spoke more quietly, with
a kind of hopeless awe at the ruin
he had accomplished. “I am more
than ruined. I am dishonored. It
was not my money. I have made her
penniless, too. I wish to die before
to-morrow, when she will know.’
“Does she love you?"
“I am all that she loves In the
world.”
“Then you are twice a fool," said
Ramsdell calmly. “I am only one.
You take your own life from your
self before you have fulfilled your
time. It's a bad thing to give up when
to-morrow holds the cards. Every
morning brings a fresh deal, and the
game's never done until death rakes
a life that was dearest on earth to
another.”
“There was nothing left to cover
the dishonor except death.”
"My dear boy. do you smoke? No?
Then you should. It is quieting to
the nerves. Death does not cover
dishonor. Pardon me, but you tako
the continental view. It is simply a
measure of escape for the offender be
yond the laugh of the world, and pos
sible punishment.”
Ramsdell was sitanding near the
door, one hand in his pocket, the other
holding the cigarette lightly. He felt
a sudden earnestness enthuse him. He
was convincing himself as well as the
other poor devil of the folly of their
ways.
"And you say that she loves you.
You are very young. As long as you
are sure of a woman’s love, there is
hope. She will forgive you anything.”
There w*as a rap on the door.
Ramsdell asked who was there. One
of the hotel attendants answered.
Was Monsieur le Marquis within? He
had been seen to enter with Monsieur
Ramsdell. Visitors wished to see
him.
Ramsdell opened the door and stood
speechless. Before him in the corridor
were the Marchesa Beata D'lstria and
John R. Crittenden of Chicago.
Crittenden spoke first.
“Kirke Ramsdell. by George!”
Ramsdell gripped the extended
hand mechanically. He was staring
at the girl in amazement. She was
in evening dress, an exquisite costume
of amethyst-oolored chiffon and satin,
whose material beauty w*as as elusive
as the charm of her lovely face. For
the first time in his life Ramsdell re
alized the spiritual significance of a
woman’s dress, a dress than could be
so utterly an expression of her own
individuality as to be beyond descrip
tion. In the curls of her fair hair was
an orchid, its petals amethyst-colored,
its heart a deep Jacqueminot red. Her
eyes met his in startled appeal and
recognition.
“Where is AndrCa?” she asked in
stantly.
Ramsdell turned to his guest. The
latter had risen from the table at the
opening of the door, and as the Mar
chesa spoke, he held out his arms to
her.
“Beata, do you know?”
Ramsdell looked away. It w*as not
a pleasurable moment for him. Crit
tenden had laid aside his hat and
cane, and was eyeing him with con
siderable satisfaction.
“I'm mighty glad to see that you’re
O. K. I missed the Saturday boat
to Marseilles, and had to come by
way of Cherbourg. It has made me
late.”
“I am also late.” Ramsdell Spoke
with an effort. “It Is after midnight,
and I’m not dead yet.”
“Thank God, that you're not, my
boy,” said Crittenden, cheerfully. He
looked ait his watch. “You’re oft on
your time. It is three minutes to
twelve. Don’t be In a hurry. Rams
dell, I’ve had an inside track on your
affairs for two years. It was a busi
ness deal, of course, but I happen to
have such a thing as a conscience,
and It has troubled me to 'be a party
to a scheme where a man’s life was
balanced against a mere matter of
dollars and cents. When you sank
that last twenty thousand In winter
wheat, I was the winner. I didn't
think that you would settle up, under
the circumstances, but you did, and
it was a pretty decent thing to do.
I was all to the good along there,
and I took the liberty of placing that
twenty thousand in with my own op
erations for the spring. My boy, we
squeezed them to the wall until they
yelled. I’ve got my twenty thousand
back, and If you want to cancel that
old debt inside of a minute and a
half, I don’t believe you’ll miss It so
very much out of a cash balance of
over six hundred thousand.”
“And you came over here to tell
me this?”
“Partly. Partly on account of the
youngsters over there. I suppose
Andy’s been committing suicide
again, yes? He tries it every time he
gets into hot water. Last time Beata
and I found him In Paris hunting a
decent, exclusive corner in which to
blow out his brains. Oh, he’s a cheer
ful cub. I shall take him back with
me this time, and marry him off to
some clever, level-headed American
girl who will talk sense into him. We
.were told he was up here, but I had
no idea you two had fallen in to
gether.”
“The company of misery,” laughed
Ramsdell. “I never saw him before
in my life.”
“Well, by George, that Is funny,"
exclaimed Crittenden. “Didn’t know
there was a strain of the warranted
not-to-fade-ln-the-wash European blue
blood In our old Chicago line
eh? My sister, Polly Crittenden]
married the Marrhese D’lstria
There's the result, Andrea and Beata.
Their parents are dead, and they near
ly break their necks trying to live
up to the traditions of their fore
fathers over here. But when they get
hard up for cold cash and good ad
vice, they remember their foremoth
ers back In Chicago, and cable Uncle
Jack to come over and fix matters up.
Andrea manages to run wild over
here, but I keep the bulk of Polly’s
money stored home where the frost
won’t nip K. Isn’t that about right,
girlie?”
And lo! Beata, the unapproachable,
Clancy’s star, etc., blushed and dim
pled, and looked as adorably lovable
and human as any of her American
foremothers.
“I think that we’ll call that other
affair settled." said Ramsdell, delib
erately. “Thank you.”
"We wilt,” responded Crittenden
heartily. “Don’t mention It. Beata,
Mr. Ramsdell will sail for home when
we go next month, and until then I’d
like him up at the villa for safe-keep
ing."
For the third time their glances
met. To Ramsdell, it was a crucial
moment. The amethyst-colored orchid
had fallen at her feet when Andrea
had caught her In his arms. As Rams
dell looked into her eyes he wondered
If she knew what a month at the
Villa D'lstria meant to him.
Crittenden was talking to Andrea,
his hands resting on the boy’s shoul
ders.
lieata's gaze waved. There was
no ronqiietry In her manner, only the
shy dignity and grace of the girl ha
had In ved on the Riviera.
"'Dome. ■ she said eoftly. and Mams
dell bent, and raised the amethyst
orchid to his Ups.
Flat Silverware
Shows New Shapes
He who would be considered up
to date In table etiquette will do well
to cultivate a broad and comprehen
sive acquaintance with the gold and
silversmith’s art. The demand for
culinary novblties and the constantly
growing tendency toward daintiness
of service, has brought into existence
a bewildering array of knives, forks
and spoons, and the modern chest of
flat sterling silver is a veritable
Chinese puzzle to the uninitiated.
When tint knives and forks essen
tial to an elaborate course dinner are
laid forth to right and left of the
service plate, the array is sufficient to
stlke terror to the heart of the in
experienced diner-out. In spite of
the high favor in which the old family
chesr of silver is held, there is no
doubt that fashions in flat silver
every year, and the fad
dish woman tries to keep pace with
them, buying at least one new service
each year.
The most striking change this year
is the growing depth of the bowls in
all spoons, the shallow bowl having
practically dfgut'Peared. Bowls are
also rounder they have been in
several seasons.
Three designs are in high favor for
complete sets. One of these is a
new r Colonial pattern with the chaste
and elegant 'beading. The second is
called the new English pattern, and
inside the plain edge of the handle
runs a fine etching in scallops, giving
a leaf-like effect. Both of these pat
terns show the highly polished or
satin finish. The third pattern is the
orchid, in French gray silver, several
shades lighter than the oxidized ware.
This is ornate and extremely ex
pensive, but exquisite in workman
ship.
The up-to-date dinner knife has a
steel blade five inches long, with a
three-inch handle in the pattern to
match the rest of the service. The
blade of (he breakfast knife, ulso in
steel. Is four and a half inches long.
The fish knife has a silver blade with
a sharp point, and is next in size to
the breakfast knife. The game knife
has a pointed steel blade, and is fully
as long as the breakfast knife. The
next knife is size is the fruit knife,
all In silver, with plain or saw edge
and a pointed blade. The butter
spreader is the smallest of all, and
takes the form of a rounded scimitar.
Of the making of forks there seems
to be no end. for it is one of the fadH
of the hour to eat almost everything
with a fork and dispense as far as
possible with spoons. The newest
dinner fork is large, and has five bowl
ing tines. The fork for terrapin, ra
gout or sweetbreads has a short
spoon-like bowl with three short, fiat
tines. The iish fork has three tines
and is smaller than the dinner fork.
The salad fork Is about the same size,
and has three tines, hut is distinguish
ed by the tines being of gold. The
berry fork, one of the daintiest nov
elties of the season, has three tines
an inch and a half long 'attached to a
short handle. The correct utensil for
eating Ice cream is a cross between
fork and spoon, showing a short,
rounded bowl with three short tines.
This closely resembles the ragout
fork, being distinguished by the gold
bowl.
The new chocolate spoon will ap
peal most strongly to the feminine
mind. It has a small round bowl,
rather deep, which looks not unlike
an exaggerated salt spoon. The han
dle may be long or short, according to
the taste of the buyer. The latest
orange spoons look like golden tulip
leaves of exaggerated length attached
to silver handles. The egg spoon is
'another one of the long, oval bowls,
while the soup spoon of the hour is
nothing but last season's bouillon
spoon enlarged.
The newest nut pick has a bar of
silver surmounted by a tiny squirrel
in the finest of the silversmith’s art.
20th Century Eve
and Her Mirror
Eve’s pool could not have lent more
charm to her fair form than do the
mirrors of the present day to the
woman who would study her own fea
tures. The old-time mirror with its
disfiguring, sallow reflections Is de
cidedly a thing of the past, and Its
successor of clear, brilliant, beveled
glass is almost a flattering photo
graph. The deeper the glass the
more distinct Is its reflection and a
simple way to ascertain Its depth is
to place a pencil upon it. The space
between the pencil’s point and its im
age shows the depth of the glass.
Miladi Millionaire has the doors of
her dressing-room paneled with the
finest plate mirror so that she may
know there is not a frill to give her
an ungraceful curve or a lock to spoil
the contour of her coiffure. For her
who is not so fortunate, either the
oval cheval glass or the trlplicato mir
ror is a very satisfactory substitute.
No woman who wishes to appear her
prettiest should dress without the aid
of the latter, for there is not a face
There’s Health
—in—
Will
Various experiments by emb
nent scientists have proven
the great value of lemons tn
destroying the genus of ty
phoid fevers. Germs of dis
eases are deposited In Um
system by the failure of the
bowel* to net regularly.
MO2LKYS DEMON ELIX
IR Is an Ideal laxative, made
from the juice of pare lem
ons, and has no equal for
cleansing the system of all
Impurities. It acts prompt
ly on the bowels, liter
kidneys, and does not gripe
or cause my unpleasantness.
•O cents per bottle at all drug
•tores.
LEMON HOT DROPS
CURE ALL COfTGIia AM It
COLD*.
MOZLEY’S
LEMON ELIXIR
SPENCER'S MONOMANIA
By LUCY HAMMERSLEY.
‘Trusting that this will not shock
you too greatly, I remain your loving
son. Got that?” he asked.
Aliss Murphy nodded.
"Well, I’ll sign It now,” he said, as
he tilted back the typewriter carriage
and penciled his Initials upon the
sheet. “I must get the rest of this
stuff un to the postotHce to catch the
New York mail sure. Then when I
come back we’ll go out on tho lake.”
"You forgot,” interrupted Miss Mur
phy, “that I have those letters to get
off for that Chicago man."
’That Chicago man is altogether
too communicative,” growled Living
ston. “1 can’t say that I blame him.
I used to write lots of letters 1 didn’t
have to when l first came."
“I know.” said Miss Murphy, wick
edly. “I felt like urging you to dic
tate from some book when I saw you
cudgling your brains for more tilings
to say in your letters." Then she went
back to her work.
Livingston Spencer was by no
means as happy as he pretended to be.
It was no pleasant task for a chap to
compose a letter telling his mother
that he Is about to upset all her cher
ished plans, even when he has the val
uable assistance of the sweetest little
woman in tho world. When he had
come to Glen vale In the early summer,
he had been wonderfully attracted to
the public stenographer. He had writ
ten scores of unnecessary letters that
Tho physician drew from his pocket a cable form. “Read that,” he said.
he might have a better chance to study
her, and in the end he had said “yes”
very prettily and sweetly.
Then he had begun to think what
his mother and sisters would say. It
would make no difference so far as the
engagement was concerned, but they
would make It very unpleasant for
Edna, and he was determined to pro
tect her feelings.
The letter to his mother was followed
by one to his elder sister. Grace. She
had always stood by him, and he knew
just how to word the letter to her.
Grace was abroad with her mother, and
he needed her moral backing and per
suasive powers at this critical moment.
For a week he lived on in his dream
of happiness, and then came Dr. Pren
tiss, their family physician, who was
clearly ill at ease, but alert and watch
ful. For several days the doctor In
terferred with Spencer's plans. Insist
ing upon going everywhere with him
and watching him narrowly, until
finally Livingston, irritated beyond
passiveness, broke ail bounds.
"See here, doctor,” he said stoutly,
"I want to know what all this means?
You follow me about aB though I
were under your care, and sometimes
you treat me almost like a child. What's
the matter?”
"It's nothing, Livingston.” protested
the physician stoutly. "I needed a lit
tle rest, and came down here to get it
with you.”
whose two sides are alike, and their
relation to each other Is most impor
tant. These triplicate mirrors are
now within the reach of every one,
glasses eight inches square with
quaint Dutch designs on the back be
ing sold for 37 cents. In the larger
sizes, these mirrors have settings to
match any fu> allure, but they seem
brilliant In a framework of
ebony or nickel. One handsome back
Is of French gilt with embossed or
chids.
The vanity mirror, which Is Just
large enough to take In the eyes and
nose. Is the novelty of the season for
the dressing table and the opera, bag,
and delightfully artistic are Its mani
fold settings. A crescent shape has a
back of porcelain, showing Cleopatra
heads against a changeable crimson
background, and In the curve of the
crescent Is perched a child in dull
gilt. On the porcelain backs of the
circular and fun shapes, appear Ideal
ized heads of girls In a framework
of dull gilt tulips, and one which Is
particularly fetching shows that
charming picture In miniature of
Mrne. <Je Stahl and her daughter. These
tiny mirrors have either long or ring
handles.
Revolving glasses, with a plain mir
ror on one side and magnifying mir
ror on the other, are set high In nickel
frames which have holders for a can
dle on either side of the glass, grooves
for the eyebrow and make-up brushes,
or the shaving stick and brush, and
below these, receptacles for cold
cream Jars and powder puff or for the
razor and shaving mug.
Standing mirrors for the dressing
table have elegant and costly frames
of sliver tlllgree, square and heart
shaped, or If crimson velvet as a back
ground for colls of silver. One oblortg
mirror, a foot and a half high and
seven Inches wide has an Inch-wide
frame of plain flat sliver, and Is sold
for SIS. Another and less expensive
article shows a tall woman's flgure,
an outstretched arm supporting the
glass, while the clinging drapery of
the skirt sweeps around the feet apd
under the mirror. Circular hand
glasses are built with tapestry backs
having a miniature of porcelain In the
center. The old-fashioned, oblong
mirror with rounded corners Is shown l
with a back of rich red porcelain sur
mounted by dull gill figures, and held I
by a long gilt band Is headed with
•agls whigs.
"Nonsense,” replied Livingston.
“Did my mother send you down here
to prevent my marriage?”
“Which one?” asked the doctor ab
scntlv.
"Which one?” shrieked Spencer.
“What in time do you mean?”
“Why, the typewriter or the odherT"
“There Isn’t any other," protested
Spencer.
"Oh, yes. there Is.” retorted Pren
tiss. "You see, my boy, you are suf
fering from a rare form of dementia.
You have a belief that you are going
to marry both Miss Murphy and Miss
Carruthers.”
"But I don’t even know any Miss
Carruthers.” insisted Livingston.
The physician drew from his pocket
a cable form. "Read that," he Bald
shortly. It ran:
"Please see Livingston, Grenvale. He
thinks be is going to marry a Miss
Carruthers and a typewriter. Must be
insane.”
It was signed with his mother’s
name.
"See here, doctor,” he said as quiet
ly as he could, "I am going to marry
Edna Murphy. Just her! Nobody
else!”
"Well,” said the physician, “ am
glad that you have come to your
senses at last.”
Livingston flung himself out of the
room and went In search of Edna, to
whom he poured out nil his trouble.
To his dismay, instead of sympathiz
ing with him. she laughed till the
tears ran down her cheeks.
“It’a too funny," she panted, as her
laughter died down for a moment.
Then, catching sight of his expression
of mingled surprise and Injury, the
laughter started afresh.
"It’s too bad, dear,” she suld, finally,
ts she stopped laughing from sheer
exhaustion. "It was ail my fault.
Edna Murphy was one of the girls I
met while taking a business oourse.
Father Insisted upon my having a pro
fession or trade, and I learned type
writing and shorthand. When Edna
was taken 111 after having secured this
place, I persuaded him that it would
be good practice and experience for
me to take her name and position. I
pay her the money I get, and I’ve
been having a lovely time. When I
wrote to your mother I did not take
your dictation literally, but substituted
my own name for the one under which
I have passed all summer. You wrote
your sister about ‘Edna Murphy' and
did not tell me. Can you blame them
for being upset?”
‘ And to think,” he said with twink
ling eyes, "that I am engaged to be
married to Edna Murphy, when I
want you. I've always said I’d never
marry for money, and If you’re John
Carruthers' daughter, you're worth
two of me "
"Very well, then. I’ll remain Edna
Murphy ”
"Until you become Mrs. Spencer,”
Then he went In to send the doctor
home.
WOMEN AND THE RACE TRACK.
(Continued from Page Twenty-four.)
"The woman began to lose steadily
She had a system by which she
thought she could surely win, but her
nerve left her as hard luck pursued
her, and it was soon an extraordinary
thing tpr her to cash a bet.
"Before the middle of the season was
reached she had dropped 125,000, which
her husband made good. He had been
fairly fortunats, but so great was his
enthusiasm that he began to neglect
his business.
“With losses In his business and his
wife still betting unsuccessfully, he
figured up at the end of season
that he was $60,000 out of pocket. An
other year rolled around, and they
were still at it. but with no better
luck. The man had no time for his
business now. and It went to smash.
,"He was left with some real estate,
which he quickly disposed of, only to
see the money follow the thousands
that he had dropped In the ring. In
a few months he was a nervous wreck,
and before the season ended he died—
of a broken heart. It was said.
"His wife continued her operations
on the track with varying success. Her
eldest son tried to dissuade her, but It
was no use. The mother still had the
gambling fever, and worse than ever.
"Her daughter soon ran awav from
home, went on the stage, and then
disappeared, never to be heard from
ugaln. Her eldest son died of heart
disease and his brother shipped before
the mast.
"Not a day since then has the old
woman failed to come to the track. She
pawned everything, and last winter
she was compelled to work In a cheap
restaurant in Brooklyn.
"She showed up at Aqueduct on the
first day last spring and began by v
betting a dollar. Duck was with her.
and when Hertnls won the Suburban
she hud rolled up a bank account of
nearly llO.ttOO.
"After thut It was the same old
story. Nothing could win for her.
"She lost steadily until to-day found
her pennllssa. Hha Is In poor health
and needs a rest. Hut she will prob
ably go to work again this winter, and
If ahe lives, will be In line again In the
spring.”
This case is one of many. It ahowe
why many men contend that a check
should b* put on racetrack speculation
25