Newspaper Page Text
THE GEORGIAN'S MAGAZINE PAGE
“The Gates of Silence”
A STORY OF LOVE, MYSTERY AND HATE, WITH A THRILLING POR
TRAYAL OF LIFE BEHIND PRISON BARS.
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
It was in the nature of a grievance to
Mrs. Ames that her lodger had not, as
he had stated his intention of doing, va-.
cated his rooms some ten days back. His
plans had been changed suddenly, and he
i.ac become “that mopey,*' as she said to
Ames in the privacy of the basement, that
for "all* that up till then this talk 'ad
bin of the good luck as was a-comin’ to
'im, it’s my belief that the young chap’s
bin losin’ money—on that there horse
racin’, and as like as not we’ll stand to
lose our rent.”
All these thoughts seemed epitomized in
the look she cast at Rimington as she
spoke.
“Yes, it seems too bad to have been
forced to lose so much glorious river
weather,” Rimipgton said: “but I shall
be going down to Weybourne this after
noon.”
He was thankful for the shrill summons
from the bowels of the basement that
cut; short the landlady’s voluble expres
sions of gratification and hurried her
away.
Certainly it was no desire that had
kept him mewed up in London. Business
called him most insistently to Westport—
business that it was not possible to con
duct adequately over the telephone. It al
most seemed as though all his rosy hopes
in the matter of the explosive might be
doomed to disappointment: but he had
simply not dared to leave London while
Edmond Levasseur. Fate's cat paw. lay
under the shadow of the rope. He seemed
bound by a horrible fascination to remain
to watch the changing dance of shadows
wind their way about the maze of mys
tery surrounding the house in Tempest
street
The Spell Broken.
But now the call of duty had broken
the spell that held him. His uncle was
111, dying perhaps, Mrs Rimington’s mes
sage ran, and they both needed him. So
today he would go back to the old Red
House by the river, which he had not
visited since the day he had asked Betty
Lumsden to be his wife. And there he
would be at least near to the girl he
loved —the girl who saw in him now only
the boy comrade of ten years l>efore.
He had a curious superstitious feeling
that it wAs by the very direct interven
tion of Fate that he was going back to
Weybourne today.
Day and night he had been fighting his
desire to go down and see Betty again:
to go down, not because he loved her, not
because she was sore stricken and needed
his love and help more than ever now:
no—Heaven help him!—not because of
that, but because of the dread, that had
been growing vampire-like in bis heart,
that somewhere in one of those brain cells
over which this terrible veil of childish
forgetfulness had crept in a night, like
the white veiling mists from the sea,
there lay knowledge that could save a
man, who, whatever Ms sins, was at least
innocent of murder, from the gallows.
If only Betty could speak! If only the
.veil could be lifted! The wheels of the
train, running through the scorched coun
try, beat out these sentences like a bur
den and a refrain. If only Betty could
speak.
His aunt met him at the white gate of
the garden, a little white wicket gate,
half-hidden beneath a nfass of overhang
ing greenery and flowering shrubs.
The rank vegetation of a riverside over
grew the footpath. His progress from the
station had been through a miniature
Jungle. It was like finding one's way to
the entrance of the palace of the Sleep
ing Beauty, he told the pale little lady
who offered her cheek to him in greeting.
"You are fantastic, Jack." Her voice
was as colorless as her face, and yet
managed to convey reproof. “I am aware
how sadly the garden is neglected: but,
in the present state and condition of your
uncle’s income, it is not possible for us
to keep things as one -would wish they
should be kept. I regret that reproach
should come from you.”
"Reproach! Aunt Deb!" Jack's voice
was full of honest distress. “Indeed, you
mustn't think that 1 was complaining, for
I simply love the place. 1 wouldn't have
it altered in the smallest particular. It
is as dear to me as it is to you—you know
that well enough.”
The little lady smiled primly as he put
his arm through hers, hut lie was never
thoroughly at ease under her smiles.
They seemed sb aloof—to be directed by
some unspoken thought, not always to.
the credit of her companion.
He felt something of the same feeling
when she thanked him for responding to
her appeal to visit his uncle.
A Dreaded Meeting.
"Your uncle will be glad to know you
in the house."
That was all but it was said in such a
tone that Rimington felt he would have
preferred reproach for his unwonted ab
sence.
His aunt’s manner quickened his dread
of the coming interview with his uncle—
always a difficult old man, and in the sick
room well nigh unbearable. But today he
found him less acrid and bitter than usual;
David Rimington had been chastened by
two days and two wakeful nights of pain.
“You’ve come,” he said. "Well, one
must be obliged, I suppose." His thin lips
curved a little. "One must be obliged,
since youth is not what it was; youth
knows nothing of the obligations of duty.
And now, having appeared and paid your
respects to the tiresome old folk, you'll
be wanting to rush out and visit our neigh
bors at the Croft? Well, go; perhaps you
may prove a more welcome vlsitqf there
than sometimes you have done. There
are odd rumors about the folk there; and
in these past days I have dreamed dreams
about proud George Lumsden and his
beautiful daughter. Pride goes before a
FRECKLES
Don’t Hide Them With a Veil; Remove
Them With the New Drug.
An. eminent skin specialist recently
discovered a new drug, othine -double
strength—which is so uniformly suc
cessful in removing freckles and giv
ing a clear, beautiful complexion that
It is sold by Jacobs’ Pharmacy under
an absolute guarantee to refund Hie
Bionqy if it falls.
Don’t hide your freckles under a veil;
get an ounce of othine and remove
them. Even the first night's use will
show a wonderful improvement, some
of the lighter freckles vanishing en
tirely. It is absolutely harmless, and
can not injure the most tender skin.
Be sure to ask Jacobs’ Pharmacy for
the double strength othine; it is this
that is sold on the money buck guaran
tee.
fall; and it's a trite saying, but a true one
John. God resisteth the proud and giveth
grace to the humble, I who speak to you
should know that.”
There was a curious proud humility in
his words that gave something almost of
fensive to their tone. He said no more.
Jack Rimington, with a strange sinking of
the heart, stod for a moment or two at the
foot of the great carved bed. looking ar
the shrunken face that lay yellow against
the snowmf the pillow.
"What do you mean, uncle?” he asked
at last. ,
But David Rimington’s eyes did not un
close. He appeared to have fallen asleep.
Jack would have liked to have put
some question to Mrs. Rimington as to the
meaning of his uncle's strange words, but
she had never appeared so unapproachable
for the most part, during the dinner that
was served with a solemn state in the
beautiful paneled dining room, whose win
dows looked on to the garden and the
stretch of the river, she was silent. Her
few words were entirely of the past —of a
season she had spent as a girl in Vienna—
of the gay, light wickedness of the.city,
that even now had left its glamor of fas
cinated horror over her mind.
A Strange Vision.
After dinner, when she went to . her
husband's room. Rimington made his es
caped He felt like a prisoner released as
he sauntered through the dewy garden
and out on to the path by the river.
The night was very quiel. Although
it was nearly 9 o'clock, it was twilight
still—a shimmering, gray light, star-pow
dered, hung over the river that reflected
it like a winding ribbon of glass. From
the ascending woods on the bank beyond
there came at intervals the faint cheep
cheep of a night bird, and, save for that
sound, the world seemed given up to him
self alone. He stood still, looking down
at kite slow-moving water, held fast in
the grip of so gray a misery that he
turned from the contemplation of the
river with a sort of shrinking horror,
As he turned he' saw the flutter of a
white dress along the footpath at some
distance ahead of him. Perhaps it was
the association of ideas; he had so often
seen the flutter of Betty’s dress among
the trees at this very spot and followed
it as a signal. But he seemed now to
know beyond doubt that this moving fig
ure was Betty. She walked swiftly and ■
yet uncertainly, pausing now and again I
hesitatingly, as though she sought for I
something by the water, for some thing of
some place.
For a moment Rimington’s heart stilled.
What did she seek? His mind was quick
to leap to the first morbid suggestion.
He dreaded some rash get contemplated,
and, hurrying, gained on her. As he
reached her he saw her stoop down, kneel
by the shelving bank of the river, and
plunge her hands and something they held
into the gray water.
For a couple of seconds Rimington stood
motionless, watching Betty as she
crouched there by the edge of the water.
The girl was absorbed in herself and her
action; it was obvious that she did not so
much as thing, of an observer. He could
see her in profile very distinctly, although
tjie gray light and the shifting shadows
gave a certain unreality, a look of mys
tery. to the slim, white-clad figure: he
could see the expression of her face, the
new look that had come to her with this
illness —a bewildered look like that of a
child who has strayed into a new. inex
plicable world.
What was she doing? Just for a mo
ment he wondered if he had happened
on some action of self-revelation, and
even as he wondered the girl rose up from
her half-crouching position, and he saw
the thing she held. Only a dripping hand
kerchief with which she feverishly rubbed
her hands, uttering a little moaning cry
as she djd so. It was a tiling too bitter
to be borne in silence, that cry. He made
a step forward.
“Betty!” he said.
She started at the sound of his voice
and burned quickly. He saw that her
face lit up at the sight of him —not with
the love-light he had learned lately how
to surprise in her eyes, but a naive, child
ish pleasure.
"Why. Jack!" she cried. Then, as
though sfle remembered her dripping
hands and some secret connected with
the sodden handkerchief they held, a fur
tive look crept over her face like a cloud.
"What are you doing out here at this
time, you bad boy?" she demanded. “It's
ever so late, isn’t it? I say!” she paused
and looked at him with the mimicry of
childishness that, if it had not been so
infinitely pathetic, would Jiave been gro
tesque. ‘ YY>u won't tell "Edith you met
me here, will you? She’s grown so tire
some lately—dreadfully mollycoddling.”
A Suspicion.
Il was all so unreal that for a moment
a suspicion that the girl was playing a
part gripped Rimington. It was gone in
a moment, leaving behind a sting of
shame that he could ever have enter
tained it.
"No, I won't split on a pal. But what
are you up to?” he said coaxingly. Then,
as she shook her head with a frightened
look, he added, carelessly: "It’s awfully
jolly out here in this light, isn’t it? The
river is like a. mirror. I say, 1 guess what
you were doing, Betty! Looking at your
self in the water, like that silly individual
who fell in love with his own reflection—
what's his name?"
He paused on .the question. Betty gave
a child’s frank laugh.
"Fell in love with his reflection -what
a frightful idiot! I 'wasn't doing any
thing so silly—you will never guess what
1 was doing.” Iler voice sank and she
crept nearer to him. "Washing iny
hands; they're so horribly stained, and I
can’t get them clean, however hard I
try. I can't! Lcan't!” The childish pet
ulance in her voice deepened to a note of
tragedy. She looked down at her hands
and began again that feverish rubbing
with the sodden handkerchief she held.
Rimington slipped his arm around her
shoulder.
“Poor old girl!” he said, and wondered
that his voice could sound as it did, care
less, half-contemptuoug. like a boy's
voice, while all the time 1119 lover’s heart
bled for this pass to which she had come.
"What's the matter with your hands, any
way? They seem all right. Been trying
to dye Nimshi again?"
He held his breath as he waited for the
answer to the question that seemed to him
to have come by an inspiration, for the
episode to which It referred belonged not
to the clilllsh past in which they were
masquerading, but to that present from
which she bad slipped, and concerned not
an action of their own. but that of a child
ish visitor to the i’roft who had been dis.
covered endeavoring to dye Nimshi, the
white cot, green. The defence had been
ingenious, being based on the grounds
that green as a protective color was an
improvement on Nature, and would enable
the cat to stalk Its prey among the un
dergrowth with a greater regree of secur
ity, But it had not sufficed to save tie
culprit from chastisement at the hands «f
Sir George, who disliked little boys and
adored his teat.
To Be Continued Tomorrow
The Right Road to Health $ By Annette Kellermann
How Housework, Intelligently Done. Will Give You a Good Figure
wk# * •
Turn your
-. ■JS housework into
intelligent joyful
"w activity, says
K Mlss Kellerniann ’
-' '.jwljOa and yo " win fln,i
Mi.'l t J® that the exercise
■ \ of it will help
- I 4 keep your ttgure
wMMb 1 1 shapeiy and add
|g to your bank ac
■■HHf t » ■ - dr count besides.
Bl ■! If you want
I ' • PTaßWii^^ l - : wli housework to do
y° n an y s° od ’ P ut
iH : vhBHHm. ”' -A more brain and
I ' ' y less sinew into it.
I ■ • *■* TwHHA-Ce
I ‘ Housework is a
? fine exercise if
' y'« ’ you know how to
’ll SA./ do it right
■ *’ 4 d'" r’IWIoSHI I have always
Vti -Mi ' . f i1 H. done a great deal
° fit ’ andhave
/« 5 ' lie vW wor “
441 'Br ; ' 'MB
h 11 IVi
a G; 5 *■ —s 4 SkW<
IHI Vf* .it - L 3/,/
i j ffi Jr W ’.tA’. '’
Sr jffi Jy '‘Rs?
- - T A- _ ... *■" ' i ■■■ *•' top- n ■■■■ iig
1 ' . ; WF 5
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*
LAST Winter when I took 9.11 apart
ment in .New York everybody
thought, of course, I was going
to have a maid. I have a theater maid,
naturally, hut she has all she can
do to attend to my costumes, which,
while they may not seem to require
much attention, nevertheless take up
all of her time.
"No. indeed. I’m not going to have
a maid,”- 1 announced calmly. "I need
the extra exercise of housework.”
There, was a general ha-ha at my
expense, but I knew what I was about.
Housework is fine exercise if you
know how to do it right, and I’ve al
jvays done a good real of it, and been
none the worse for It.
First of .-ill, of course, it depends
upon your house whether you are go
ing to enjoy your work, or find it bur
densome and unhealthy.
By house 1 meim apartment, or one
room in a lodging house, or u four
story dwelling, or whatever the place
is that you call home.
Costs a Lot.
Most of us fill our houses with use
less truck, for which we never have
any real need, and which usually costs
a lot of money in the beginning, and
much more to keep clean.
The Japanese seem to me to have
worked out the most perfect plan for
their homes. Everything they possess
is necessary, and every necessary -thing
is beautiful, artistic and valuable. If
you will go over your home and elim
inate everything that you have no use
for, and everything that is not beauti
ful, the daily care of what Is left will
be excellent exercise for you, «and it
won’t take you long to do it.
1 like to do my own housework,
because I am exceedingly fussy about
having things perfectly. clean, and I
hate dust.
Now. 1 have watched the ordinary
houseworker perform the dally chore
bf dusting, and I can’t say that she
does it scientifically or successfully.
She is too much like the stage maid,
who is always laced Into a very tight
fitting dress, with a little bit of a white
Keep the Complexion Beautiful.
Nadine Face Powde
(In Grem Boxes Only.)
Produces a soft, velvety
'jjffiSt appearance so much ad
mired, and remains until
washed oil. Purified by
a new process. Will not
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Prevents sunburn and
. return of discolorations.
"Wr* WHITE. FLESH.
FtNK. lIKVNETTE.,
By toilet counters or mail, 50c. JJsn*,
back if no: entirely pleated.
j JVAT/O.VAo TOILET WMFANY, Farll.
MISS ANNETTE KELLERMANN.
apron about the size of a doily and a
large lace cap, who goes up and down
the stage flirting a feather dustef
around the legs of the gilt furniture,
while she sings a merry song without
looking at what she’s doing.
Dust that is dislodged with a
feather duster simply goes and settles
somewhere else. Usually it settles in
your own lungs. A nice, healthy place,
isn't it? When 1 do my dusting every
window is wide open, iny hair is tleij,
up tight in one of my (jevorlte silk
handkerchiefs, and I dust with a
cloth, a damp rag or chamois, and
take tlie dust away to be washed out
of the rag.
A Stretching Exercise.
I insist upon having the picture
moldings wiped off. and when 1 do it
myself you can see this is the best
kind of reaching and stretching ex
ercise. Sweeping is good exercise. tot>
but as it raises so much dust 1 pre
fer the vacuum method of cleaning,
and there are so many different kinds
of thees cleaners now that most fam
ilies could afford to have them, espe
cially if they got together, two or
three families clubbing tn and buying
a good cleaner.
I never go at my housework except
in the loosest and most comfortable
clothing, and I nin very particular to
have comfortable—not high heeled —
slippers, but soft, low shoes, with a
very modest heel, which 1 keep for
this special purpose.
Half the time the woman who does
het housework is not properly dressed
for her. work. She can not combine
cornfort and something at least half
way pretty in appearance. Many, wom
en look upon a great big apron as a
sign of bondage or social inferiority.
I think. That's, why we see so many
dirty blouses and soiled kimonos. The
one-piece dress is a blessing, as it al-|
ways looks tidy, and the big apron is
a complete protection, like the work
man's blouse which English workmen
wear, but ,of which 1 don't see very
many in .America.
I don't mind scrubbing, and if you do
it with a will it is the Same as many
of the standard exercises for shoulders,
back and waist muscles. There 1« no
reason why one.should only scrub with
the light hand, you could easily get
accustomed to alter nating with the left
hand. This nnkes the development of
the muscles more equal.
A Martyr to Dust.
One of the reasons why housework is
looked upon as such a bugbear is that
women have never taken the trouble to
systematic their work and to get the
most oat of It for themselves. The
average, woman who does housework
either ft,r her own family or for some
one eA-e looks upon herself as a sort
of martyr, and she really is a martyr,
too. A martyr to dust, dirt, discomfort;
to complete lack of system, and tlw
thigight that would save her so many!
steps and so much time.
She would rather save every piece of
'Aist-gathering bric-a-brac than to dis
card it and give the time she used to
/.pend in keeping the bric-a-brac clean
u, some more entertaining or more up
lifting form of work. When she does
her housework she goes at it disliking
the work; the dull routine of It has
long ago deadened any possibility in
o '’UP
-«S" 11 ■
rrrn
her mind that it might contain ele
ments of interest or of physical de
velopment.
I believe we are coming to a time
when housework will be so intelli
gently organized and so well done that
no one will dare look down upon it
as an inferior trade. It takes a lot of
intelligence, a lot of thought, to keep
your house in perfect order, keep it
clean and well regulated, and to do
this yourself, with a minimum ex
penditure of nervous vitality and
physical strength.
I have been telling you all along, in
writing about my rules for health,
that all the exercise in the world is
not going to help you unless you pul
your mind on the work you are doing
and the benefits to be derived.
It’s the same way in housework. If
you want housework to do you any
good, put more brain and less sinew
Into it. Every day you will find some
problem to solve thatfwlll tax your in
genuity and stimulate your thinking
machine.
Housework tires most women be
cause they hate It. The same physical
motion performed In a gymnasium
and called physical culture will be
considered fun. Turn your housework
Into intelligent Joyful activity and
you will find that the exercise of it
will help keep your figure shapely and
add to your bank account besides.
Gray Jiair is
Not CompuDsory
It ie almost pahetic when a woman's
hair begins to fade and she realizes that
it is turning gray, and yet there is no
one to blame but herself for neglecting
it, for the hair responds very quickly to
the proper care and treatment. The
hair turns gray because it haa lost vi
tality. and when you pul! out the first
few white hairs as they appear you
simply enlarge the ceils and coarsen
your hair, and it will turn gray more
quickly than if left alone.
For many years we have handled all
of the good hall preparations and we
believe there is nothing better to be had
anywhere than our Robtnnaire Hair
Dye. It is not the ordinary vulgar
bleach or artificial coloring. We should
have named it a Restorative, because it
simply restores your haJr to its own
original color and beautiful, healthy
condition, and there is no reason why ,
you should hesitate to use it if your
hair is fading nnd losing its color.
It is our own laboratory product and !
we guarantee it to be pure and harm- I
less It has been in use for over aquar- 1
ter of a century, and we have yet to
receive the first complaint, but we can
show you hundreds of letters, uneollc- I
Ited, telling of the wonderful results!
obtained from it.
No woman need have gray hair unde- ;
wired, If she will give a little time and
care to Its treatment. The hair always*
responds quickly. Robtnnaire Hair Dve 1
Is easily applied, and it is non-sticky I
and does not stain either skin or scalp.!
If you want to see what it will do, get a :
25c trial size and use 1t on a small'
part of your hair, say back of the;
ears. You will be surprised and pleased ’
with it. Rcgtilar large size, 75c. Sent I
postpaid. Jacobs' Pharmacy, Atlanta. |
Daysey May me and Her Folks
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
THE imperturbable dignity of
Chauncey Devere Appleton, age
nine, as chairman at the. recent
session of the Childrens congress, has
resulted in his election as judge of the
juvenile court.
A position heavy with responsibility,
for before him come many questions
concerning the Rights of Childhood.
Parents need governing, and the man
ner of procedure, the measures, etc.,
are all questions gravely settled by
Judge Chauncey Devere Appleton, age
nine.
The first case reported today came
from the Havering family. The baby of
three refused to eat her oatmeal, and
when her mother begged her to eat it,
always remembering to say "Please,”
the child pushed the oatmeal otf the
table.
Father, mother and child appeared
before the Juvenile court.; the child as
plaintiff in a suit for damages to iter
feelings, and the parents as defend
ants. They are willing to waive the
damaged carpet in an effort to compro
mise, but the child refuses.
A baby in a family of such promi
nence that the name is suppressed on
request, smashed seven cut glass tum
blers, and when the remaining five were
put out of its reach. It made an appeal
to the juvenile court.
“Father,” says one little girl in a
SortedUaiMetf!
Against * Against x
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Dr. E. G. Griffin’s
24 1-2 Whitehall Street, Over Brown & Alien’s Drug Store.
Loweat Prices—Beet Work.
S 5 Set ot Teeth $5.00
AeffiMMtyhr -WWI- Impressions—Teeth Same Day.
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Bridge Work, $4.00
■ PHONE 170®. Hours Bto 7. Sunday 9to 1. Lady Attendant.
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kßh OnilM and WHISKY
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.Citation coahd«MUl A book en the miMect tme. DK. #. &
voenuxr a aiu. ■«. a-A vuaar aaattubM. MMa. *7
GEORGIAN WANT A DS BRING RESULTS.
lengthy appeal, “doesn’t love me. He
refuses to let me smear molasses candy
on his Sunday clothes.”
At least twenty children have siffned
a complaint asking their mothers to
appear and' explain why milk Is poured
down a child's throat when it cries be
cause it is cold.
It was also decided that the model
man isn't one of immaculate neatness.
The model man is one whose clothes
are greasy and sticky with children’s
finger marks, with half his buttons off
for use in bean shooters, and his tie
gone to put around the neck of the dog.
Such a man, wearing a placard, is a
model man in the decision of the juve
nile court.
But on the placard must be printed
these words: "I am a Friend of Little
Children, and Believe in Letting the
Dear Little Ones Have a Good Time
with Me.”
One boy, who has appeared often as a
plaintiff, his parents being particularly
Insubordinate, expressed the wish in
court recently that there were giants In
these days, "so they could come along
and whip father.”
"Young man," rebuked Judge Chaun
cey Devere Appleton very sternly,
"there ARE giants in these days, and
grown-up people get whipped harder
and oftener tha-n the children. Yoi»
need not worry about Father; Father
catches it all right!"
