Newspaper Page Text
THE GEORGIAN'S MAGAZINE, PAGE
■——M I ■'■ ---
Married Life the 1 bird ear
WARREN SCOLDS HELEN FOR FORGETTING. OUT LEAVES HIS WATCH
UNDER THE PILLOW.
.. - —— I ———————■
By MABEL HERBERT TURNER
i I TOW, you’d 1
IN Ret everything parked ; t<
night. You won't hate ant
time in the morning. We ll be a: Plyni
outh by 5."
“At RT" Helen turned from the rail
!ng. where she was watching the faint
glimmer of a distant lighthouse th.-
first sign of land. "Why. Marron, the*
won’t put us off that early’"'
“They'll put us off whenever we g, t
there. I told you they weren’t going
to dock. We re tn be put off on a ten
der— the ship don't dock until she gets
to Hamburg
“A tender—ls that the small boat
which comes out to meet us?”
“That's it Now you hustle down
and get things? Into shape. I'll have a
smoke and be down a little later."
It was the last night of the voyage,
and Helen longed to stay up on deck.
Every one was standing around watch
ing the far-off light and talking of the
extreme southern course the ship had
taken to avoid the icebergs, and the
time they had lost
They all seemed Imbued with the
restless anticipation that comes with
the sighting of land Only the few-
London passengers were getting off at
Plymouth, but those booked through to
Hamburg were equalh excited
Reluctantly Helen went down to the
stateroom to "pack up." She knew
Warren's "smoke" would end In n game
of whist In the smoking room, where he
spent most of his time during the trip
But she had hoped that this last night
they would spend on deck together.
Because of the small stateroom she
had tried not to unpack many things,
but one article after another had been
needed during the trio, and now she
found the repacking no small task
It was after 11 when, at last, she
was through, bathed and in her berth.
But Warren had not yet come down
and he still had his things to pack.
She would gladly have done It for him.
but he would never let her. Said he
could never find things when she put
them in.
At length there was a heavy step
down the passageway, and he threw
open the stateroom door.
“All through?" as he began to take
off his collar
"Why, yes. dear, almost an hour ago
It a nearly 12. Isn't It? You know you ve
‘everything to pack, and those steamer
rugs to strap up?”
"Now. don't you worry about me. I'll
have plenty of time for all I've got to
do. I told that steward to rout nie out
at 4."
"But. dear,” as he was rapidly mak
ing ready for bed, "you’re not going to
leave everything till morning and
you'll have to shave, too?"
"Look here—you're ready, aren’t you?
Well, see that you are and don't go off
forgetting half your things. I'll attend
to mine ”
And he turned out the light and
climbed heavily into the upper berth.
It seemed to Helen that she had
hardly fallen asleep when the steward
pounded loudly on the door
"Bath ready, sir. Four o’clock!"
While Helen was dressing and before
Warren came back from his bath an
other steward knocked at the door.
"Luggage ready for Pylmouth,
ma'am ?'
Helen opened the door and pointed
to her steamer trunk and bag "These
are ready—but Mr. Curtis hasn't quite
finished packing vet “
“He’ll have to hurry ma’am,” ns he
dragged hers out. “Almost all the lug
gage is off now ”
“Oh, Is the tender here already?"
anxiously.
“She's be,-n hero for an hour. She’s
'round on t'other side.”
“Oh. Warren, you’ll have to hurry,”
■was Helen's excited greeting when he
came from his bath "The tender's
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I Jzz—J
[, | hero alread? and they're putting on
the baggage!”
' Warren grunted sobiethlng under
bls breath, but be began to hurry.
"Can't I help you.' Isn't there any-
I thing I can do?”
"Yes just get out and lot me haVe I
j w hat room there Is."
Helen gathered up her hat and veil
and went out into the passage to put I
i them on. She could hear Warren.
i moving hastily about
"Luggage ready, ma’am"" It was the j
: ! chief steward this ttm>-.
"1 I think so." she, faltered, and ■
' j he knocked at the stateroom.
"Luggage readx sir? Everybody's on l
! now. sir. She's ready to pull off.”
The ".ords strmi* terror to Helen
' | but Warren threw open the door w ith
1 I a rough :
"Well. If you put people off at this
outlandish hour you’ll have to wait
’ till they get ready. Here, you can
i take this trunk ”
Through the open door Helen could
see Warren thrusting things Into his
| suit case with more- haste than she
I had ever seen him exert. His hat was
lon the hack of his head and he was
unmistakably worried. She longed to
go In and help him, but feared he
would only roar at her to keep out of
the way. Suddenly he celled.
"Where's the shawffstrap?"
"Why. Isn't It there?" rushing In to
find him struggling with the big roll
of steame r rugs and coats and looking
desperately about for the shawlstrap.
"Where'd you put it?" he shouted.
“Why. dear. 1 didn't see It; you un
rolled the rugs."
"Yes. end I put It right there on topi
of that wardrobe.”
Helen climbed up on the berth to j
look on lop of the wardrobe but only |
a life preserver was there. In the
meantime Warren was ringing wildly
for the stateroom steward- swearing
under his breath.
Here the chief steward appeared
again at the door "They're waiting,
sir. The captain says the'll have to
put off tn a moment."
"Well, they'll not go without us!
W< re booked for London and they've
got Io land us here. It's the line's
fault for putting passengers off at this
indecent hour. Here, you!" as the
stateroom steward nished up. "We put
a shawlstrap on top ot that wardrobe -
what did you do with it?”
"Sorry, sir; didn't see it. sir," and he I
began a hurried scan h.
Now they were all searching—Helen.
Warren, the room steward and the
chief steward At any other time it
would have struck Helen as irresisti
bly funny these four people falling
over each other in their frantic' search
-for a shawlstrap In that tiny state
c room
Rut with the tender waiting and no
way to take the rugs and coats, the
situation was far from humorous.
Now the l second officer came Io the
door to find out what was the trouble,
and to say the captain could hold the
tender only three minutes longer.
"He’ll hold her till we got on." al
most shouted Warren, "or I'll raise a
row at your London office that your
whole blame line will hear front!"
Then to the room steward. "Get a rope
and rope up those rugs! No use look- I
ing for that strap!”
The steward dashed out for a rope,
and in a second two of them were on
their knees tying up the rugs The
Chief steward caught up the rest of the
hand baggage and fairly swept them
down to the tender
Although only a few of the passen
gers were landing at Plymouth, many
of the others were up to see them off.
And now as Helen hurried on, she
flushed hotly under the many disap
proving eyes. AU these people* knew it
was for them that the boat had been
kept uniting
The tender Itself was something like
a ferryboat, and the other passengers, ' '
who with their baggage had come on
board In plenty of time, stood in a little
group at the bow Helen bowed and
smiled to a few she had met on the
trip, but stm felt they were talking of
her and Warren, and wondering what
had kept them.
Already the sailors were pulling up
th* ropes In a moment they would be
"ff rhere was a heavy morning mist
which obscured the shore and even the
masts of the big ship that still loomed
up lyeside them.
Just as she began to put off n shout ,
of "Hold!" went up from the deck, and
Warren's state-room steward came
, rushing down to the railing.
It s for Mr. Curtis Mr. Curtis!” he
cried, as he leaned far ovq*- and gave
1 something to one of the tender office s
Just as they swung away.
Every one turned to look at Warren
f as the officer handed it to him Helen
'■aught the glint of gold —lt was his
w atch!
Quickly Warren slipped ft into his
pocket, but not before they had all seen I
.lor guessed what it was. There was a
gen* a; laugh, in which he was forced
I to join, as ho waved back his thanks to
■ i the steward
"Your watch!" cried Helen untact-I
; fully “Oh, where did you leave It?"
, I nder the pillow, 1 suppose." he
snapped. "Now. y ou'll have something
'" b i-p on for the next six months "
"Why. Warren, you know 1 never ’ld
•"P -n anything Only you were so
ni’: cd! If you only had packed las’
night, and—'
!*• - S'-d you grandmother It was
infernal shawl strap that made
ie trouble. if you hadn't hidden it
>’ or.i of y our 'stralghtenin-up
-- ' • 1 been til right Where'd
i put '! • Wanted tiling that's what
I to know I "
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’ J
■ ■'*■—■ -■ , . -
A Love Song : : : ** • By Nell Brinkley j
— X'
y v v-<
■ ' / ,-y - A WT
Il ’*Z "'*• ” • ‘ M'S? o
CY i * z
ill FA -
,o, ft /
■ I- '
15> I
I ■ s» „ ' 1
I —«—.—
The Sweetest Music in the World—For Him.
“The Gates of Silence”
/?v Meta Simtnins, Author of "Hushed Up"
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
He nodded dismissal to the clerk and
opened the telegram almost slowly.
Then, as he stared at the blue-pasted
printed slips on the flimsy sheet before
him, his face whitened:
“Dieppe.
“Poor Lumsden died this morning.
Break news to his daughter. All particu
lars when we meet this afternoon at
usual place. JEX.”
The paper fluttered in Saxe’s hand.
The fool, the mad, clumsy fool, to send
such a telegram as that' Furious rage at
Jex flamed up in Saxe’s heart His face,
as he sat there huddled over the broad
desk, was not pleasant. To send that
insane telegram that would set every
tongue in England wagging No doubt,
for all he knew, it already was common
knowledge in the office outside; he had
not the least doubt that his telegrams
were opened, even though, as this one
was. they were addressed in full with a
“Private" regally added to the address
Did the old idiot wish to draw at ten
tion to the matter 0
Just for a moment the thought flashed
through Saxe's mind that Jex perhaps
had sent the news In this odd. public
way out of sheer malice He sometimes
had his doubts of Jex. Suppose the cur
should turn and try to bite?
At the thought a sound escaped from
Paul Saxes lips that, sounding in his
, own ears, brought him upright. He raised
his head and looked about the room with
bright, furtice eyes. His nerveless cow -
bright, furtive eyes His nerveless cow
over him that he should have suffered that
spasm of sick fear'.’
He stood up and. crossing the room,
glanced at himself in the strip of mirror
set above the mantelpiece. For a mo
ment his aspect startled him. his face
was almost livid, and there were drops
of sweat glistening on his brow As he !
stared at himself it almost seemed as
though his piqued vanity came to his
aai. helping him to draw himself to
gether. He went through his private door
into the elaborate dressing room across
the corridor Ten minutes later, when he
tame out. there was no trace of his agi
i t alien visible about him
Indeed, as he walked through the outer |
.offices. the clerks glanced after .him. he
• arried himself so erect and walked with
: such a swing, wearing his silk hat set
•at a rakish angle
”T’. . re’s something good in the wind
f-r m’lor.i," the office box whispered to
•re of tie typists who sat near him.
The I--.; t Brummel of Chichester <>use
s after some tgh old game "
Perhaps the angle of his hat had read
: sled itself when, later in the da>. tie
tracked the bouse b\ the river, for he
i presented a ’et > sober. n«»t to say pbas
tened, as> « i •«» tht servant wh<> re
el ed him She was n<t sure whether
t dvr mistress could see him, she had onlj
returned home a few' hours ago and was
very tired. Saxe sent in his card, on
which he had penciled a few words
Betty had not been in the Croft many
hours, having only left the Chantrey, at
Kenilworth, that morning. There had
been strange happenings at that lonely
house set in a cleft of the downs, hap
penings that had left her tired in mind
and body. She was weary, too, with
apprehension as to what the future might
hold for the man and woman she had
left behind her—the blind man raving in
delirium now, who was being nursed by
the wife he had repudiated, and whom he
would never again see
She had been thankful to find that her
father had not yet returned from the Con
tinent —and now. for Paul Saxe s card to
be sent in! She glanced at the pencilled
words.
“I am more than sorry to disturb you,"
Saxe had scribbled, “but 1 am afraid I
must ask you to see me." The girl felt
as though a hand of Ice had been laid
on her heart. Had some harm come to
Jack? That was her first thought.
“Tell Mr. Saxe 1 shall be with him
presently," she said
Paul Saxe, waiting in the pleasant
drawing room of the Croft, found the
waiting more than usually tedious. He
did not relish the task before him. After
leaving his office he had driven down to
Westminster and found Jex now returned.
The news the man had given him had
been more disquieting than the telegram,
which had been oddly delayed in its de
livery Jex had given rather an ugly
account of Sir George Lumsden's last
hours. The man had died by his own
hands, it seemed, there were ugly for
malities there might be inquiries. Paul |
Saxe felt as though Fate, with a giant i
hand, had broken those fine-spun fila- |
ments of his webs in an utterly wanton i
destruct ion.
Then Bett\ came. She looked wan and ,
harassed, and, to do the man justice. .
his heart smote him that he must harass!
her more. He looked at her anxiously
and solicitously If this life of strain con
tinued much longer she would lose her
looks; she belonged to that fine-grained
ivpe which shows the ravages of grief too
clearly.
“Miss Betty” Even as he took her hand
and spoke her name the girl had an ap
prehension of some evil. She shrank
away from him. looking at him with fur
tlvelv searching eyes.
’What is it has anything happened*
Oh, 1 see it in your face' Tell me. Don’t
try to make things easy for me."
“Your father, he began, ami he could
hear her give a short, quick breath of
relief He knew what that relief be
tokened She thought he had come to
speak <>f her lover of the man in prison
H « fa. e darkened
Almost as though she were ashamed of
that moment of relief. Rettx turned and
•it < <tioned him
j Uhat of my lather? she asked.
"I won’t beat about the bush, Miss
Berry,” he said. "Your father is dead."
The dusk was falling—the cruel, early
gray dusk of a January afternoon, when
Betty Lumsden slipped down the drive
of the Croft. In all that lonely house be
hind her there was no one to say her no,
to question her comings or goings, and
yet as she went she felt like a fugitive
She was flying—from what ? She hardly
knew From the vague terror that Paul
Saxe's news had left behind it. So far
she had shed no tears for her father;
there was grief for him in her heart, a
dumb, tearless grief—not so much because
lie was dead, but because of what he had
become—of w'hat had led up to that death.
Still, he had been her father, and thsy
had loved one another dearly. In the old
days, the days before Edith's marriage,
they had been a very happy family—and
at least he had been her protector.
Her protector! As she ran she stum
bled and nearly fell Heaven knew how
badly she stood in need of a protector -
how desolate she was! Paul Saxe had
hinted'at unutterable things; but she did
not need his hints —her imagination had
been quick to leap to the position in which
she would find herself as the daughter
of a discredited suicide who had left her
no heritage save shame and the harvest
of his debts.
That could have been faced, she told
herself. But Saxe had hinted at other
things. As she listened to him she
seemed to feel herself caught in a net
that was being pegged down on every
side of her by relentless fingers. He had
spoken, with the utmost delicacy—she
conceded so much to him -of his desire
to aid and save her. of how he wished
her to look upon him in the light of an
elder brother until such time as. her af
fairs had straightened themselves. or
until her brother-in-law was able to offer
her a home. It was that touch which
i had frightened Betty. Paul Saxe must
have known it so well, the true state of
the relations between herself and her
• family and Anthony Barrington
To Be Continued in Next Issue.
I -
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Little Bobbie’s Pa *
By William F. Kirk
PA brought up a frend of his to the
house last nite. His fiend was a
swel looking man, his naim was
Bernie Doyle.
Wife, sed Pa, I want you to meet my
frend Mister Doyle. He is a influen
shal member of th<* Entertainers club,
sed Pa. Mister Doyle, shake hands
with my wife.
I am pleased to meet you. sed Ma to
I Mister Doyle. I am glad to know that
, my husband is being entertained
Mister Doyle is a grate singer, sed
1 Pa.
You doant say so, sed Ma.
If you think you know sumthing
about singers you will readjust yure
Idces wen you hear Mister Doyle sing
The Moth & the Flame.
I am all ears, sed Ma. I am used to
being all ears anyway, so I mite as well
hear Mister Doyle warble. He must be
pritty good if he is the leading spint
in the Entertainers club.
So th**n Mister Doyle got up &• got
j reddy to sing. I felt kind of sorry for
him. beekaus I knew that he dident
*
*
k A
Jun-
- I
vYr Jm
■ K !/ J \ l
C' ‘
Anty Drudge Tells Why Mary Doesn’t
Object to a Big' Wash.
Father— “J u9 t look at the condition of the kids’ clothes!
Where do you suppose they pick up the dirt? You’ll
have Mary making an awful kick about the heavy
wash. Why I’ll bet she has to do up a dozen dresses .
every week for the babies?”
Anty Drudge—* ‘More than that, son-in-law. I suppose it’s
nearer two dozen. But so long as she has Fels-Naptha
soap on washday, Mary will never say a word.”
Every mother knows what a lot of fun
the Baby gets out of crawling about the
floor and making its tiny self just as dirty
as a little pig.
But every mother has looked with
alarm at the array of baby clothes to be
washed on Monday morning.
And every one has seen with despair
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But all that was before die Fels-Naptha
wash-way became known.
The Fels-Naptha way means that
baby’s soiled clothes are cleansed quickly in
cool or lukewarm water wimotit the roast
; ing fire, summer or winter —without the
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‘ Fuel saved Temper saved
Time saved Fabric saved
Insist on the red and green wrapper
and follow the printed directions.
=
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A ' W ’ VAN HOCSE ' Pres 'dent. Rome, G a .
want to sing. He was only doing it to
please Pa.
1 will sing the sextette from Lushy,
sed Mister Doyle.
Rut Pa in-sisted that Mister Doyle
shud sing the Moth '& the Flame, so
he started:
The moth A- the flame played a gam
one day,
The gam n of a woman's hea't.
The moth that played was a maid, thay
sed,
& the flame was a bad man’s art.
& the moth newer knew, as it flow so
close,'
That the light was the light of shame,
& it fluttered away just in time, so
thay say,
That's the tale of the Moth the
Flame.
Dent that a impresive song” sed Pa-
It certingly is, sed Ma*. Ma was try
ing to he nice.
Now, sed Pa. wud you' like to hear
Mister Doyle sing sumthing else?
I wud not. sed Ma.