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THE magazine page “Initials Only” * By Anna Katherine Green J Thrilling Mystery Story of Modern Times „ „vr:eht 1911. Street & Smith.) ■ (,- ' 19111 by Dodd ’ Mead &Co ) I TOP A Y S INSTALLMENT. ■ - , a .. ; ~f Oswald’s spirit in Oswald’s J*/ ... r eye. would go far towards ■J re of those demons whose tal- : j U st released from his throat; H r ■ j S responded too, he would de- ■ . fate; if he did not succeed in o, a - mastery of himself which B* ;: .Ae such hours as these but ■'iL - ’ a life big wi,h interest and ■ '.- r ' " ' !1 Ifeat emotions. B.'i , - with a resolute air, he made a ■ Y ( . n ' his papers and, with them in ■ out of his room and down EXp’ stairs. ■ x ~j d!. stood directly in his way—as he ■ for the front door. It was Mr. W demanded some show of re- K, ; tween them, and Hrotherson ...,s.mg with his usual cold bow, ■ , n impulse led him to pause K r ,; ll: n-t the other's eye, with the sar- remark: ■ y vc expressed, or so 1 have been ■ surprise at my choice of ■ . rm. A man of varied accom- . n.c. ■. Mr. Chailoner, but one for ~;<- e no further use. If. there- M, , wish to call off your watch-dog H, liberty to do so. I hardly think ■ )e . • rviceablc to either of us much ■ ■ ■ gentleman hesitated, seeking ■ , ■ . omposure, and when lie an- ■ •. a as. not only without irony but certain forced respect: ■ Swot water has just left for New Mt.. Ji Hrotherson. He will carry with Hj .. |... il.t, the foil particulars of your ■great liucess. 9 I...wed, this time with distin- ■ r era. Not a flicker or relief had ■ . ■ calm serenity of his aspect. ■<, v moment later, he stepped ■ t -' ■■l’ing admirers in the street. M ■: glance betrayed a bounding ■ tl i.li another Source must be ■i in ti.an that of gratified pride. A Mt ' 1..i0 slipped from his spirit, and ■ ' people shrank a little, even ■ riilc t,r\ cheered, it was rather from Mt.-. - bearing and the recognition of ■ tl-a ser.se of apartness which underlay ■ M.< smile than from any reception of the ■ nia: '-- real nature or of the awesome ■ pyrnosp which at that moment exalted It. Hit' limi Hie.' known—what a silence would ■ lave settled upon these noisy streets; Hi: wm- terror and soul-confusion would He- mail lave slunk away from his fel- Hlotrs into the quiet and solitude of his Hewn home. ■ Brotherson himself was not without a Hter.se of the incongruity underlying this ■ oration: for. as he slowly worked hlni- ■ (elf along, the brightness of his look be- ■ came dinned with a tinge of sarcasm I which tn its turn gave way to an expes- S'on of extreme melancholy—both quite unbefitting the hero of the hour in the first flush of his new-born glory. Had he seen Doris’ youthful figure emerge for a moment from the vine-hung porch he was approaching, bringing with it some doubt of the reception awaiting him? Possibly, for he made a stand before he rnciied the house, and sent his followers ba k: after which he advanced with an unhurrying step, so that, several minutes elapsed before he finally drew up before Mr Stott's door and entered through the now empty porch into his brother’s sit ting-room. lie had meant to see Doris first, but his mind had changed. If all passed off well between himself and Oswald, if he hts brother responsive and rut-aawke to the Interests and ne l«ssities of the hour, he might forego Hs interview with her tin he felt butter prepared to meet it. For call it dvardice or simply a reasonable precau tion any delay seemed preferable to him !1 is present mood of discouragement, to tnai final casting of the die upon which nung so many and such tremendous is , it was f] le fj rs t moment of real Wo in iiis whole tumultuous life! Never, l d * ring experimentalist or agitator, had A t irunk from danger seen or unseen or • ni threat uttered or unuttered, as he ranli from this young girl’s no; and I!h me ’ hl “ g of the dread lle had felt lest he . , encount er her unaware in the hall ■u>'. r. i, e |,>q on to S p eal{ W hen his own L'. , nt bade him be silent, darkened ' ea,ur es as he entered his brother’s Presence. .ifT ' R " a ' d was sunk in a bitter revery ,i OWI! ’ and took no heed of these ■ , s 1 de Pfesslon. In the reaction fol ng these days of great excitement, L pas . t llad reasserted itself, and all was his once generous soul. This, ,i, at “’ ’ ad time to perceive, quick as r» i a ,ge came when his brother really ••Ort. Who hls visitor was. The glad .If, '. n ' n '. and s he forced smile did not 'rifh. ~lm’ and b ’ H v °i ce quavered a wr.p. . as 1 e beld out 1118 Packet with the wirt,] 11 ' 1 '' 6 come to show you what the M os my invention. We will soon - "hi men,” be emphasized, as Oswald ■ fen'i ". : '' e lellers - “Money has been of- ~ , ' and — Head! read!” he urged. ■'l unconscious dictatorialness, as fasT'' l)auHed ln kis task. "See what the 'have prepared for us; for you shall 11 my honors, as you will from this rr my work and enter into all my ''an not you enthuse a lit- i, 1 r i* •’ Doesn't the prospect con allurement for you? Would ■ou t' wn r ■ Kla '' ' oe ' <ed up in *his petty Orl'' ! ' " r Don’t look like that. Bsk ’’ was “ cowardly speech and I ’■ "tn pardon. I’m hardly fit to talk r-idith—" ‘ dda ndo frowned. • " Jhat name!” he harshly interrupt useio 11 ,nusl nol hamper your life with memories. That dream of yours SIM sa( 'red, but it belongs to the past, )o u > *''" at reality confronts you. When '«• ' ' fully recovered your health, your ’“1 will rebel at a weakness U|f line ol our name. House your- Pem« <a ' ald ’ Take account of our pros '•!'•' me your hand and say, ’Life I T ,. 'nothing for me yet. 1 have a '.bin/' .."' 10 heeds me if Ido not need I, sether, we can prove ourselves !■ a '.d wrench fame and fortune p world.' ’’ i ” hand he reached for did not rise e, mmafid. though Oswald started n faced him with manly carnest- " Ute Io tiiink long and deep aid. "before I took upon myself j eg lik.- thegt iam btuken | i ( '"I heart. Orlando, and mu-i t» | II Hod met. ifulh delivers me. j I should be a poor assistant to you—a drag, rather than a help. Deeply as I de li ore It, hard as it may be for one of your emperament to understand so complete an overthrow, I yet must acknowledge my com ition and pray you not to count upon me n anj' plans you may form. I know ow this looks—l know that as your brother and truest admirer, I should re spond. and respond strongly, to such over ures as these, but the motive for achieve ment is gone. She was my all; and while might work. It would be mechanically, rne lift, the elevating thought is gone.” Orlando stood a moment studying his ro >er s face; then he turned shortly about and walked the length of the room. " hen he came back, he took up his stand again directly before Oswald, and asked, with a new note in his voice: 1 'id you love Edith Chailoner so much as that?” A glance from Oswald's eye, sadder than any tear. So that you can not be reconciled?” A gesture. Oswald's words were always few. Orlando’s frown deepened. grief I partly understand," said c. But time will cure it. Some dav another lovely face—" ''We'll not talk of that. Orlando.” No, well not talk of that.” acquiesced the inventor, walking away again, this time to the window. “For you there's but one woman-—and she’s a memory.” “Killed!” broke from hls brother's lips. Slain by her own hand under an impulse of w ildness and terror! Can I ever forget that? Do not expect it, Orlando.” Then you do blame me?” Orlando turned and was looking full at Oswafd. I blame your unreasonableness and your overweening pride." Orlando stood a moment, then moved toward the door. The heaviness of his step smote upon Oswald’s ear and caused him to exclaim: “Forgive me, Orlando.” But the other cut him short with an imperative: “Thanks for your candor! If her spirit is destined to stand like an immovable shadow between you and me, you do right to warn me. But this interview must end all allusion to the subject. 1 will seek and find another man to share my for tunes; las he said this he approached suddenly, and took his papers from the other s band) or—” Here he hastily re traced his steps to the door which he softly opened. “Or,” he repeated— But though Oswald listened for the rest, it did not come. While he waited, the other had given him one deeply concentrated look and passed out. No heartfelt understanding wae possible between these two men. < rossing the hall, Orlando knocked at the door of Doris' little sitting room. No answer, yet she was there. He knew it in every throbbing fibre of hls body. She was there and quite aware of his presence; of this he felt sure; yet she did not bld him enter. Should he knock again? Never! but he would not quit the threshold, not if she kept him waiting There for hours. Perhaps she realized this. Perhaps she had meant to open the door to him from the very first, who can tell? What avails is that she did ulti mately open It, and he, meeting her soft eye, wished from his very heart that his impulse had led him another way, even if that way had been to the edge of the precipice—and over. For the face he looked upon was se rene, and there was no serenity in him: rather a confusion of unloosed passions fearful of barrier and yearning tumultu ously for freedom. But, whatever his re volt, the secret revolt which makes no show in look or movement, he kept his ground and forced a smile of greeting. If her face was quiet, it was also lovely— too lovely, he felt, for a man to leave it, whatever might come of his lingering. Nothing in all his life had ever affected him like it. For him there was no other woman in the past, the present or the fu ture, and, realizing this —taking in to the full what her affection and her trust might be to him in those fearsome days to come, he so dreaded a rebuff—he, who bail been tho bourted of women and the admired of men ever since he could re member —that he failed to respond to her welcome and the simple congratulations she felt forced to repeat. He could neither speak the commonplace, nor listen to it. This was his crucial hour. He must find support here, or yield hopelessly to the maelstrom in whose whirl he was caught. She saw his excitement and faltered back a step—a move which she regretted the next minute, for he took advantage of it to enter and close behind him the door which she would nevfer have shut of her own accord. Then he spoke, abruptly, passionately, but in those golden tones which no emotion could render other than alluring: "I am an unhappy man, Miss Scott. I see that my presence here is not welcome, yet am sure that it would be so if it were not for a prejudice which your generous nature -should be the first to east aside, in face of the outspoken confidence of my brother Oswald. Doris, little Doris, I love you. I have loved you from the moment of our first meeting. Not to many men is it given to find his heart so late, and when lie does, it is for his whole life; no second passion can follow it. I know that I am premature in saying this; that you are not prepared to hear such words from me and that it might be wiser for me to withhold them, but I must leave Derby soon, and I can not go until I know whether there is the least hope that you will yet lend a light to my career or whether that career must burn itself to ashes at your feet. Oswald—nay. hear tne out Oswald lives in his memo Hes; but I must have an active hope a tangible expectation—if 1 am to be the man I was meant to be. Will you. then, coldly dismiss me, or will you let my whole future life prove to you the innocence of my past? I will not has ten anything; all I ask is some indul gence. Time will do the rest.” “Impossible,” she murmured. But that was a word for which he had , n- ear. He saw that she was moved, un- j expectedly so; that while her eyes wan- ; dered restlessly at times toward the door, they ever came back in girlish wonder, if not fascination, to hls face, emboldening him so that he ventured at last, to add: “Doris, little Doris, I will teach you a marvelous lesson, if you will only turn your dainty ear my way . Love such as ..tine carries Infinite treasure with it. Will you have that treasure heaped, piled before your feet" Your lips say no. l>ut your eyes the truest eyes I ever saw whisper a different language. The .lay will come when you will find your joy in Ibe breast of him you ate now afraid to t»u*t.” And not waiting for disclaimer; nr e'en a glatii-e of reproach front the i I e liad so wilful!' misread, lie with- ■ drew wit! a movement as abrupt as that j with which he had entered. To Be Continued in Next Issue **A Happy Marriage Is My Secret/'Says Ada Reeve in “Beauty Interview” I Vai- WfwW I WMF I V Miss Ada Reeve, the charming English comedienne, now in vaudeville here as a B. F. Keith star. By Margaret Hubbard Ayer. THERE'S a great deal of Peter Pan about Ada Reeve, the English singing comedienne who is just beginnig her tour of America at the Colonial theater. While she was on the stage singing those rollicking songs of hers, with a merry, gallant air, so whimsical and funny, she was so boyish, so very Pe ter Pannish, that it is easy enough to believe she is England's most cele brated leading boy in the Christmas pantomime. Now, the Christmas pantomime in England is just as much of a conven tion as Christmas pudding, and the girl who plays the leajling boy in the pan- Up-to-Date Jokes Visitor —I saw your husband In the crowd in town today. In fact, he was so close that I could have touched him Hostess—-That’s strange. At home he is so close that nobody can touch him. A purchaser of a riverside property asked the estate agent if the river didn’t sometimes overflow its banks. “Well," replied he, "it isn’t one of those sickly streams that are always confined to their beds.” Miss Passay—You may sneer at pet dogs, but they're faithful, anyway. I'd rather kiss a good dog than some men.” Mr. Sharpe—Well, well, some men are born lucky. “Poor old Jones! He had a windfall last week.” “A windfall? Then why do you say ‘Poor Jones?’" “Well, you see. he's an aviator." Old Gent —-What do you wear specs for, boy? Bootblack —'Cos I puts such a shiny shine on gentlemen’s boots that it hurts me eyes. Wise —What is meant, John, by the phrase, “carrying coals to Newcastle?” Husband—lt Is a metaphor, my dear, showing the doing of something that is unnecessary. Wife—l don't exactly understand. Give me an illustration—a familiar one. I Husband—Well, if I were to bring you I home a book entitled “How to Talk,' that would be carrying coals to New castle. A youth, who thought that he had become very fond of a certain maiden, persistently begged her to accept hls hand in marriage. Here is a bit of conversation lietween them which was i snutolled by an unintentional listener a I few nights ago. “I assure you." be commenced, "that I will not take 'No' for an answer.” "You need not take ‘No’ for an an swer,” was her reply. "I will answer 'Yes' on one condition only." He was ali impatience to hoar what the question was she wanted him to ask, and this was her gentle reply; "Just ask me if 1 am firmly deter mined not to marry you in any circum stances." FOR SALE Roofing Pitch, Coal Tar, IMMEDIATE i Creosote, Road Binder, rxr. Metal Preservative Paints, DELIVERY Roofing Paint and Shingle Stain. Il Atlanta Gas Laght Co. Ph °n© 4945 tomime is envied by her profession, adored by all the children, and occu pies. in away, the role of high-muck a-muck fairy or special patron saint of all the Christmas festivities. Aliss Ada Reeve is the great and par ticular Christmas Pantomime Leading Boy, ami wherever she goes in England she is known as Santa Claus, Junior. A Joyous Air. She carries with her off the stage as well as on, that air of joyousnesg and gayetv of the boy who never would grow up. Her siight figure and humor ous ways, her funny jerky little man nerisms, all make you think that she is Peter Pan or Santa Claus, Junior, dressed up in very pretty lady’s clothes, and doing a stunt in vaudeville as a huge joke. Behind the scenes Miss Reeve is just the same, a sympathetic personality with a keen and delicate sense of hu mor. She had just been singing to a large . audience of women, and told me how glad she was to be popular with her , own sex. "I am always astonished at the Amer ican woman, at her extraordinary smartness," said Alisa Reeve. "But Isn t she a bit extravagant now? The women over here seem to think a great deal moie of clothes than we do tn England, especially of all those little extra frills and novelties that cost so much and last so short a lime. American Sentiment. It s always Interesting to a foreigner to test an American audience of wom en, and I'm always especially con cerned in finding what songs they real ly like. "The American audience, besides Its keen sense of humor, has a great deal of sentiment. And I am hoping some day to be able to try some of my straight, almost classic, numbers, the old ballads—some of Tom Moore’s old songs—on them.” I reminded Miss Reeve that she must talk of hea'th and beauty for the edifi cation of the public. She totally ignored the question of beauty, though she is a pretty and very fascinating woman, but there is no pose about Miss tleeve, and she refuses to b. CASTOR IA For Infants and Children. The Kind You Have Always Bought o: DON’T SCRATCH I It re, ~nl ) <new quickly iin ,j | a.'- letterine cures eczema, even where i •'■'■■: VI h. ng else fails, you wouldn't suffer and scratch. Tetterine Cures Eczema :i 'l what Mi's. Thomas Thompson. I • larksville. Ga.. says: I suffered fifteen years with tor menting eczema. Had the best doc tors, but nothing did me any good until I got Tetterine. It cured me. I am so thankful. Itlngwoi's ground iu-h, itching piles I aim other skin troubles yield as readily. Get it today Tetterine. 50c at druggists or by mall. SHUPTRINE CO., SAVANNAH, GA. (Advt.) self-conscious or to be made to feel so even for an interview. “Let me see; what do I do that es pecially benefits iny health besides working hard. In England I am out in the open air almost all the time; I have a motor car there and never trav el by train. We do not play Sundays” —Miss Reeve looked gratefully to heav en—“so when I am on a tour I can make the long jumps in my open ear. taking all of Sunday to do it. “Os course that would be impossible in America, where the distances are so great, and I know I am going to miss it. for I travel In the car without a top, wrapped up in furs in winter and in raincoats and waterproof caps in bad weather.” Good For the Voice. “Don't you find that harmful to your voice?” “No, on the contrary, it seems to do me a great deal of good. I think there is no medicine like fresh air. and noth ing so invigorating. In the summer time we live at a little place called Yarmouth. In the Isle of Wight, and there I have my garden; and then I have a swim every day. which is the one sport I really enjoy." There is evidently no English actress in the world who does not adore a gar den, and now I know why the English landscape is a succession of beautiful ly set-out and carefully-tended flower gardens; all the pretty actresses devote their time to this work in summer, with the same regularity that they spend their winters in elevating the stage. But Miss Peter Pan Reeve was still bending her thoughts on the health problem and continued: “I have one advantage over most women, for I am never alloWed to wor ry over anything, and it’s worry that makes people ill, isn’t it? “You see. I have the very best hubby in the world; he manages everything for me. and straightens out all wor ries that might fall to my lot. I think that is the secret of my success as well as my health.” Almost a Shock. It came almost as a shock to think that Peter Pan was married, but since she has the very best hubby in the world, both are to be congratulated, and evidently Mrs. Reeve and the cel ebrated Dr. Arnold Lorrand are agreed that a happy marriage is the greatest possible promoter of good health and good looks. Just then the best of all hubbies came in with a concoction of some sort, made of eggs and other soothing things, and warranted to chase away a bad cold, which the artist had caught in our most changeable climate, and so ended our talk. st GakLWeather \ \ !▼! nOl'Fl Fl K \Qf TW»W 1U \4 \ £ onftort s ffJrnT^sW^^riy/ When the \ w \ \ XX snow circles in \ \ \ Jf )WvV / - typhoons around \ \ \ O’lwr/ ' your car and the wind \ok \ \ F-A / ill whistling, chilly cry—it is well \ W \ f)jf\\&f 01 XJr to be protected and comfortable or \ ■ 1 WJVtAJ / | y° u won’t enjoy the ride. ■ I VA)) I The November Motor Magazine contains a really ■ I YWI I wonderful and enlightening article on what you ■ 1 MiAAJ I can do to keep cozy. It doesn’t matter if y ou ■ ll)I >1 I are ° n the inside or the outside, you can keen rvjpV/jf I I warm as toast. Kol Motor I V magazine * / VvP<2?\ '\\ There a a re U new'h'M. n ' W f eSt . th ' n, ‘ fOr ge "“‘ ne con ’ fon - IS / WV®V*-l\ •»« «e.XthX£ f “’l warn ’' r »."'Cro heaters, / ■ II vJI/ tokeep the driving ° S hmousine. How / -II ; W -“^ h aTt‘“w^Te l /<7r 1 - MoToR /// J “"Sale /as// ' y ,x Y° ur Newsdealer * Little Bobbie’s Pa * PA brought a fine looking gentle man up to the house the other nite, the naim of the man was Morgan. He is a actor. He must be a good actor, too, beekaus he has a fine & deep voice, that sounds ' kind of ernest like the butcher asking for his munny. While .Mister Morgan was sitting in the front room Pa cairn out in the kitchen whare Ma was fixing his din ner & sed Wife, I want you to like this friend of mine that I have brought hoam. He is a swell fellow from Boston. & he is differnt from sum of my other Boston fronds. I doant care one way or the other about the Boston part of it, deerest, sed Ma to Pa, beekaus long years of dwelling with thee, Ma sed. have con vinced me that the good or bad quali ties of yure fiends is not a matter of geograt'y. Will you be nice to him, deerest? sed Pa, I will treet him like a angel sed Ma. I will be all dimpels & smiles. It isent hls fault that he was with you. Doant be too nice, sed Pa, beekaus he is a actor & he plays in a show called the Siran, & he is likely to think you are a stage struck gurl. He gits lots of mash notes, Pa sed. But I can be like a siren without taking my pen & paper in hand, sed Ma. 1 ain’t a mash-noter. Pa beegan for to look kind of queer. Mister Mogan was a awful fine look ing fellow, & Pa isent fine looking, he is jest kind harted, when I grow up I am going to try to be fine looking & kind harted too. If I can only be one of the two I think I wud rather be fine looking, beekaus thare is a lot of kind harted peepul that wants to marry sum gurl thay luv & then the gurl says no. I am awfully glad to meet you, Mis ter Mogan, sed Ma wen Pa interduced her to his trend. He was telling me how splendid ou were in yure part in is not a cheaply concocted bread preparation that simply raises the dough; —it is a scientifically compounded Bak ing Powder of recognized food value as well as the greatest leavening quality. Sold by all good Grocers. Insist on having it. By William F. Kirk the play. I wish my husband had adopted the stage for a profeshun. Thafe is sumthing so romantic about it, the gamor of the foot-lites, the ap plause of the audience, the love scenes, the moonilte. But one is away from one’s hoam so much, sed Mister Mogan. It is then, wen you are far from yure neer est & deerest. that one reelizes the emptiness & sadness of a actor’s life. The words ring in my eers sumtimes, Away From Home, Away From Home, Away From Hoam. Thay ring in my eers & husband’s eers the way thay do in yures, sed Ma. Aly husband is away from hoam & I am thare waiting. Doant you always tellefone yure wife & tell her whare you are? Pa’s frend asked him. ' Sumtimes, sed Pa. Not often. That is de.d wrong, sed Mister Alo gan. You can always git a tellefone in five minnits. Newer fergit the lit tel woman at hoam, he sed to Pa. He is a fine man, sed Ma to Pa wen Pa's frend was gone. PUT TO THE TEST. Fitzdaube has all the sensitiveness to color of the true artist, and doesn't mind showing it. His neighbors are really very nice people, but they have absolutely- no taste, and Fitzdaube frequently criti cises them very severely In the bosom of his family. One morning little Ethelinda Fitz daube knocked loudly at the neigh bor’s front door. "Show me the new rug in your draw ing room!” she said, with childish im periousness. The good lady took her to the room and Ethelinda planted herself in a chai; and stared at the gaudy rug. She stared until her eyes watered, and still she spoke not. Her host was just beginning to won dei' what was the matter, when at las' Ethelinda pronounced her verdict, “Well, it doesn't make me sick!” she declared, decisively.