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THE GEO OGHAMS MAGAZJME PAGE
I 5 I Want All Thafs Coming to Me * Copyright, 1912, by National News Asa'n. By Nell Brinkley &
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ONE day 1 sat in a little mountain hair shop where a round little woman with
a rolling gait that belonged to'the wet decks of a ship at sea- "stead of to
the dark green velvet carpeting of her ‘’Dry-Bone Gulch” “ Emporium " —was
shampooing my best chum’s gold-brown hair. My best chum is a wise and cheer
ful little girl. She has a “heart for an\ fate.”
The round little woman talked. She talked of her many beaux of what she
liked and didn’t- where she was “horned” and almost bow old she was! Ami we
listened with our gray and blue eyes wide and our sense of humor entranced. And
the little round woman ended up (with a slant in the glass at her marvelous,
dyed, wooden-curled head) in an explosion of real feeling:
«——— ■ ■ , , .. ' 1 , ~ , ,
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“INITIALS ONLY” S Thrilling Mystery Story of Modern Times @ By Anna Katherine Green §3
(Copyright, 1911, Street & Smith »
tCopyright, 1911, by Dodd. Mead Ar Co.)
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
i tewald shuddered Orlando had spoken
truly; ahe had always been blindly, arro
gantly trustful of her eldest son. No
fault could she see 1n him; and now
Impetuously Oswald struggled with bls
v. eakness. raised himself in Mr. Chailon
er’s arms and cried in loud revolt:
’But God Is just He will not let you
escape. If He does, I will not. I will
hound you to the ends of this earth and.
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“I want to know love and loving. I want all there is in every year. Why, I want even to be a grandmother some day,” she said.
if necessary. Into the eternities. Not with
the threat of my arm—you are my mas
ter there, hut with the curse of a brother
who believed you Innocent of his darling’s
blond and would have believed you so in
face of everything but your own word.”
■’Peace!” adjured Orlando. "There is
no account I am not ready to settle. I
have robbed you of the woman you love,
but I have despoiled myself. I stand
desolate in the world, who but an hour
ago could have chosen my seat among
the best and greatest What can your
curses do after that?”
“I'm Irvin’ to keep just as young as I kin. You'd never guess how old I 9
am. would you? Well. I'm older’n I look. I am! I hate—l detest, to get old
ever! I hope I may never see the day when I have a little white nubbin on the
back of my head and can’t get a beau!”
Aly little chum ruminated. And then she murmured gently (and I knew she
saw fancies of the varied years ahead in the mirror). “Why, I want everything
that's coming- to me! I want to know love and loving. T want all there is to
come in every year. I want even to be a grandmother some day when I’ve done
everything else! I want everything that's coming to me!”
NELL BRINKLEY.
"Nothing.’’ The word came slowly like
a drop wrung from a nearly spent heart.
"Nothing; nothing. Oh, Orlando, I wish
we were both dead and buried and that
there were no further life for either of
us.”
The softened tone, the wistful prayer
which would blot out an immortality of
joy for the one. that it might save the
other from an immortality of retribu
tion, touched some long unsounded chord
in Orlando’s extraordinary nature.
Advancing a step, he held out hts hand—
the left one. "We ll leave the future to
itself. Oswald, and do what we can with
the present," said he. "I’ve made a
mess of my life and spoiled a career
which might have made us both kings.
Forgive me, Oswald. I ask for nothing
else from God or man. I should like that.
It would strengthen me for tomorrw."
Rut Oswald, ever kindly, generous and
more ready to think of others than of
himself, had yet some of Orlando's tenac
ity. He gazed at that hand and a flush
swept up over his check which instantly
became ghastly again
”1 can not." said he— "not even the left
one. May God forgive me!"
Orlando, struck silent for a moment,
dropped his hand and slowly turned away.
Mr. Chailoner felt Oswald stiffen in his
arms. and break suddenly away,
only to stop short before he had taken
one of the half dozen steps between him
self and his departing brother.
“Where are you going?" he demanded
in tones which made Orlando turn.
"I might say, ‘To the devil!' ” was the
sarcastic reply. "But I doubt if he
would receive me. No,” he added, In more
ordinary tones as the other shivered and
again started forward, "you will have no
trouble in finding me in my own room
torfight. I have letters to write and—
other things. A man like me can not
drop out without a ripple. You may go
to bed and sleep. I will keep awake for
two.”
"Orlando!" Visions were passing before
Oswald’s eyes, soul-crushing visions such
as in his blameless life he never thought
could enter into his consciousness or blast
his tranquil outlook upon life. "Orlando!”
he again appealed, covering his eyes in
a frenzied attempt to shut out these hor
rors, "I can not let you go like this. To
morrow—”
"Tomorrow. In every niche and corner
of this world, wherever Edith Chailon
er's name has gone, wherever my name
has gone, it will be known that the dis
coverer of a practical air ship Is a man
whom they can no longer honor. Do you
think that is not hell enough for me; or
that I do not realize the hell it will be
for you'.' I’ve never wearied you or any
man with my affection: but I’m not all
demon. I would gladly have spared you
this additional anguish; but that was im
possible. You are my brother and must
suffer from the connection, whether we
would have it so or not. If it promises
too much misery—and I know no misery
like that of shame —come with me where
I go tomorrow. There will be room for
two."
Oswald, swaying with weakness, but
maddened by the sight of an overthrow
which carried with it the stifled affections
and the admiration of his whole life, gave
a bound forward, opened his arms and—
fell.
Orlando stopped short. Gazing down on
his prostrate brother, he stood for a mo
ment with a gleam of something like hu
man tenderness showing through the flare
of dying passions and perishing hopes,
then he swung open the door and passed
quietly out. and Mr. Chailoner could hear
the laughing remark with which he met ;
and dismissed the half dozen men and I
women who had been drawn to this end
of the hall by what had sounded to them
! like a fracas between angry men
Five O'clock In the Morning.
The clock in the hotel office struck
three. Orlando Brotherson counted the
-strokes: then went on writing. His tran
> som was partly open and he had just
! heard a step go by his door. This was
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nothing new. He had already heard it
several times before that night. It was
Mr. Chailoner's step, and every time it
passed, he had rustled his papers or
scratched vigorously with his pen. "He is
keeping watch for Oswald,” was his
thought. "They fear a sudden end to
this. No one, not the son of my mother
knows me. Do I know myself?"
Four o’clock! The light was still burn
ing, the pile of letters he was writing in
creasing.
Five o'clock! A rattling shade betrays
an open window. N<Tother sound disturbs
the quiet of the room. It is empty now:
but Mr. Chailoner, long since satisfied
that all was well, goes by no more. Si
lence has settled upon the hotel —that
heavy silence which precedes the dawn.
There was silence in the streets also.
The few' who were abroad, crept quietly
along. An electric storm was in the air
and the surcharged clouds hung heavy
and low, biding the moment of outbreak.
A man who had left a place of many
shadows for the more open road, paused
and looked up at these clouds; then went
calmly on.
Suddenly the shriek of an approaching
train tears through the, valley. Has It
a call for this man? No. Yet he pauses
in the midst of the street he is crossing
and watches, as a child might watch,
for the flash of its lights at the end of
the darkened vista. It Comes—filling the
empty space at which he stares with
moving life —engine, baggage car and a
long string of Pullmans. Then all is dark
again and only the noise of its slacken
ing wheels comes to him through the
night. It has stopped at the station. A
minute longer and it has started again,
and the quickly lessening rumble of its
departure is all that remains of this vision
of man's activity and ceaseless expect
ancy. When it is quite gone and all is
quiet, a sigh falls from the man’s lips
and he moves on, but this time, for some
unexplalntable reason, In the dti"ection of
the station. With lowered head he passes
along, noting little till he arrives within
sight of the depot where some freight is
being handled, and a trunk or two
wheeled down the platform. No sight
could be more ordinary or unsuggestive,
but it has its attraction for him, for he
i looks up as he goes by and follows the
passage of that truck down the platform
till it has reached the corner and disap
peared Then he sighs again and again
moves on.
I A cluster of houses, ope of them open
i and lighted, was all which lay between
Idm now and the country road. He was
hurrying past, for his step had uncon
sciously quickened as he turned his back
upon the station, when be was seized
again by that mood of curiosity and
stepped up to the door from which a light
issued and looked in. A common earing
room Lay before him. wfth rudely spread
tables and one very sleep) waiter taking
orders from a new arrival who sat with
his back to the door. Why did the lonely
man the sidewalk start as his eye fell
on the latter's commonplace figure, a
hungry man demanding breakfast in a
cheap, country restaurant? His own
physique was powerful while that of the
other looked -slim and frail But fear
was In the air, and the brooding of a
tempest affects some temperaments in a
totally unexpected manner. As the man
| Inside turns slightly and looks up. the
I master figure on the sidewalk vanishes.
I mid his step, if any one had been Inter
ested enough to listen, rings with a new
t ote as it turns into the country road it
I lias at last reached.
But no one heeded. The new arrival
munches his roll and waits impatiently
t- r ills coffee. While without, the clouds
| I soundless!) :n the uk). one of them
. .mg the form of a huge hand with 1
.-luicbing tlngets reaching down into :hr
I hollow void beneath
Tc Be Concluded Tomorrow, |
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When the Clock struck One on
Wash Day.
Hickory, dickory, dock,
The mouse ran up the clock.
The clock struck one;
And the wash was done,
Fels-Naptha made it fun.
Hickory, dickory, dock.
Doctors and college professors have
been trying for years to find out how much
energy a man uses when working.
If they would try it out on the woman
who hangs over the wash board every Mon
day—they’d get the information quicker,
though the women who do this are becom
ing fewer every day.
Fels-Naptha worked the change.
z The woman who uses F’els-Naptha gets
done sooner and has whiter clothes. And
she hasn’t rubbed her health, strength and
good nature away on the washboard.
If you haven’t tried the Fels-Naptha
way, it's time to begin.
'S ou can’t start too soon to take care
of your health.
A Fels-Naptha wash-day keeps the
house comfortable —not full of steam and
soap suds’ smell.
Use cool or lukewarm water with
Fels-Naptha.
Makes clothes last longer because you
don’t boil them tender and then rub them
to pieces on a hard metal-washboard.
Follow the easy directions on the red
and green wrapper. Use any time of year.
I GEORGIAN WANT AOS BRING RESULTS
