Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

THE GEO OGHAMS MAGAZJME PAGE I 5 I Want All Thafs Coming to Me * Copyright, 1912, by National News Asa'n. By Nell Brinkley & r 'MSfl a _ XXI ww v ji i-v JiSa i : ®<<§j Al A aw/Jk-vr , f A \BAfW4 »A''“'.. yj *n^C4W™fcfc <> ■ 'W ; ' w® i I ■ | i>< nNWMMI <1 .rOW / I ■^^R k 'X ; '' x w j ' Ww W ; * A A-- ySstX -a, ; ■■--'? % &TA ‘'. fen IM. 1 -. Jk ■ z w( -WX '" ; 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 , ~ , , ’’*■ ' - _ “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. A careless cook may waste the Baking Powder, but cannot spoil the food. never leaves that bad taste so commonly noticed when too much of many other Baking Powders is used. Ail <o»d Grocers sell it or will get it for you. jl, Saratoga Chips made with Cottolene are never greasy, as are ] those niade with lard. The reason for this is that Cottolene ffi / heats to about 100 degrees higher than either butter or lard, without burning, quickly forming a crisp coating which excludes the Your Chips, therefore, are crisp, dry and appetizing. Cottolene costs about the price " TRY THIS RECIPE - \\ of lard ’ and . will g ° on '' third ™ A\, ii 1 farther than either butter or lard. ,owel - Er y «few at * time in hot c«t- W \\ S 11 1 toltne. Salt as you take them out and W \1 JK U ■ lay them on a coarse brown paper for IW \Bt k W ■ Made only by a short time. Wl uLI JKI P Ji THE N ‘ K ‘ FAIKBANK COMPANY ■i 4 << ■, I ■ —j / “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 —.— —. j j, tfoctectlfaiMeffl ft FOUNTAINS. HOTELS. OR ELSEWMERK ' Get the Original and Genuine HORLICK’S MALTED MILK eJmifaticnd? The Food Drink for All Ages tICH MILK. MALT CRAIN EtTRACT. IN POWDER Not in any Milk Trust • Take ■ pavkaße home 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, | fAi [Bio H Bl 1 liJ Ft l /drudc / F L t 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