Newspaper Page Text
THE GEOBOiAWrS MAGAZINE PAGE
Broadway
«/
Jones
i Based on George M. Cohan's Play Now
Running in New York.
By BERTRAND BABCOCK.
TODAY’S INSTALLMENT.
Her plaj of wit and fancy dazzled not
; only Broadway, Bob and the judge, but
| actually' struck dumb Mr~ Spottswood and
J .Clara. The judge was moved to whisper
| to his wife:
"If Broadway gets that girl site’ll lead
i him a merry dance She's got chani
j pagne ih her temperament. I saw a girl
i once a little like her in New Britain,
t But she was drunk."
But the wife could not reply to this eon
-1 fessfon, it may have been, of the judge.
1 To Sammy, much of the value of the
| scene was lost because of the beloved
I banjo he had insisted upon bringing witli
! him.
f Josie had just laughed unsteadily and
j had remarked: "There's a wealth of
; meaning in lamb chops, isn't there, Mr.
j Jones?" ano the company, .including
[Broadway, were trying to puzzle out her
Intent, when the quivering, shrill sounds
1 of a tune played upon the single string
! of a banjo out of harmony, jarred it
| self on their attention.
Everybody, including Jackson and
I
Sammy, turned toward the small boy in
[ real relief, and the musician's little at-
I tempt to entertain served to break the
■ spell that had had some influence upon
! each of the group. Sammy’s seriousness
•nd his ponderous efforts were thrown
Into relief by the gay atmosphere which
had prevailed but a moment before
IN HIS GLORY.
Sammy finished and held the banjo
Closely before his ear while he tested the
shrillness of another string, preparatory
to plsying upon that one alone, too.
“That wasn't at all bad. Sammy," coni
mended Jackson.
"No, indeed, it was very good," added
.Wallace.
“Very good," snuffed Sammy. "T
should say It was very good. Gosh, I’ve
only been taking lessons for a year and
a half. Well, what are you laughing at*
Don't you believe me? I’il bet 'Utz'
when he was a little hoy didn’t do as
good as that. Beethoven used to make
up tunes and play them when he was a
little boy. Now. I'll play one 1 made up
myself.”
The preparatory agonies so jarred upon
the ear of Jackson that be said in a
kindly manner to the young group of
ambitions:
"Don't tire yourself out, Sammy.”
Wishing to he very obliging after the
dinner that Broadway had planned and
Josie really cooked, Sammy was quick to
' disclaim any fatigue-.
"Oh. no,” he said. "I'd have to prac
tice anyway."
c""Clara, shallower than Josie, who had a
mind that embraced all the world, never
showed to her small brother much pa
tience. And so now she discouraged his
good intentions.
"Well, go home and practice, Sammy,"
she said. “We don’t want to hear It.
Mr. Wallace is going to play the piano."
Obediently Bob moved to the piano and
began to play. But Sammy had already
started upon another of his compositions
for one string of a banjo, and he was
quick to order Wallace:
SAMMY IN A HUFF.
"Say, keep that piano quiet, w ill you*"
Wallace struck another note, with his
smiling eyes upon Sammy.
The boy stopped at once and began to
push his banjo into its case.
“Shows how much you people know
. about music.” he muttereel. "Gosh, you
can hear a piano any day. There ain't
ten gooel banjo players In Connecticut.
I ain't going to stay here and listen to
that darned old thing. I'm going tb
take my banjo anei go home."
Mrs. Spottswood was quick to reprove
her son for lack of "being polite when
you are invited out to supper." But the
fat little Spottswood was already on his
feet and half-way to the door.
"Gosh," he mumbled, "that's all the
thanks 1 get going to all the trouble of
brlngin' my Instrument an' everything.
Some day they'll be darned glad to hour
me play it. when I get It down perfect."
Sammy’s mother continued the reproof,
saying:
"Ain't you got any more manners than
to go without saying good night and
thanking Mr. Jones for the supper?"
Almost on the verge of blubbering was
Sammy. Wailed he:
X "Well, my feelin's hurt, and I'm going
nptne.”
"Just for this you don't get any money
to go to the circus this year," snapped
his mother.
Through the edge of his almost tears
Baramy grinned as he retorted:
"Well, If It ain't any better than it whs
last year t don't care a darn. I'm getting
tired of being bossed around, anyway
r. I'll bet Edison, the inventor, didn’t let
people boss him around when he was a
boy. I'm goln' to take my banjo and live
in New Haven."
And proudly Sammy strode out through
Tears Won t Helj
The Gray Hairs
But tm- proper care and treat
ment will. tnd right now,
7 '' '
-« ‘thread.- ... be ginning to glis
ten. Is th- tlmi i n- <> tion.
Stop pulhng out tiie gray
.hairs or you will make you:
self white-headed. Your h.til
ls losing vitality USE
Rob in n air e
Hair Dye
No. it isn't a vulgar bleach <>r
artificial coloring. It is at, -
• storatlve that simple renews
the natural color and lif. and
luster of the hair, and make- it
soft and beautiful. Non-sticky
and does not stain skin or
scalp.
TRY IT. Your hair nerds it.
Prepared for Hgnt. m< ilium
and dark brown and black
| hair. Trial size 25c, postpaid
J 30c, large size 75c. by mail 90c.
PE’ Pure and harmless.
FOR SALE BY
Jacobs' Stores
His Heart’s Gallery of Intimate Portraits T - * By Nell Brinkley
•/
A IJHhHhH mHI ■ //r /; '''?A
T/W>
A/// I / y7/ V ' I I
aE • .y ( K
' ■' 6 ' s'// / y /A
Lhe-/b.- .< izy//, .--<kE— Ml/ f ■
—-Gr- ,5 > - ,z-'
the gate and along the road toward his
own home.
Spottswood and his wife followed in the
wake of Sammy, for the moment deter
mined to overtake their son and chastise
him for his rudeness. Clara and Wallace
were immersed in themselves at the
piano, where snatches of music and
snatche.s of a conversation very dear to
themselves alternated.
So. to all Intents, Broadway and Josie
were left alone.
“Poor Sammy,” be said, "he but shares
the common lot in life. He wants some
thing. and can't have it. And I want
something, and can't have it.”
His eyes and his infllection gave an un
dercurrent to his words, but the girl
shose to misunderstand him.
“There is little that a young man with
your prospects In life can not have, if you
but desire the better—the higher things,"
she said primly enough, but there was a
dimple In her cheek at the thought of
Broadway's desiring seriously for long any
spiritual uplift.
Broadway knew perfeectly well that the
thing she meant was not the thing In his
own mind, but here was an fpening made
to hfs taste. Gradually all the evening lie
had been screwing up bls courage. He
would dare, tie was about to tell her that,
there was one thing in all the. world that
he wanted and his mental lips hud al
ready framed the words: "I love you.”
BROADWAY REFLECTS.
But those little words, "I love you” had
started a flood of recollections and he saw
them as they had been written in the
notes he and Mrs. Gerard had exchanged
at that “dinner with a punch.’
Mrs. Gerard! Ho reflected bitterly. Os
course Josie had read In the newspapers
of that night of folly at Speary’s, so far
away In view of the great change that had
come to him. Os course she knew of the
culminating announcement of that “dinner
■with a punch.” He could not speak to this
young girl, this woman who was above
him in all refinements of character and
feelings. After all his mere refusal to go
over to the trust had been inspired by her,
he though sadly. And he could not say
to her those words, which use by him and
Mrs. Gerard had sullied: "I love you."
In acute remorse he groaned aloud:
“There's no fool like a young fool."
The girl smiled her wise, mysterious
smile, with its vague quality of comfort.
Almost It seemed in the bitterest of self
reproaches she echoed his words:
“There’s no fool like a young fool."
Part VII.
HOW FROM A BUTLER MAY BE MADE
A SEMI-GENUINE EARL.
Os one tiling Jackson was sure: Josie
was applying his own words to herself,
but why? She was not engaged to Mrs.
Gerard' The puzzle becoming entirely
too much for any one unaided by woman
intuition. Broadway gtfve it up and re
turned to a bitter self-condemnation be
cause of his affair with Mrs. Gerard, while
the girl at his side talked quietly of com
monplaces.
Jackson was at height of his reproaches
addressed to a certain Broadway Jones,
when quite by chance his eye travelled
through the open door. Standing close to
the edge of the veranda was a white
faced man his own eyes rivotted upon
Jackson. A moment more Jones recog
nised Rankin, his long absent butleer.
Plainly Rankin was making signals to
him. but whether of war or peace Broad
way could not decide. However, Rankin
wanted him. With an excuse of an im
portant business visitor who would detain
shim but a moment, Broadway stepped
outside.
ell, where 1r she? he demanded in
the butler’s ear, but “sh-h” was his only
answer.
"Rankin seized his sleeve and drew him
through the gate of Jones Manor and oven
walked down the road a few hundred feet.
Jackson obeyed the commanding pres
sure us the other’s fingers without ques
tion. if Rankin used such secrecy the
need must be great.
SURPRISING NEWS.
In the dark shadow of an old elm that I
Jackson’s grandfather had climbed, the
butler allowed his master to stop. Broad
way gulped down a great fear that seemed
to rise materially In hi s throat.
"Don’t break It to me." he said. “Tell
nv- the worst at onct ”
Tnc butler smiled calmly as he an
swered:
"Surprising news, sir."
"Welt, ten me—tell me; what did she
How did y..u get rid of her'."' He
hud taken hope from the butler’s answer.
'gain Rankin smiled.
"I didn’t get rid of her. sir," he said.
W hat \V here did you leave her?"
"I didn't leave her, sir; I’ve been with
her ever since."
"Where is she?"
“She's here, sir "
Jackson jumped to one side, peering
in >< very real terror into the shadows.
He had had a glimpse of what life could
be made on the heights and now the
tiepths were returning
"< 'b. she's not under this tree, sir"
the butle.r’s tone was reassuring “but
sio-'s lown the road a bit, sir "
"Sh< came back with yuu?" trembled
lout Jackson.
sir.
"■'ti. you kilo;; What ni: yoi- let her
i
1111
\ ‘ 2 \n >
He began the collection of his Heart’s Gallery of Intimate Portraits long years ago. The first portrait in
it is that of the little chubby girl, with the freckled face and the funny mouth, who sat next to him at school. As
he remembers her, she always seemed to he seeing the joke in life, and it was hard to determine whether she
thought the joke on you or on herself.
The next portrait he keeps in his gallery is that of the high school girl whom he took to all the class dances
and who wore his “frat” pin. She was pretty, but had no room in her head for anything but the little festivities of
the social clique at school.
The third portrait is the girl he chose for his own out of all the realm of womankind. He wears her image
on his heart of hearts, and there is joy and happiness in thinking of the dear, wonderful days of his wooing and the
sweeter, more wonderful years of his married life.
And last, but not least, is the portrait of his own darling, his gray-eyed baby girl. She is all the world to him,
and he sees her mother in her and sees her in her mother—the same looks, gestures and little tricks of saying and
doing things.
And happy is the man who can look at his Heart’s Gallery of Intimate Portraits without regret—and thank
ful to life for bringing such wonderful things to him.
I—liiTtfinrr I—Jimkn»-»zJ Arrives at Helen's and Hears Some Dis-
l*Uniing a lIUSDaiIQ agreeable Comments on Her Aged Suitor
By VIRGINIA T. VAN DE WATER.
HELEN ROBBINS was on the ve
randa waiting to greet the pair
as they rode up to her door. Her
cottage wag on the slope of one of the
many hills surrounding Pleasanton
Lake and commanded a view that was
worth the climb necessary to reach it.
“And my car took that hill on high!”
exulted Dr. Haynes, as Ills hostess
greeted him. "J tell you. that ina
chitie's'liard to beat!”
Beatrice had a sudden impulse of im
patience, accentuated by the fact that
when the ear stopped all the breeze
seemed to stop, too, and she felt as if
she were plunged into a steam bath.
The sensation reminded her of the “hot
room” in a Turkish bath establishment.
Glancing down, she saw that her pretty
white shoes were gray with the dust
that had blown over them in the swift
ride across the dry country.
She would not have minded the heat
and might not have noticed the dust
if her companion had exclaimed to her
friend on the delights of the ride with
such a charming companion instead ofj
bursting forth into panegj rics of ills
automobile. But she checked her irri
tation, and after a moment’s hesitation
seconded the man's praise of his
chine."
“111, Helen, such a drive!” she said
with seeming enthusiasm. ".And such
a driver as Dr. Haynes is! lam too
ignorant to know what it means to
have an automobile ‘take a hill on
high' but If it means that a car al
most flies, why I agree heartily with
the statement.”
For the second time that day the
doctor looked at her with a pleasant
expression.
Dusty Roads.
"I’m glad you like the car and my
driving.’ he said. Then he turned to
Helen. “Truth compels me to declare,”
he said ruefully, "that J never saw
much dustier roads titan those we came
over this morning. You may know
that I like the looks of Pleasanton when
I say that now that 1 am here, I can
forgive even those miles of heat and
Prompt, Sats Relief
No matter what cauaes your achin K head ex
emsive brain far, nervousness, indigeetion. colds
grippe coryza effects over-indulgence or for
all 'undiuons where n«m is prominent acute or
chronic rheumatism, neuralgia, a’
ANTI-KAMNIA TABLETS
•re wonderful, gentle, prompt and safer . irelievera
—inroxiiunlJ, stimulants or habe: formers
Ash Any Drug klat For I
gpa
Helen laughed merrily. “Well, I re
joice that you like it out here,” she
. said, ‘ami I’m hoping that Beatrice is
going to think it such a nice place
that she will decide to spend the rest
of the summer in the cottage I have
picked out for her. It is right over
there.'' pointing to a bungalow nestled
against the hill a little way beyond her
lawn. “You can see only the roof from
here, but one can walk to the place in
five minutes without hurrying.”
While Beatrice was in Helen’s dress
ing room removing her wrap and hat,
smoothing her hair, her hostess ex
cused herself and went down to give
some final instructions with regard to
luncheon. The widow, thus left alone,
completed he: toilet, then strolled into
Helen': bed room, and, going to the
window, peeled forth between the shut
ters at the roof of the bungalow in
question. She was glad to note that
even front the upper windows of the
Robbins cottage the front door and ve
randa of her probable summer resi
dence were not visible. She rement
i bered that it might be most inconven
ient for tier were her neighbor able to
spy upon her and her callers.
"I do not want her to_ know every
time her uncle comes to see me,” she
mused. "1 wonder what I am going to
Jo about him, anyway?"
Sinking into an easy chair by the
open window, she rested her head
against the cushioned back and closed
her eyes. She was glad to have a little
i time and quiet in which to think, for
shi found herself in a position where
she was more uncertain about her fu
ture actions than she was before she
left home this morning. Then she had
thought of Dr. Haynes as a man who
might become a possible suitor. She
. had hoped that she might Interest him
I in iter sufficiently to make it worth
j while for her to defer settling the ques
i tion with regard to Henry Blanchard
I until late in the summer—ls she could.
But this morning's experience had
proved to her that, so far. the physician
thought of her only as the mother of
his little patient, in whom she was
interested. Her only claim on him, up
Act Well!
And that you may, profit by
the health-restoring, strength
giving properties of the time
tested famous family remedy
BEECHAM’S
PILLS
to date, was evidently her relationship
to Jean. Was that the only claim she
would ever have.
She was not mistaken, for Helen
drew a chair close to her guest’s, and
began, first of all, to talk of Jean's
condition. •
"I have been so sorry for you, my
dear." she said. “I even telephoned in
yesterday to Uncle Henry to see if, he
knew how the little girl was.”
“Why didn’t you telephone to me
instead?" asked Beatrice quickly.
“Because, dear, I thought perhaps it
would annoy you to be called from
your little girl. But Uncle Henry said
he did not even know she was ill.”
“Os course, he didnU,” replied Beat
rice. "How should he?"
“Well,” laughed Helen, "the poor old
man talks of you so much that I thought
his fatherly Interest might lead him to
call on you occasionally. I was glad to
learn, however, that he had not been
boring you with his presence.”
The widow said nothing, and, after a
moment's silence, Mrs. Robbins con
tinued her inquisition.
She asked the question anxiously, for
she liked this man. Perhaps his very
indifference piqued her to further ad
miration of him, for it was not an un
kindly indifference. It was simply that
she had not, as yet, appealed to him
more than did scores of other women
whom he knew. But to her he was
much more attractive than was Henry
Blanchard. Indeed, as she thought now
of her elderly suitor and compared him
v Ith the big, broad-shouldered, gray
haired man who had been her compan
ion this morning, she felt toward the
slight, somewhat shrunken old bache
lor a shudder of physical repugnance.
She did not dislike him. but he was
not the type of husband she wanted
And yet—he was kind, and good, and
had money, and loved her.
Being Cautious.
The sound of Helen’s step on the
stairs made Beatrice open her eyes and
sit up. She must keep her wits about
her. for of course her friend would ask
her about her plans and would, perhaps,
try to learn the widow’s sentiments
with regard to Dr. Haynes. There
fore. Beatrice felt she must be careful
not to show’ her hand.
I m so glad." she remarked, “that
Dr. Haynes has tense enough to ap
preciate you, dear. Don’t you like him?”
“I know him very slightly.” replied
Beatrice, evasively. "I called him In to
see Jean, as my own doctor was out of
town, and It was because of the child’s
illness and the need of getting her out
of town that he suggested my coming
out with him today. He is not inter
ested In me except as Jean’s mother,
nor do I know him In any capacity ex
cvpt as my little daughter’s physician!”
Up-to-Date Jokes
"What’s this?" said the editor. " Mr
Longbow is lying at death’s door
Make that read 'laying.’ ”
“What?” exclaimed the reporter in
surprise. “That’s not correct.”
“No,” replied the editor; “but It's bet
ter to make a grammatical error than
offend Longbow’s relatives. His repu
tation for veracity is notoriously bad.”
Ada (pensively)—l hope you’ll invite
me to the wedding when you get mar
ried.
Jack (boldly)—You'll be the first
person I shall invite, an if you don't ac
cept there won't be any wedding.
Three months later she married him.
"Willie,” said the mother, sorrow
fully, “every time you are naughty I
get another gray hair.”
"Gracious!” said Dillie, "you must
have been a terror. Look at grand
pa!”
He —Do you love me, darling?
She —Yes, Jack, dear.
He—Jack! You mean Harold, don’t
you?
She—Of course! How absurd I am!
I keep thinking today’s Saturday.
Minister—My dear little boy. why
don’t you carry an umbrella when it
is raining like this?
Dear Little Boy—Since pa has
stopped going to church he never
brings home any more umbrellas.
Elsie (aged seven) —Mr, I want a
penny.
Mother—Wiiat for. dear?
Elsie—l asked Willie Jones to play
we’re getting married, and he says he
won't do it unless I have a dowry.
Teacher—Now, Teddy, is "Jerusa
lem” a proper noun or a common
noun?
Teddy 'Tain’t neither. It’s an ejac
ulation, mum.
Is what YOV say. But I know men
and their ways well enough to know
that had he not felt more than a pass
ing interest in you he would never have
troubled himself to take a long ride with
you. A busy- man does not lose a whole
day from work just to gratify his in
terest in a four-year-old child who is
nothing to him.”
The wish is father to the thought
with many of us. and as her friend
spoke. Beatrice, while seeming to dis
agree with her, was impressed by her
logic, and a ray of hope shot through
her mind, making her feel that, after
all, Helen’s reasoning might be coirect.
But she only shook her head and tried
to look incredulous and indifferent.
“You are mistaken,” she insisted. “Dr.
Haynes told mo himself that he bad
meant to come to lunch with you som ?
day. that it might as well be this day
as another, and that he would bring
me with him so that I might, look over
the cottage you wrote of.”
Still Helen shook her head and laugh
ed. “No. no. Beatrice," she chided,
“you can’t fool me in such matters.”
At this juncture the maid, entering to
announce luncheon, made further dis
cussion impossible, and Beatrice, with
a sigh of relief, glanced into the mir
ror as she passed, noted that she look
ed once more fresh and cool, and fol
lowed her hostess downstairs.
L Save Risk ||Hj
Delicious and con
venient. Add rich
aa ness to SOU P S > 6 ra *
MEJBL vies and sauces.
•■SflKk FREE W'
A ' brra • .!;.; > for you* yWjteßti
defies -s e -nir uM ad<‘.H ><• Upffißn
corneille david* < -
p ' )le -^ eDtß Dept p o WNCT
9 North Moore Street, . wR$
cube» 10 c
WySHxBWWt —lO c übet 2 5c W*,
""Bkm •
I® jt •)
A J ’1 *** A
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
BOTH, OF COURSE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
if two young men walking met
a young lady whom only one of the
youhg men'knevv, and the other did
not, is it proper for both to tip their
hats, or should only the one who
new her do so? W. F.
1 confess to surprise at your ques
tion. A spirit of gallantry should
prompt a man. to raise his hat to his
friend’s acquaintances, though he has
never read or been told that that Is
what he should do.
A DIVIDED HEART.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I have been keeping company
with a young man for three years.
We love each other very much but >
he still wants to call on other girls,
especially one recently married.
ALICE.
If he loved you as devotedly as he,
should, the society of any girl but you
would bore him.
The fact that he seeks their society
shows a divided heart. Don’t let him
see that you care. Put him In your
place by encouraging the attentions ot
other men.
THAT DEPENDS ON YOU.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I have known a gill three years,
half of which time I spent in Cal
ifornia. I have told her I love her,
.and, after promising her 1 would
stay in New York and lead a clean
life, she has seemed to forget my
existence and goes out with other
men. Shall I forget her, or be per
sistent? WALLACE.
If you really love her. you don't want
to forget her. Perhaps your of
decision, •which shows itself in ybur
question, is rrsponsibk for her interiM
in others of your sex.
Bo persistent, by all means, if you
care lor her, and if you win her oi
not, jour promise to lead a clean life
will be a good promise to keep.
WEnu YOU AT FAULT?
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am desperately in love with
a young man two yea’s my senior,
few days ago, I got in a quatTil
with him and 1 have not spokdn to
him since.
My parents do not object to my
going with him.
Can you advise me d hat to do to
regain his h,v< '.' FLORENCE.
If you were at fault in the quarre’
you owe him an apology, and I trust
you will be fair enough to make it.
If he provoked the quarrel withoui
reason, you can do nothing but wait till
shame drives him to take steps to ef
fect a reconciliation.
If he doesn't love you enough to b<
fair, he doesn’t lovi you enough to
grieve over losing him.
Cottolene
better than buffer
for shortening
Eat butter, but don’t waste it.
The right place for butter is on
your dining table; the wrong
place is in your kitchen. Every
time you shorten or fry with
butter you waste money. Cotto
lene—the vegetable shortening
will give you equally good results
at one-third the cost.
Cottolene makes light, digesti
ble food, which any stomach car
digest. Cottolene-made food it
rich, but never greasy Neutral
in taste, practically without odor
Cottolene is a product of carefully
selected cotton oil, refined by our
exclusive process.
Use one-third
less Cottolene jf
than either but
ter or lard.
Cottolene is never 1 > rj
sold in bulk —al- ’
ways in air-tignt <
tin pails, which pro
tect it from dirt,
.dust and odors. It
is always uniform , jti
and dependable.
THE N. K. FAIRBANK COMPANY
K. ■ ■ R —I
While on ths Pacific
Coa t read the
San Francisco
DON’T BE TORTURED
Eczeinu cun be instantly relieved and
permanently cured. Head what I 1
Maxwell, Atlanta, (la., says. It proves
that
Tetterine Cures Eczema
I suffered agony with severe eczema.
Tried six different remedies and was
In despair when a neighbor told me to
try Tetterine. After using $3 worth
I am completely cured.
Why should you Hutter when you <an ”
easily pel it reined? that cures all sb'i
troubles eczema, itching piles, eryslpela
ground itch, ringworm, etc. (let it (•
Tetterine. /
SOc at druggists or by mall. M 1
