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How Girls May || A RAMBLE WITH EULOGIA
Get \\ ork
A Love Story of the Old Spanish Missions
By Gertrude Atherton
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
Don’t spend all your time think
ing about dress, but for goodness
sake don’t go about looking like a
frump. A man is twice as ready
to listen to a girl’s application for
work if she looks pleasant and
dresses neatly.—BEATRICE FAIR
FAX.
T HE other day I met a young wom
an who was looking for em
ployment. She complained of
having a very hard time in finding
anything, and as I looked at her I did
not wonder that she had a hard time.
Such a doleful face you never saw.
No man would ever want so mu.'li
dolefulness faring him every day.
She made not the allghtes attempt
to beautify herself in any way. Her
clothes looked as though she flung
them at herself. Her hair-was dressed
in the most unbecoming manner pos
sible, and altogether she was an un
attractive looking piece of girlhood.
If I had had the time to talk to her,
1 would have said: "My dear, you
never in the world will get a Job while
you loo1< as you do now. Perk up a
little bit. look cheerful, dress yourself
decently and then try again."
Rear this in mind, girls—don’t spend
all your time thinking about dress,
but for goodness sake don’t go about
looking like frumps.
A man is twice as ready to listen to
a girl’s application for work if she
looks pleasant and dresses neatly and
becomingly.
Men can’t stand doleful women.
They like brightness and cheerfulness.
The* girl who always appears willing
to attempt whatever work ia set be
fore her is bound to get on.
There is no use in sulking and look
ing abused whenever you are asked to
do extra work. If the request only
comes once in a while, it won’t hurt
you a bit.
When you apply for a position, don't
brag of what you can do. State your
accomplishments in a straightforward,
modest way. and show that you .if
willing to do your best if you get the
chance.
A girl will often be employed sim
ply because she looks willing and
bright. An employer knows that a
cheerful employee lias a good effect on
her fellow' workers.
Don’t start out looking as though
you had not a friend on earth, but put
on your neatest dress and your bright
est look, and see if you don’t find it
easy to find work.
Like a, Motor Car.
\ LARGE German woman held up a
long line of people at the money
order window in a post.oTice the other
day, and all because her memory had
failed She wanted to send some money
to her son, a sailor on a merchant
steamer then in foreign waters, but
when she presented the application at
the window the elerk noticed that the
address was lacking.
“Well, where do you want to send
it 7" lie asked. “We can’t give you the
money order unless you know the name
of the place."
“Yah, dot’s de trouble.” she replied.
"I didn’t pring his letter, and 1 can’t
remember der name of der town, but
It’s some place out of China dot sounds
like der noise a motor car makes.’’
The tW’o clerks looked at each other
dubiously.
“What kind of a noise does a motor
.car make?" asked one.
“Honk, honk!" suggested the other.
"Yah, dot’s it!" exclaimed the woman.
" 'Honk konk,” dot’s de place!"
"Fill it in Hong Kong." said the
clerk; and she paid over her money.
BS». 1 1 - 1111,1 - ■ ■■■■■ ■ —<
I’nder tlie influence of the romances
of Dumas, Eulogia is in love with
Juan The match, however, does not
receive the approval of Dona Pom-
posa, who, while Juan is serenading
her daughter, pours hot ashes upon
his head. This drives him away and
Eulogia promises that she will have
no more sweethearts until she Is six
teen years of age.
When iter sixteenth birthday ar
rives Eulogia is taken to a party by
her mother and there meets Don
I’ablo Ignestrla. who she at first dis
dains but later asks to return to her
city after he has been called away.
While she awaits anxiously his ar
rival she hears that he has been mar
ried to a former sweetheart. Her
mother then urges her.to marry Don
Hudson, the rich American, but Eulo
gia demurs, saying that nothing is
known of him and that she does not
like him. She has gathered much
wisdom from tlie reading of Dumas,
and as she applies this to Don Hud
son. her mother is angry.
Now Go on With the Story.
TODAY'S INSTALLMENT.
"1 fear to break ii, senor, for 1 have
faith that it is made of thin glass. It
would cut my feet I like better the
smooth floor. Who Is that standing by
ihe window.’ He has not danced to
night?"
“Don I’ablo Ignestrla, of Monterey.
He says that the women of San Luis
are not half ho beautiful or so elegant
as the women of Monterey: he says
they are too dark and too small lie
does not wish to dance with anyone;
nor do any of the girls wish to dance
with him. They are very angry."
"I wish to dance with him. Bring
him to me."
“But, senorita, I tell thee thou
wouldst not like him. Why do those
eyes flash so? Thou lookesi as if thou
wouldst tight with thy little fists."
Don Garmelo walked obediently over
to Don I’ablo, although burning with
jealousy.
“Senor, at your service," he said. "I
wish to introduce you to the most
charming senorita in the sala."
“Which?" asked Ignestrla. incurious
ly.
He Was Handsome.
Don Carmelo indicated Eulogia with
a grand sweep of bis band.
“That little thing? Why, there are
a dozen prettier girls in ihe sala than
she, and I have not cared to meet any
of them."
"Rut she has commanded me to take
you t<> her, senor, and - look at the men
crowding about her! Do you think I
dare disobey?"
The stranger’s dark eyes became less
Insensible. He was a handsome man,
with his tall figure and smooth, strong
fa- c. but about him hung the indolence
of the Californian.
“Very well,” he said, “take me to
her."
He asked her to dance, and after a
waltz Eulogia said she was tired and
they sai down within a proper dis
tance of Fiona Pomposa’s eagle eye.
"What do you ildnk of the women of
San Luis Obispo?” Eulogia asked inno
cently. "Are they not handsome?"
“They are not to be compared with
the women of Monterey- since you ask
me."
"Because they find the men of San
Luis more gallant than the Senor Don
Pablo Ignestrla!"
“Do they? One, I believe, asked to
have me introduced to her!"
"True, senor. 1 wished to meet you,
that the ladies of San Luis might have
their vengeance "
He stared at her.
“Truly, senorita, but you do not hid©
your cards. And why, then, should 1
fall m love with you?”
smile, sipped her wine, and went on
talking to Ignestrla in her soft, monot
onous voice.
"My friend—Graclosa la (Tux—-went
a few weeks ago to Monterey for a
visit. You will tell her I think of her
—no?”
As Stubborn as Pretty.
"I will dance with ner often because
she is your friend—until I return to |
San Luis Obispo.”
"Will that be soon, senor?"
"I told thee that would be as soon as
thou wished. Thou wilt answer my let- i
ter promise me, Eulogia."
"I will not, senor. 1 intend to be wiser
than other women. At the very least j
my follies shall not burr, paper. If
thou wantest an answer thou wilt re
turn."
"I will not return without that an
swer. I can never see thee alone, and
If I could any coquetry would not give
me a plaint answer. I must see it on
paper before 1 will believe."
"Thou canst w r ait for the day of resur
rection for thy knowledge, then!"
ELLA WHEELER WILCOX:
LETTERS TO GIRLS
This Is Number III in the Series and Is Ad
dressed to a Girl Who Is Sorry for Herself.
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
(Copyright, 1913, by Journal-American-
Examiner.)
T
O
She sat in the deep window seat watching the waves of the Pacific hurl themselves
against the cliffs.
"Because 1 am
women of Monterey
different from tin
a
And If I Hate You?”
1 should
A
A
>OD reason why
not. 1 have been in every
town In California, and I ad
mire no women but those of my city."
“And because you will hate me first."
“And if I hate you how can I love
you?”
“It Is ihe same. You hate one woman
and. love another. Each is the same
passion, only to a different per. - n. I -
the person loved or hated change his
nature, and the passion will chang<
He looked at her wdth more interest.
“In truth. I think 1 shall De. in" with
love and end with hate, senorita. But
that wisdom was not horn in that little
head, for sixteen years, I think, have
not sped over ii no? it went in. if 1
mistake not, through those bright eyes."
“Yes, senor, that is true. I am not
content to be jus* like other girls of
sixteen. I want to know to know!
Have you ever read any books, senor ."’
“Many.’’ He looked at her with a
very' lively Interest now. "What ones
have you read?”
“Only the beautiful romances of the
Senor Dumas. I have seen no others,
for there are not many books in San
Luis. Have you read otlu ’s?"
“A great many others. Two wonder
ful Spanish books—‘Den Quixote de la
Mancha’ and ‘Gil Bias,’ and the ro
maiv i s of Sir Walter Scott a man of
England, end some famous man. seno
rita. A great man lent them to me—
the greatest of our governors—Alva
rado.”
"And you will lend them to me?"
•Tied Eulogia. forgetting her coquetry.
"I want to read them."
Hsr Eyes Make Him Consent.
"Aha! Those, cool eyes can flash.
That even little voice can break in two.
Thou shall have every book I possess.”
"Will the Senorita Dona Eulogia favor
us with a song?"
Don Carmelo was bowing before her.
a guitar in his hand, his wrathful eyes
fixed upon Don I’ablo.
"Yes,” said Eulogia.
She took the guitar and sang a love
■ tig in a manner which can best be
dost ribed as no manner at all—her ex
pression never (T anged, her voice never
warmed. At first the effect was flat,
then the subtle fascination of it grew
until the very memory of impassioned
i ''lo;.- seemed florid apd surfeiting.
Gel The Syrup Habit—
It’s Good For You
Velva Syrup Is more than a mere
sweet. It’s a fine, wholesome, health
ful food. It’s just what growing
children need — and it’s good for
grown-ups, too. Earnest, careful
scientists have long ago exploded
the mossy idea that sweets are
harmful — and they tell you that
sweets are necessary. You’ll find
When she finished Ignestria’s heart was
hammering upon the steel in which he
had prisoned it.
"Well," id Eulogia to I’adre Moraga
two weeks later, "An I not la favorite?’’
“Thou art, thou little coquette. Thou
bast the power over men which thou
must use with discretion, my Eulogia.
Tell thy beads three times a day and
pray that mayest do no harm."
"I wish to do harm, my father, for
men have* broken the hearts of women
for ages ”
"(’hut, chut, thou b^by! Men are not
black as they are painted. Harm
sfi I no one and the world will be better
^\S| I that thou hast lived in it."
'' ! "if 1 scratch fewer women will be
ratehed," and she raised her shoulders
maJ. the flowered muslin of her
winding creek, the birds caroled in the
trees: but above-all rose the sound of
light laughter and sweet, strong voices.
They took their dinner behind the
arches at a table the length of the
corridor, and two of the young men
played the guitar and sang while the
others delighted their keen palates with
the goods the padre had provided.
‘‘Shall I Return?”
Don I’ablo sat by Eulogia. a place
he managed to fill very often: but he
bad never seen her for a moment alone.
"I must go soon, Eulogia,” he mur
mured, as the voices waxed louder.
“Duty calls me hack to Monterey."
“1 am glad to know that, thou hast
a sense of ihy duty."
"Nothing but that would take me
away from San Luis Obispo. But both
my mother and—and—a dear friend are
ill and wish to see me."
"Thou must go to-night. How canst
thou eat and be gay when thy mother
and—and—a dear friend are ill?’’
“Ay, Eulogia! Wouldst thou scoff
over my grave? I go, but it is for thee
to say if I return.”
"Do not tell me that thou adorest
me here at the table. I shall blush,
and all will be about my smarting ears
like the bees down in the padre’s hive.”
"I shall not tell thee that before all
the world. Eulogia, all I ask is this
little favor: I shall send thee a letter
the night I leave. Promise me that
thou wilt answer it—to Monterey.”
“No, sir! Long ago, when 1 was
twelve, I made a vow I would never
write to a man. I never shall break
that vow."
"Thou wilt break it for me, Eulogia."
“And why for you. senof*? Half the
trouble in the world has been made
on paper."
“Oh. thou wise one! What trouble
wn. *-\vung her guitar under her arm can a piece of paper make when it lies
-V 1
gif people nr
BbSSH in the old
) (
j and walked down the grove, the silver
I eaves shining above her hair.
padre had bidden all the young
the upper class to a picnic
| in me old mission garden. Girls in gay
j : muslins and silk rebosas were sitting
j beneath the arches of the corridor or
i Hitting under the trees where the yel-
! low apricots hung among the green
| leaves. Languid ami sparkling faces
i coquetted with Caballeros in bright cali-
1 co jack* ts and knee breeches laced with
i .-Tkcn coni. tl » ir slender waist girthed
Ashes, hanging gracefully
The water rippled in a
with long
i over the hip
on a man’s heart?"
"It can crackle when another head
lies on it.”
"No head will never lie here but"
"Mine?”
“Eulogia •”
“To thee. Senorita Dona Elogia,"
cried a deep voice. "May the jewels in
thine eyes shine by the stars when thou
art above them while they shine for
us below." and a caballero pushed back
in his chair, leaned forward and touch
ed her glass with his. then went down
one knee and drank the **ed wine.
Eulogia threw' him* a lil tie absent
on
/
ns
tlie syrup with the RED LABEL, fine. It
has the smoothest ol sugary flavor and
rich color. It makes candies, fudge,
cakes and cookies that just melt in one’s
mouth. It goes great xvith griddle cakes
and it will make your good muffins,
waffles and biscuits better. Try It ana)
see If this isn’t so. Ten cents and up,
according to size. Velva in the green
can, too, at your grocer’s. Send for the
book of Velva recipes. No charge.
A Foxy Farmer’s Fortune
By MALCOLM DOUGLAS.
“H K:
KXS." said old Farmer Biggs, "is the stubbornest things I raise;
v set. an* set. an' set, until they’re sot in their ways;
'!' > m ; o 0l watches to tell the time, but know when the day’s begun
\\ hen the rooster with his 'ur-ruh-huh-huh!’ keeps hollerin’ at the sun.
ssapH
"Hell’s
An’ the
An’ her
.Mv fool*
VELVA NUt ICE CREAM
3-4 cup f ttl Red Velvet Syrup. 7 cupfula
scalded milk, l tzbespoonful flour, 1-4
cupful sugar. I egg, pinch of salt. 2 que- s
cream, 1 cupful chopped Eng’ish waini f
meats, J teaspoonful almond extract, 1
rase extract.
Brat up the egg with the flour end sugar,
and gradually add the milk Cools tor 20
minutes in <» double boiler, stirring col*
star.'ly. Cool find add the syt'u, .-ait,
nuts, cream and the extracts, and freeze
Serve in dainty dishes with a preset vid
cherry on too of each.
is a Labor I’nion which says that a hen kin lay
egg fur her boss, an' only one egg a day;
> -t ikes an’ there’s agitations that start along in the fall,
that’s out on a strike don’t lay any eggs at all.
e hi on leetle ijee that acts on ’em like a charm,
is the biggest profit I’m gittin' now from the farm:
lbors (*’ mine’s complainin’ that eggs with ’em 1s skeetse.
deluded pullets is layin’ 'em somethin’ fierce.
Hinted my henhouse ceilin’ make it look like the sky,
i“ > t big ‘lectrie sun a-glimerin' up on high:
out !b gilt completely. .«n\ jest by pullin' a switch,
it a- bright as noonday or make it as black as pitch.
NCE m^re Auni Anastacia rolled
her large figure through Eulogia's
way and handed her a letter.
“From Don Pablo Ignestrla, my baby,"
she said. “Oh, what a man! What a Ca
ballero! And so smart! He waited an
hour by the creek In ihe mission gardens
until he saw thy mother go out, and then
he brought the note to me. He begged
to see thee, but I dared not grant that,
for thy another will be back in ten min
utes."
“Go down stairs and keep my mother
there," commanded Eulogia, and Aunt
Anastacia rolled off. while her niece
with unwonted nervousness opened the
letter.
"Sweet of my soul! Star of my life!
I dare not speak to thee of love, be
cause. strong man as I am, still am I
a coward before those mocking eyes.
Therefore, if thou laugh the first time
thou readest that I love ihee. I shall
not see it, and the second time thou
mayest be more kind.
Beautiful and idolized Eulogia. men
have loved thee, but never will be cast
at thy little feet a heart stronger or
truer than mine. Aye, dueno adorado!
love thee without hope? No; I believe
that thou lovest me, thou cold little one,
although thou dost not like to think that
thy heart thou hast sealed can open to
let love in. But, Eulogia. star of my
eyes! I love thee so that I will break that
heart in pieces, and give thee another
so soft and warm that it wdll be all
through the old house to which I will
take thee. For thou wilt come to me,
thou little coquette! Thou wilt write to
me to come back and stand wdth thee in
the mission while the good padre asks
the saints to bless us? Eulogia! Thou
hast sworn thou wilt write to no man,
but thou wilt write to me, my little one.
Thou wilt not break the heart that lives
in thine. 1 kiss thy little feet. 1 kiss thy
tiny hands. I kiss- ay, Eulogia! Adlos 1
Adlos! PABLO.”
She Tells Him to Come.
Eulogia could not resist that letter.
Her scruples vanished, and, after an en
tire day of agonizing composition, she
sent these lines:
“You can come back to San Luis
Obispo.
“EULOGIA AM AT A FRA NCI SC A
GUADALUPE YBARRQ.”
Another year passed. No answer
came from I’ablo Ignestria. Nor did
he return to San Luis Obispo. Two
months after Eulogia had sent her
letter she received one from Grociosa
la Cruz, containing the information
that Ignestria had married the invalid
girl whose love for him was the talk
of Monterey for many years. And
Eulogia? Her flirtations earned her
far and wide ihe title of Dona Coquet-
ta, and she was cooler, calmer and
more audacious than ever.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
NUMBER IN.
O A GIRL who is soi’ry for her-
M If:
Your letter shows me not
how badly Fate treats you, but how
badly you are treating yourself.
You are standing outside of your
self, and making a mental picture of
misery and neglect, and sorrow, of
loneliness and heart hunger—and
weeping over it.
That is the easiest and the weakest
thing a mortal ran do.
I doubt if a human being lives, no
matter how seemingly fortunate and
to be envied, who could not find a
whole chapter of miseries to mourn
over, if he or she chose to turn over
the leaves of life’s book to that par
ticular page.
In every life there is always some
thing which might be bettered.
One person likes his environments,
but hates his occupation; another
likes his work, hut dislikes his envi
ronment; one wants the city; another
wants the country; and so on ad in
finitum.
You feel you are particularly un
fortunate in not having a harmonious
home; in not having more compan
ionship with people who are con
genial. and in having a great many
material worries.
Life a Serious Thing.
You carry always a face of sorrow
and a look of sadness; and you tell
me life grows more and more a very
serious thing to you.
You are meantime forgetting that
you are blest with health; that you
are in possession of all your faculties;
that you are not crippled or bedrid
den; and that you are pursuing an
occupation which you like.
You breathe good fresh air in your
home; you are not shut up in a tene
ment house; you are not confined in
a factory all day; and you are not
starved for good food.
Why, my dear girl, with such a list
of things which could make life hard
indeed for one left out of what fate
gives you, it seems to me your days
should be one paean of thanks to God.
and one prayer for v'oice and words
to praise Him for His manifold bless
ings.
In the same post with your letter
came one from a girl who is totally
deaf; and who has lost both lower
limbs; and she writes me that she
has had a very pieasant time, enjoy
ing the outdoor life and the kind
attention of good friends: and that
she has been studying and growing.
Does not that make you ashamed
of yourself?
It ought to.
DOM to your own soul; and picture
to yourself a life apart from the fam
ily •
It will come to you if you live in a
way deserving of this freedom.
It will come either by a change in
the people who make the discord or
in your change to other surroundings.
It can never come while you are
pitying yourself.
Self Pity is Weakness.
Self-pity is weakness and a waste
of mental force.
It is a great weakness of character
to continually crave pity and sym
pathy; and to want people to be sorry
for you.
Just as well might every pupil who
is given a lesson ask all the teachers
and all the other scholars to be
“sorry," and bestow sympathy.
We are placed in this world where
our actions and thoughts in other
lives direct our path; and we are
here to build character and learn the
power which lies in our minds to
change present conditions and shape
a better future.
We can never do this by con
stantly mourning over our situation.
For such feelings waste our energies
and prevent constructive processes of
thought.
Thank God for Trouble.
Begin right now, to-day, my dear
girl, to thank God for whatever has
come to you; thank Him for trouble
and sorrow: and ask Him to show
you the way to transmute these
things into a strong, helpful, charac
ter; and to give you the power to
work up. and out, of all conditions
which are distasteful to you. This
is your work; and you alone can do
it. ‘
Then look about you for things to
rejoice over; and think and talk of
these; and allow no one to be sorry
for you.
Stand before your mirror and laugh
every day for five minutes; and when
you feel the corners of your mouth
turning down bring them UP—and
laugh again.
And before very long you will dis
cover that you are no longer to be
pitied, but to be congratulated.
For you will have made a new
heaven’ and a new earth for your
self.
Try for Harmony.
An inharmonious home is indeed a
great trouble; but the only thing for
one to do who suffers from such a
cause is to FIT] ONE NOTE OF HAR
MONY IN THE RECORDS.
Speak the silent word of love to
each member of the family; say
“Peace, Be Still" to the troubled do
mestic ocean, and by every thought,
word and act set the example of
harmony.
Miracles have been wrought by one
loving, patient soul in a home of
many wrangling minds.
Refuse to quarrel; refuse to be sul
len; refuse to be sarcastic; and by
the example of love and kindness, and
good cheer, shame the other members
of the household into better be-
hav'or.
Then, if they continue to be dis
agree able, speak the word of FREE-
Germany, according to the religious
statistics of the Empire, has an increas
ing number of persons without any re
ligious profession. The number has
grown from 17,000 in 1907 to nearly
306,000.
* * *
Astronomical observations were car
ried on in China so long as the year
! 2352 B. C.
* s? *
Suffrage was granted to women in
the Commonwealth of Australia in 1902.
* * *
The average strength of a woman
compared with that of a man is as 67
to 100.
Served Him Right.
"1 am the unluckiest man alive*."
"Whai’s the matter?"
"Why, I heard that Muriel was en
gaged, so I went round and proposed
to her, so that she wouldn't think I
had been trifling with her.”
“And wasn’t she engaged?”
“Yes; but she broke it off. She said
my love was more sincere than the other
fellow’s.”
Up-to-Date Jokes
T\y| R. CLOSELY (snappishly)—I be-
lieve you’d stand before a mirror
all day doing nothing but changing your
dresses.
Mrs. Closely (dreamily)—Perhaps 1
would if I had the dresses.
Cl&va—I have been to the theater
every night this week, and had a dif
ferent escort each time.
Fred—You should Fie more cautious,
my dear Miss Clara.
Clara—Cautious?
Fred—Yes; or ill-natured people will
be saying that you can t get the same
man to go with you twice.
“Mother," said an exasperated young
lady. "I wisli you would not hang ihat
old parrot up in the parlor."
"Why not, my dear?” asked her
mother.
"Why. I think he must have belonged
to a street car conductor before you
bought him. Evfery two or three minutes
when Edwin is here he chirps our, ‘Sit
closer, please.’ It is too embarrassing
for anything."
A Sunday school teacher had just told
the story of Dives and Lazarus to his
class, and at the close of the lesson lie
asked:
"Now, boys, which would you prefer
to be?"
One smart lad replied quickly.
“I’d like to be the rich man while I
lived and Lazarus when I am dead."
"Why, the size of your bill," cried
the angry patient to the doctor,
"makes me boil all over!”
"Ah!" siid the eminent practioner.
calmly, “that will bo two guineas
more for sterilizing your system."
“I want you to understand that
got my money by hard work.”
"Why, 1 thought it was left you
by your uncle."
"So it was: but I had hard wor %
{getting it away from the lawyers."
It isn’t necessary to eat a lot of meat to nourish and
sustain your body. It is a positive fact—ask your
doctor—that there is more real nutrition in a 5c pack
age of Faust Macaroni than in 2 lbs. of beef at 12 times
that price. You get more nutrition—better
eating—cheaper living when you e.at
MACARONI
Made from Durum wheat, a cereal
extremely rich in gluten—a bone,
muscle and flesh builder. Put up
in air-tight, moisture-proof
package—write for free
recipe book showing
iiow many delicious
ways there are
for serving Faust
Macaroni.
has
lost
finished a-lavln* T turn off the ’lectrie light,
t!> r roost, a’-s’nosin’, of course. it's night:
P’»n >g’ n. an’ they srt the rramn from their legs,
r day’s come. th?y start in a-layin* eggs.
s on’ R’* ofi’ ,ic n’ nn pV r** p*-’in:
; Q good Union hens, hut t’m wo-kio* 'em oil !ik" «in:
o *, ^ oct'. wfiv. f »* %• hens will lav
ho job as high t? «eventv eers a day!"
Hewitt—Cruet
| money.
Jewett—But 1 thought
Napoleon of finance
Hewitt—He . as. bu: he m
lington.
"What e’r;: m are you to th ; >
oner?" asked the magistrate. of th
witness.
"Next-doo' neighbor,
prompt reply.