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*****
Married Life the Third Year
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
“H
CUE’S
from
some
the
of your
bathroom,’
things
and
Helen
place
d in the
trunk
tray the
tooth
brush.
tooth pas
te and
bottle of glycerine. *'I was afraid you
might forget them.”
Alice, who was throwing her clothes
into her trunk with feverish haste, nod
ded an ungracious “Thank you."
“Don't you want me to help you
pack?" ventured Helen: “Your dresses
will be all
like that.”
“I don’t e
I don’t can
angry sob.
"I’m sort-
ire HOW mussed they are!
for ANYTHING,’’ with an
‘if only 1 can get home!”
you feel this way, Alice.
It’s distressing to all of us that your
should end so unpleasantly."
, due kept on rolling up and crush-
i: g in one garment after another. She
l.ad swept everything out of the closet
- .r.u bureau drawers into a confused
/a an on the floor by the trunk, and she
was {lacking them in regardless of how
ihey would look when taken out. Her
lace was flushed, her hair disheveled,
and her eyes red and sw’ollen from
weeping.
ith a sigh at the hopelessness of
the situation, Helen went into the
library to be sure that nothing of Alice’s
was left in there.
“Better order that taxi now, hadn’t
we?” demanded Warren. “Think she’ll
be ready by 9.J5? That’ll give us
three-quarters of an hour to get down
there and check her trunk."
“Yes, she’ll be reedy—she’s just
throwing in her things! Oh, Warren,
it’s too bad this thing had to happen!
I feel perfectly wretched!”
“Well, you’re a little fool to let it
upset you. If she' wants to make a
scene and insist on starting home this
time of night—that’s her lookout. It’s
not up to us to worry. Should think
you’d be blamed glad to get rid of her—
,1 am.’’
'The Explaining.
“Oh, yes, I know, but she was going
home so soon, anyway: and now to
have her rush off like this—and make
hard feelings between the whole fam
ily! How can we ever explain it?"
"We won’t. We’ll let her do the ex
plaining."
“Oh, but she won’t tell It as it is—
sheTll never say that she left because
we followed her mother’s instructions
in not letting her see that man. She
may even make Aunt Emma think that
we”
“The deuce with what Aunt Emma
thinks!'’ as he strode over to the
phone.
While he ordered the taxi. Helen
again went in to Alice. She found her
trying to force down the tray in the
'overcrowded trunk.
“Oh, you can’t close it like that! You
pack your satchel and get yourself
ready—I’ll lock Hi is for you. Are you
sure everything’s *in?”
With difficulty • Helen finally got the
trunk closed, but she had to call War
ren to lock it. Alice, who was trying
on her veil, did not turn as he entered,
‘but Helen could see that she was
watching him in the mirror with angry
eyes. In grim silence Warren locked
the trunk, threw down the key and
stalked out
Helen stood awkwardly pulling at
the end of the trunk strap, wanting to
say something to make the parting less
strained. But there was nothing re
lenting in Alice’s manner as she now
swept the key into her purse, took up
her gloves and announced coldly that
she was ready.
'{‘The taxicab will be here in a mo
ment,' murmured Helen, “Warren or
dered it for a quarter past 9.” Then
with, hesitating embarrassment: “I’m
sorry you’re leaving live this, Alice,
1 feel that’’
“Well, you needn’t be sorry’’ (cold
ly). “I'm very glad to go, and I think
you’re glad to have me go. It was
a mistake that I came at all.’’
What little sympathy Helen had for
Al.ce was chilled by this remark.
Warren Is Worried.
"Well, of course, Alice, if you feel
that way about it - perhaps It's just
as well that you’re going. I’ll see if
M.e taxi’s come.”
Helen hurried to look out of the
front room window, but the taxi had
not yet eorrte. Warren, with his hands
thrust deep in his pockets, was walk
ing up and down the room—a trick
of his when worried—and he was plain
ly worried at this last performance of
his wayward cousin.
In Alice he had met some one that
he could not dominate. Because he
had sent this man away without letting
him see her. and had forbidden her to
even talk with him on the phone, Alice
nad fiercely declared that she would go
>me, that she would start that night,
-the would listen neither to Helen’s
{•leadings nor to Warren’s angry or
ders. She declared if they did not take
tier to the station that she would go
alone—that she would not stay another
night in their house. She knew there
was a 10 o’clock, train, and she Intended
to take it.
. So they had no choice but to let her
go.
“ Dear, * she's Impossible,’’ exclaimed
Helen, turning from the wfhdow. “I
tried to say something nice to her
3u»t now, '
she was glad to go, anti that she knew
we were glad to have her go; that it was
mistake she ever came ’’
"Hump! Well, she's got that about
right. Ill write Aunt Emma to-night
and tell her a thing or two. This is
i he result of her pampering and spoil
ing that girl all her life. There’s the
taxi now. Hustle and get on your
t hings.”
“Why, Warren, I’m not going! '
“Like to know why you’re not?*Now
hurrv and gel ready.”
Helen had not thought of going to
he station, hut now she understood
why Warren wanted her. She knew
long drive with Alice would be in
-trained, awkward silence, and he had
no Intention of taking it alone.
The elevator boy came tip for the
trunk. Warren got Into his overcoat.
nd at the last moment Alice came out
■ »f her room carrying her satchel. They
went down to the cab in silence. Helen
took the back seat beside Alice, while
Warren settled himself on the seat op
posite.
The night air was heavy with a driz-
iirig mist. In a constrained silence
' V gazed out at the wet pavements
and blurred street lights.
It was a relief when at last the cab
’tow up and they hurried Into the sta-
on. Warrp” O'-t” while he went
-et the ticket and -check the trunk
When he ca.ii bac*. lie nanded Alice
an envelope.
“Your Pullman ticket’s in there, too,"
brusquely. "Nothing left but upper
berths."
An Awkward Moment.
The train was made up, and they
] Kissed through the gate and down
the long platform. Warren led the
way into the sleeper, found the num
ber of the berth and deposited Alice’s
bag on the red plush seat. Then came
the most awkward moment of all—the
moment of parting.
“Well, Alice, I hope you will get
home all right.” Helen held out her
hand and made an uncertain embar
rassed movement as though to kiss her
good-bye. but Alice drew coldly back
and merely shook hands.
“Thank you,” frigidly, “I’m sure I
win."
“I’ll telegraph your mother from the
station here,” announced Warren, as he
said “Good-bye” with cold formality.
That was all. Still smarting under
Alice’s haughty refusal to kiss her,
Helen left the car with Warren. Out
side as they went back along the plat
form, she glanced up at the windows,
thinking that Alice might wave them a
more cordial good-bye. But when they
passed the window by which she sat, j
her head was deliberately turned away. 1
Warren was striding angriW ahead, ,
walking so fast that Helen copld hardly j
keep up with him. He crossed over to
a telegraph window and w’rote rapidly
on a yellow blank:
"Mrs. G. A. Willard,
Street, Dayton, Ohio.
“Alice starting for home to-night. ■
Meet her on the four-thirty to-morrow.
“W. E. CURTIS.”
“That’s t-welve words, dear,” looking
over his shoulder, “can’t you leave out
‘for’ and some other word—there’s no
use paying for over ten."
But ignoring this bit of economy,
Warren shoved the telegram unchanged
toward the operator, and demanded:
“How much?" He flung down the 46
cents and left the window wi,th a sar
castic:
“Well, that about ends this pleasing
little episode. Now I’ve just one more
thing to do—and that’s to write Aunt
Emma a piece of my mind. And I’ll
get that letter off to-night, too!”
"Oh, Warren, you must be careful
what you write! There’s no use caus
ing any more unpleasantness—now that
she’s gone.”
“Well, all the same, I’m going to
write a few things about that head
strong, snlppish young lady that’ll open
her mother’s eyes.”
When they reached home It was al
most 11, and Warren’s ardor for letter-
writing had weakened.
Not So Eager.
“Guess I’ll take my bath and turn
in,” be yawned, “and leave that letter
until morning.”
“Yes. dear, I would; you’re too tired
to write it to-night,’’ urged Helen,
knowing that by morning his anger
would cool off and his letter be less se
vere. if he troubled to write it at all.”
But Helen's own indignation at Alice’s
conduct still smoldered. What Btory
would she tell when she reached Day-
ton? What excuse would she give for
starting home so suddenly at midnight?
Helen had seen enough of Alice to know
that she was not always truthful, and
she feared she would not hesitate to
exonerate herself at their expense.
Ever since her marriage Helen had
made it a point to keep free from any
“mix-up” with any of Warren*s rela
tives. She dreaded their gossip and
criticism. For this reason she had been
reluctant to have Alice visit them, fear
ing It would end in some family ill-feel
ing.
And now that Alice had left highly
incensed, Helen felt she would be quite
capable of making still further trouble
for them all.
Cleek of the
Forty Faces
By T. W. HANSHAW.
Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
ity Secrets of Beautiful Women
Dainty Marguerite Clarke, the Actress, Tells Girls What Simple Rules Will Do
What Mi ss Clarke Says:
Sun, rain or wind, I believe
in fresh air.
I walk and walk whenever
I ran.
I went twenty in onths once
without a vacation.
Every spring 1 take a tonic
-dear, little, new car
rots.
They are a wonderful blood
tonic and purifier.
I’owder looks flak\ and is
faky.
I never go to late suppers
in restaurants.
No woman can afford to
dissipate.
To preserve one’s looks you
must be clean—clean all
the time.
Miss Marguerite Clarke
:: A Girl s Best Investment ::
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
These beautiful pictures are the latest taken of this . harming actress,
who in the accompanying interview tells how she finds it easy to retain
the freshness of youth through simple means.
r
NDEED, Mr. Headland, I am
glad—1 am very, \ery gla^—
that fortune has sent you Into
this neighborhood at this terrible
time,” said Miss Renfrew, when
Cleek was introduced. ”i do not
wish to say anything disparaging of
Mr. Nippers, but you can see for your
self how unfitted such men as he and
his assistant ar e to handle an affair
of this great import. Indeed, 1 can
not rid my mind of the thought that
if more competent police were on duty
here, the murder would not have hap
pened—in short, that the assassin,
whoever he may be, counted upon
the blundering methods of these men
as his passport to safety.”
My own thought precisely,” said
Cleek. “Mr. Nippers has given me a
brief outline of the affair—would you
mind giving me the full details, Miss
Renfrew? At what hour did Mr. Nos-
worth go into his laboratory? Or don’t
you know, exactly?”
“Yes, I know to the fraction of a
moment, Mr. Headland. I was look
ing at my watch at the time. It was
exactly eight minutes past seven. We
had been going over the monthly ac
counts together when he suddenly got
up, and without a word walked
through that door over there. It leads
to a covered passage connecting the
house proper with the laboratory.
That, as you may have heard, is a
circular building with a castellated
top. It was built wholly and solely
for the carrying on of his experi
ments. There is but one floor and one
window—a very small one about six
feet from the ground, and op the
side of the Round House which looks
iway from this building. Nothing
hut the door to it is upon this side,
light being supplied to the interior by
a roof constructed entirely of heavy
corrugated glass.”
T see. Then the place is like a
huge tube.”
'Exactly—and lined entirely with
(hilled steel. Such few wooden ap
pliances as are necessary for the
equipment of the place are thickly
, coated with asbestos. I made no com-
i merit when my uncle rose and walked
in there without a word. I never do.
J For the past six or seven months he
| had been absorbed in working out the
details of a new invention; and I have
become used to his jumping up like
that and leaving me.”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
By LILIAN LAUFERTY.
F ROM “Happyland” to “Baby Mine’
—then on to “Little Snow White”;
and now to the part of Raffles -
made Amy Herrick in “Are You a
Crook?” has dainty Marguerite Clarke,
the actress, well known in Atlanta,
wended her triumphal way in six years
of growth in power and ambition. And
yet her %»ee retains a sweet, childlike
untroubled quality that is very allur
ing
• “Where does she find the energy?"
I thought as she went eagerly through
the rehearsal of the third act twice,
and then with unflagging zeal started
off on act II—and “Where do you find
your unfailing enthusiasm?” I inquired
when she came over for a chat in a far
corner of the s4age of the beautiful
new Longa ere Theater, where I was
playing audience.
“Oh, I get it outdoors,” said the lit
tle star whose name just suggests her
own sweet daintiness. “I don’t need
outdoor exercise because I get plenty
of exercise on the stage, but I do need ;
the wonderful, bracing, soothing, stimu
lating effects of fresh air. Bo I walk
and walk whenever I can—to and from
the theater around the block—just so I
am out In the air. Sun, rain or wind,
I believe in fresh air.
“I take osteopathy, too—whenever I
am too tired to exercise myself, for
that fis a wonderful, lazy way of raking
your exercise—so luxurious!” Miss
Clarke laughed in pleased reminis
cence.
“You see. you can’t work and give
all the energy and force it deserves to
your work unless you keep your en
ergy up. So I go outdoors and get a
new supply of force. And I get on for
the longest whiles without vacations.
I went twenty whole months once with
out a bit of vacation—just getting made
over new each day by the W’onderful
outdoor world."
Gives Outdoors the Credit.
“Perhaps you give too much credit to
fresh air—maybe it is just your own
private supply of energy and ambition
that works on unceasingly,” 1 sug-
geste<T.
“I think not. Ambition does keep you
keyed up and full of the desire to ad
vance. There you have the incentive,
and then you must take every possible
means to make yourself capable of car
rying out your ambitions.
“Every spring I prescribe a w’onderful
tonic for myself—dear, little new car
rots. I ice them till they are cold and
delicious—yes, really delicious—and then
I just add salt for a flavoring and eat
away. Quite raw. you know. Just try
them and see how* good they taste, and
they are good for more than taste, too.
They aie a wonderful blood tonic and
purifier. They do make your skin nice,”
add^d Miss Clarke ingenuously.
They do all of that —for a smoother,
more absolutely guiltleas-of-the faint-
est-trace-of-jHiw’der skin than Miss
Marguerite Clarke’s you never saw’.
“Don’t you believe in cosmetics—pow
der, even?” I asked.
‘Well, I have to be made up on the
stage all the titne, you know—so be
tween whiles I like »to give my skin
time to breathe. Absolutely just that—
time to breathe. And besides the point
of view of the health of my skin, I do
so dislike seeing powder uncompromis
ingly betrayed by the glaring sunlight.
It does look so FLAKY and FAKY!
“1 have one little notion about ac
tresses, and I suppose it applies to our
whole sex,” mused Miss Clarke. “We
must he veiled in a lit tip mystery to be
truly charming. Now, if you are paint
ed all pink and white, and have shad
ows done under your eyes, and all the
paraphernalia of trying-to-be-attractive,
how can you be elusive or mysterious
or charming, when there are all the se
crets of ‘how’ laid bare for the least
discerning eye to see?
No Tango Tea.
“In keeping wdth my Rlea of ‘mystery*
I do not go to the -restaurants much.
And that works out very well, for it
keeps mo from eating lobster salad afc 1
a. m., and saves health and digestion,
and hurries me along to bed at reason
able hours.
“An actress, of all women, cannot af-
I K the young girls who are starting
out with hearts that alternate be
tween hope and fear were to ask
all the sweet-faced old women they
know this question, “What is the host
investment for a young girl to make?”
can you imagine their answer?
1 am very sure it would not be “Ih
the love of man," for man’s love is at*
tended by much toil and regret and
pain. Neither would it be “In saving
your money,’’ for the stveet-faced old
women have found out that there is
much more worth while.
I am sure that If one of these old
women would look back to the days
of her youth, she would reply: “My
best Investment was In the love of
one of my own sex. FlTst my mother,
then my siater, then my daughter. I
have found no love like the love of
these.”
A Mother’s Love.
It is your mother, little girl, who
loves you when no one else will, and
whose love lasts as long as she lives.
Her love is not dependent on your
wit, your beauty, your accomplish
ments or your worth in financial re
turns. She loves you beoauae it is
YOU; she would love you If you were
all that Is repellant and hideous in
face and character.
It is the love of a sister that
smoothes over the rough places that
even a mother can’t comprehend. Her
youth makes her a more sympathetic
listener to the trials of youth, and it
is the only love left in the wreck of
the home when mother has left it
forever.
A Sister’s Love.
There 1s an understanding in a sis
ter's love—a sympathy, a guidance
and strength. If two sisters love each
other, and each gives to the other
the fullest confidence, so long as that
confidence is given without reserve
neither sister will go astray. A young
girl can make no better investment
than in the love of an older sister, for
the older sister, having so recently
trod the same path, knows all the pit-
falls on the way. An older sister can
make no better investment than in
the love of the girl who is younger, for
the realization that she is the guide
makes her cautious of her own foot
steps.
When the years have come and
gone, and the girl who was shielded
by her mother's love and guided by
her sister’s, becomes a mother, then
Life can make her no greater gift than
the love of a daughter.
Son Falls in Love.
A son may intend to take care of
his mother some day; many of them
do, bless them! But there are many
sons who fail in this obligation, and
but few’ daughters. The son falls in
love and marries, and his wife comes
first. The daughter never marries if
her marriage means that her mother
will be deprived of some one to love
her and make her a home.
It is the daughter who Is patient,
and self-denying, and wm-tchful and
tender when the years bring their in
firmities; it is the daughter who
stands between the mother and neg
lect, and W’ho in more instances than
this unappreciative old world ever
knew, .sacrifices her own little happi
ness to take her place betw r een her
mother and the pooi^iouse.
The best investment, girls, Is not
in the love of the man w ho woos you
to-day and forgets you to-morrow. It
is an investment you will make. The
voice of nature commands it, but in
making this investment don’t slight
the love that will last longer, and that
is the love of your mother and sister.
Little Bobbie’s Pa
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
F & me was to a horse market
last week. I dident want to go.
•but Pa wanted to go, beekau^e
he sed that a frend of his naimed
George Crowlev wanted to go & buy a
teem of horses for his farm. So Pa
& me went to the horse market &
4
looked at sum horses.
Pa was the man that interrluced
Mister Crowley to the man who
owned the horse market, & all the
way down to the market he was tell
ing Mister Crowley what a wunder-
ful bargenn he was going to get.
Moast of the horses that they have in
this market, Pa toald Mister Crowley,
is old thorobreds, the kind that Mis
ter Keene used to race at the track In
the days when racing was racing in
deed. It is true, Pa sed, that most
of the horses I mertshun has done a
titter llte roadwork laitly, such as on
St. cars etc., but I am sure that you
will find them of the good old stock
that sent Colin & Sysonby & Rose-
ben under the wire as winners.
I doant care for any blooded
horses, sed Mister Crowley. All I
want is a euppel of old skippers for
my farm. All I want them to do Is
to drag a plow around kind of peace
ful, & not to think of the days wen
the bookmakers had it all ttiare own
way.
He Was Surprised.
1 thot all the time that Mister
Crowley was a pritty pmart man, &
I newer thought Pa knew very much
about horses, but for onst I was sur
prised in Pa. It turned out that he
knew moar than Mister Crowley did.
Pa & and the man in the horse mar
ket showed Mister Crowley a lot of
good horses, but he kep saying No,
I wront a simpel, genteD team for
farm work. I want a team that will
not run away wifh the plow’, a team
that my wife can drive her guests
around with after they have done
thar e days work on the farm, a cup-
pel of horses that is as trao-tabel &
eesy to drive as I am, sed Pa’s frend.
So w r e all went to another stabel.
I cud see that Pa dident want to go
to another place, & I knew that I
wud rather be out sumware playing
ball with the kid6, but we went to
this other place & thay showed a
team of horses that was the moast
tired looking team I ewer seen, excep
Roosevelt & Johnson after eleckshun,
The man that was showing the
team to Pa’s frend caim rite oaver &
leened his hed aggenst the hind heels
of both horses. You see, already, he
sed, that thay are gentle, yet. Assure
as my name is August thay havent
kicked since September.
I think that Is a team such as I
want, sed Mister Crowley. You may
send them up to-morrow. How much
are thay?
Pa Is Wise.
Wait a minnit, sed Pa; let. me ex
plain. You doant want to buy a horse
or a team of horses without trying
them on a livery or sum other rig, to
see if thay are gentel. So Pa’s frend
asked the man August to hitch the
teem to a rig. I cud see that he
dident want to do it vary’ bad, but he
did it, & wen Mister Crowley & Pa
& me got in, the team ran away &
we had to be stopped by a policeman.
i' thought you toald me these horses
was gentel, sed Pa’s frend to the man
that called hisself August. What
made them run away with me & my
trends?
Go & buy sum other horses sum-
ware else, then, sed August. As sure
as my naim is August I neffer seen
them run away In May before.
WHY SHE WORRIED
Her Favorite Photograph.
J ford to dissipate, you know. Blit then
j no v oman who wants to look her best
and to win success in the world can af-
1 ford to dissipate, which means waste
' her energies In any way. You can’t
j use yourself up in food or excitement or
| late hours and have any self left for
worth while things,” said the little lady,
j sagely.
• “You have made a careful study of
I taking care of the precious human body,
haven’t you?” aaked the interviewer.
“Oh, there is a lot more td it,” re-
1 plied the interviewed. “I am very earn
est about the importance of cleanliness.
: That sounds almost insulting as if ev-
j erv one else wern’t, too But then If
people want to preserve the looks they
already have or acquire some more, they
must think about being clean, clean, all
, the time. Clean means clean from the
J crown of your head to the tips of your
j lingers, and to the soles of your little
: pink feet, too. And it means that ev-
: ( rything you wear must be just as sweet
i and fresh as you are. Somehow when
you are all clean and sweet and rested
and out of doors, you don’t get sick very
often.
Being in Condition.
"That’s being in condition, I suppose.
Why, when I was “Snow White” this
winter every one told me that I must
be sure to rub my feet carefully in al
cohol or I’d catch dreadful colds. I didn’t
—and I didn't! I never dreamed what a
wonderful, free feeling going without
shoes would give. 1 think it roust be
good for us to go barefoot occasionally—
I did feol so splendidly with my feet
free to my beloved air.
“Blit then I love free, untrammeled
motion of every kind. I don’t wear cor
sets off the stage. I don’t like them, and
I am quite sure they were not thought
of in the original scheme of things. I
can’t see why we must be all wrapped
tin und bound up, and kept hidden from
air and sunlight. No shoes, no corsets
freedom and suppleness - wouldn’t that
be ideal?
“Women axe agitating for so much—
don’t you think they might agitate for
these health and beauty causes, too?”
:: Advice to the Lovelorn ::
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
GIVE UP BOTH.
TA EAR AilSS FAIRFAX:
1 have gained the acquaint
ance of a young lady 25 years
of age w ho Works in the same of
fice as I do. I did not seem to
care for this young lady at first,
but as our acquaintance grew we
seemed to find we cared for each
other’s company.
About two weeks ago .1 was in
troduced to another young lady,
18 years old, whom I seemed to
take a liking to when I met her.
I have not told either of the
young ladies that I cared very
much for them.
Now’ the question is: I am 19
years old, earning $12 a week and
having the support of my mother
on my shoulder^, which will keep
me from getting married for
about at least six years. 1 would
then be 25 years oid and the girl
in the first paragraph would be
3L Do you thipk the difference in
our ages would spoil our future
happiness, as I know I can win
the love of this girl, whom I really
like the best, or would you advise
me to forget this girl and try my
friendship with a younger girl?
L. H. B
Be a little fair, young man, and
don’t ask any girl to wait six years
for you. Let the waiting be on your
own part. Wait Till you have earned
the right to woo before you start
nut to conquer. Bettering your finan
cial prospects means more to you than
love.
STICK TO THE GIRL.
TX EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
Some time ago I met a girl
w’ho was keeping company with my
chum, who was called away from
her. and while away he told me that
1 could call on her once in a while.
This I did and fell a victim to her
charms. 1 won her love and lost
my chum's friendship.
This girl lu* ghew n that her love
for me is strong, and what I want
to know Is, what am I to do?
Here is a little proposal that 1
made to her: 1 would go away from
her, and then she could forget me,
win back her first lover and be hap
py with him. Her answer was that
she did not want me to go, as she
loved no one else but me
H "NRY
You love each other That \ ct stands
out paramount to all claims of the other
man on hey love or on your friendship.
I am sorry for him, but bis need of
sympathy would be greater if she mar
ried him while loving you.
KEEPING EVERLASTINGLY AT IT.
HEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
D' i am deeply in love with a
dear girl one year my junior. I
have reasons to believe that she
does not desire my company.
Kindly tell me how to win her
love. ANXIOUS.
Be attentive, courteous, generous,
kind and persistent.
If all these fail, try a Ititle mdif-
feEfciice, Make love to auother girl.
T HERE was evidently something on
Mrs. Nerviss’ mind. For sev
eral days she had been very much
preoccupied, and finally Nerviss him
self, fearful that he might in some
way have been the cause of it. made
certain inquiries designed to clear up
the situation.
“I hope you didn’t mind my com
ing in so late from the club lost Tues
day night, Maria,’’ he said. "One
o’clock Is an unholy hour, I know, hut
really ! couldn’t help it very well.
You see”
“Not at oil. James dear,” the good
lady answered. “1 should hate to
have your friends think you were
henpecked. Really, 1 was glad you
stayed as long as you wanted to.”
Nerviss drew a deep sigh of relief.
“Then what is the matter with you,
Maria?” he demanded. “You can’t de-
celve me. You are worrying about
something “
“I certainly am," said the lady, her
voioe tremulous. “1 am very much
worried. Do you think the people at
our bank are honest. James?”
“Why, certainly,” laughed Nerviss.
“Whatever made you think they w’ere
not?”
“Well, something very strange has
happened lately,” said Mrs. Nerviss,
Items of Interest
Tiger, the remarkable cat of the
Great Eastern Railway Company’s goods
sheds at Peterborough, England, who is
reputed to be about 27 years old, is
peacefully ending a life crowded with
rat extermination and other happy Inci
dents. Few cats live much beyond 14
nr 15 years During her long life Tiger
is said to have killer thousands of rats.
She is a light tabby, and came to the
sheds for refuge during a fire at a tim
ber yard close by over 26 years ago,
having been driven from her home in a
tlmbor-stack by the flames. When she
dies she will leave a numerous progeny
of over 200 to succeed her.
“Barent Wonters lends donkeys on
hire like his father, kills pigs, smokes
hams, and occupies himself with all
kinds of swinish detail work; also shaves
and cuts hair, except on Sunday.' runs
the legend over a barber’s shop at
Rtierum. Holland.
KODAKS
"The Best FlidMdrqj
Wman^T Ino That Can Be Prodaoed.*
G&Ay ^ I Batman VUtn* «nd rom-
WUmmmmmJ* pjei< stork Amatear ouppUea.
Quick mail servlc* Tor out-of-fcjW mtfmanx.
Send for Catalog and Prlca Llet.
A. K. HAWKES CO. k d ° e d p A -t K
14 Whitehall St., Attanta, QA\
“and I think you ought to look into
it. You know you have been giving
me my allowance lately in bills, and
I have been depositing them at the
bank.”
“Yes, I am aware of that,” said
Nerviss.
“Well, somehow’ or other I don’t
like the looks of that receiving teller,
Janies,” said the lady, “and so, for
the past three weeks I have been
putting my initials on every bill de
posited up in one corner, and yester
day Mr. Cleaver, the butcher, in
cashing a check for me handed one
of those marked notes!”
"Well, suppose he did?” demanded
Nerviss. “What of it?”
“What of it?” echoed Mrs. Nerviss.
“What of It? Doesn’t that prove that
those bank people are letting other
people use my money ”
It w T as at this point that Nerviss
was attacked by a violent spasm of
coughing, which, in her description
of it to the doctor, Mrs. Nerviss de
clared was so like a laugh that at
first she believed her husband had
suddenly thonght of something funny.
Praise This Remedy
For Lung Trouble
If the voluntarily written words of
grateful people^ living In all parts of <
the country, praising Eckman’s Al- \
terative. a remedy for the treatment ,
of coughs, colds, throat and lung <
troubles, are to be believed, this med- '
icine is certainly doing a vast amount !
of good for such sufferers. This is a
sample taken from many:
St. Mary’s Academy, O’Nefll, Nebr.
“Gentlemen: About seven years
ago I was attacked with Tubercu- J
S losis. 1 coughed unceasingly, could \
\ not sleep nor eat, even oould not •
< speak out loud and could do no work. |
5 l had three hemorrhages, raised blood !
> most of the time and suffered with
night sweats, fever and chills. A
specialist of Columbus, Ohio, pro
nounced my case hopeless.
“Nearly five years ago I heard of 1
yqyir Alterative and procured some at !
once, with the result that I soon
found myself restored to health. I
consider your medicine, if faithfully \
taken, a most excellent remedy.
Mother Superior permits this testi
monial.”
(Signed) SISTER MARIE,
Sisters of St. Francis.
(Above abbreviated, more on re
quest.)
Eckman’s Alterative lias been t
proven by many years’ test to be
most efficacious In cases of severe J
Throat and Lung Affections, Bron- ,
chitis. Bronchial Asthma, Stubborn «
Colds and in upbuilding the system.
Does not contain narcotics, poisons or
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all Jacobs’ drug stores and other 1
leading druggists. Write the Eck-
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for booklet lelhng of recoveries
D additional evidence.