Newspaper Page Text
The Manicure
Lady
By WILLIAM F KIRK
GOT proposed to yesterday,
said the Manicure "Lady, “by a
gent that has nothing but mon
ey and Is going to have a bungalow
out in California. If it wasn’t that ho
is so old and feeble-like I think 1
should have snapped him up. George,
because I have always thought i
wouid like to live -in a bungalow in
i he summer, especially in California.
The climate is so balmy there. I sup
pose on account of there being so
many balm trees. But I don't like to
think of nursing a old gent during the
last years of his life, especially as he
might Mve to be 90. Father ha* the
gout once in a while, and that taught
me long ago never to marry old age
and sore feet.”
“I never thought that you would
• are for a quiet life in a bungalow.”
said the Head Barber. “¥011, with all
> our life, charm and dash, I never
figured that anything short of the
Smart Set speed would make any Hit
with you after you married. ’
A Kind of Feeling .
"I always said that. George." ad
mitted the Manicure Lady, "but lately
there has been a kind of feeWng in my
heart that I am getting sick of the
city and city life. The old geezer that
I was just telling you about! the one
that proposed to me. took me out in
his car, and we went along country
roads all the afternoon. Gee, it
seemed good and restful to hear song
bird* instead of old clothes men, and
to smell lilacs instead of the subway
air. There had been some rain, and
the sun was just commencing to shine
ms vve drove along. Everything wa#
growing except my affection for the
old gent. He talked so much about
money and all it could buy that 1
« ould almost imagine 1 was back in
the cKy, so I looked away from him
all I could and looked at the hills and
meadows.
“Do you know. George. 1 wish I
ould meet some rich young farmer,
ike you read about in the magazine
stories—a man with serious blue eye*
and the strength of a panther, the
kind that speaks to his rough men In
> ommanding tones, but purrs like a
kitten when he comes home at night
to greet his dainty little wife.”
“Why don’t you try to win a hus
band like that?” asked the Head Bar
ber. “If you could nail one w ith plen
t> of acres and a honest heart, it
would be the real way for you to live.
The wives of the neighbors could
teach you how to keep up the house
work on the farm, and you could teach
them all the latest slang and scan
dal. It would all be new for you and
it would sure be new for them. Trv
it.”
A Fine Chanoe.
"A fine, chance a girl has got to
come in contact with a honest young
rich farmer, toiling down here among
barbers the way I do,” said the Man
icure Lady. “There is a lot of eligi-
bles comes in here to have their nails
did, ain’t they? Fresh actors and boy
comics and press agents and ex-book
makers. On the level. George, I
haven’t saw a gent in this place for a
year now' that would even dare tu
propose marriage to me without being
sure of a quick getaway. No, the
farmer boy that I would like to marry
is far from me and from this life, and
1 guess 1 will never see him and he
will never see me. Maybe he is sonre-
w here dreaming of a girl like me now.
and maybe sometimes when I am
alone at night I dream of him. There
comes that fresh ticket scalper now—
nil gab and no tips no time. Oh. dear!
What’s the use of getting away from
’em ?”
Up-to-Date Jokes
Reporter: "I’ve a good piece of news
here this morning. I found a person
who had been confined to one room his
entire life."
Editor: “Good! Send it up. Who is
it?”
Reporter: “Why, a three-day-old
baby down at our house.”
* * *
Brown (to Robinson, who is reading a
telegram with a look of anguish on his
face): “What’s the matter, old fel
low? Somebody dead?”
Robinson (crushing telegram with
both hands): “No: somebody alive!
Twins!"
* * *
Hadsum—What side do you generally
take when vour wife gets into an ar
gument with somebody else?
Wiseacre—Outside. Its safer.
Guest—Why don't you put at least two
oysters in your stew
Waiter -We tried it. sir. but they used
in quarrel.
Parson-— Do you know where little
boys go when they smoke?
Boy Yes: up the alley.
* * *
He—Shall I bring you an <e while
Miss* Yellfort is singing? Pi*.' take
some.
She (a rival of Miss Y.)—Thanks,
no. If I took anything if would be
chloroform.
* * *
She—And that scar. Major. Did you
get it during an engagement.
He (absently) —No; the first week of
01 ;r honeymoon!
M R -
RS. DOl’GLASS drew out her
sewing dubiously. She glanced
at the delicate embroidery
that Mrs. Swift was working and at
the gauze for a waist on which Mrs.
Morton was deftly sewing beads.
Then site sighed deeply.
"I’ll have to explain to, you." she
said, “why I've got this atrocious
waist to finish. It’s a present!”
All eyes turned to examine the
work she held, it wa#i rather heavy
In texture and of a peculiar shade
that was neither a yellow nor a tan,
but bore a tint resembling dish
towels it was embroidered in brown
silk, with stiff little vines of brown
leaves running up the front like rail
road tracks, and similar vines twin
ing stiffly around the neck and cuffs.
"I could cry!” complained Mrs.
Douglass. "You see. my husband
came in all elated last night and
announced that he bad a present for
me. He is the most horribly sensi
tive man you ever saw. so when lie
opened the package, though I almost
screamed w hen I pictured myself in
the dreadful thing. I had to rave over
its alleged beauty to satisfy him. The
worst of it is that he's so pleased lie
wants me to wear it to the theater
to-morrow evening. So I’ve got to
get it finished and wear It.”
A Warning.
\ N evening coat of pale pink brocaded satin. The top is made as a
kimono, cut witty the half sleeve, this being finished by high Ren- j
kimono, cut witty the half sleeve, this bein
alssance lace.
The collar is of the new Medici shape, which will be worn for the next
.season, made of cross-wired lace. At the hack an ormanent of cord
finished by a tassel completes this collar.
The fullness, at the height of the knees, is caught up in a high flounce
of lace, the head of which is caught by a huge garland of big loses and
foliage.
Geek of the Forty Faces
By T. W. HANSHAW.
Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co.
TO-DAY’S INST A LLMENT.
u
NDER such Circumstances,”
went on Miss Renfrew, “it
was only natural that I
should be horribly frightened, and
only too willing to act upon the con
stable's suggestion that we at once
look into the Round House and see
if everything was right with my un
cle.”
“Why should the constable suggest
that?”
“Everybody in the neighborhood
knows of the bitter ill feeling exist
ing between the two men; so, of
course, it was only natural.”
"Hum-m-m! Yes! Just so. Did
you act on Constable Gorham's sug
gestion then?”
“Yes. 1 led the way in here and
then up the covered passage to thp
laboratory and opened the door. My
uncle was sitting exactly as lie had
been when 1 looked in before—his
back to me and his face to the win
dow—but although he did not turn,
his beat, and I flew as fast as 1 could
to meet Mr. Drummond. It is only a
short way to the old bridge at best,
and by taking that short cut through
the grounds I was there in less than
ten minutes. And by 8:30-1 was back
here in a greater state of terror than
before.” t
"And why? Were you so much
alarmed that Mr. Drummond did no f
keep t!ie appointment?”
The Fleeing Man.
it was evident that he was annbyed
by my disturbing him. for he growled
angrily. ‘What the devil are you com
ing in here and disturbing me lik-
this for. Jane? Get out and leave m<
alone!’ ”
“Hum-m-m!” said Uleek, drawing
down his brows and pinching his chin.
"Any mirrors in the Round House?”
“Mirrors? No: certainly not. Mr
Headland. Why?”
“I See What You Mean.
No. That did not worry me at all.
He is often unable to keep his ap
pointments with me. He is tilling the
post of private secretary to a larg •
company promotor, and his time is not
his own. What terrified me was that,
after waiting a few minutes for him.
I heard somebody running along the
road, and a few' moments later Sir
Ralph Droger dew by me as if iie
were being pursued. Under ordinary
circumstances I should have thought
that he was getting into training for
the autumn sports (he is. you may
know, very keen on athletics, and holes
the County Club’s Cup for running
and jumping), but w.hon 1 remem
bered what Constable Gorham had
said and saw that Sir Ralph was
running from the direction of this
house, all my wits flew; I got into ;<
sort of panic and almost collapse!
with fright.”
"And all because the man was com
ing from the direction of this house?”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
"Nothing—only that l was wonder
ing if, as you say, he never turned
and you never spoke, how in the
world he knew that it really was you.
I that’s all."
I “Oh. 1 see what you mean.” said
i Miss Renfrew, knotting up her brows,
j It does seem a little peculiar when
i one looks at it in that way. I never
I thought of it before. Neither can I
' • xplain it. Mr. Headland, any more
j than to say that I suppose he took it
for granted. And, as it happened,
he was right Besides, as you will
remember, I had intruded upon him
only a short time before 1 .”
"Quite bo," said (Mock? "That’s
what makes it appear stranger than
ever. Under the circumstances one
might have expected him to - u not
‘What are you coming in here for?’
1 ‘M i
again.’ Still, of course, there’s no
accounting for litile lapses like that.
Go on, please—what next?”
“Why, of course. I immediately px-
plaincd what ConstaVe Gorham had
said, and why l had looked in. To
which he replied, ‘The man’s an ass
Get out!’ Upon which T closed the
door and the constable and 1 went
Machine for Composers
u
E > VERYTH
chinery
VERYTH IXG is done by ma-
nowadays,” has been
ommon expression for a
decade or more. andVvery ' ear brings
it nearer the truth. One of the latest
inventions is a device for writing mu
sic by machinery.
A Swedish inventor named Nystrom
invented the apparatus, which may
be used In connection with any key
board. either piano or organ. It is
operated by means of electricity, and
when a piece of music is played in the
ordinary wav. this device, called a
"melograph,” records the sounds on a
chemically ?>repared ribbon, which has
been treated with a preparation of
wax to allow the impressions for each
away at once.
“Constable there with you during
it all then?”
Yes. certainly—in the covered
I passage just behind me. He saw anti
■ teard it all: though, of course, nei-
; ther of us entered the laboratory it
self. There was really no necessity
1 when we knew that my uncle wa«
4 afe and sound, you ;
Quite so,” agreed deck. “So you
ni the door and went away—tand
1 hen what?"
* rUorrstable Gorham went back t>
After the music has been played the
ribbon may be removed and read, just
;i“ one would read shorthand notes or
the telegraph code. And in reading it
the proper notations may be made,
when—presto—there is the music, ac
tually “written by machinery.”
one of the greatest values of this
invention is to composers. A com
poser may finally strike exactly what
he wants and play it as though in
spired. Under the old method he had
cither to memorize it by playing it
over and over, and then writing it. or
jot it down, note by note. With the
aid of this invention he may play his
Composition, remove the ribbon, and j
there it is. ready to copy into lasting
four.. Another feature of this inven- j
tion is that the ribbon may be placed I
in ** specialh constructed player and |
played as ordinary music rolls are put 1
into a mechanical piano and pla\ed.*
“Oh. you poor dear!'' Lillie Mrs.
Jones' voice was filled with pity and
sympathy. “You'll be sorry.
"I know how be got that dreadful
waist.' went on Mrs. Jones. "My
husband years ago was taken in by
the same kind of agent. He brought
me home what he thought a wonder
ful hand-embroidered waist direct
from Armenia! 1 hated to hurt his
feelings, for it was when we were
first married, but I lived to regret
the false enthusiasm I displayed to
gratify him. For what do you think?
The very next day he came in all
smiles and said that as luck would
have it he had run across the same
man while he was visiting some other
man's office, and lie bought me three
more waists!
“Then 1 plainly told him what I
really thought of the horrid things
Since that time 1 have tried to edu
cate him up to sonic slight knowl
edge of what’s stylish in women’s
dress -and he’s all over his hurt feel
ings. It had to be. I couldn’t have
endured any more such presents."
"That reminds me.” said Mrs. Swift,
“or* the time my husband went East
when we were very young. I had
a friend whose husband always
brought her things when he went on
trips, and I was jealous. So I told
my husband that 1 expected him to
bring me a present. He said he
would. So 1 waited anxiously for his
return, imagining all sorts of lovely
things When he took out a big
package from his suitcase I fairly
trembled with eagerness to open it.
What do you suppose! It was twen
ty yards of purple wool goods, for a
dress! Purple, of all colors! Why,
purple in those days was regarded
as a simply impossible color. I never
asked him to bring me another pres
ent. i preferred the money; then I
could choose what I wanted. ’
He Was Crazy.
“My husband was just as bad,” re
marked Mrs. Horton. "He was crazy
to surprise* people. if l ever men
tioned a thing l wanted 1 was sure
not to get it; at least, if I seemed to
expect it. But one Christmas I was
simply wild for a little French clock.
I had looked at them sv> much and
dreamed of them so often that it did
not seem as if there could be any
other kind In the world. I couldn't
help wishing out loud for one. Frank
heard me. but he thought he'd sur
prise me the other way this time by
actually giving me what I wanted.
“When Christmas morning came,
there at my place at breakfast was a
big black walnut dock—the kind that
you find in school rooms and kitch
ens. My heart stopped beating for a
second, and I could have cried for
vexation! 1 had so wanted a little
glass and gold French thing for my
dainty room! He didn’t remember
what kind of clock I wanted, and he
liked the solid clock, with a nice clear
face and big hands, that made a good
loud noise when ir struck the hour.”
A New Pet.
“Did I ever tell you about the time
my husband brought home a ferret,
one of those dreadful little animals
that bite and burrow in the ground'.”'
asked Mrs. Tortman. "fie bought the
■ ■ I mac w p kep fei rets for
hunting. Think of beeping a ferret in
a little four-room Mat! There we had
that smelly animal for four whole
months before 1 got up courage
enougli to say that I didn't love him
too much to part with his company,
willingly! That ferret was a birth
day present, you know!"
Mrs* Douglass smiled woefully.
“They're a'i dreadful," she conceded,
"but you didn’t have to wear your
clock or your ferret or your purple
dress! My husband believes that 1
was sincere in my praise of this waist
and I can’t tell him now that 1 hate
the thing! And to the theater!”
Mrs. Douglass dropped a tear on the
waist, then glanced at the clock and
hastened her stitches.
Result; Dead Heat.
IT was a fateful day for Pottleby. the
1 corn plaster king, when, having made
his pile, he decided to settle down and
buy a real estate in Bonnie Scotland
with his money.
But no one warned him. and he in
time became one of the real, old-fash
ioned lain • and immensely popular.
So popular, indeed, that he was invited
to act a-’ judge of the pipers at the
local sports gathering.
So he sat away in a small tent, while
the pipers strutted and puffed at their
windy instruments to end fro in front.
Every reel and horn-pipe In Scotland
had squealed and droned it* wav to
lif*-, and now here was the silence of
the grave.
Hut no sign from the judge
One of the officials hurried off to
get the verdict.
"Who’s won?” came in a chorus of
hoarse whispers, as he reappeared.
“I dinna ken wia’s won,” he an-
swpved; “but ane o’ ye’s kilt th‘ puir
laird!”
Foresight.
"Mr. Grimes." said the rector to the
vestryman, "we had better take up the
collection before the sermon this morn-
inf.!"
“Indeed.
“Yes. I'm going to preach «*n scon-
Naturally.
Muggics Whatever betaine of that
frit-nil of yours who used to have money
to burn?
Huggins— He's sifting the ashes.
-
A Cloak for Lvemng Wear
A Frenchy Model of Ultra Attractiveness
Husband’s Gifts
If You Are a Wife You’ll
Appreciate This
Advice to the
Lovelorn
Red Velva Molasses Candy
Bring one quart of RED VELVA to
a boil: add best butter, keep stirring
until svrup hardens when dropped
into cold water. Urease pans, pour
candy on them to coo! Whet t ool
, enough to handle, pull i
candy from tips of
fingers until it be
comes a golden
color. A
Just try Velva wttb this recipe and see how fine it Is. You’ll
get flavor a£ its very best and quail; 7 at its finest. There isn’t
anything like Velva for waffles, griddle cakes or candy any
where, by any name—i here's nothing made that is as good as
In-the red can for making candles and bsking cakes
It has more than syrup flavor—It has Velva flavor,
that makes telling about It Impossible You must
taste it to know what we mean Will you? Ten
rents up. in c-ean. sanitary cans Velva in the green
cans. too. at your grocer’s.
PENICK & FORD, L td.
New Orleans. La
Send for the book of Velva
Recipe*. No charge.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
YOU ARE TOO YOUNG.
I \ EAR MISS FAIRFAX
* ^ 1 am a young man, eighteen
yc;ars of ago, and I am desperately
| in love with a girl 29 years of age.
Sire has the most beautiful eyes and
hair, and ruby red lips, and a style
that can't be beat. 1 don’t know'
| whether she loves me or not; I
haven’t asked her yet. I can’t get
up enough courage to ask her. Tell
me how I must begin. I think site
likes me. for one of my friends
told me that she speaks well of
me. JACOB.
I will not tell you how to begin, for
I the reason that you are too young. The
girl is eleven years your senior, and
I when you are old enough to love with
1 reason you will look hack and laugh at
' the value you are now placing on her
; good looks.
P
Small black Tagal bat with a huge tuft of black aigrettes disposed in the shape of a fan. Small
brim is slightly rolled on the side.
:: ‘‘The Land of Make-Believe” ::
H 3LEN burst into the little stu
dio, breathless from the climb
of dark stairs, and threw her
arms about th** neck of the tall fol
low who was seated before the east-1.
“Greg, Greg!” site exclaimed. "What
do you think? I’ve accepted a posi
tion—and I’m going to begin to
morrow! ”
Greg put dow n his brush and gently
pulled her arms away.
“A—a position, Helen." in -'tnm-
mered. “What do you mean?”
“If you think I'm going to sit still
and do nothing when we need money,
you’re mistaken.” she broke in. I
found a position as—as governess to
a dear little girl. They’re to pay me
a pound a week. That will do a lot
of good, Greg, until those horrid art
editors begin to appreciate your
work.”
Greg rose and held both her hands,
with a suspicious moisture gathering
in his gray eyes. “But, Helen,” he
protested, “1 can't allow’ you to work,
dear. T simply won't listen, that’s all.
We can get along somehow for the
time.”
She cuddled up within his embrace.
“Now, do be considerate, Greg,” slu
argued. “The people are nice, and the
little girl seems to like me very much.
And it isn’t work at all. dear. Why,
I'm only to take the girl out for
walks. It’ll be fun.”
"I know, Helen,” he said, w ith some
thing like a choke in his throat; "but
It’s the principle of the thing. Th
idea of a big. strong man like m<
sitting here and you out working”
Words of Praise.
“There, there,” sk- in '■rruptHi.
clapping a hand to his mouth. "We’ve
discussed that before. Any ordinary
man can find work. That is easy
You must remember you’re a genius
—that you’re striving for something
worth gaining ''
He laughed at her rambling, <arn-
eet argument. "I'm not so sure of
being a genius." he declared, kissing
her. “No one appears to think so
except you. However. 1 suppose you
must have it your way.”
So the following morning, bubbling
over with enthusiasm, she tripped off
to her duties. Greg watched medi
tatively from the studio window. ait
erward sitting down before the eas< 1,
working on the cover promised foi
that day.
Everything had been differ -nt since
their arrival in London. In the prov
inces, on the newspaper, lie had mad-*
a good living, and H . orl
thought of. Here he had to fight - ven
for an Interview, and his drawings
were returned with ever increasing
regularity. Luckily, he found some
advertising pamphlets to illustrate,
and a few of the bent pictures sold
to a second-class magazine that paid
neither well nor promptly but th<
little helped.
II.
A dozen times, that long, lonesome
day, Greg dropped ins work and
stared moodily out of the window.
Helen’s work was pot hard but.
after all, it was not light. Rather, a
thousand times, had he remained in
Lancashire, with his small but reg
ular salary, than be here when* no one
cared—and where Helen had to
work.
In the evening she came back, kiss
ed him eagerly, and fell to work pre
paring supper.
"You can’t imagine what a glori
ous time we had. the little Kir! and
I. Greg,” she broke out “Her name’s
Margie. We took a long walk out
in th% park, and ban our bun* cuiu
things on the grass. I don’t see
where the day lias gone. Were you
lonesome, dear old genius?”
He laughed, rolled himself a cigar
ette, while she brought a match and
lighted it for him, afterward sitting
on the arm of the chair. Supper over,
he went to work again, while she
leaned over the table and watched
him—love, admiration and faith shin
ing in the depths of her big eyes.
Thus the day slipped by. Helen
departed early. Work fell off more
than ever. He sickened of the weary
rounds. Day in and day mR be met
with tlm same cun refusals. His
work was gone—he knew it. But they
would never take the trouble to ex
amine his sheets. Helen’s little wage
helped matters along to no small ex
tent. although it pained him to real
ize it.
As tile days sped on into weeks,
Helen seemed to grow quieter than
usual; her cheeks did not look .as
fresh, nor her eyes as bright as they
should. Greg noticed every little
thing with something of a grip at
his hear?; but whenever he mentioned
tin* fact she laughed and told him his
eyesight was growing very had.
Near the Crisis.
One day Greg ;n.-sed his di*; 1 wing-
board across the room, and stood very
straight, very determined, before the
window. Two weeks had passed
since he had sold his last drawing.
I * Things were approaching a cr isis. It
could not go on for ever' this way.
An hour later, with a strangely
j thumping heart. h< was out in the
j street. Helen should not be the only
breadwinner. Genius was all right
in its place, but it did not bring in a
living. H» remembered suddenly a
sign that bung in .1 factory window a
few streets away. Without slacken
ing bis speed, he turned down the!
street and went boldly into the office.
A stout, red-faced man met him.
and asked a few qu* stlons. Five
minutes later Greg had donned a pair
of overalls and was loading paper
boxes into a dray, in return for this
he was to get shillings a week.
He reached home that night before
Helen did, cleaned up a bit and
awaited her coming. As her first foot
step sounded on the stairs he threw ,
open the door and took her in his
arms.
“What do you think. Helen?” he
cried. "I’m really working at last, j
T’m on the staff of th* Tribune, and
I know I’ll be ah right. You needn’t)
work any more after to-night.”
that it was from the Tribune Maga
zine. It was in their hands he had
entrusted a bundle of his best work.
Trembling, he tore it open and read
the short letter:
Good News.
Mr. Greg Hamilton.
Hareourt Studios:
Dear Sir—Your drawings have
been found acceptable, and we
should be glad to confer with you
about regular work. Yours truly,
H. H. HALL.
Greg sank wearily to the couch,
stunned with the sudden good news.
Was ii possible, after all, that he was
to become a regular contributor to
tli* magazine—the best magazine in
the city? Helen need never learn
about the factory now. and all the
white lies would be forgotten.
She could not come home soon
enough now. Wouldn’t it be a glori
ous surprise for her—this note? She
must have been right, after all, in de
claring he was a genius.
There were steps in the hall now
It must be Helen, He came to his
leet and rushed across to the door,
throwing it wide open. Helen was
outside. With a cry he W’avcd the
letter badly before her.
"Helen. Helen." he blurted out.
"Everything is all right. I’m to join
the staff of the Tribune, and"
Something choked in his throat, and
the very room appeared to reel for tin
moment.
Helen was through the door now
and in the yellow glare of the lights,
and wrapped about her right hand
was his blue-bordered handkerchief.
ii EO p LB ask ‘What's in a
name?’ remarked the bos’n
to the other boarders, who
had eaten everything in sight and
were still loath to leave the table,
"but there i«* an awful lot in a name.
“Once 1 knew a woman who named
her son Roderick. The old man was
at sea at the time, and when he got
home and saw what the old lady had
done he got six months' bu-rd labor.
"He said to his wife: How in
thunder are you going to make a
sailor out of a boy with a ribbon
counter name like that?'
" He ain’t going to be a sailor,’ an
swered the old ladv. Then the six
months’ hard labor got after the old
'man from that point. It reached him
the next morning at 10 o'clock.
"It stood to reason that a boy
named Roderick couldn’t be a sailor.
That’s why hip mother gave him the
name. It was more tonnage than the
law allowed.
"Again the old man went to sea,
and his wife named the next son
Kenneth Orlando. The old man got
a year for that. It was a cinch that
1 boy named Kenneth Orlando could
never be a sailor, either.
"The old man never was quite him
self after that. He said he never
heard of a sailor raising male mil
liners before. He felt that the dis
grace was terrible!
Called Him Zob.
"He stayed away from the sea to
be on hand at the next christening,
and he named th boy Zob. We all
thought he was goin’ it rather strong
to give a kid such a name as that
But he said he wanted to fix him so
he could get a job on a sand scow,
and that would -sort of even up on
the rest of the family that had gone
in for millinery.
“He hung around for another year
or two waiting for a chance to name
a boy Dub. so that he could get a
job on a garbage boat, but luck was
against him.
"The old man would come home
with a good supply of tobacco and
he and Zob would sit up and smoke
and swear and chew like good fei-
lovvp. But if Kenneth Orlando as
much as looked at a pipe—whang!
He heard from his ma. And Rod
erick had to have clean hands all the
time. Those two boys did everlast
ingly hate their lot. They had to go
to school and sit up straight, nr.d
be nice all the time.
"The other, Zob, sal around in over
alls. and his dad would hand Zob nisi
plug every time he took a chew him
self.
The Outcome.
“The r*‘sult was bad," said the
bov’n. “You wouldn’t believe it. but
when their ma was sick with a fever
those two clean boys ran away from
home, finf got a job on a collier, and
the v>the- on a hog schooner, so they
couid be dirty and tough all the time.”
"And what became of Zob?”
"Oh. Zobbie? After the old man
died Zobbie took to society and went
around looking like a wedding usher.
1 think he got a situation as la* e
salesman.”
“0h, Dear No!”
A Dill, forced by her parents info a
disagreeable match with an old man,
whom she detested, when the clergy
man came to that part of the service
where the bride is asked if she consents
to take the bridegroom for her husband,
sold with grout simplicity:
"Oh. dear, no, sir! But you are the
first person who has asked my opinion
about the matter.”
His Wife’s Aim.
"The object of the average explorer
seems to be to acquire enough material
for a lecture.”
"Yes: that is my wife’s aim when she
explores my pockets.”
111.
Two more weeks passed. Gregg!
manage l to get off from the factory j
before Helen arrived home. He tried;
each night 10 bring home some little
trifle that w’ould please her; a flower.l
a box of sweets or some cheering
news. Over the supper table they j
would exchange the day’s experi
ences.
Oite das at the factory busilj pack-1
ing bis boxes into the over-empty j
dray a girl came running down
the uppet floor.
“Got a handkerchief?" she inquired.!
anxiously. "One of the folders has
c ut her hand.”
Greg straightened, pulled out a i
freshly ironed, blue-bordered one that!
Helen had given him that morning,
and gave it to the waiting girl. An
hour later he had forgott* n it.
That night, a.- usual, lie was first!
to arrive at the studio. A letter,
pushed beneath the door. * uiight his
eye. IF* picked it up. noting with!
a sudden tightening at his t hi oat
mm