Newspaper Page Text
The Manicure
Lady
By WILLIAM F. KIRK
: A Cloak for Evening Wear
A Frenchy Model of Ultra Attractiveness
I
^ f GOT proposed t.> yrst«*rdi!>
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 h
is so old and feeble-like 1 think 1
should have snapped him up, George,
because I have always thought 1
would like to live in a bungalow in
the summer, especially in California.
The climate is so balmy there, I sup
pose on account of there bring so
many balm trees. Hut I don’t like to
^think of nursing a old gent during the
last years of his life 1 , especially as he
might live to be 90. Father has 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
care for a quiet life In a bungalow,
said the Head Barber. “You, with all
your life, charm and dash. I never
figured that anything short of tlie
Smart Set speed would make any hit
“with you after you married."
f A Kind of Feeling.
"I always said that. George," ad
mitted the Manicure Lady, "hut lately
there has been a kind of feel'ing in my
heart that 1 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
birds 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
as we drove along. Everything was
growing except my affection for the
old gent. He talked so much about
money and all it could buy that 1
could almost imagine I was back in
the city, so I looked away from him
all I could and looked at the hills and
meadows.
"Do you know, George, I wish I
could meet some rich young farmer,
like you read about in the magazine
stories—a man with serious blue eyes
and the strength of a panther, the
kind that .speaks to his rough men in
commanding 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 with plen
ty 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 nil the latest slang and scan
dal. It would all be new for you and
would sure be new for them. Try
, it.**
A Fine Chance.
"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
11 comics and press agents and ex-book-
maker 5 . On the level, George, I
haven’t saw a gent in this place for a
year now that would even dare to
propose marriage to me without being
sure of a quick getaway. No, the
farmer boy that I wpuld like to marry
i.s far from me and from this life, and
I guess 1 will neve* see him and . he
will never see me. Maybe he is some
where dreaming of a girl like me now.
and maybe sometimes when 1 am
atone at night I dream of him. There
comes that fresh ticket scalper now
all gab and no tips no time. Oh. dear!
What*3 the use of getting away from
’em ?”
Husband’s Gifts
If You Are a Wife You'll
Appreciate This
A X evening coat of pale pink brocaded satin. The top is made as a
kimono, cut with the half sleeve, this being’finished by high Ren
aissance lace.
The collar is of the new Medici shape, which will be worn for the next
season, made of cross-wired lace. At the back 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 roses and
foliage.
Geek of the Forty Faces
By T. W. HANSHAW.
Copyright by Doubleday, Page & Co.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
U T T XDE1
I I went
Renorter: "I’ve a good piece of news
here this morning. 1 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."
* " i. *
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 . te!r :. a with
hot!: hands): "No: somebody alive!
Twins!"
* * *
Hadsum—What side do you generally
take when your wife gets into an ar
gument with somebody else?
Wiseacre—Outside. It’s safer
* * *■
Guest- Why don’t you put at least two
.oysters in your stew .’
‘ Waiter- We tried it, sir, but they used
to quarrel.
^ * * *
Parson—Do you know where little
boys go when they s—oke?
Boy -Yes; up the alley.
* * *
He - Shall I bring you an ice while
Miss Yellfort is ringing? P:> take
some.
She (a rival of Miss Y. >—Thanks, r
no. ! r I took anything it would be |
chloroform. i
* s
-And that scar. Major. Did you
'lnriri an engagement.
He (absently)—No
mr honeymoon!
the first week of
Maxwell
House
Blend
a coffee of such
exhilarating and
palate tickling fla
vor that it makes
you thankful for
life and good liv
ing.
Sealed cans at grocers
Ckfi-k-Neal
Coftee Co.
NDER such circumstances,”
nt on Miss Renfrew, "it
was onlv natural that I
should be hor-ribly 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.”
"Ilum-m-m! Yes! Just so. Did
you act on Constable Gorham’s sug
gestion then?”
"Yes. I led the way in here apd
then up the covered passage to the
laboratory and opened the door. My
uncle was sitting exactly as he had
been when I looked in before—his
back to me and his face to the win
dow—but although he did not turn,
it was evident that he was annoyed
by my disturbing him. for he growled
angrily, ‘What the devil are you coin
ing in here and disturbing me like
this for. Jane? Get out *nd leave me
alone!’ ”
"Hum-m-m!” said Cleek, drawing
down his brows and pinching his chin.
"Any mirrors in the Round House?"
"Mirrors? No: certainly not, Mr.
H-adlnnd. Why?”
“I See What You Mean.
Nothing--only that I was wonder-
if, as you say, he never turned
and you never spoke, how in the
world he knew that it really was you.
that’s all.”
"Oh. 1 see what you mean." said
Miss Renfrew, knotting up her brows.
“It does seem a little peculiar when
one looks at it in that way. I never
thought of it before. Neither can I
explain it, Mr. Headland, any more
hon to say that I suppose he took it
for granted. And, as it happened.
was right. Besides, a« you will
remember. 1 had intruded upon him
onlv i short time before.”
"Quiti so,” said Cleek. "That’s
what makes it appear stranger than
ever. Under the circumstances one
might have expected him to say not
Wnat ate you coming in here for?’
but ‘What, are you coming in for
again.’ Still, of course, there’s no
accounting for little lapses like that.
Go on, please—what next?”
"Why, of course, I immediately ex
plained what Constable Gorham had
said and why I had looked in. To
which In* replied, ‘The man’s an ass
G t out!’ TTpon which I closed the
’oor and the constable and I went
a wav at once.”
"Constable there with you during
t dl then?"
"Yes. certainly — in the covered
passage just behind me. He saw and
heard it all; though, of course, nei
ther of us entered the laboratory lt-
se.f. There was really no necessity
when wb knew that mv uncle was
safe and sound, you see."
"Quite so." agreed Cleek. "So you
shut the do^r and wont away—and
Pen what?"
"Constable Gorham went back to
his beat, and I flew as fast as I 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 I was back
here in a greater state of terror than
before.”
"And why? Were you so much
alarmed that Mr. Drummond did •not
keep the appointment?”
The Fleeing Man.
"No. That did not worry me at all.
He is often unable to keep his ap
pointments with me. He is filling the
post of private secretary to a large
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 t“h
road,'and a few moments later Sir
Ralph Drogcr dew by me as if he
were being pursued. Under ordinary
circumstances 1 should have thought
that he was getting Into training for
the autumn s-ports (he is. you may
know, very keen on athletics, and holds
the County Club’s Cup for running
and jumping), but when I remem
bered what Constable Gorham had
said and saw that Sir Ralph was
running from the direction of this
house, all mv wits flew; I got into a
sort of panic and almost collapsed
with flight.”
"And all because the man was com
ing from the direction of this house .’'’
To Be Continued To-morrow.
Machine lor Composers
i .
H ^ VERYTHING is done by ma
gi chinery nowadays,” has been
a. common expression for a
decade or more, and every year brings
it nearer the truth. One of the latest
inventions is a device for writing mu
sic by machinery.
A Swedish inventor named Xystrom
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 way. this device, called a
"melograph,” records the sounds on a
chemically prepared ribbon, which has
been treated with a preparation of
wax to allow the impressions for each
tone.
After the music has been played the
ribbon may be removed and read, just
as one would read shorthand notes or
the telegraph code. And In reading it
the proper notations may he 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 wha:
he wants and play it as though in
spired. Under the old method he had
either to memorize it by p nying it
over and over, and then writing it, or
jot it down, note be note. With the
aid of this invention he may play his
composition, remove the ribbon, and
there it Is. ready to copy into lasting
form Another feature of this inven
tion is that the ribbon may be placed
M RS. DOUGLASS 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.
Horton was deftly sewing beads.
Then she 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 was 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 had a present for
me. He is the most horribly sensi
tive man you ever saw. so when he
opened the package, though I almost
screamed when I pictured myself in
the dreadful thing. 1 had to rave over
its alleged beauty to satisfy him. The
worst of it Is that he's so pleased he
wants me to wear it to the theater
to-morrow evening. Bo I’ve got to
get it finished and wear it."
A Warning.
“Oh. you poor dear!" Little Mrs.
Jones’ voice was filled with pity and
sympathy. “You’ll be sorry.
"I know' how he 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 wnat he thought a wonder
ful hand-embroidered waist direct
from Armenia! I 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
i have it he had run across the same
man while he was visiting some other
man’s office, and he bought me three
more waists!
“Then I plainly told him what 1
i really thought of the horrid things.
! Hince that time I have tried to edu
cate him up to some 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.,
i "of the time my husband went East
; when we were very young. 1 had
j a friend whose husband always
brought her things when he went on
trips, and I was jealous. So I told
my husband that I expected him to
I bring me a present. He said he
would. So I 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
ns a simply impossible color. I never
' asked Him to bring me another pres
ent. I preferred the money; then I
! could cjioose what I wanted.”
He Was Crazy.
“My husband was just as bad,” re
marked Mrs. Horton. "He was crazy
to surprise people. If I ever men
tioned a thins I wanted I was sure
not to pet it; at least, if I seemed to
expect it. But one Christmas I was
' dimply wild for a little French clock.
* I had looked at them ho 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 1 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 clock—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! I had so wanted a little
glaws 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 it 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. "He bought the
beast from i man who kept ferrets for
hunting. Think of keeping a ferret in
a little four-room fiat! There we had
that smelly animal for four whole
months before I got up courage
enough 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 all dreadful,” she conceded,
"hut you didn’t have to wear your
clock or your ferret or your purple
dress! My husband believes that I
was sincere in my praise of this waist
and I can’t tell him now that I 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
* 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 lairds, and immensely popular
So popular, indeed, that he was invited
to act as 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 and fro in front.
Every reel and horn-pipe in Scotland
had squealed and droned its way to
life, and now there was the silence of
the grave.
But no sign from the ludge.
Ore 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 wha’s won ’’ he an-
•"but ane o’ ye’s kilt th’ pulr
laird!”
Foresight.
"Mr. Grimes." said the rector to the
vestryman "we had better take up the
ci flection before the sermon this morn-
ini'!"
"Indeed."
"Yes, I'm going to preach on econ
omy."
Naturally.
jn a spec
onstructe
Pi
i r and
played as ordinary music rolls are put
into a mechanical piano and played.
.Muggins Whatever became of that J
friend of yours who used to have money J
to burn?
Bugging- He's sifting the ashes i
Just try Velva with this recipe and see how fine It is. You'll
get flavor at Its very best and quail: y at its finest. There Isn’t
anything like Velva for waffles, griddle cakes or candy any
where, by any name—there’s nothing made that is as good as
in the red can for making candles and bak'ng 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
cen's up, In c ean. sanitary cans Velva In the green
cans. too. at your grocer's
PENICK & f ORD, L td.
New Orleans, La.
Send for the hooh of Velva
Recipes. No charge.
A Style in Aigrettes
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
YOU ARE TOO YOUNG.
I rx F.AR MISS FAIRFAX:
i am u young man, eighteen
years of age. and I am desperately
| in love with a girl 39 years of age,
She has the most beautiful eyes and
hair, and ruby red lips, and a style
t that can't !>•• heat. I don’t know
whether she loves me or not; !
haven’t asked her yet. I can't get
up enough courage to ask her. Tell
me how I must begin. I think she
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
the reason that you are too young. The
girl is eleven years your senior, and
when you are old enough to love with
I reason you will look hack and laugh at
1 the value you art? now placing on her
good looks.
Much in a Name
Small black Tagal hat 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” :: I
H ELEN burst into the little stu
dio, breathless from the climb
of dark stairs, and threw her
arms about the neck of the tall fel
low who was seated before the easel.
"Greg, Greg!” she exclaimed. "What
do you think? I’ve accepted a posi
tion—and I’m going to begin to
morrow!”
Greg put down his brush and gently
pulled her arms away.
"A—a position. Helen,” he ham
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
n dear little girl. They’re to pay me
pound a week. That will do a lot
cf 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, "I can't allow you to work,
dear. I simply won’t listen, that's all.
We can get along somehow for the
time.”
She cuddled up within his embrace.
"Now, do he considerate, Greg,” she
argued. "The people are nice, and the
little giri 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, with some
thing like a choke In his throat; "but
it’s the principle of the thing. The
idea of a big. strong man like me
sitting here and you out working”—
Words of Praise.
“There, there,” she interrupted,
clapping a hand to his mouth. "We’ve
dii'cuFsed 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, earn-
eet argument. "I’m not so sure of
being a genius,” he declared, kissing
her. "No one appears to think so
except you. However. I 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, aft
erward sitting down before the easel
working on the cover promised fol
that day.
Everything had been different since
their arrival In London. In the prov
inces, on the newspaper, he had mad<;
a good living and Ills work was well
thought of. Here ho 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 beH pictures sold
to a second-class magazine that paid
neither well nor promptly- but the
little helped.
11.
A dozen times, that long, lonesome
day, Greg dropped his work and
stared moodily out of the window.
Helen’s work was not hard hut,
after all, It was not right. Rather, a
thousand times, had he remained in
Lancashire, with his small but reg
ular salary, than be here where 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 girl and
I, Greg," she broke out "Her name's
Margie. We took a long walk out
iu the park, and had our Ijuum aud
things on the grass. I don’t see
where the day has 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 nut he met
with the same curt 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 the 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 heart; but whenever he mentioned
the fact she laughed and told him ids
eyesight was growing very bad.
Near the Crisis.
One day Greg tossed his drawing-
board across the room, and stood very
straight, very determined, before the
window'. Two weeks had passed
since he had sold his last drawing.
Things were approaching a crisis. It
could not go on for ever this way.
An hour later, with a strangely
thumping heart, he was out in the
street. Helen should not he the only
breadwinner. Genius was all right
in its place, but it did not bring in a
living. He remembered suddenly a
sign that hung in a factory window a
few streets away. Without slacken
ing his speed, he turned down the
street and W'ent boldly into the office.
A stout, red-faced man met him,
and asked a few questions. 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 25 shillings a week.
He leached 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.
I’m on the staff of the Tribune, and
I know I’ll be all right. You needn’t
work any more after to-night.”
III.
Two more weeks passed. Gregg
manage i to get off from the factory
before Helen arrived home. He tried
each night to bring home Some'littH
trifle that would please her; a flower,
a box of sweets or some cheering
news. Over the supper table they
would exchange the day’s experi
ences.
One day at the factory busily pack
ing his boxes into the ever-empty
dray a girl came running down from
the upper floor.
“Got a handkerchief?” she inquired,
anxiously. “One of the folders has
cut her hand.”
Greg straightened, pulled out a
freshly honed, blue-b :dered on*- that
Helen had given him that morning,
and gave It to the waiting girl. An
hour later he had forgotten it.
That njght. as usual, he wan first
to arrive at the studio. A letter,
pushed beneath the door, caught his
eye. He picked it up, noting with
a sudden tightening ul his throat
that it was from the Tribune Maga
zine. It was in their hands lie had
entrusted a bundle-of his best work.
Trembling, he tort* it open and read
the short letter:
Good News.
Mr. Greg Hamilton.
Harcourt 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 sunk wearily to the couch,
stunned with the sudden good news.
Was it possible, after all, that he was
to become a regular contributor to
the 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
feet and rushed across to the door,
throwing it wide open. Helen was
outside. With a cry he waved 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 the
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.
iEOPLK ask: ‘What’s in a
name?’ remarked the bos’n
to the other boarders, who
*aten everything in sight and
were still loath to leave the table.
' "but thbre i« an awful lot in a name.
"Once I knew a woman w'ho named
I her son Roderick. The old man was
at sea at the time, and when he go;
home and saw what the old lady had
done he got six months’ hard labor
"He said to his wife: ‘How in
thunder are you going to make a
sailor out of a boy with a ribbon
I 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
j the next morning at 10 o’clock.
"It stood to reason that a boy
named Roderick couldn’t be a sailor.
That’s why hi** mother gave him the
name. It was more tqnnage than the
j 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,
a boy named Kenneth Orlando could
never be a sailor, either.
"The oi l man never was quite him
self after that He said he never
I heard of a sailor raising male mil-
! Briers 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 the boy Zob. We all
thought he was goin’ it rather strong
I 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 seor*.
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 tip and smoke
and swear and chew like good fel
low.--. But If Kenneth Orlando us
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, and
be nice all the time.
"The other, Zob, sat around in over
alls and his dad would hand Zob his
plus: every time he took a chew him
self. .
The Outcome.
"The result was bad." said the
bov’r: "You wouldn’t believe it. but
when their ma was sick with a fever
those two clean boys ran away from
home. One got a job on a collier, and
the othe** on a hog schooner, so they
could 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.
I think he got a situation as lace
salesman.”
“Oh, Dear No!”
\ girl, forced by her parents into a
disagreeable match with an old man.
whom she detested, when the clergy -
man came to that part of the service
where the bride i.s asked if she consents
to take the bridegroom for her husband,
said, with great simplicity:-
"Oh, dear, n<*. 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."