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Better Eating at Lower Cost WIHHOII^ There i* more nutrition in a 10c package of FAUST mlffi*** SPAGHETTI than there is in 4 lbs. of beef -your . * iffffiF doctor will confirm this. ¥ FAUST SPAGHETTI is extremely rich in 9 gluten, tlie muscle, bone and flesh builder. \ FAUST SPAGHETTI will reduce your meat bill two-thirds. Write for Iree recipe book and find out \ V Advice to the Lovelorn fey BEATRICE FAIRFAX. 3RING (OUR FiLMIS TO US and we will d evelop them free. We are film specialists and give you perfect results and quiCiv ueli\er>. Mall as negative for free sample print. Enlargements made and colored. Pictures framed Chemicals. Cameras. *3.00 to $85.00. r re eh films to fit any camera—guaranteed not to sticK ::e for catalogue. Quick m ail order service H. CONE, Inc., “A Good Drug Store”— 'Two Stores’* — Atlanta. The Mistakes of Jennie B y hal coffman Being a Series of Chapters in the Life of a Southern Girl in the Big City The Folly of My Sex : Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women Chrystal Herne's Idea of True Loveliness and Hou) lo Attain It. fey BEATRICE FAIRFAX. N INETY women gathered in the garden of the old Schwab es tate adjoining the Hall of Fame the other afternoon to receive the first instruction of the spring garden course by Henry Griscom Par sons. director of Department School Gardens. New York University. Of the ninety women only two were prepared to do practical gardening, as there were only two women who had brought their aprons. The women wore tight skirts, high-heeled shoes and white kid gloves, and when given seeds found they could not kneel down or bend low to plant them, as their skirts were too narrow. When they tried to bend as low as their skirts and corsets permitted they could not obtain sound footing with their high- heeled shoes. • They took off their kid gloves, dis closing hands that were burdened , with rings, and were as helpless be fore the simple little task before them as if they had been so many babies. They had not dressed suitably for the occasion. Do any of my sex these mad days make any pretense of dressing to suit the occasion? To Regulate Dresses. A Chicago alderman has introduced an ordinance to regulate the dresses worn by women on the streets, solely on moral grounds. The costliness of the attire, its unfitness so far as serv ice and endurance are concerned, he waives. He considers only the moral aspect of the dresses, garments so vulgar in conception and suggestion as to cause some explanation for the calling of a vice commission. The girl on her way to her work behind a counter, or bending over a typewriter, wears a garment as near a duplicate as her purse will permit of the garment worn by some woman of wealth and fashion who rides in her automobile to a pink tea. The business woman’s dress is as low in the neck, her heels are as high, her pumps as low. her stockings as thin. There is no element of vulgarity which the woman of wealth intro duces in her attire that is not aped by her sister with the flatter purse. The blame lies not with the girl on her way to work, but with the woman of wealth and leisure. The eighty-eight women who gath ered to learn gardening In matinee clothes were women of wealth and high social standing, women who aro supposedly intelligent, yet they were as silly, and* with less excuse, as the \ working girl who wears a . dress on the street, that should not be worn outside one’s home, and then when women only are present. Not So Divine. The "female form divine” is not so divine as the silly women think. Few firms are just plump and shapely . enough to look well bared from the ♦ hand to the elbow. Not one neck in five hundred would cause an artist in search of a model to take a second look. Feet and ankles and the display many women make above them are suggestive more often of vulgarity than of beauty. The woman who dresses modestly .s credited with charms she may or may ot possess, but the woman who resses immodestly proves by the ex ists made that she does not possess them. "That is immodest” restrains no one in these days of fashionable indecen cy. "Your neck is scrawny. “You have an ugly arm,” “You are flat- footed and your ankles are thick may verve as more effective weapons :n the war that must be waged against the foolish of my sex. , , \n appeal to decency and modesty having failed, the same results may he obtained by appealing to vanity. Household Saggestions U GLY cracks in furniture may be eas ily filled in with beeswax, so that the marks will hardly show. Slightly soften the beeswax until it becomes pli able; then press It firmly into the cracks and smooth the surface over with a thin knife. Sandpaper the surround ing wood, and work some dust into the beeswax.' This gives a finish to the wood, and when it is varnished the cracks will have disappeared. fit vour skirt has got splashed with .mud hang it before a (lre-but not too close—so that the mud may dry quickly. When dry the mud spots should be loosened by rubbing with the edge of a penny, and the dust should be gently brushed off with a brush of moderate firmness. If after this brushing the mud marks are still visible sponge the spots with alcohol or methylated spirit. ' to remove smoke marks from ceilings i mix u thick paste of starch and water, and with a clean flannel spread it over the mark. Allow it to get thoroughly dry, then brush off with a soft brush and the marks will have disappeared. Before sweeping the carpets take an ohlVtund tin. pierce holes in the bottom and till with common salt. Sprinkle this over- the carpet. It prevents the dust from rising, brightens the colors and prevents moths. To prevent an oven from smelling when cooking a joint, clean it out thor oughly once a month with white chalk, dt will take all smell away and it will -Ike kn enameled oven. WITHIN THE LAW /CURS IONS ETY | \ Personally conducted AA tour July 19. August 16. Canada. Great Lakes, Atlantic ocean, Eastern cities. Intensely Interesting Features. Low rates. Write for book let, maps, etc. J. E- McFarland. Box 1624. Atlanta, Ga. By LILLIAN LAUFERTY. NCE upon a time,” began Chrystal Herne, in the most approved fashion of our be loved fairy tales "I saw real beauty —so I know what it is. It is a spirit, the spirit that flares up within and lights the face. Spirit makes a plain face lovely, and without it perfect features are not beautiful.” It was between the‘acts of the star revival of our good old friend, “Ari zona.” at the* Lyric Theater, in New York, and I had been admitted to that fascinating realm behind "the aid ! stage door." “Won't you tell me about that ‘once ; upon a time’ when you saw real beauty?” I asked. Miss Herne has wonderful gray eyes—deep, tender, and set in the wide oval of a face so delicately love ly that not half its beauty cart 'be! guessed across the barrier of the foot lights. A brooding mist came over those eyes and into her soft voice. “It was my father’s face.” she saiti gently. “I was a very young girl, and we were cruising about Peconic Bay j in our little yawl, when a storm cap sized us. I thought that cold gray water was going to hold me forever— but suddenly my father’s face came j between me and horror. He had j righted the boat somehow, and he got ; me into it. And the wonderful light shining in his face as he saved me I was beauty. Yet, except for his rare ly fine expression, my father was not j a handsome man. "That was absolute beauty. It ga /e me an ideal: Live on a high, fin-* | plane; be so splendid that spirit will illuminate your face.” The spirit of her own fineness—her high ambitions -always shines back of Chrystal Herne’s flower-like love- [ liness. But as she spoke, her love and veneration made her beauty one of the most exquisite things I have ever seen. Wants To Be Fat! “Now, you want the work-a-day. practical ideals of beauty, don’t you?" she asked. "My first one is fat! I can’t see any beauty in bones and angles. I ha”e struggled and struggled to get fat!” • Think of that, you who bant and swallow unpleasant doses, and im- ; merse yourselves in baths of salts, so i that the curves and grace may disap pear and the cubist angles an 1 squares betray your bony structure. "Well, 1 can’t get fat. I have found out the hopelessness of that ambi tion.” went on Miss Herne in a prac tical tone, “so 1 do the next best thing—I make the best of what I am. I find the styles I can wear: I find a dressmaker who understands me and will help me develop my own type, in stead of a few pet theories of her own. "I arrange my hair to frame my i face, instead of straining it into the ; latest cry in unbecomingness.” “Of course, you learn by acting how to accent beauty—to bring out points,” I remarked. "Yes, indeed, you learn to empha size natural beauty to bring out hid den loveliness, and, best of all, not o overemphasize, not to be conspicuous — just to be narl of the picture. “Now. 1 truly admire the chic type the girl who is trim and smart, whose clothes fit smoothly and whose hats are set at the sharp, fashionable angle. But I can nol bo that type at all: I can not imitate her to ad vantage. so I am not silly enough to try.' If drapery and droop ing lines suit you. wear them. I cay only adapt them to the styles of the times, so you won't be different enough to he noticeable." True Beauty. "You disapprove of conspicuous clothes?” I asked. “Of conspicuous cl-d lies- -and faces,” replied Miss do so lon F to see more prettff uirls- tot pretty ar rangements and blendings of paint and powder, but girls who are nat Miss Chrystal Herne’s Beautiful Profile. urally sweet and pretty. To chal lenge attention in face or clothes is not my ideal of attractiveness, but to be so fine and dainty that you hold attention: to have such a spirit illu minating the text of your face that the eye returns lovingly to your rest ful charm -that is to be beautiful. “And I do love beauty I can sym pathize with the women who long for it, because to be absolutely beautiful is a supreme gift. There is only one thing I lohg for more, and that is to he a great actress—to express beauty by the art of the drama.” And beauty as Chrystal Herne vis ions it will illuminate the "text of a face," and the text of life as well. GO. BY ALL MEANS. rjEAR MISS FAIRFAX: I expect to go to a dance ac companied by a young man with whom I have quite an understand ing. This young man does not dance. Will it be proper for me to dance with other young men. or would yon deem it advisable for us not to go to this dance at all? E. K. E. The young man Is taking you for your pleasure, and knows that means you will want to dance. If his experience as a wallflower proyes distasteful to him he will not repeat it Could you not persuade him to learn to dance? I a*n afraid this difference in your chqice of enter tainment may otherwise make trouble LET IT DROP. T~X EAR MISS FAIRFAX : 1 am eighteen and have been keeping company with a man four years my senior, last week 1 was out of town for a few days, and the evening I returned a girl friend asked me to go to a dance. My friend was there and escorted an other girl home, but did not take. her to this dance. Should I ask for an explanation, or should I let the matter drop unnoticed? B. R. You were out of town, and he did not know you would be at the dance. This is sufficient excuse for him if he needs one, hut I don’t think he does. You are not engaged and he is not bound to you by any promise. TELL HIM YOU HAVE NONE. TAKAR MISS FAIRFAX: 1 am a rich young girl eighteen years old and am deeply In love with a young man one year my senior. 1 am alone in the world with no mother to guide me. He has asked me to marry him, but 1 do not know if he wants mo for love of me alone or for money. How ran I find out? MARGARET. “All's fair in love and war," and you might try the plan w'orn thread bare fn fiction by telling him you have lest your money. But a better plan would be to refuse him. He is only nineteen, and a boy of that age is too young to love se- riausl y. LOSE NO TIME MAKING UP. r\ E A Pv MIS S FAIR F A X: * I have boon keeping company with a girl for one year. We had a quarrel over some simple thing and she got angry . I love her. Tell me what to do. J. w. S. Go to her and tell her you are sorry. You may not feel that you are in the wrong, but that makes no difference. Unless you are willing to humiliate yourself, you care more for self than for her. D 1 CERTAINLY. EAR MISS FAIRFAX: Is it proper for a young lady to ask a gentleman to call when he has I hinted at it, or wait until l\e posi tive!' asks to call? M A DELON. She has the privilege of asking a man io «all on her. and a hint between i friends should be unnecessary. Copyright. 1918, by the H. K Fly Com pany The play “Within the Law" is copyrighted by Mr. Vetller and this novellzatlon of It is published by his permission. The American Play Com pany is the sole proprietor of the ex clusive rights of the representation and performance of "Within the Law” in ail languages By MARVIN DANA from the Play by BAYARD VEILLER. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. Garson. with the keen perspicacity ; that had made him a successful crim inal without a single conviction to mar his record, had seized the im - j plication in her statement, and now put It In words. "Then, you won’t leave us? We’re | going on as we were before?” Trie hint of dejection in his manner had 1 vanished. "And you won’t live with | him?” “Live with him?” Mary exclaimed emphatically. "Certainly not!” Aggie's neatly rounded jaw- dro r ' r >e2 In a gape of surprise that was most unladylike. "You are going to live on In this joint with us?" she questioned, aghast. "Of course." The reply was given with the utmost of certainty. But the confident tone brought no re sponse of agreement from Mary. On the contrary, her voice was, if anything, even 1 colder as she replied to his sugges tion. She spoke with an emphasis that j brooked no evasion. “What wa9 your promise? I told you that 1 wouldn’t go with you until you had brought your father to me. and he had wished us happiness.” Dick placed his hands gently on his wife's shoul ders and regarded her with a touch of indignation in his gaze “Mary.” he said reproachfully, “you are not going to hold me to that prom ise?” The answer was given with a decis iveness that admitted of no question, and there was a hardness on her face that emphasized the words. “I am going to hold you to that prom ise. Dick.” For a few second* the young man stared at her with troubled eyes. Then he moved impatiently and dropped his hands from her shoulders. But his usu al cheery smile came again, and he shrugged resignedly. “All right, Mrs. Glider,” he said gay- ly. The sound of the name provoked him to new pleasure. “Sounds fine, doesn’t it?” he demanded with an uxo rious air. “Yes,” Mary said, but there was no enthusiasm in her tone The husband went on speaking with no apparent heed of his wife's indif ference. Mary Answered Quickly. “You pack up what things you need girlie,” he directed. “Just a few—be- , cause they sell clothes In Paris. And i they are some class, believe me! And meantime. I’ll run down to dad's office and have him back here In half an hour. You will be all ready, won’t you?” Mary answered quickly, with a little catching of her breath, but still coldly. “Yes, yes. I'll be reedy. Go and bring . your father.” “You bet I will," Dick cried heartily. He would have takqn her In his arms again, but she evaded the caress. “What's the matter?” he demanded, plainly at a loss to understand this re pulse. “Nothing,” was the ambiguous an swer. “Just one!” Dick pleaded. “No,” the bride replied, and there was determination in the monosyllable. It was evident that Dick perceived the futility of argument. ‘.‘For a married woman you certainly are shy,” he replied, with a sly glance toward Aggie, who beamed back sym pathy. "You’ll excuse me, won’t you, Miss Lynch? * * * Good-bye, Mrs. Gil der.” He made a formal bow io his wife. As he hurried to the door he ex pressed again his admiration for the name. “Mrs. Gilder! Doesn’t that sound immense?” And with that he was gone. There was silence In the drawing room until the two women heard the closing of the outer door of the apartment. Then at last Aggie relieved her pentup emotions in a huge sigh that was near a groan. “Oh. Gawd!” she gasped. “The poor simp!” CHAPTER Xin. The Advent of Griggs. Later on Garson, learning from the maid that Dick Gilder had left, returned just as Mary was glancing over the re lease with which General Hastings was to be compensated along with the re turn of his letters for his payment of $10,000 to Miss Agnes Lynch. "Hello, Joe," Mary said graciously as the forger entered. Then she spoke crisply to Agnes. “And now you must get ready. You are to be at Harris’ office with this document at 4 o’clock and remember that you are to let the lawyer manage everything. Aggie twisted her doll-like face Into a grimace. “It gets my angora that I'll have to miss Pa Gilder's being led like a lamb to the slaughter house.” And that was the nearest the little adventuress ever came to making a Biblical quotation. “Anyhow.” she protested. "I don’t see the use of all this monkey business here. All 1 want Is the coin." But she hurried obediently, nevertheless, to get ready for the start. Garson regarded Mary quizzically^ “It's lucky for her that she met you," he said. “She’s got no more brains than a gnat.” “And brains are mighty useful things, even in our business." Mary replied seriously; “particularly in our business " •I should say they were.” Garson agreed. “You have proved that.” Aggie came back, puling on her gloves and cocking her small head very prim ly under the enormous hat that was garnished with costliest pAumes. It was thus that she consoled herself in a measure for the business of the occasion —in lieu of cracked ice from Tiffany’s at one hundred and fifty a carat Mary gave over the release, and Aggie, still grumbling, deposited it in her handbag j To Be Continued Monday. • “It never occurred to Jennie how they got the good clothes.” CHAPTER IV. W HEN Jennie’s friend, the motherly boarding house keeper, came in to call her the next morning she sat down on the edge of Jennie’s little white bed and took hold of the girl's hand—for she knew that some thing was on Jennie’s mind, and all was not quite right. Jennie, however, assured her that everything was fine and dandy and that she was only tired the night before. But they have a way of knowing when all is not quite right with children, and It hur* her the way Jennie acted — for never before bad she failed to confide all her little troubles and secrets to her. Jennie ate a hurried breakfast and felt all through it as if she were choking and was impatient to be out of the house. On the way to work in the stupid old street car she couldn’t help but think how dull and sordid it seemed after the “taxi” the night before. Another thing bothered her al so. that she had forgotten in the excitement of the night before— what about Tom? Tom, whom it seemed‘she had ALWAYS known. Tom. whom the other girls al ways referred to as Jennie's "steady.” What would HE say when he saw her w ith THE MAN. Huh! “she should worry” about Tom—guess she could put him in his place and besides, what busi ness was it of his? Tom never took her to a swell restaurant like she was in last night or took her home in a "taxi.” Poor! Torn didn’t make much money even if he did work hard. THE MAN had asked her to ring him up. and she decided she would do so that very day at lunch time. That morning at the office she heard two of the other girls talking—girls that always seemed to have good clothes and were always talking about the good times they had It never occurred, to Jennie be fore where or how they GOT the good clothes or the good times they had. She knew they were each making $7 a week, while Jennie, who was a faster stenog rapher and paid more attention to her work, got a week. Still she couldn't afford to dress the way they did. and they didn’t live at home either. This Jen nie wondered about all that morning ’til lunch time when she hurried out to a public phone and rang up THE MAN. That being Saturday and wouldn't she go for an auto ride with him the next day. They would start early Sunday morning and go way, 'way out in the country and stop at some little inn for a dandy chicken dinner. She was to make gome excuse at home and not tell her friend, the boarding house keeper where she was going—but to meet him several blocks from her house and they would jlist have LOTS of fun. Indeed she WOULD meet him and she could say she was going out to spend the day with Tom. Jennie was so excited she could hardly wait for the next morning, and. j list think! an AUTO ride in the country. Ah. wasn’t it a dandy old world after all, and lots more fun than going down to the beach or walk ing in the old pokey park with Tom. HAL COFFMAN. kTo h* Continued.) ] Littl e Bobbie’s J By WILLIAM F. KIRK. Pa W EN we cairn to this little town ware Pa Is fishing he toald Ma that it was different from other small towns. The peepul here are as broad as the peepul that live in a city, sed I’a, and you will find none of the petty gossip & skandal that is so common in other small places. I doant know, se<j Ma, you will have to show me. There Is gossip & skandal eeven in Atlanta, but in a small place, at Ieeste in any of the small places I have ewer been in, thare is sure to be a good deal of talk. But this is a different kind of town, sed Pa. You wait & see. So we waited & saw. The first thing after dinner last nite two married ladies cairn to call on Ma. Pa & me was there, too. We dident want to stay, but we had to be polite. You have a nice little village here, sed Ma to the two ladies. One of them was Missus Jenkins & the other was naimed Missus Jones. Oh, we do git so tired of it, sed Missus Jenkins. Thare are so few of our kind of peepul here that we always like to meet peepul of reetinement. Moast of the peepul here are so common, ain't thay, Missus Jones? He Drank. Hevlngs, yes. sed Missus Jones. The only other peepul here besides Missus Jenkins and myself is the Browns, & Mister Brown drinks appeljack. I can’t say that T blame him much, sed Missus Jenkins, heekaus his wife powders her face & is all the time nag ging at him. She goes to New York pritty often, too. I wuddent think so much of It if her husband went with her. but she goe3 alone. That Isent very reemarkable, is It? sed Ma. I dare say she goes there to shop. That's what she says, sed Missus Jenkins, but we think what we please up here. Besides, it seems like she puts on an awful lot of airs going to the city to shop. If her husband paid his bills here it would look a whole lot better, wuddent it, Missus Jones. Yes, indeed, sed Missus Jones. Don’t you think so yourself? she asked Ma. I am sure I am not interested, sed Ma. She was beeginning to act kind of cool, the way she acts sumtlmes at brekfast the morning after Pa has went to the Elks. Pa looked kind of cheep, too. after the way he had talked about the peepul in this little town beeing so broad. Doant you think this lady’s son looks like Harry Baker? Missus Jenkins asked Missus Jones. More Scandal. He is better looking than * Missus Baker’s boy, sed Missus Jones & I can see he has been fetched up different. Harry Baker newer had no fetching up to speak of He ^on all my boy’s mar. bles playing that awful gaim of "keeps” last week, but I can't blame him for wanting to gamble. Mister Baker, hi* father, plays poker and they say he cheats. Then Ma got busy. She waited till Pa had left the room & she sed Ladles, pity me’. The reason my husband left the room is beekaus he doesn’t pay his bills and he drinks three quarts of whis ky a day & he plays poker so much that he is beeginning to git a curled mustache like the King of Clubs. He beats me, too, said Ma. He does’? exclaimed the two ladies. Ho certainly does, doesent he, Bob bie? Almost every nlte wen he cums hoam, I sed, & he beats me, too. The village ladies dident stay long after that. Not Talkative Lady Dorothy Nevill in her “rem iniscences” has told a story of the third Duke of Devonshire and his brother. Lord Cavendish. Both were very silent men. Stop ping once at an inn in Germany they were told that they could be accom modated only with a chamber con taining three beds, one of which was occupied. They made no reply, but quietly retired to the apartment. Feeling some little curiosity about the third bed, however, each took a momentary peep through the cur tains. They then immediately got into their own beds and slept soundly Next morning, after they had breakfasted and paid their bill, the duke said to his brother: "George, did you see the dead body?” “Yes,” was the reply: and they both got into their chaise and proceeded on their journey without another word. Lous St.