Newspaper Page Text
SYNOPSIS.
Gordon Kelly, a young North Geor-
, gia mountaineer, comes to Atlanta
i to get a place with Billy Smith's
1 Crackers. It is raining when he
| reaches Ponce DeLeon and he Is
nearly run over by an auto. In which
1 are two persons—a man and a young
; girl. The driver of the car is an
arrogant fellow. The girl makes
' him stop the machine. She gets out
and inquires if Kelly is injured. She
apologizes for her companion's
brusque manner Kelly sees Mana
ger Smith and tells him he has never
played a game of ball. Smith con
sents to give Kelly a trial.
Now go on with the story.
By A. H. C. MITCHELL.
The manager gave the applicant a
searching look. Kelly had the large
blue-gray eyes of George Slosson.
the billiardist, and he returned the
look in a long, .steady gaze without
winking. It was all right to have
Slosson’s eyes, Smith thought, but
| that gaze without winking was an
other matter. The manager recalled
having read that insane persons have
that peculiarity. At that moment,
however, the corners of Kelly's eyes
began to wrinkle pleasantly and his
mouth widened into a smile again,
disclosing that wonderful set of white
teeth. Bill Smith promptly forgot ail
about crazy people.
A Mind Reader.
“Say,” demanded the manger, “what
brand of tooth powder do you use?”
“Pure eastile soap, on a tooth
brush.” replied Kelly. “It is some
what bitter, but it does the business
for me.”
“Mix some sugar in the soap and sell
it as the ‘Gordon Kelly Tooth Paste.'
You’ll make more out of it, I’m think
ing. than you ever will out of base
ball.”
“I know you think I’m crazy,"
laughed the young man.
“You’re a mind reader." returned
the manager, quickly.
Whisky poked his head in the door
and said, significantly:
“Boss, when you gits time Ah’d like
to see you 'bout some ’portant base
ball business.” He emphasized the
word baseball, rolling it off like an
end man trying to impress the in
terlocutor.
“All right. Whisky; I’ll see you in
a few minutes," replied Bill Smith,
pleasantly.
“Your attendant doesn’t seem to be
very much impressed with me,” ob
served Kelly.
“All Whisky thinks about is base-
.ball and ball players,” replied the
"manager. “You will have to make
good with him as well as myself be
fore you will staled much chance
around this club house.”
“That brings us right back to the
original proposition,” said Kelly,
briskly. “What’s the verdict?”
“I’ll be perfectly candid with you,
Mr. Kelly. I don’t believe you have
a chance in the world to make good
^on it. At the same lime you nevei
.can tell. I make it a rule never to
pass up a man until I have had a
chance to look him over. If you want
to Ftick around for a while I have no
objections to your doing so. But you
see I am lukewarm and skeptical.”
"That’s all right, Mr. Smith: I don’t
blamePyou, but I’ll take my chances,”
replied Kelly with a smile.
A Few Questions.
“My players will not be reporting
for spring practice before ten days
or two weeks,” continued the mana
ger. “In the meantime, as I don’t
want them to have anything on me,
I’m going to get in condition before
they arrive. Cm going to start in this
afternoon. The sun is out and the
grounds will be dried out by 2 o’clock
If you want to come around at that
time, you are welcome to do so.”
“Thank you; I will be here,” re
plied the applicant. “As my clothes
s*eem to be dry, I’ll slip them on.”
The manager picked up his copy of
“Sporting Life” and proceeded to ab
sorb some more baseball “dope” while
the other dressed.
“Much obliged, Mr. Smith." said
Kelly, when he was ready for the
street. “I’ll see you this afternoon."
“One moment," said the manager.
“You said you came from the moun
tain district?”
“Yes, sir."
“Born there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lived there all your life?"
“Yes. sir.”
“Never been lo Atlanta or any oth-
*•«- city before?”
* “No. sir.”
r "Never saw a ball game?”
“No, sir."
“You don’t talk like a Southerner.” i
"No. sir.”
"You er—all right. See you later. :
So long."
Gordon Kelly disappeared through !
the doorway with a long, swinging i
stride. Instantly Whisky came into *
the clubhouse by another entrance.
“There goes a mysterioso for you,
Whisky,” said Bill, Smith, cocking
his feet on the stove again.
"A myste-what, sir?” demanded
Whisky.
"A mysterioso. It is a Latin word, !
derived from a combination of com
plicated Spanish and Portuguese
phrases, with a dash of Slavonic in
it. It signifies that the person re
ferred to is not exactly clear to the
understanding; that he is, in fact,
somewhat obscure, or unexplained.
In short, Whisky, there is a certain
something—a vague in-com-pre-hen-
si-bil-i-tive-ness appertaining to his
striking personality. Do you get
me?”
“Yassir, yassir, I knowed he wasn’t
no ball player when I fust sized him
up.”
CHAPTER III.
"NT EITHER the driver nor the
young woman who sat beside
him in the high-powered, un
derslung automobile spoke as the car
raced in the blinding rain up the hill
leading from Ponce DeLeon Park,
where they had left Gordon Kelly
standing in the middle of the road.
But when the machine was forced to
slow down and then come to a stop,
in accordance with the traffic regula
tions of Atlanta, which forbids an
automobile to pass to the right of a
street car discharging or taking on
passengers, the driver turned to his
companion and said:
"I can’t understand, for the life of
me, Mildred, why you insisted on
turning around and going back to
that fellow. You saw him get up
and that proved he wasn’t hurt any.
It was entirely his fault. He had no
business in the middle of the street
with an automobile speeding the way
this was. He was entitled to no
consideration whatever—that is, in
view of the fact that he wasn’t hurt
at all. It was purely unnecessary
for you to go back and commiserate
with him. Just look at us; not a
square inch of dry clothes on either
of us. You’ll catch it from your moth
er and I don’t blame her. although I
suppose I will get the blame for it
all.”
“Are you trying to quarrel with
me, Forrest?” replied Mildred. “Be
cause if you are I will get out of the
car and walk the rest of the way
home. You say you can not under
stand why I asked you to return and
see if the young man was injured.
For my part I can not understand
how you so far forgot common de
cency and even hesitated about turn
ing back. And you acted like a brute
to that young man. 1 don’t think ^1
care to go automobile riding with
you again, Forrest.”
“No Need to Argue.’’
The machine started forward again
and quickly passed the street car.
Forrest took a little time to digest his
companion’s remarks and then he
said in a less surly tone:
“I guess I’m getting in bad .with
you, Mildred.”
The young woman ignored this re
mark and went on: “Why, to think
you were actually running away from
the scene of the accident and——”
*1 wasn’t running away,” the driver
broke in impatiently. “I wanted to
get you home and out of the wet as
quickly as possible.”
‘There is no need to argue over it,”
declared Mildred. “I have a pretty
clear idea of all that happened. And
as for ‘catching it,’ as you say, from
my mother, please understand, For
rest. that 1 am old enough to look
out for myself and my mother knows
it. if you don’t.”
“Now, don’t get peevish, my dear
£irl,” said Forrest, with a frown.
“Hurry home, please. I’m afraid
I am going to have a chill,” was the
young woman’s answer.
The rain had ceased and the sun
broke through the clouds as the car
turned off Peachtree Street and ran
a short distance down an intersecting
thoroughfare and drew up in front
of a, large, old-fashioned house, set
ell back from the street. The well-
kept grounds and the orderly ap
pearance of the property indicated
that its owner had the means and
the pride to properly conduct his es
tablishment.
The young woman stepped from the
car and, with a curt “Good-bye,” hur-
Hed up the walk in the direction of
the house. Her clothes hung to her
like sheets of lead; she was a sorry
looking figure. The incident of a few
“You poor child,” said Mildred’s mother. “Hurry right to your room and you can tell me all about it later.”
moments before, when the young man
was nearly run down by the automo
bile, had unnerved her. She recalled
with a shudder how she had scream
ed when she first caught sight of him
only a few feet in front of the on-
rushing car; She recalled the blind
ing sheets of rain that came down at
that moment and the surprising agil
ity of the pedestrian. His quickness
alone had saved him from a horrible
death. And then she recalled the
brutish actions of her companion in
the car, who, without so much as
looking around after knocking down
the pedestrian, jammed his toe on the
accelerator and sent the car rush
ing up the hill at its highest speed.
Looked Like Sisters.
Her mother met her at the front
door.
“Why, Mildred, where have you
been?” she asked. “You look ”
“Don’t tell me how I look, please,
mother. We were caught in the rain
storm and I haven’t a dry stitch of
clothes on Tne and we nearly killed
a man, and Forrest acted like a brute
and, oh. I’m terribly upset and I'm
chilled to the bone, and—”
“You poor child. Hurry right to
your room; come, and you can tell
me all about it later. Mandy, draw
a hot bath for Miss Mildred and turn
on the £«team in her room.”
They were hurrying up the stairs
as Mrs. Deery spoke. She was a re
markably youthful looking woman to
have a daughter close to twenty
years old; in fact, when they were to
gether they might easily be taken
for sisters in their companionship.
Fifteen minutes later Mildred, robed
in snowy white, with little blue rib
bons here and there, was safely tucked
in her bed. Her mother drew the
shades and tiptoed out of the room.
Soon after, the young woman fell In
to a troubled sleep. But she dreamed
of standing in the middle of a road
in a sweeping rainstorm; of her hand
being held in the clasp of a tall young
man, of" his large blue-gray eyes
looking straight into her and of that
wonderful smile and of those dazzling
white teeth.
* * *
Forrest Cain sat motionless in his
automobile and watched the retreat
ing figure of Mildred Deery. If he
expected her to turn and wave a fare
well, ■ he w as disappointed, for she
disappeared within the door of the
house, giving him no further sign
of recognition. Putting his oar in
motion he drove it to the garage,
jumped out. hurried to his rooms,
swore roundly at his man, poured ou'
a stiff drjnk of bourbon whisky and
drank it, stripped off his clothes and
got into a hot bath, where he smoked
a cigarette, his man placing it be
tween his lips and holding a lighted
match to it.
Reviewed the Morning.
His valet was* a colored man of
about his own age, thirty years. He
was formerly a Pullman car porter,
who, a few months back, when Cain
was making a particularly riotous and
troublesome trip from New York to
Atlanta, attended to his wants in
such an eager and solicitous manner
that Cain had hired him away from
the Pullman Company. Then and
there Cain had called his man George
on the train, as all colored porters
are called by the traveling public,
and when George entered his employ
he didn’t trouble himself to inquire
his* real name, but continued to call
him George.
After his bath. Cain slipped on his
bathrobe and threw himself on a
lounge. . —
"George,” he ordered, “call up the
florist and tell him to send roses to
Miss Deery at once, inclosing my
card. Then get out some clothes. 1
am going over to the club for lunch.”
Cain lay back on the lounge and
mentally reviewed the incidents of
the morning. He had made up his
mind to be particularly nice to Mil
dred Deery. but it seemed he had
made a botch of it. Everything had
gone smoothly until he had nearly
run over the man in front of Ponce
DeLeon Park. Mildred had been a
very charming, lively companion up
to that time, but when he was for
leaving the victim of the accident
sprawling in the road her manner |
changed entirely. When he refused
to fc turn back she had deliberately!
kicked the magneto switch over.!
causing the car to stop, and then she!
threatened to get out and walk back
to where the young man was unless!
he turned the car around and took |
her back. Yes, he figured this was j
a bad play on hi.-: part and he must I
work carefully to get back in her!
good .graces again.
As a matter of fact, a mean streak,!
of which he had not a few in his na-!
ture, showed itself at the wrong mo-|
ment. He wondered if he couldn’t
lay it all off to the furious and sud- j
den rainstorm and plead that the;
shock of nearly killing a man had un
nerved him. In the* meantime he!
would have /lowers sent to Mildred
Dfeerv every day and play his cards;
carefully In future. 1
Calling for his clothes, Cain ar
rayed himself with his usual care and
sauntered forth to his club. Among
the jeunessee doree of Atlanta he was
the nclfndtvTeTlgo Beau Brummell and
to such an extent that they would not
venture to consult their tailors at
certain seasons of the year until For
rest Cain had appeared on the streets
of the city displaying the last word
in sartorial art.
Forrest Cain was a lily of the valley
in more* ways than one. He toiled
not. neither did he spin. He was one
of the few wealthy young men of At
lanta who employed his time in kill
ing that measure of duration. The
other young men of his set. while
many of them coidd easily afford to
loaf, preferred to engage in business.
Cain shared his father’s estate with
his married sister, his only relative,
and he was known to have spent
more money in a night than she spent
in a year. He lived a life of ease
and luxury and attended to matters
of business only when it was abso
lutely necessary for him to do so.
CHAPTER IV.
I T was on a matter of business that
Forrest Cain had made a lunch
eon engagement at his club that
day. It was with Galen Deery, Mil
dred’s father, a crafty speculator in
timber lands, who by strict attention
to business had piled up more money
than he had any use for, but from
lifelong habit hfe persisted in striv
ing for more.
As one of tho executors of his fa
ther’s will, Cain came across the
deeds to a piece of property consist
ing of several thousand acres, situ
ated in the northwestern part of the
State. TI( had never seen the prop
erty and it did not interest him, so
when Galen Deery had, several
months before, offered to buy it for
spot cash, he was for selling it with
out any further trouble in the matter.
But his more businesslike sister,
when she heard that it was Galen
Deery who made the offer, figured
there was something behind it all that
did not appear on the surface and
refused her permission to sell.
Showed His Cards.
After bluffing around for several
weeks. Deery was forced to lay his
hand on the table and show his cards.
It was then seen that Deery. too, j
owned several thousands of acres in j
the neighborhood of the Cain estate’s i
property, which he had acquired sev
eral years before through a fore
closure process. And It further ap
peared that Deery had evolved a vast
scheme involving lumber, water pow
er and manufacturing plants, wihch
would net several millions of dollars
if successfully carried out. But In
order to carry out the plan it was
necessary for Deery to not only con
trol the Cain property, but also a
vast tract of land that laid between
the Deery property and the Cain
property. This intermediate proper
ty was really the key to the whole
situation. Deery counted on first ac
quiring the* Cain holdings and then
quietly grabbing up the other.
When his sister refused to .‘■"fnction
a sale of the land to Deery, Cain men
tally cursed the perverseness of wo
men generally, but when his sister
forced Deery' to a showdown ho was
quick enough to see that *she was
right and he wa* 1 wrong. The re
sult of the whole business was that
Deery and the Cains, brother anil sis
ter, formed a partnership for tho de
velopment of the plan, with Deery
as general manager of the proposi
tion. Early that morning Deery had
telephoned that he nepdod some help
on a matter that had .first developed,
so it was arranged that they meet
at the club for lunch and talk it
over.
After fortifying himself with a
couple of cocktails again** an unin
teresting sepsion with Decry, Cain sat
down at the table with him and tried
to appear interested in what he had
to say. As soon as the waiter had,
retired with the order Deery opened
up as follows:
“Forrest, I’ve got something in eon-
ueetion with our scheme that i*
right in your line, and if you will get
busy on it we will land that piece
of property that separates yours from
mine and we can go right ahead with
our plans.”
“Much work involved in it? You
know I’m not very strong for work,”
said Cain.
No Work at All.
“No work at all;, simply pleasure;
right in your line, I tell you.”
“That being the ca^v*. I will listen
more carefully than I otherwise would
have done. Blease proceed.”
“Well,” began Deery. “I haven’t
bothered you much with the details
>f the work I have been putting in
on this scheme lately, because usu
ally you refuse to listen. But as a
matter of fact the old warhorse that
owned that property that lies be
tween us died three or four months
ago—got full of liquor and jumped off
a mountain, or something like that.
But. being of sound mind and body
a short time before this* event took
place, he made a new will and sent
it down here to old Judge Barbee, his
lawyer. The jfroporty is left to his
son, who isn’t of age, but pretty close
to it. In a previous will be had left
the property to his wife, but she died
tw r o years ago. Of course, the son
would have got the property anyway,
but I guess he thought it better to
make a new will and save all com
plication!'.
“I learned all this early this morn
ing, when 1 happened to pick up
Judge Barbee and take him downtown j
in my car. But beyond all this l ;
learned that this son is in Atlanta i
and the judge expects to see him any
minute. He wrote several days ago
that he would be here March 1.
“Now, the judge doesn’t know we’re |
after that property, and neither does j
the son. What I want you to do is
to get acquainted with the young
fellow and prove to him that city
life beats mountain life so far that |
he will never want to see that piece i
of property again and will be glad I
to sell it for a song. I expressed an’l
interest in the young man to Judge !
Barbee and said 1 would like to meet j
him, but I can’t entertain • him the
way you can. The best I can do is !
to have him up to dinner some night, j
You know I’m not much on clubs, i
1 do not even go to lodge meeting as
often as I should.
“Now. Forrest, here's something
right in your line; something you
can do to the queen’s taste. Re
member the scheme is worth millions
to us if w f e can get this young fellow's
land. Just make things pleasant fot
him, but, on your life, don’t talk busi
ness with him. You would spoil it
all. Leave the business end of it to
me.”
“That sounds promising,” said Cain,
“and of course I’ll do all I can to
push a good thing along.”
Deery unfolded some other details
of the big scheme he was working
on and did most of the talking until
they had finished their meals. Then
he looked at his watch and said he
must hurry to keep an appointment.
He put on his hat and shook hands
with Cain. A flunky opened the door,
and he was about to pass out, when
Cain hailed him.
“By the way, Mr. Deery, what is
the name of the young man? You for
got to tell me.”
“His name is Gordon Kelly.”
CHAPTER V.
A T 2 o’clock that same afternoon
Gordon Kelly walked into the
clubhouse back of the grand
stand on the Atlanta baseball grounds.
He carried a large bundle wrapped in
a kind of home-made canvas covering
in one hand, while In the other were
three bats wrapped together. These
bats were of the kind known to ball
players as the “Louisville Slugger.”
Bill Smith was there before him
and was in the act of putting on an
old set of “spangles,” as the ball
players call their uniforms. He greet
ed Kelly with a grin.
“Hello, young fellow. I see I can’t
lose you.”
** You’re right about that. Mr.
Smith,” returned the embryo Ty Cobb.
“You said I could come around and
practice with you, but apy time you
get tired of your bargain all you have
to do is to say the word and I’ll get
out.”
“What have you got in that
bundle?” demanded the manager.
“My uniform and fixings.”
“Let’s have a look at ’em ”
Kelly unfastened the canvas* cover
and displayed a regulation gray uni
form that showed signs of some wear,
cap, dark blue stockings, well-worn
baseball shoes, with spikes attached,
a fielder's glove that had evidently
seen service, sliding pads, heavy un
dershirt and drawers. Rolled up in
the stockings were a pair of “sun
field” goggles—smoked glasses used
by outfielders when the. sun shines di
rectly in their eyes. Smith examined
the outfit critically.
“Where’d you get all this stuff?”
he asked.
“Bought it.”
The manager picked up a well-worn
shoe and looked at the sole of it.
There were traces of red Georgia clay
around the spikes.
“Never played a game of ball in
Vour life, eh?” Smith gave the young
man a searching look as he asked the
question.
“That’s true, Mr. Smith,” replied
Kelly, returning the look steadily.
“Never saw a ball game, I believe
you told me?”
“That’s true, too.”
“I’ve Told the Truth.”
The manager dropped the shoe and
resumed the putting on of his uni
form.
„I can't quite figure you out, Kel
ly,’ he said, pulling on his shirt and
buttoning it. “If you’re trying to put
something over on me,’’ he added
grimly, "it is Just as well that you
have it done with before my players
arrive.’’
"t give you my word, Mr. Smith,
that I have told you the exact truth
in regard to myself. I’m not trying
to fool anybody; I want to play ball,"
Kelly replied, seriously.
"Ail right. Bo, we’ll let it go at that,"
remarked the manager. "Get on your
spangles and we’ll go out on the Held
and take some exercise."
At tills juncture Whisky walked
into the clubhouse, gave one look at
the recruit, sniffed the air contemptu
ously, turned around and walked right
out again. Ten minutes later Smith,
carrying a brand new baseball in his
hand, strode on the field, followed by
Gordon Kelly. Their relative size
might be compared with Weber &
Fields, or Mutt and Jeff. The man
ager hardly tall enough to reach the
young man’s shoulder.
To Be Continued To*morrow.
I he “Man of Mystery” Mak.es
Everything Clear in I his Great Story
A Story for Baseball Fans That Will
Interest Every Lover of the National Game
TRUTHFUL JAMES
A hostess, who was going to give a
)ig dinner party, hired a page for
hat particular evening to help with
he waiting, and duly impressed his
luties upon him during the course of
he afternoon.
“Now James," she said, “it will bt
our duty to hand round the wines,
md you will begin with the sherry,
rhere are two kinds of sherry, and
he inferior kind is to be offered with
he soup. Do you understand?
James duly mastered this and the
jther details of his work, and the
>anquet began. Pre.^ntly the hosted
igned to James, and that young man.
seizing the decanter, began to make
lis rounds, saying in clear and pene-
rating tones as he approached each
ruest:
“Inferior sherry, ma'am? Inferior
herry, sir?"
THEIR MARRIED ]
Li
F.
F & ^ e/e " Lear 7j How a J Q [l Al ? nr J Ach j eves % By MABEL HERBERT URNER
—* & Her Uwn Home ana Her Independence & —
A VOID IMPURE MILH
(or Infants and Invalids
Get
HORLICK’S
It means »he Original and Genuine
MALTED MILK
'CtAeu ate ifrnifoUwtiA'
The Food-Drink (or all Ages
Rich milk, malted grain, in powder form.
For infants, invalids and growing children.
Pure nutrition .upbuilding the whole body.
Invigorates nursing mothers and the aged.
More healthful than tea or coffee.
Take no substitute. Ask for HORJJCK'S
UORUCK’S Contains Pure Milk
O N iach side of the vestibule was
the row of names, letter boxes
and bells. Some of the names
were on soiled cards carelessly writ
ten and carelessly inserted, which
gave one an unpleasant impression of
the tenant. Other? */ere printed and
one or. two were on metal plates.
Helen pressed the bell under a neat
card in small script type—“Miss
Laura Wilson.” From the door came
an answering click.
Inside the hall was dark and nar
row. The stairs were at the back.
She had just turned the second flight
when Laura Wilson, in a large bib
apron, appeared at the landing above.
“Oh, it was dear of you to come,”
leading Helen into the little four-
room fiat. “I’ve been so excited about
it all day. I could hardly wait to get
home from the office.”
“I do hope you haven’t gone to any
trouble,” protested Helen as she took
. ff her things in the tiny bedroom.
; What a cunning little place!” look-
; ing around with eager interest.
“Isn't it? And I’m so absurdly j
j proud of it all! Oh. I’ve so much to
i tell you—I don’t know where to be-
! ^in, It seems so wonderful to have a
j real home of my own. Wait. I’ve
! something on the stove that’ll burn’
('ome on out if you want to,” and she
! darted into the kitchen.
It had been over a year since Helen j
had called on Laura Wilson in her
dingy furnished room. She had just
come to New York then from Helen'-
i home town, and Helen’s mother had
; written her to call and see what she
could do to make her feel less lonely.
Helen had had Laura to dinner sev-
| eral times and then had lost track of
her. as one so often does in New
York. It was only hv chance they
I had met again 1n the subway. Laura
had told her enthusiastically of a lit
tle four-room flat she had taken on
One Hundred and Fifty-sixth Street,
and had eagerly insisted on her com
ing up some evening for dinner.
"I’d ask Mr. Curtis, too,” she laugh
ed. “only I havent’ enough dishes.”
So Helen promised to come the first
evening Warren dined out. She felt
conscience-stricken that she had not
kept in touch with her. A young wom
an alone in New York—there were
many ways she might have helped
her.
Blue and White.
“Isn’t it the dearest little kitchen?”
proudly, as Helen exclaimed over it
all. “I had the loveliest time fixing
up my china closet. Look—I painted
it all white myself.”
• Everything was blue and white, the
shelving paper, the china, the tea and
coffee canister? and even the enam
eled sauc< pans.
“But doesn’t it cost a good deal to
keep this up?” for she knew Laura’s
salary as a stenographer could not
be very large.
“It doesn’t cost me. any more than
it did in that awful furnished room,
and I made myself sick eating around
at cheap restaurants.”
“But your rent here ” began
Helen.
“My rent is just twenty-four dol
lars.” as she took from the refrig
erator a plate of butter and put a
generous spoonful in the potatoes she j
was creaming. "I have the bed room |
rented to a young girl for two dollars !
and a half a week. I’ll show it to |
you in a minute. "That was supposed |
to be the living room you were in—
I’ve made that into my bed room, and
used the dining room for a silting
room. Do you like onions?” taking
a bunch of young onions from a bas
ket of fresh vegetables under the
table.
“Love them.” answered Helen
promptly.
“Well, that makes about eleven
dollars a month, which leaves my
rent only thirteen, and I paid fifteen
for that second-.story back room at
Mrs. Ellison’s—you know how dingy
and depressing that was.”
Again she went to. the refrigerator
and took out a platter of five freshly
cut lamb chpps with paper frills on
the trimmfed bones.
' “I told my butcher I was going to
have my first company dinner to
night, and you see how lie dressed up
th<* chops,” taking off the papers and
laying the chops on the hot Iron
grill. “Oh, I can’t tell you how I love
i<t afl—my little kitchen and my own
bath! But you haven’t seen anything,
have you? Now,” as she shoved the
grill back in the oven, “come, I’ll
show you the flat.”
Helen was enthusiastic about it all.
Everything was so clean and orderly.
The tiny bath room was spotlessly
white.
“The -landlord papered the rooms,
but he wouldn’t do anything to the
bath room and kitchen—so 1 had to
paint all this woodwork myself. Oh,
you don’t know what you can do with
a can of white paint!”
“What a clever idea!” exclaimed
Helen, pointing to a step-ladder
which was tied up by two big hooks
on the wall of the bath room.
“Yes, I didn’t have any place to
put it, so I tied it up there. It’s out
'if the way, and It doesn’t look so
bad. does it?”
“But how did you get all these
things—surely you don’t get it fur
nished for $24?”
“Oh, no—no. they're all mine. Wait,
I’ll have to turn the chops!”
It was not until they sat down to
the dinner that they really had a
chance to talk.
“It all came through this advertise
ment"—darting into her bedroom and
coming back with a newspaper clip
ping which she laid by Helen’s plate!
“WANTED—To sell the contents
of a four-room flat. No reasonable
offer refused. Party leaving the citjfc
If desired, flat can be rented for $24.
Apply Powell, No. , W. 156th St.”
I saw that in one of the Sunday
papers and came right up. An old
lady had it; she was selling out to go
to live with her son. She let me have
everything for $35. Of course, it’s all
cheap furniture, but it’s not in such
bad taste, and everything was clean.”
“Why, I think that was wonder
fully cheap—$35! Not the rugs too?”
Bought That New. i
"Yes, the rugs and curtains—every
thing but the china and kitchenware.
I bought that new, but it cost very
little. This blue china is all ten cents,
except the meat platter—that was
thirty. Now you must have another
chop—they’re so small.”
“They’re delicious! You’re a won
derful little housekeeper. But I don’t
see how you have time with all your
work at the office.”
“It doesn’t take so much time. I’ve
learned to get my breakfast in twenty
minutes, and I wash the dishes when
I’m getting dinner. During the week
I don't try to do any cleaning except
dusting. But Saturday afternoons I
give the whole place a thorough going
over. Last Saturday 1 got home at
half-past 1, put on an old wrapper
and went to work. It was after 5
before I was through—bathroom,
kitchen and all. Then I took a bath,
laid down, rested for an hour and
woke up feeling perfectly fine. Per-
hape you like more oil in your salad
dressing?"
“No, this is just right. And you’re
never Jonely or afraid?"
“I haven’t time to be lonely, and
that young girl is here at night. She’s
a telephone operator. Poor child, she
only gets $8 a week. I don’t see how
she lives on it. I hope they will
make that $!* minimum wage law. I
don’t believe this girl has enough to
eat half the time. I can't bear to see
her go out of here without break
fast, so I’ve been giving her a cup of
coffee and a roll. She's studying
shorthand so she can gel a better po
sition. Oh, I didn't tell you that I
was studying Spanish.”
“You very wonderful person!”
laughed Helen. “Now, when do you
find time to study Spanish?”
“Two evenings a week. You know
there’s a great demand for Spanish
stenographers. Use this for your but
ter I haven’t any bread and butter
plates yet.”
“And you mean to say you come
from the office, get your dinner and
then go out to take Spanish les
sons?”
“Yes, but of course on those even
ings 1 don’t try to have much dinner.
Usually I just beat up an omelette—
that’s quick and easy.”
“Well, my dear, thore isn’t one girl
in a thousand that would have had
the courage and energy to do what
you’re doing. 1 think you can afford
to be very proud of it.”
“I am," laughingly, “and I love to
feel that I’ve done it all myself. Sat
urday afternoon when I got through
cleaning and laid down to rest, I felt
that I was about the happiest, the
most independent and most self-satis
fied young woman in New York.”
Helen watched her almost enviously
as she cleared away the salad plates
and brought on ^ little bowl of fruit
jelly with whipped cream. She knew
what the feeling of independence, "of
having done it all herself,” must
mean.
She thought of the time when War
ren was out West, when things were
| at the worst between them, when she
felt she would soon be thrown on her
own resources. How helpless and ter
rified that she was so incapable of
making her own living.
Ilow many women, she wondered,
stay with their husbands for the sim
ple reason that they can not support
themselves. This was a humiliation
that Laura Wilson could never know,
she had proven so superbly that she
could make her own way. Should she
marry now. the man would know he
could hold her only through love and
not merely because he supported her. i
“Don’t you like fruit jelly?” disap- I
pointedly, for Helen was toying ab- j
sentiy with her spoon.
“Oh, yes! I was only thinking,”
wistfully, “how wonderful it must be
for any woman to feel that she’s so
capable that whatever happens she
can always be independent.”
Not Fashionable.
“What you need, madam, is oxygen.
Come every afternoon for your inhala- ;
tions. They will cost you $4 each.”
“I knew that other doctor didn't un
derstand my case,” declared the fash
ionable patient. “He told me all I
needed was plain, fresh air."
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