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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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