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THE TRIPLE TIE A Story for Baseball Fans That Will Interest Every Lover of the National Game Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women SYNOPSIS. <4ordon Kelly, a young North Geor gia mountaineer, comes to Atlanta to get a place with Hilly Smith'd Cracker* It is raining when he reaehea Ponce T>elaeon and he Is nearly run over by an auto, in which air two persons—a man and a young girl The driver of the car is an ar rogant fellow The girl makes him Stop the machine. She gets out and Inquires If Kelly is injured She apologise* for her companion’s bruerjue manner. Kelly secs „Mann- ger Smith ani te’ls him he has never played a fame of ba.ll. Smith con sents to fitve Kelly a trial. The girl in the auto is Mildred Deery, daugh ter of Galen I>eery. a crafty and wealthy speculator in timber lands. Her companion Is Forrest Cain, a rich young man about town Kelly owns timber land that Deery would like to possess Now go on with the story. By A H C MITCHELL. Copyright, 1913, by International News' Service. TO-DAY'S INSTALLMENT. Selecting a dry spot on the “turtle back” diamond, the two men drew' on their gloves and began “warming up” by parsing the ball back and forth, a diatanoe of about fifty feet separat ing them They kept up a running fire of talk like two dancing come dlans dolnp a turn on the vaudeville stage. “Nothing like starting the season in the right way,” said Smith. “That’s the reason I brought out a new ball. What kind of balls do you use In that mountain league of yours?” “I use either the Spalding or the 1 ■Reach. They are all the same I un derstand they are made at the same factory.” If the manager expected the re cruit to handle himself awkwardly or Jump around In the clumsy man ner of the novice he was disappoint - j ed. Kelly caught the balls thrown at him with the ease and grace of a veteran. Smith purposely tossed ! some wide ones, expecting the other) man to fall over himself, but noth ing of the sort happened. Kelly took them with one hand without moving from hia tracks, or if the threw was too j wild for that, he would get in front j of the ball with one surprisingly quick leap. A Crowd Gathers. “You seem to be In pretty fair I shape for this time of year," re- marked Smith. "Yes. I keep in trim all the year j around." was Kelly’s reply. With all bis hinting around, the manager | couldn’t get much Information from the recruit. Throw a piece of meat or a dead j cat in the woods of any part of the South and there will be scores of buz i zarda circling over the spot in an in credibly short space of time. Let two or more baJl players start practicing! on any Inclosed grounds in the coun try. and although there will not be a small boy In sight when they begin, dozens of urchins will appear on the scene as If from nowhere before five minutes have passed. Such was the case soon after Manager Smith and his recruit began their exercise. “There’s enough kids around now i to fth&ck the balls," said Smith. “Sup- i pose we have a little batting prac- j tice. You take first whack at the ball and I’ll pitch to you.” “All right, wait till I get my bats,” remarked Kelly, starting for the club house. He returned quickly, swing ing the three bats around his shoul ders with both hands as one would . swing a hugQ Indian club, and after the manner of Tv Cobb, Trl? Speaker and other well known batsmen of na tional reputation. He tossed two of the “L/oulsville Sluggers" aside and . stepped to the plate with the third. He was a right-handed batsman, yet he assumed a position at the plate different from that of any big j league batsman of the present day. He stood exactly fifteen Inches to the ; left of the rubber and faced the 1 After fortifying himself with a couple of cocktails against an uninteresting session with Deery, Forrest Cain sat down at table with him and tried to appear interested. Up-to-Date Jokes pitcher as a fine, upstanding orator would face an audience. Ilia feet were firmly planted on the ground eight inches apart, and ho waved his bat back and forth over the plate, not up and down and not obliquely, but on a line with the direction the ball might be expected to take. Trls Speaker and Doc Gessler swing their bats in preliminary motions in this way, but both of these celebrated fence-breakers stand with their legs spread far apa.it and with their shoulders turned more toward the plate than toward the pitcher. “Shades of Old Man Anson,” mur mured Bill Smith to himself. “Where did the kid get that pose, I wonder?" A Tremendous Hit. It was at bat that Bill Smith ex pected to “show' up” the aspirant for a place on his team. To be sure, the manager had not handled a ball in nearly live months and his arm was In no condition to put any “stuff’’ on It. Still he figured he might throw up most any kind of ball and have Kelly tumbling all over himself to hit it — that is, he figured that way until the recruit took his stand at the plate and waved his oat at easily as though It were a broomstick Instead of 4.3 ounces of solid, well-seasoned ash. “Shades of Anson!” murmured Smith again. “What do you know about that kid! Well, here goes.” Swinging his right arm in a circle several times and then describing sev eral “and so fOTth»” in the Air with the ball, Bill Smith raised his left foot on high and as It cam* dow n o the earth he delivered the ball with as much speed as he could put behind It. As the ball sailed up to the plate, Kelly took one step straight forward and drove his bat against the horse- hide. There was a resounding crash and the ball shot like a rifle bullet on a line toward right field. Th* farther It went the more speed It teemed to acquire, and instead of traveling In a rainbow curve It appeared to rise In the air. “With a loud report it crashed Into ! the ribs of the mammoth, Inanimate figure of the bull which adorns tho j ball parks of every league club In the country. There was a sound of splin tering wood and the ball disappeared from view, leaving a large hole in tho sides of, the proud wooden animal. “Lordy, Lordy, what a swat!” ejac ulated Whisky, who had been surrep- tlciously watching the proceedings on the diamond from the runway under the grandstand. “Ah Jest caint rec- ommember ever seein’ nothin’ like dat on deseyere grounds befo’.” Bill Smith gazed long and earnest ly at the jagged hole in the side <■? the bull. Twenty boys ran in search of the ball and presently one of them returned with It, out of breath, and held It out to the manager. Bill Smith waved his hand and said: Offer a Contract. “Keep It as a souvenir, kid; you’ll never see a hit like that again as long as you live.” Then, turning to the young man. who still ntood at the plate brandishing his bat, he said: “Gome with me, Kelly," and walked swiftly to the clubhouse. Seating him self at a small desk, he drew a printed form from one of the drawers and for several minutes all that was heard In the room was the scratching of a pen. Finally the manager turned to Kelly and said: “What amount shall I write here?” “What Ip it?” Inquired the young man. “Something I want to send to Pres ident Kavanaugh of the Southern League for promulgation. It is a con tract between the Atlanta Baseball Club and Gordon Kelly.” “Fill It In with the smallest amount you pay anyone of j'our players, but I can’t sign It, as I will not be of age until the 10th of April,” replied Kelly There was more business o! , scratching a pen and then Smith arose and pointed to the chair. “Sit down and sign it." he ordered 'You may not be of age according | to common law. but I'll take my j chances with baseball law.” Kelly signed the document, arose from the chair and slipped off hi? uniform, declining Whisky’s eager proffer of a rub-down. “Much obliged, Whisky, but I didn’t work hard enough to-day to get ui* j a sweat. Some other time.” Gordon Kelly finished dressing and started to leave. “What time Is the call for practice j on Monday, Mr. Manager,” he said. "No wmrk on Sunday, 1 suppose.” “Ten o’clock sharp, Gordon. Er— did I understand you to say you*never | played a game of bgdl?” “That is correct.” “And you never saw a ball game In I your life?” “Right again.” “That's all. See you Monday. So long.” Gordon Kelly went out and Bill | Smith, turning to his attendant, said: “I repeat, Whisky, there goes a mys- terloso for all the money you got in I your clothes.” “Yassuh, yassuh, he cert’nly am an* den some.” CHAPTER IV. A T 9:30 o'clock on Monday morn ing Judge Barbee called Galen Deery on the telephone and in formed him that the young man they had been speaking about on Satur day. Gordon Kelly, had just left nls office, but ’that he was to have lunch with him at the Piedmont at 12:30, and if Mr. Deery cared to saunter in her would introduce him. “He is a fine young man, Deery, and you will be glad to meet him,’* said the Judge, in conclusion "Very much obliged, Judge, I’ll drop around,’’ replied Deery and hung up the receiver. At 12:45 o’clock Deery “sauntered” in the main dining room of the Pied mont and was soon seated at a table with Gordon Kelly and Judge Barbee. He made himself very agreeable to the young man, as he well knew how to do, and pressed an invitation for him to dine with the Deery family that night. Gordon demurred at first, on the plea that he had no evening clothes. “Why, I never owned a dress su’t Mr. Deery. We have r ot much use for them where I came from. I remem ber an old suit of my father's hanging up in a closet, but I never saw It on him.” “We will dine Informally to-night.” replied Deery. “I am not much on th: spiketaiis myself and only wear them when I am absolutely obliged to do so. Come up just as you are. We dine at 7 o’clock.” “Thank you, I will, with pleasure,” said Gordon. Deery begged to be excused soon after and when he had gone, Judge Barbee' said: “I have known Deery for a good many years I don’t suppose you will ever have any business dealings with him, Gordon, but if you ever do yon will find him a man of his word. When he says he’ll do a thing he'll do It. He is a clever man and a shrewd man, who takes advantage of his op portunities and even creates his op portunities. He has been accused of being underhanded in his business dealings, but I have never found him that way and I have been in several undertakings with him. He is the kind of man that will try to buy a thing worth two dollars for one dol lar, or fifty cents, or a nickel and he frequently succeeds. You say you ex pect to be in Atlanta for several weeks. That being the case. I’m glad you are to meet Deery’s family. He has a charming wife and daughter. They are good people to know and the right kind of people to know. Later in the week you must come to my hous»e and spend a quiet evening with us. Now, if you don’t mind, I would like to talk to you a little about your affair. 0 . You were in such a hurry to get away this morning I didn’t have a chance to go over things with you.” To be Continued To-morrow. 'j~~ Lovely Laurcftc Taylor Says That an Attractive Smile Is Her Formula And posing is a foe to naturalness, oi course. “Beauty is valuable as a lure to the f eye—the eye is attracted first, of course—and then the mind is appealed to, and in order to get a fair hearing ; for a fine personality it is well to pre sent a pleasing picture first. “In Peg I wear a red wig as a note of emphasis—it catches the eye and dour my' hair, or marcel it, or follow’ the prevailing mode in some way, but that Is not wise, for with my hair sim ply parted the middle, pulled ov»r my temples a bit and arranged in » bun over each ear, I look most myseir; w* no matter how fashions may lure mo for a time, in the end I go back to the simple mode of hair dressing that best expresses me.’’ “Originality’—without daring—is a very' attractive thing. But do you think ft very popular?” I asked. Bernhardt’ Example. “Popular!” exclaimed Miss Taylor. "Just think of the teas you have gone to this winter—didn’t you see at least a hundred sway-backed women all <>f the name type at each one? Original ity of a well-bred, simple sort is so lovely—and so neglected. “That has come over me with re newed force after seeing our great, our wonderful leader in the world of acting—Bernhardt. She is herself— A Bachelor’s Diary .:. By MAX Young Man (to provision merchant) —Your daughter and 1. sir. have j agreed to row down the river of life j together, sir. Provision Merchant (sarcastically) —Have you got any provisions on boa rd ? Young Man—No. sir. Considering your business. we thought the • victualing department was more in i your line, sir. When Scones was at Oxford he was ! a most excellent fellow', and only had one enemy—soap. He was called Dirty Scones. One day the wag, Bo lus. went into his rooms, and. re monstrating with him on the untidy, slovenly and dirty state of everything, i said: “Upon my word. Dirty, it’s too bad, | old chap. The only clean thing in 1 the room is your towel.” "Gracious. Smith, old boy. how are j you? I ha vent’ seen you for ages. You are altered. I should scarcely you again." “Excuse me, sir, my name is not 1 Smith.” “Gr«ttt Scot! Your name altered as w£rrr* Stop Experimenting with “so-called ’ hair destroyers The time thus wasted only serves to make the undesir able hairs take firmer root. The Guaranteed Liquid Hair Destroyer is th* only preparation that immediately and wttii«*e tne slightest Injury to the most deii , cate - am. will remove Superfluous Hair It Acts Instantly -wherever applied. You will find it not offensive, a requisite others dare not claim for their preparations i Take no malodorous or worthless substi- , tutes., Insist upon El-Rado. Price, $1.00, at Jacobs' Ten Stores. Bootle! otvaluab.e mini mmttm frtrtn revuea. PILGRIM MFG. COMPANY n East 28tta SI. New York j A PRIL 16.—I have been sorely' neg ligent of you lately', Diary, but the kaleidoscopic rapidity with which familiar forms and long-estab lished opinions have changed has left me in a state of bewilderment. If 1 had started to pour Into your sym pathetic ear my belief that Stilly Spencer did right in Inviting the wid ow to visit her. something would have occurred before the hage was filled to convince me she did wrong. I have tried to help her according to my interpretation of tho needs of the situation by flirting violently' with Mrs. Brown, even going so far as* to give the widow every opportunity to ask me to marry her—indeed, encour aging her to do so—ajid all 1 got for jeopardizing my future happiness was a scolding from Sally. "This," she said to me very coldly one evening, when 1 had refused to take i hint from the disapproving looks she gave me and she had been compelled to r*‘move me bodily from the scene by asking me to walk to the corner mail box with her. “ls» my game and I want you to know. Max. that 1 am competent to play it with out any' assistance from you.” “It seems to me,” I grumbled, "that I am rendering you very valuable as sistance at this minute. What would be your excuse for leaving those two I alone hour after hour if you didn't ! have me around? You want a walk | around the block, and Max will take you. of course. You find you must make a call on a sick friend, and Max will escort you there and wait for you. You are overwhelmed with a longing I to see Manette, and Max will step | across the lawn w ith you. and, as for the mail box. you know. Sally Spencer, you have mailed more Letters in the I past week than you ever wrote in you; ! life, and it never occurs to you that your maid or your man will mail them for you. No. you must go yourself, and Max must go with you. A Cold Answer. "Do you think Mrs. Brown likes to be thrown at your husband's head like that?” “She seems to be enjoying it." a trifle more coldly. I couldn't gainsay that, for I have never known the widow to seem a> happy as phe has appeared since she became a guest of the Spencer honu Her enjoyment proves to me that women, just as well as men. like to play with fire, and that more of them would go to the devil If such an ex cursion in a woman’s life were as quickly forgotten as W'hen a man takes It. The fact that the label put on her luggage is stuck on for life is all that keeps her from going to the end of the line. In her heart she goes there as often ns a man. Of course there are exceptions. 1 There is Margaret Hill, who never In her life committed a sin as enormous as crocheting on Sunday, but what happiness would a man find in her? He would have to devote the rest of his life to thinking before he said a word, and never again would ne dare to be spontaneous in reminis cence or joke. Never Kissed. There have been situations in the sowing and harvesting of my small crop of wild oats that were excruci atingly funny, a few that were sad, and one that was almost tragic, but I wouldn’t be allowed to recall the most innocent if 1 married a worngn as good as Margaret Hill. 1 should have to add deceit and hypocrisy to my sowing, seeds 1 find that all men must plant who marry late in life and strive to live up to the glorified ideals of the woman they married. Woman-like, no wife is ever con tent to let a man’s yesterday alone. "Did you ever do thus-and-so?” She begins to ask before the honeymoon has waned, and her husband, for the sake of her peace of mind as well as his own. is compelled to lie like a thief. 1 can Just fancy myself. Diary, tell ing Margaret Hill that 1 had lived my almost fifty years without the com mission of a sin! "My mother died when I was a boy," 1 can hear myself telling her. “and she was the last w oman I kissed ’till i kissed you.’’ "But did you never meet any wom an you thought you loved?” she would persist, in the insane fashion women have of trying to undermine their happiness. “Never.” I would reply emphat ically. “But when other men went around at nights and did all sorts of wicked things, didn’t you go around with them?" , "Never, never. NEVER!” reaching i for my halo. "But I thought.” a little doubtfully, J “I once heard you speak of being on the streets with Tom Addison till 3 j o’clock in the .morning.” * “My dear," in tones of righteous reproof, “we were on our way to sit up with the dead.” Perhaps this would satisfy her, but I have a notion she would ask who was dead, a'nd I should be compelled to invent a fictitious corpse, go into all the details of his last illness, and perhaps, the next time we were oat riding, be confronted with the request that I show her his grave! The next time she renewed the at tack on my past I would throw up more breastworks of hypocrisy, grow ing more skillful with every’ occa sion. And why would she do this, Diary? Well, the Lord alone knows. A boy who punches a hole In his drum to find out where the noise comes from has his counterpart in every wife. She isn’t content to simply’ be happy; she must punch her happiness all to pieces, using a question mark as a tool. When she has discovered that her husband wasn’t a spotless angel in his past, she declares "All men are alike!" And when a woman says “All men are alike" she means they are all as black as tar. April 20—I seem to write on these pages for the purpose of concealment, rather than of ••ommunicktion, but the truth is I can’t nerve myself to the ordeal ■ *f putting down in black and white what is really happening. To do that will make It really so, and l am blindly hoping I will wake up after a time and find it is all a dream. Getting Brazen. Mrs. Brown and Jack Spencer have become so abandoned in their infat uation that they no longer have the decency to conceal it from his wife. And as for me! Well, Diary, when I caught him kissing her the other day. wouldn’t you have thought they’d had at least the grace to look ashamed? Not a bit of it! All the embarrass ment was mine! 1 pledged Sally my word I wouldn’t interfere, but 1 broke it this morning when the widow came across the lawn and took a seat be side me in the library. I have noticed that as soon as Jack leaves the house she hunts me up. showing no desire to face an hour or two alone with her hostess. I began by asking her, rather gruff ly, when she was going home. In tones as innocent as If she were telling a preacher she liked lamb stew, she replied: “l can’t tell you when I am going, but 1 can tell you this much: When Miss Laurette Taylor in Two Charming Poses. By LILLIAN LAUFFERTY. M” ERCY, you don’t consider me a beauty!” exclaimed Lau rette Taylor in a tone of genuine and delightful amazement. She studied the floor of her own brown-rugged, flower-decked living room in charming confusion that had a touch of the child-like quality every lovable woman should possess in her nature. "Evidently you don’t take that par ticular phase of beauty very serious ly,” said 1. “But won’t you tell me just what your idea of beauty is?” "Variety,” came the answer prompt ly. “To me a beautiful woman is one who to-day Is gloriously mag nificent, to-morrow sweetly pensive, and the day after that interestingly plain. Maxine Elliott, Maude Adams and wonderful Mme. Bernhardt min gling their types and possibilities in one face would produce true and won derful beauty, I think.” What to Avoid. Miss Taylor laughed the wide, sweet, shy Irish smile that makes “Peg o’ My Heart” the joy of all who meet her at the Cort Theater in New York or at home, where her charming co-creator is Mrs. Hartley Manners,” wife of the man who wrote the part his wife vitalizes. “Of course,” went on the vibrant voice with its note of rich tender ness, “very few of us can unite beau ty and charm and fascinating ugli ness and the look of genius and spir ituality, and diablierle all in our one little face. And it is just as well not to try to make your face over into a .lumber of things It was never meant to be and probably will decline to be come. however hard you try to make it. So it is just as well to let your personality flower into its own sort of beauty. “When 1 was a 14-year-old board ing school girl, with a vast affection Tor little boys and a yearning to be pretty and attractive, I discovered that I had the sad blemish of a big mouth if 1 let it go into a natural smile, so I pursed it up neatly at the corners and just semi-smiled. Then 1 discovered that if 1 •miled all thevway there were dimples—they seemed to counteract the extensiveness of the smile—so I let it have full sway.” Fairly Shuddered. And I fairly shuddered to think how but for those dimples the illumi nating. infectious, altogether lovable Laurette Taylor smile might have been lost to us! "Beauty wells up from the inner consciousness like personality,” be gan Miss Taylor seriously, and then stopped to ask in a delightfully hu man way, “Well, do you think I am talking like a book?” “Not a bit,” said I; “please just think aloud about how to be as pretty as possible with only one face and a limited number of expressions for that. Does not an actress naturally know about how to be beautiful?” “She learns the possibilities of her own face. She has to study it so ear nestly while putting on ami taking off make-up. She learns the little trick of turning her eyes so they will look as large as possible and whether to show her full face or her profile, but she scarcely carries those tricks* con sciously into every-day life; because being natural is exactly as important as being sure of your own possibilities. answers an ideal of the sort of hair a little Irteh girl should have. In life one does not wear a red wig for em phasis and attraction, but one ar ranges the hair just as becomingly as possible. Now. I sometimes pompa- absolutely and positively herself; and in the realization of her own person ality as well as her mastery of acting she is* wonderful. She never was a beauty in any accepted way—yet she is more than beautiful. Why? Be cause personality, originality and varying moods and phases of temper ament well from her inner conscious ness and illuminate her face.” The little actress’ face was fairly, transfigured with self-forgetting rev erence as she spoke of the woman who surmounts her profession. I looked the growing admiration 1 was coming to feel«for Laurette Tay lor’s mobile charm. Suddenly she leaned forward—lips parting in that •warming smile. "Now. I am going to take my turn at asking you a question. Were you not disappointed in me when I first came in? You missed the red wig— the note of emphasis—the Irish spar kle of the girl I play. Tell me, is this not so?” “Perhaps.” I said slowly. “Perhaps. “But truly, truly I find you better than my best theories of you now.” For you see Laurette Taylor realizes so many of her own ideals* of beauty; hair softly parted over a broad brow, wistful eyes, piquant nose and merry smiling mouth above her stately white throat affording a pleasing variety in one face. And beauty did well from her inner consciousness as she spoke with self-forgetting love of her great ideal, Bernhardt. Next Time You Make Waffles, T\ _ FTOi • —serve them with Velva Syrup with the RED LABEL, and AIllS know syrup as you’ve never known it before. Velva is made for table use. for making cakes, candies and other goodies. It puts new go in griddre cakes, makes muffins taste like more and places a plate of biscuits into a little world of its own. Good? Yes, ma’am, great — and its use brings the high cost of living down. Goes twice as far as butter on bread, and costs only a fourth as much. Never was, and never will be, any syrup as good as thesyrup with the RED LABEL; and you’ 11 heepon using itafteryoubuy your first package. Try Velva next time you make candy. It makes great fudge, too, and you’ll notice the difference in the first batch. Your grocer has Velva in the green can, too, if you like. Velva is ten cents up, according to size—and you never bought its equal. Send for the book of Velva Recipes. No charge. PENICK & FORD, Ltd. NEW ORLEANS, LA. KENTUCKY WAFFLES 3 tablespoons Red Velva Syrup, 2 cups tour cream, 4 cups flour. 3 eg gw, I teaspoon baking soda, 3 tablespoons melted lard, S teaspoon salt, some milk. Beat up yolks