Atlanta Georgian. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, May 23, 1913, Image 11
4“
Daysey Mayme
And Her Folks
By FRANCES L. OARSIDE.
W HEN Daysey Mayme Appleton
was a student in school, none
was as quick as she in de
ciding how many rolls of paper it
would require for a room seventeen
feet square, with walls twelve feet
high, allowing for two doors and
seven windows. Given the dimensions
of a cistern, she could remove her wad
of chewing gum, stick it on the under
side of her desk, go to the blackboard
and figure how many cubic feet of
water it would take to fill the cistern
and get back to her desk before her
gum was cold.
She ate up problems in compound
interest, gloated o\or questions in
volving the displacement of battle*
, ships, and no other girl got as much
chalk on her nose and clothes in figur
ing Just when and where we will
bump into Mars.
Every Bonaparte finally meets his
Wellington, and Daysey Mayme at
last met hers. She had charge of the
kitchen, and was down on her knees
in front of the refrigerator with the
day’s purchase of groceries beside her
when her colors went down in defeat.
Mathematical Shapes.
The butter jar was square, the milk
was in bottles, the cold potatoes filled
an oval dish and the prunes were in a
round bowl. With eyes that could tell
at a glance the distance between Ju
piter and Mars, she saw' that the re
frigerator shelves were eighteen
Inches deep and tw*o feet long, and
that there were three of them.
“Bet x,” she began, mechanically,
“represent «the lard, y the eggs and
z the roast; then x plus y plus z will
equal one-third of the top shelf, leav
ing two-thirds for a, the stewed
prunes; b, the cream, and c, the to
matoes.”
She found the displacement of the
roast was such there was no room
for x, y, and a, b and c, and in trying
to crowd the milk bottles on the eggs
she broke three, and yellow and white
leaked down over the prunes on the
shelf beneath. She used every trick
in science to reduce the round cans,
the oval dishes and the square boxes
to a space small enough to make room
for the cheese, upsetting a bowl of
frosting into the buttermilk jar and
the salad dressing over a rice pud
ding.
Sat on a Pie.
The present was hard enough to
bear, and when her brain leaped for
ward to the season when the water
melon must alfto be figured with she
sat recklessly back on a pie and be
gan to cry.
“Oh, Lord,” she prayed, beating her
head against a dish of cold potatoes,
“either make woman’s brains large
enough to solve her problems or make
watermelons smaller.”
“Oh,” she added a moment later,
when she had found she couldn’t bal
ance the cream bottles on the roast,
“if you can’t make them smaller, make
them square.”
THE TRIPLE TIE
A Story for Baseball Fans That Will Interest
Every Lover of the National Game
$250 in Prizes for Best Solution
of “The Triple Tie”
Y OL t read the first four installments of the great baseball mystery
story of “The Triple Tie” and now you have a fair idea of the
simplicity of the offer The Georgian makes—how you may win
$100 by working out the solution of the mystery as nearly as its au
thor, A. H. C. Mitchell, has done as you can.
Mr. Mitchell has written the last chapter, but his copy is sealed
up in a vault at the American National Bank. When all but this final
c hapter has been printed. The Georgian readers will be asked to submit
to three competent judges, none of them connected with this newspaper,
their version of w hat the grand denouement snould be.
To the person who most closely approximates Mr. Mitch
ell's final chapter $100 will be awarded. Other prizes, making
the total prize list $250, also will be distributed.
Here is the list of the awards:
No. 1 $100
No. 2 $50
No. 3 $25
No. 4 $15
Nos. 5 to 16, each 5
Read this fifth installment of the great mystery story and you will
not need to be urged to read the succeeding chapters. The story will
grip you. As you read, try to follow the author’s channel of thought
and when the time comes for you to sit down and write that final
chapter, be ready to win one of the big cash prizes in The Georgian's
great offer.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
HIS LOVE IS SELFISH.
D ear miss Fairfax:
I am 17 and deeply in love
with a young man seven years
my senior. He always says he
loves me and often speaks of mar
riage, although we do not con
sider ourselves engaged. He
never goes with other girls and
expects me not to meet other
boys. Has he a right to expect
this, and is it right for me to go
with other young men?
MABEL.
Professions of love and the occa
sional mention of marriage do not
constitute an engagement. There
must be a definite proposal and an
engagement ring.
Until there is an engagement neith
er has the right of monopoly of the
ether’s time, and not then if both par
ties have a faith that is above Jeal
ousy. You are 17—too young by sev-
erai years to be engaged.
ASK HER.
D ear miss Fairfax-.
I am 20 and in love with a
girl two years my Junior, with
whom I have been acquainted for
several years. I have been calling
on her and taking her out, with
. the permission of her parents.
Whenever I approve of one of her
friendly actions she claims she
would do that same thing for any
body whom she liked. How can I
learn whether she loves me or
not? ANXIOUS.
There is only one way: Ask her.
But don’t ask her unless you are
financially able to follow up your
uuestion with a proposal of marriage
and an engagement ring.
DON’T DO IT.
D ear miss Fairfax:
Can I gain a man’s respect
by allowing him to kiss me good
night after a little evening’s out
ing?
I have reference to a very fine
young man whom I have known
but a short time. I am 19 years
old. A- E-
I am sure no man’s lasting regard
is won that way. Save your kisses
for the man you love.
By A. H. C. MITCHELL.
Copyright, 1913, by International News
Service.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
Gordon looked at his watch. “I can
only spare half an hour—say forty
minutes, Judge,” he laughed. “You
see, I am taking some lessons and the
hours are from 10 to 12 in the morn
ing and 2 to 4 in the afternoon.”
"I’m glad to learn that you are
starting right in to improve yourself.
Gordon. Lord knows there were many
things that could not be had up in the
mountains where you were forced to
spend all your life.”
“I have no complaint to make,
Judge. 1 enjoyed every minute of it.
But I formed an ambition up there
that I want to see realized.”
“What is It?”
“I’ll tell you as soon as I feel sure
I can w in out,” laughed Gordon.
To his wife Deery telephoned from
his office that there would a guest
for dinner. “I may do some business
with him at some future date,” he ex
plained, “but that has nothing to do
with it at present. He is a friend of
Judge Barbee’s. In fact, the Judge is
a sort of guardian of his. He has lived
all his life in the mountains, but you
would never know it to ta.lk with him.
He has never been in a city before,
but you would never suspect that
either. Please pass the word along
to Mildred and tell her she w 7 ill be
interested.”
At five minutes of seven o’clock
that evening Gordon Kelly entered
the Deery residence and a moment
later was escorted into the living
room by Mr. Deery, w r ho presented
him to his wife.
“This is Mr. Gordon Kelly, dear:
my wife. Mr. Kelly.” said Deery. and
after courtesies had been exchanged,
he added: “Where is Mildred?”
At that moment his daughter cross
ed the threshold, and as she caught
sight of Gordon she stood stock still.
Recovering herself instantly, she
advanced and held out her hand as
the young man was presented to her.
Before half a dozen words could be
spoken, dinner was announced.
A Warning Glance.
“I don’t intend to talk of the weath
er, Mr. Kelly, but I would like to ask
if you w'ere caught in the storm this
morning?” said Mrs. Deery, as the
napkins were unfolded.
Gordon intercepted a quick, warn
ing glance from Mildred, who was
seated opposite him, and answered:
“I certainly did, Mrs. Deery, I was
caught out in the suburbs and caught
most of the rain, too, but fortunately
I found a friend right handy and was
able to dry my clothes; otherwise I
should have been in a predicament.”
“You were fortunate after all,”
smiled Mrs. Deery, “but Mildred was
out in the whole drenching rain and
had a most exciting adventure. You
haven’t heard a word about it, Galen.
Mildred, tell Mr. Kelly and your
father all about it.”
“You tell them, please, mother,”
pleaded Mildred, with a slight flush.
Thereupon Mrs. Deery related the
incidents of the morning, exaggerat
ing only so much as it is a woman’s
right to exaggerate. She omitted,
however, the mean part played by
Forrest Cain. Neither did she men
tion the hand-holding episode, for in
truth her daughter had not told her
of it.
“That was very kind of you to
turn back, Miss Deery,” said Gordon,
w’ith a smile. “As near as I can make
out the young man was at fault in
not looking out for himself."
“Now r I think you are fishing for
compliments for that young man, Mr.
Kelly,” returned Mildred. “You men
always stand up for each other that
way.”
It was evident to Gordon that Mil
dred desired to conceal from her
parents that he, Gordon Kelly, was
the young man referred to. Beyond
a slight start when she first saw
him in her home, she had no sign of
ever having seen him before. Gordon
could not fathom her reasons for
wishing the matter kept secret, but
he felt bound to respect them.
She Flushed Slightly.
Mrs. Deery started another topic.
"My husband tells me you have
lived all your life in the mountains
northwest of us," she said. “Didn’t
you find it losesome up there?”
“Oh, mother, let Mr. Kelly tell us
what he thinks of Atlanta,” broke in
Mildred quickly. “Isn’t it a fine city,
Mr. Kelly?”
She flushed again slightly, though
Gordon could not understand why she
did so. He answered:
“It certainly is. Miss Deery, but the
thing that impressed me most when I
arrived was the roar and rumble of
it. Where I have lived the only noise
we hear is the sound of the wind
through the trees.”
The conversation drifted into small
talk. Mildred turned aside every at
tempt made by her parents to draw-
out Gordon in regard to his life in
the mountains, and this was another
thing in connection with the young
womar. he couldn’t understand.
The dinner ended and Mrs. Deery
asked if Gordon would care to play
bridge.
“That is an accomplishment I
haven’t acquired, ’ laughed Gordon,
“but I must study it up.”
“Take my advice and don’t do it,“
declared Deery. “In a moment of
mental aberration I allowed myself
to learn the rudiments of the game.
Never again!” He held up his right
hand impressively. "Since that fatal
hour my w-ife and daughter have in
sisted on dragging me shrieking to
ail sorts of bridge parties for the
benefit of the Old Ladies' Home, or
some such charitable affair.
They all laughed at this. It was
not until Gordon was taking his leave
that he managed to have a word with
Mildred alone. He said:
“Tell me why you make a mystery
of my connection with your adventure
of the morning?”
"Sh’h,” she replied with a sly look.
“It’s a secret.”
"And why wouldn’t you allow me
to tell of my lite in the mountains?”
“Sh-h,” replied Mildred with an
adorable smile. “That is secret No.
2.”
Cordial Invitations.
“Won’t you tell me?”
"I hope so—some time.”
“By the way, Mr. Kelly,” said Deery.
coming up to where they stood. “You
ought to know some of the young
men of Atlanta. If you will take
lunch with me tomorrow, I will have
you meet one of them, Forrest Cain,
who, I know, would be glad to make
things pleasant for you while you are
in Atlanta.”
“Thank you, Mr. Deery,” replied
Gordon. “I—” He felt Mildred’s fin
gers close on his arm in a slight
pressure. “I—I’m obliged to decline.
Unfortunately I have another engage
ment.”
Deery noticed the hesitancy, but
made no comment beyond. “Well,
some other time, perhaps.”
There were cordial invitations to
“come again,” at which Gordon said:
“I’m not very well versed in eti
quette, Mrs. Deerv but am I not en
titled to make a ‘party call’?”
“You certainly are.” laughed Mrs.
Deery, “come and see us the last of
.:. Their Married Life
Warren Gets Out His Summer Clothes and Helen
Gives Away the Wrong Suit.
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
^ I"-v EAR, you’ll never wear them.”
i y persisted Helen. “What’s the
use of keeping them any
longer? Let me give these two suits
to the elevator boy.”
“Hold on now not so fast! What’ve
you got there?” scowled Warren,
coming over to where Helen was ex
amining two suits by the window.
“Why, this old blue serge, and this
brown suit.”
"Let’s see—give them here. What’s
the matter with this?” as hfc held
up the blue serge.
"Why, Warren, it’s all worn shiny.
And there’s that new blue serge you
got last summer. You'll never wear
this old one.”
"I’m not so sure. That’s a good
suit yet. Just the thing to wear fish
ing.”
Warren was always saving his old
suits to wear fishing—but he never
went fishing! However. Helen was
much too wise to remind him of this
inconsistency, but she finally per
suaded him to part with the blue
serge, since he had kept at least five
other old suits to “wear fishing.”
It was Sunday morning, a dark,
dismal Sunday, and right after break
fast Warren had declared it would
be a good day to get out his sum
mer clothes.
“'Thank you, Mr. Deery,
arm in a slight pressure. ‘ ‘ I—I
the week. What night. Mildred?”
“Come Thursday, Mr. Kelly,” said
Mildred.
His heart as light as a feather,
Gordon Kelly walked home on aeri
form fluid.
CHAPTER VII.
F ORREST CAIN, having nothing in
particular to do except amuse
himself and having plenty of
money to do it with, spent consider
able time every year in New York.
He usually took three yearly trips
and sometimes four to the metropolis,
besides spending several weeks there
in the hot season. In New York he
always lived at the Niagara Club, so
called because it flowed on with a
roar from day to day and from month
to month and from year to year. It
never closed its doors. One could get
a drink, or a meal, there at any hour
of the day or night. Its member
ship consisted largely of wealthy
young men of leisure—the same kind
of New Yorkers in New York that
Cain was in Atlanta. It was the sort
of a club to appeal to a man of Cain’s
habits and inclinations.
The lure of Broadway and the call
of the Niagara Club sounded from
afar in the ears of Forrest Cain early
in March, and he promptly made
preparations for a trip to New 7 York,
completely forgetting the promise he
had made to Galen Deery to take the
young man from the mountains in
tow. Transportation was secured
for the following Thursday night.
Cain engaging a stateroom on a Pull
man car. Twice on Tuesday and
twice on Wednesday he called up
th£ Deery residence on the telephone,
but the maid who answered the ring,
after ascertaining who it was that
was calling, told him Miss Deery was
not at home. Early Thursday night
he called up again, with the same
result. Thereupon he proceeded to
his club and spent the few hours be
fore train time with convivial com
panions. Knowing the habitual in
clinations of through Southern trains
to be late, he took the precaution,
about the time he should have left
for the depot, i" call lip and find
out about this particular train, and
learned that it was nearly two hours
behind schedule. He then took an
other chance of finding Mildred
Deery, but the same maid assured
him that she was not at home. Re
questing that she be informed that
he was leaving that night for New
York, ho hung up the receiver.
He then remembered that he had
some orders to give regarding the
overhauling of his automobile, and
walked around to the garage, which
was only a short distance from his
club. He arrived Just in time to
dodge a smart show 7 er of rain. As
he was giving his instructions, the
telephone i,n the office of the garage
rang, and the proprietor answered
the call. Cain heard half the con
versation.
“Yes, this Is the garage. Yes, Miss
Deery. Yes, I understand. I’ll have
a car around in five minutes. All
right. Goodbye.”
“Where is she telephoning from?”
asked Cain.
“From her home. She has n guest
there who evidently doesn’t care to
walk home in the rain. So much the
better for the automobile business.
Every little helps.”
“And they told me she wasn't at
replied Gordon. “I ” he felt Mildred's fingers close on his
’m obliged to decline. ’ ’
SYNOPSIS.
Gordon Kelly, a young North Geor
gia mountaineer, comes to Atlanta
to get a place with Billy Smith’s
Grackers. It is raining when he
reaches Ponce DeLeon and he is
nearly run over by an auto, in which
are 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
apologizes for her companion’s
brusque manner. Kelly sees Mana
ger Smith ^n i tells him he has never
played a game of ball. Smith con
sents to filve Kelly a trial. The girl
in the auto is Mildred Deery, daugh
ter of Galen Deery, 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.
home,” said Cain to himself, gritting
his teeth. “What do you know about
that?" Who was this favored guest,
he wondered, and why was he, For
rest Cain, told repeatedly that Miss
Deery was “not at home?”
An idea seized him. He would find
out for himself. He had more than
an hour to spare. His baggage was
taken care of and his man, George,
was waiting for him at the depot with
his gripsack. He would play the role
of chauffeur and drive the car to the
Deery residence and take the favored
guest to his home, after which he
would return to the garage and have
himself driven to the depot.
Pulled His Cap Down.
“Lend me a coat and cap, Davis,"
said Cain to the owner of the garage.
“1 need some air before I get on that
stuffy train. I’ll drive the car and
collect the fare and bring back every
penny of it.”
Cain was one of the best customers
of the garage, and he was an expert
driver, so the proprietor readily gave
his consent. Slipping on a long tan
coat and pulling a cap well down over
his eyes, Cain climbed into a touring
car. The top was up, and the cur
tains were in place to keep out the
rain. An employee cranked the car,
and with Cain at the wheel it moved
slowly out of the garage.
Arriving at. the Deery residence,
Cain sounded the horn to indicate
that the car was there. A moment
later the front door opened and the
figure of a man holding an umbrella
to be protected from the smart rain
ran down the path to the sidewalk.
Cain pulled his cap further down over
his eyes and waited for the umbrella
to be lowered. An electric light blazed
only a few feet away. As he reached
the side of the car, the man threw
open the door, closed the umbrella
with a snap and entered the vehicle.
Quick as were his movements in or
der to avoid the rain, Cain was able
to recognize his passenger the same
young man he had so nearly run over
in front of Ponce DeLeon Park in
the furious rainstorm of Saturday
morning; in short, it was, as the
reader knows, George Kelly.
Cain stifled his rage and demanded
in a gruff voice: “Where to?”
“Imperial Hotel,” replied Kelly.
As he put the car in motion, wild
thoughts filled the mind of Forrest
Cain. For the first time in his life
he was evidently not having his own
way in a matter he had undertaken.
Ever since he was old enough to
walk he had ruled the Cain house
hold. As a boy he was arrogant and
self-willed. Since his father died,
nine years before, he had shared with
his sister the income from a large for
tune. His money had enabled him
to have everything he wanted. A few
weeks ago he had madA up his mind
to marry Mildred Deery. It is true
that she was not aware of this de
cision,and what her true feelings in
regard to him were he did not know,
nor did this matter trouble him much.
Was he not one of the richest, if not
the richest, bachelor in Atlanta? Was
he not considered the great “catch?”
Why, then, should he not marry the
girl that suited his fancy?
Things had gone along swimmingly,
he flattered himself, until this young
man had crossed his path and had
nearly met his death in doing so. He
acknowledged to himself that he was
a little rough in his talk to the fellow
.that day and Mildred had taken of
fense. But he had tried hard to
“square” himself—to make amends.
Had he not sent her flowers? Had
he not repeatedly tried to talk with
her over the telephone? Had he not
tried twice that very night to do so
and w f as he not told that she was
“not at home?”
Cain was boiling with anger as his
thoughts reached a sort of climax.
She was not at home to him, it
seemed, but she was at home to this
stranger. Who was this man? How
did Mildred find nut who he was and
where he lived? There must be a
Kop to the whole business. And he,
Forrest' Cain, was the man to stop
it. Here was his chance. He would—
The car had arrived at the end of
the street. To go to the Imperial
Hotel a turn should be made to the
right. Instead of doing this, however.
Cain turned to the left and took a
direction that would lead out of town.
He speeded up the machine to the
limit of its capacity, with a vague idea
of intimidating the passenger on the
rear seat, and the car flew down a
hill at a terrifying pace. Rain was
still falling sharply, making the roads
wet and slippery and the car rolled
and tossed and skidded in an alarm
ing manner.
To be Continued To-morrow.
She Was So Neat
“Just Say
HORLICK’S
It Means
Original and Genuine
MALTED MILK
The Food-drink for All Ages.
More healthful than Tea or Coffee.
Agrees with the weakest digestion.
Delicious, invigorating and nutritious.
Rich milk, malted grain, powder
form.
A Quick lunch prepared in a minute.
Take no substitute.Ask loiHORLICK’S
Others are imitations.
THIS, TOO, SHALL PASS AWAY
By ELLA WHEELER WILCOX.
Copyright, 1913, by Star Company.
A
MIGHTY monarch In the days of old
Made offer of high honor, wealth and gold
To one who should produce in form concise
A motto for his guidance, terse yet wise—
A precept, soothing in his hours forlorn,
Yet one that in his prosperous days would warn.
Many the maxim sent the king, men say,
The one he chose: “This, too, shall pass away.”
Oh, jewel sentence from the mine of truth!
What riches it contains for age or youth!
No stately epic measured and sublime,
So comforts, or so counsels, for all time
As these few words. Go write them on your heart
And make them of your daily life a part.
Has some misfortune fallen to your lot?
This, too, will pass away—absorb the thought,
And wait; your waiting will not be in vain.
Time gilds with gold the iron links of pain.
The dark to-day leads into light to-morrow;
There is no endless Joy, no endless sorrow..
Are you upon earth’s heights? No cloud in view 7 ?
Go read vour motto once again: This, too.
Shall pass away. Fame, glory 7 , place and power,
They are but little baubles of the hour,
Flung by the ruthless years down In the dust,
Take warning and be worthy of God’s trust.
Use well your prowess while it lasts; leave bloom,
Not blight, to mark your footprints to the tomb.
The truest greatness lies in being kind,
The truest wisdom in a happy mind.
He who desponds, his Maker’s Judgment mocks;
The gloomy Christian is a paradox.
Only the sunny soul respects Its God.
Since life is short we need to make it broad.
Since life is brief w r e need to make It bright,
Then keep the old king’s motto well in sight.
And let its meaning pe-meate o >ch day
Whatever comes—This, too, shall pass away.
“A'
NY man who Is married to a
fine housekeeper is a most
unfortunate creature,” said
the easy-going man. “It is not pleas
ant to live in the same block with
one.
“A splendid housekeeper is much
like a hawk—always on the lookout
to descend upon some one and stick
her claws into him or her, mostly
him.
“That style of housekeeper, like a
hawk, keeps mostly out of sight, busy
away off somewhere. Then when
you are sitting on a tabouret, there
is a whirr—and down she comes!
Right on your neck with her talonsJ
“I know the husband of a fine
housekeeper who has to pull off his
shoes and climb up the banisters to
keep from soiling the carpet on the
stairs, and he even gets into trou
ble for scratching the banisters a
little in sliding down them.
•‘Another man I know has to wash
his face and hands out In the laun
dry 90 that he wouldn’t mess up the
bedoilied bathroom. Others take their
baths at the club or go without.
“A hawk woman will descend upon
a scrap of paper on the lawn, an 1
should any unfortunate person catch
a glimpse of her face at such a time
he will not soon forget it! One would
think that the scrap of paper was
guilty of all the crimes in the calen
dar.
“Such a woman is never happy and
never satisfied. Life is jurt one mes.-*y
thing after another. Eating is a
dreadful performance, to bo endured
like the boring of a cavity or the kill
ing of a nerve in a tooth.
“Sleeping is another filthy habit,
and causes untidy beds and horrid
wrinkly linen.
“Having people walking on the car
pets is about as pleasant for a splen
did housekeeper as saw sharpening
is to a violin professor.
“If an uncle from the country
comes into such a woman’s parlor
with his boots on and trailing behind
him his nine hobhle-shoed children,
and they nit on the furniture and
swing their legs and eat candy and
play Jacks and shoot marbles and
slide down the banisters and have n
pillow fight, 1t results fatally for the
poor woman."
One of Two Things.
A Kentucky mountain woman feil
ill and for the first time In his life
her husband had to work. It devolved
upon him to nurse the invalid, look
after a large family of tow-headed
children, milk the cow, feed the pig,
cook the meals and tend a straggly
half acre of com. At the end of ten
days of these frightful labors he stag
gered down to the general store at the
forks of the road and fell at the door
way in an exhausted heap. The
storekeeper came out and said:
“Halloa, Anse, how’s yore wife?”
“She ain't no better, moaned the
husband. "I paid out a whole four
hits for a bottle of bitters for her, but
it seems like hit don't do her no good.
I’m plumb wore out!”
He paused a moment and sighed
deeply.
“Sometimes,” he said, "I git to
wishin' the old woman w 7 ould git well
somethin’!"
Signs of Spring.
The elevator boy had brought the
trunk from the basement, and now
Warren's summer suits were spread
over the chairs and window 7 sills of
two rooms, and the whole place was
filled with the odor of moth balls.
“Well, all right, then,” reluctantly,
as he threw down the blue serge.
“Give that to the elevator boy If you
want to—but that’s ALL! Under
stand? The rest of these I’m going
to keep. You’ve got a perfect mania
for giving my clothes away. I notice
you’re not any too keen on getting
rid of yours. What in thunder’s
that?” as something crunched under
his heel.
“Oh, it's a moth ball, dear. Be
careful, don't step on any more.”
“Why the devil don’t you get cam
phor? Don’t smell half as bad as
these infernal things.”
“But camphor’s so much more ex
pensive. These are just as godd and
they're only 5 cents a pound. I’ve
got some fresh ones to put in with
your winter clothes.”
Helen had already gotten out War
ren’s winter suits and was begin
ning to pack them in the trunk.”
“Well, I can’t see that you need me
here. Try to air out this place be
fore I get hack. Hold on. there; bet
ter not put in that overcoat. I may
need that yet.”
So Warren went out for his Sun
day morning w 7 alk, while Helen was
left to pack away his winter suits.
At last she had them all in, and
the trunk was ready to be sent hack
to the basement.
The elevator boy took ft down, and
with a pleased consciousness of tip
ping him well. Helen gave him the
blue serge suit.
It was several mornings afterwards
that Warren looked through his
closet, now hung with the Summe*
suits, which had in the meantime
been well aired and pressed.
“Where’s that blue serge?’’ he
called. “Had that pressed yet?”
“Oh, yes, dear, the tailor sent them
all back yesterday. It’s right there—
hanging right in front."
“Well, I don’t see it,” he grumbled.
“This closet's so infernally dark—you
can't see a blame thing.” Then a few
moments’ silence in which he looked
again. “Well, if it’s here I can’t
find it.”
“Wait dear, I’ll come.”
about getting rid of it! Well, now
you fix that other suit and have the
tailor press it to-day. It’s just about
the right weight to wear now.”
Helen, panic-stricken, went in to
finish dressing. What could she do?
She MUST get that suit back. War
ren w 7 ould be rabid if he found she
had given away a perfectly new suit.
No—no, he must never know!
She barely tasted her breakfast,
and could hardly wait until Warren
left. Then she ran out to see if the
elevator boy, to whom she had given
the suit, was on duty this morning.’
But it was the other boy who an
swered her ring
“What time will Henry be on?” she
demanded.
A Thief.
“He won’t be on no more, ma’am.
He’s been discharged.”
“DISCHARGED!”
“Yes, ma’am, the superintendent
laid him off this morning.”
There was nothing for Helen to do
but to see the superintendent and try
to get the boy’s address. What if he
had already worn the suit? But Helen
dared not think of that possibility.
“So he stole something from you,
too. did he?” was the superintend
ent’s first comment when Helen asked
him about the boy.
"Stole something? Why, no, but I
gave him a suit of Mr. Curtis’ ov
mistake.”
The superintendent seemed reliev
ed. “Well, he stole from other ten
ants—that’s why I had to get rid of
him. I'm sorry. Mrs. Curtis, that I
haven't his address, but you might
‘ get it from the employment agency
where I engaged him.”
In desperation Helen explained
about the suit.
“Oh, a blue serge? Why, that’s
downstairs now. I wouldn’t let him
take it away—thought he stole that,
too.”
“No. no, I gave it to him. But I
thought I was giving him another
suit.”
The superintendent brought it up,
and to Helen’s infinite relief it was
wrapped in newspaper, just as she
had given it to the boy. He had torn
a hole in the paper to see what it
was like, but plainly it had not been
unwrapped.
Overjoyed by her good luck, Helen
promptly took the suit to the little
tailoring shop around the corner to
be pressed.
The very next morning Warren
asked about “that blue serge suit."”
“Yes, dear, I had it pressed yester
day. It’s hanging right there in your
closet.”
Warren got it out and looked it
over with a curious puzzled expres
sion.
The Wrong Suit.
Helen, who was not quite dressed,
hurried In with her hair down, and
looked through, the long line of suits
which hung on their hangers In War
ren's wardrobe.
"Why, here it is—almost in front.”
“No, that’s the old one. Thought
you said you were going to give that
away.”
“The—the OLD one!” stammered
Helen. “Why—why it can’t be ”
She had taken it to the light, but
fortunately her back was to Warren,
and he did not see her face. It WAS
the old one. She had given the good
one away!
“Oh, I remember,” hastily, as she
hung the suit back. “The sleeve lin
ing was ripped in the other coat and
I wanted to sew it. before it was
pressed. And I—I decided not to give
this old one away—after all you
might want to wear it fishing some
time.”
’Humph! Thought you were so keen
She Confesses.
“Huh, that’s funny! Guess I was
wrong this time."
“Wrong? Why. what do you mean,
dear?”
“Well, I thought you couldn’t pro
duce it—that’s all. I’d an idea that
you'd gotten those blue suits mixed—
and given the wrong one to that
boy.”
“Why, Warren—how could you
think that?” flushing quickly. “Why
I told you I—I wanted to fix the
sleeve lining before it was pressed.”
"I know you did, and you acted
mighty blamed suspicious, too.
You’re always lying out of a thing
when you get in a hole.” Then, with
a keen glance at Helen’s flushed face:
“I’m not sure yet that I wasn’t
right.”
There was a moment’s tense silence.
Warren was buttoning a pair of sus
penders on the blue serge trousers,
while Helen was fumblingly putting
on a hanger the coat he had worn
yesterday.
“Eh? How about it?” he persisted
with another searching glance at her
averted face.
She hung the coat on the rod in
the closet, then turned with a sudden
defiant: 1
“Very well, you were RIGHT! I
DID make a mistake—I DID give
that suit to the elevator boy! But
you needn’t hesitate to wear it—it
hadn’t even been unwrapped. And if
I’m always lying out of things it’s
your fault! You’ve raged and stormed
at me so that when anything goes
wrong—I’m AFRAID to tell you the
truth!”
Wise Child.
'You see. had the lamb been obedi
ent and stayed in the fold it would
not have been eaten by the wolf,
would it?”
Boy—No, ma’am; it would have
been eaten by us.
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