Atlanta Georgian. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, August 08, 1913, Image 9
When the Sun
Rose
t T was absolutely still In the large,
dark room where the patient lay/
A small lamp with a dark shade
faintly Illuminated the heavy silk
curtains which covered the windows. In
i corner of the room stood the little
hod in which a small feverish body was
truggling with death. A beautiful
oung woman was sitting at the bedside,
tier eyes anxiously followed every move
ment of the sick child.
Her costly evening gown showed that
she had returned direct from some so-
•iety affair. Her gloves and fan she.
had thrown carelessly on the table.
A few hours ago she had been sitting
it the dinner table covered with flowers
and surrounded by merry people, when a
messager had arrived with the word that
her little boy had suddenly been taken
ill.
She hurried home as fast as her big
oar could carry her and now she was
sitting here full of anxiety and despair.
Over and over again, she asked her
self if it could really be possible that
she was about to lose her fair-haired
little darling. Oh no, God could not
be so cruel! The boy was her greatest,
her only joy! She realized that more
than ever now, when she was in danger
of losing him.
She wondered if she had always
thought so. and her whole past life
came back to her mind.
She saw herself as a happy, lively
and spoiled girl, whose every' wish was
gratified. She saw herself surrounded
by admirers and suitors, who flattered
and envied her, but she never felt, not
even for a short single moment, the real,
true joy which Alls and takes possession
of your heart and soul.
No Love.
Then the learned and famous Profes
sor Bornemann was introduced in her
parents’ home. He fell in love with the
young, lively girl and she accepted him,
though he was twenty years older than
she.
Did she love him then?
No, unfortunately, not.
Rich as she was, she decorated her
home with every possible luxury and
comfort apd filled it with guests, balls
and dinners in endless succession.
For a time her husband let her do as
she pleased, but one day he took both
her hands and looked earnestly into her
eyes, while he said in his gentle voice:
“Let us be done with all these empty
pleasures, and let me see that I have
a splendid little wife, who cares more
for her husband and her baby than for
all the dances and dinners in the
world.”
At first she stared at him in sur
prise, unable to understand him. Then
she tore her hands away and answered
angrily:
“I do not see how you can make such
a request. You are old and have en
joyed all the pleasures of life, while I
am young yet and have a right to en
joy myself.”
He looked at her sadly, then he turned
away and left the room without another
word. And since then her life had been
one mad round of pleasures, while her
husband and child were left to take care
of themselves.
And had she then found the happiness
she sought?
No, not for a single minute.
* * •
The child in the bed moved again.
“Mama,” the little feverish lips whis
pered.
She bent forward and stroked his hot
forehead with her cool hand.
“Mama,” he moaned once more.
Anxious Moments.
She felt a cruel pain in her heart.
Had she done anything to deserve to
be called Mama? She bent lower still
and two big tears fell on the golden
curls on the white pillow'.
The door opened. Her husband en
tered, followed by the doctor. Her
eyes sought his, which looked deep,
deep into her soul.
The doctor felt the boy’s pulse and
shook his head gravely.
“I can not say anything now. I shall
return in an hour, when the crisis is
due. Until then we have hope.” With
a silent bow, he left the room.
The professor had sat down on a
chair on the opposite side of the bed.
IIis gray eyes looked at the little figure
in the bed with infinite tenderness. The
young wife fell down on her knees at
her son’s bedside.
The boy tossed about restlessly, while
the minutes dragged along slowly.
In a quarter of an hour, then
It was the same thought that filled
the minds of husband and wife as they
looked at each other across their little
son’s bed. Then both looked at the
hands of the clock.
The child was still restless and fever
ish. Over and over again the mother
stroked her boy’s forehead with her cool
hand. Then she let it slide down on
the silk cover and inch by inch it crept
closer to a strong, manly hand, until she
took courage and touched it.
Their eyes met and a new' sacred
silent understanding was born.
* * *
The clock struck f>. The boy was
resting easily, his breathing regular and
his cheeks lost their feverish color The
crisis was over. The child’s life was
out of danger.
The professor stood up, w'ent over to
the window, drew the curtains aside and
opened it. Then he went back to the
bed and kneeled down at his wife's
side.
The fresh air filled the room—and
then the sun rose.
ML
When the Whistle Blows
BY NELL BRINKLEY
Nell Brinklev Savs
Y OU lift your eyes to the great clock In the white tower and see
six o’clock marked with widespread hands. You hear the chimes
and whistles*clamoring over all the choked streets. Six o’clock!
And the girls who smile all day long as steadily as any chorus girl is
bidden to do, who haul down enough yards of stuff in a day to tie a
sash around this vain old world, who try debutante dancing-frocks on
fat relics who’ve seen forty summer moons or more, who get down end
less “middies” for lean little girls, whose too flat pay envelope Is some
times the fortune of the family, all those who need and earn a thicker
pay envelope and electric fans, all these bits of womanhood who go to
make up the brave army that work In shops pour out of the employes’
door and out under the clamor of "six by the clock.” The blonde hat
model, In her sleazy, slippery, little black gown, the close-tailored girl
who sells suits, with her crinkly hair and big black purse like a baby
kit-bag, all there—and HAFPY! Have you noticed that? And I'PET
TY ! Have you noticed that? They have many good excuses not to be
the first—hut they laugh and laugh—and you hear little things like
this: “He said to her—and she said to him.” “Isn’t that great?” and
“What are you going to wear?” and “I had the time of my life!” And
pretty—they’d have a heap of excuses not to be that, too—what with
trying to stretch a bill longer and greener than it is, and standing on
their two feet all day long, and smiling long and sweet at grouches.
But they are. Among them you find the trimmest girls in town. And
some of their faces make a society belle’s wish It could go back to
Heaven aud get made all over again.
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A little boy of four years of age,
on noticing for the first time a lock
of gray hair on his father’s head,
asked:
“Papa, why are some of your hairs
gray?”
Thinking to drive home a moral
lesson, the father answered:
“Papa has a new gray hair every
time his little boy is naughty.”
The child seemed lo9t in thought,
but, after a pause, said gravely:
“Then grandpa must have had aw
ful naughty boys.”
* • •
The Minister’s Wife (to industrial
scholar)—E.iza Jane, I’m sorry to
hear from your school mistress you
are not diligent at your needlework.
You know who it is finds work for
idle hands to do?
Eliza Jane (intensely anxious to
propitiate)—Yes’m; please’m, you
do.
* • •
It was after a junior league match,
in which the home side lost eight
goals to nil. The goalkeeper was
naturally blamed for the disaster, and
overhearing that things were being
said about him, went straight to the
captain and inquired:
“Did you tell Bill that I was the
worst goalkeeper in the village?”
“.No, 1 didn’t. I thought he knew,”
was the reply.
* * *
Even doctors are not always liter
al in their prescriptions.
“You must take exercise,” said the
doctor to a patient. “The motor car
In a case like yours gives the best
exercise that “
“But I can't afford a car, on Insur
ance pay,” the patient growled.
“Don’t buy one; just dodge ’em!"
said the doctor.
* * *
“What’s the matter, dear?” asked
a woman of her troubled looking hus
band.
“Oh, I’m worried about the money
market,” he testily responded.
“And I’m bothered about the mar
ket money,” quietly replied the wom
an, as she counted the contents of
her purse.
* * *
“Will you give me something to
drink?" lie asked faintly of the nurse.
“Certainly,” said the nurse, offer
ing him a glass of water.
He put his hand feebly.
"Give It to me in a teaspoon,
please,” he whispered, huskily, "until
I get used to it."
* * *
Hamlet had just been hit by a
cold storage egg. Whereupon he
turned gravely to his audience.
“How truly spoke the good Mar-
cellus,” quoth he. "Something Is rot
ten in the State of Denmark!"
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BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
One of the Greatest Mystery Stories Ever Written
(Copyright, 1913. by Anna Katharine
Green.)
TO-DAY'S INSTALLMENT.
But this young man was not one to
be easily daunted. “Do you wish me to
make up an article out of surmises?” he
inquired. “A young girl of this city has
died in a carriage and the people have
a right to know how. Shall I say by use
of the knife or ”
“Scoundrel!” came from Dr. Moles-
worth’s lips. “You deserve chastising,
hut I shall dimply see that you do, what
you have probably never done before,
tell the exact truth.” And, turning to
the detective at his side, he exclaimed,
“Note what I tell the fellow. If he al
ters a word or Interposes one item that
is not borne out by what he observes and
hears here, I will Ree that he Is dis
charged from his place. I know what
paper he is on, and I know the editor,
and my threat is no idle one. Now let
him listen. This young lady, Mildred
Farley by name, was engaged to marry
me to-night. Being an orphan without
friends- pardon me, Mrs. Olney, I should
have said relatives, perhaps—and not
being well, she thought a private mar
riage at a hotel would be most suitable.
I agreed with her and the arrangements
were all made for the ceremony. But
:he was sieger than I supposed. The
symptoms of fever which I had perceived
in her this afternoon increased rapidly
on my departure and when I returned,
before the specified hour to marry her,
I found she had fled, leaving an inco
herent note behind, which so alarmed
ue that 1 went out at once, and Jump
ing into my phaeton, drove up and down
the streets searching for her.
The End of It.
“I did not find her, of course: and re
membering an important prescription I
had promised to send a patient of mine,
I dispatched my driver with it, and was
taking my phaeton home myself, when
I suddenly detected a woman seated on
one of the steps in Twenty-second
street whose appearance struck me as
familiar. Though no believer in mira
cles, I accepted this one without scru
ple, and, jumping from my carriage,
went up to her and soon saw that I was
right in supposing I had found Miss Far
ley. She was very ill, and did not know
me. ‘1 am sleepy,’ she said, and dropped
her head on my shoulder as I lifted her
up. At the same moment I heard the
sound of breaking glass, as If a small
vial had slipped to the Mdewalk and
been shivered, while a pungent odor
arose to my nostrils so suggestive of
the poison known as prussic acid that
I felt greatly alarmed, and hastily car
rylng her to my phaeton I put her In
and drove as fast as I could toward
home. But soon her Increasing pallor
and general condition convinced me that
death was near, and I stopped at the
drug store on the corner of Nineteenth
street, and, leaving her in the phaeton,
ran in and asked one of the clerks to
assist me in bringing her into the store.
He consented, and we went back to
the phaeton, but only to find that I was
too late. She had died In my absence.”
“Horrible: ’ burst from the landlady’s
lips, and even the callous porter looked
shocked and a trifle ashamed.
“Where she got the poison,” continued
the doctor, “remains to be found out.
Perhaps she bought it after leaving
the hotel; perhaps she had had It with
her there as a medicine. If so, she may
have taken an overdose without be
ing conscious of her danger. I only
know I was her physician and had never
prescribed it for her, nor did I know
she suffered from any ailment that re
quired such a tonic.”
“And is that all? Will you tell me
nothing more?”
“You have a very good article,” re
marked the doctor, dryly. “Leave some
thing for the future.”
And the reporter had to be con
tent, and the detectives, too.
The reporter gone, Dr. Molesworth
turned again toward Mr. Gryce.
“And who are you?” he asked.
“I was going to say I didn't know,”
answered the seemingly trembling old
man. “I am in pain and want to get
home. Will one of you help me down
the steps?”
“In pain!” repeated the doctor, who
was not by any means a hard-hearted
man.
“Yes, rheumatism In the stomach, I
think. I came for some opium, but I
won’t wait any longer. They will wor
ry about me at home. Besides, I feel
a bit better now.”
His manner was so natural, his look so
In accordance with the character he had
assumed, that Dr. Molesworth suspect
ed nothing and kindly held out his arm.
But he found the alleged detective had
forestalled him.
“Let me do this business,” he entreat
ed, with a great show of good-nature
and respect. "I have nothing else to
do and am used to old men.” And, nod
ding graciously to his superior, he led
him carefully out, whispering as soon as
the lintel of the door had hidden them
from view, “What orders? Dou kou
smell anything wrong here?”
“Watch,” was the quiet but emphatic
command. “Note everything, even to
the lifting of an eyelid, but say nothing
and do not seem to watch.”
Then as they reached the front door,
“Don’t be hurt if I send some one else
here. They know your character too
well.” And with this the elder man
went out with a slow and hobbling step.
The pain and distress of that evening
iad not been altogether assumed.
M
Some Points.
GRYCE had only a look to go
upon, but It was a look that
spoke volumes. When a man
shrinks from the eye of a detective, he
has something to conceal, and when
that something is connected with the
death of a young girl by poison, it be
hooves an officer of the law to follow
that man till he finds out what that
something Is.
It was therefore with some interest
that he received in the early morning
a summons from the gentleman who
held the office of Coroner at this time,
o come down to his office and have a
talk with him concerning this case of
Mildred Farley: nor was it long before
he presented himself at the place desig
nated. He found the Coroner alone and
the following conversation ensued:
“Well, Gryce,” said the latter. “1 have
just come from the house where you
played the part of a sick patient so suc
cessfully last night. May I ask how
you chanced to be so prompt on the
scene of action? Do you scent out mys
terious cases or had you any knowledge
which led you to that especial spot just
at the moment when your presence was
possibly most required?”
“Both,” was the good-natured reply.
“Something which I call curiosity, but
which I am fain now to consider In
stinct, made me an Intruder in Dr.
Molesworth’s home last night. But I
had a bit of knowledge to start with
that roused his curiosity, and It is of
his I want to speak, if you think the
subject worthy of discussion or Dr.
Molesworth anything but what he seems,
a good, honest and reliable man.”
“I think,” returned the Coroner, slow
ly, “any subject of this kind worthy of
discussion; and as for Dr. Molesworth,
he stands high, but so do a great many
others whose testimony we are called
upon to question every day of our lives.
You need not stop on his account if you
have seen or discovered anything which
contradicts his story.”
“What is his story?”
"Didn’t you hear it? I understood
•hat he told all he had to tell in your
presence."
“He told two stories.”
“How two?”
“One with his lips, another with his
face: that’B what makes me doubt him.”
“You do doubt him, then?’’
Gryce’s Story.
Mr. Gryce tapped the table before him
with an abstracted air, murmured some
unintelligible words and looked as If
he thought he had replied.
“Come," cried the other, “your rea
sons? You usually have good ones.”
“Yes,” assented Mr. Gryce, "I usually
have, but In this case it would be hard
for me to tell you just what they are.
I feel that there is something back of
this affair which we do not see, but I
am not ready as yet to go any further
or even express any suspicions—say
that 1 have any. The facts which I
have been able to glean In the short
space of time we have had are meager,
but Interesting. Perhaps you can add
to them; If so, our conference may lead
to something. This is what I know.”
And he related first what Dr. Moles
worth had to say about the matter the
evening before. When he had finished,
he asked, “Does this story agree with
what he told you this morning?"
“Exactly.”
“Very good. So much for so much.
Now for the side lights. I saw the girl
myself yesterday afternoon.”
“You?”
“Yes; I saw her, but I did not speak
to her, nor did I recognize her for the
person she was. Indeed. I took her for
another woman whom she greatly re
sembled. It was at the C Hotel.”
“Ah!”
"I need not enter into any further par
ticulars about this circumstance, as It
does not concern the affair before us,
which stands quite apart by Itself.
Enough that for reasons of my own I
played the spy on this young woman
and saw her when she thought herself
alone, In the privacy of her own apart
ment. This was some time after noon
and the great fact which I wish to
bring before you la this, that she was
then to all appearance (and my eye is
accustomed to read countenances) per
fectly happy and had not In face or
bearing the least trace of sickness.”
“That Is a point, certainly.”
“Note it, and then add to it this,
that being still under the error of which
I have spoken, I went hack to the hotel
some three or four hours later, and
wishing to confirm a former suspicion,
sought my vantage spot again, and in'
conjunction with another witness whose
testimony you will not need, looked in
upon this Miss Farley again, when I
perceived that a great change had
passed over her. But It was not that of
sickness. From happiness she had de
scended to misery, and In her pallor and
wild, unrestrained attitudes I could de
tect the expression of despair, but none
of bodily suffering or mental disorder.
“Now, what had occasioned this
change in her in a space of time so
short? I think I can answer that It
was an interview with Dr. Molesworth.
For, according to his own story and
that of the hotel clerk, he was with her
for a half hour or so In the afternoon;
and thoqgh upon going out he told the
hotel clerk he was coming back In the
evening to marry her, something in his
determination or In what had taken
place at their Interview had destroyed
In her every vestige of hope and happi
ness. For It was anything but an ex
pectant bride whom I saw after this
visit, as it had been anything but an
anxious woman whom I had seen be
fore it.
“So! so!”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
Do You Know—-
The Italian Postmaster General has
been Instrumental in raising the mar
riage ban placed on telephone girls in
Italy. As a result he has been in
vited to act as best man at 300 unions.
The violoncello by Giovanni Gran-
cino used throughout all his tours by
the late Auguste VanBlenne In “The
Broken Melody” has just been sold in
a London auction room for $600.
There is a record of a Chinese state
banquet lasting seventeen hours.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
LEAVE THAT TO HER.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am twenty-one and in love
with a girl of nineteen, and she
loves me. Another man, who is
much older, Is trying to win her
love, but she doesn’t care for him.
At present I am not settled, and
it may take about three years
before I can marry, while the
other man can support her quite
nicely. Have I the right to ask
her to wait? S. J.
She loves you. She doesn’t love the
other man. If she is worthy of a
good man’s love she will wait in
definitely for him in preference to
marrying a man she does not care
for. Give her the right to decide,
and see that you don’t make her time
of waiting too long.
SHE IS IN THE WRONG.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I have been keeping company
with a young lady for the last
seven months. About a week ago
I escorted her to a dance where
she met some of her old gentle
men friends, who received her at
tention all the evening. When
the time came to go home I asked
her to go home with me, but she
refused, saying she could go home
with others. I then left her. Did
I do proper in leaving her? W T ho
should apologize? RICHARD.
She refused to let you escort her
home though you had taken her
there. Under the circumstances there
was nothing for you to do but leave
her. You owe her no apology.
KEEPING EVERLASTINGLY AT IT
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am nineteen, and dearly in love
with a girl two years my junior,
whom I have known for the past
seven years. Some time ago she
met a young man at a wedding,
and has since been devoting all
of her attention to him. I love
her dearly and would ask you
how I can win her love again.
F. B. T.
Your seven years’ devotion merits
better returns. Be devoted and per
sistent, and if this fails change your
tactics to indifference. The appear
ance of your rival stirred you. Has
it occurred to you that if she found
she had a rival it might renew her
interests?
YOU WERE RIGHT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am sixteen and have been
keeping company with a young
man about three months. He has
bee sick and he telephoned and
asked me to come and see him.
I told him it was improper for a
girl to go to a man’s house, and
he gqt angry. Was I right? R. M.
Don’t worry, my dear, you did just
right. I don’t admire him be*
cause of his request of his reception
of your refusal. Never go to see a
man under any circumstances unless
your mother goes with you.
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