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How
Where are
ELEN! Helen! HELEN CUR-
tls!”
Helen turned In almost
frightened bewilderment. To hear
one's name called In a familiar voice
on a street In Paris!
Then through the crowd of hurry
ing Frenchmen rushed a young wom
an who caught her eagerly by the
arm.
"Oh, I KNEW it was you!” excit
edly.
•‘Why—why Marion Berkley!” stam
mered Helen.
The next few minutes were spent
In a breathless torrent of questions.
What are you doing In Paris
long have you been here
you staying?
"Well, we can’t stand here on the
street,” laughed Helen. “Let's go
somewhere for tea—where we can
really talk.”
"Come to my studio! I've got the
quaintest, dearest old stttdlo In the
Latin Quarter! You must see It!
Come, that bus will take us!’’
The next moment they were on the
top of the bus laughing and talk
ing with the eagerness and aban
don of their boarding school days.
When they graduated, Marlon had
come to Pails to study art, but It had
never occurred to Helen that she
would be here still. It was wonderful
to see her again.
“Have you forgotten about our old
ambition—how you were to write a
great novel and I was to Illustrate
It? So you gave up your career lo
marry Warren Curt Is?”
"It wasn’t much of a career.”
laughed Helen, “since 1 hadn't writ
ten anything but school essays.’'
"But they always took the prise,
so we thought you were destined to
be a great 'Lady Authoreaa' Re
member how you used to write my
essays while I did your algebra?”
"Yes. and that awful examination
In which I failed because I couldn't
work a single problem?"
"Here's where we get off.” Inter
rupted Marlon, when they reached
the upper end of the Boulevard St.
Michel.
A Real Studio.
Around the corner into a cobble-
stoned back street, and Marion opened
a high boarded gate to a quaint old
garden. Helen followed her filled
ivith the Joy of adventure. To see a
real studio In the Latin Quarter—and
above all. Marlon’s studio!
The garden was a charming tangl-
of unkempt vines and shrubbery
which almost hid the broken statuary
and the moss-grown basin of an old
fountain.
A well-worn path led hack to a
rickety old mansion now given over
to studios. Up three flights of a
dark winding stairway, and Marlon
unlocked a door on which was tacked
her card.
Helen gave an exclamation of de
light as they entered ft big barn-like
skylighted room. It was a real stu
dio, the kind one reads about in the
novels of the Latin Quarter Tin
place was littered with unfinished
sketches, casts, curious bits of old
brass, pottery and armor
“I suppose you’d like to get a dust-
cloth and ‘tidy up,’” laughed Marion.
“But It’s in the atmosphere over here
—you get so you can’t work when
things are ‘straight.”'
“Oh, but it’s wonderful! And you
have some really fine old pieces,"
stooping to examine an old carved
chest, for Helen was always Interest
ed in antique furniture.
“Bought that in a little curio shop
for five francs. We students never
have any money, so we learn to pick
up things for almost nothing ”
“Just look around—I’ll be back In
a minute.’’ as she caught up a small
pitcher and ran out bareheaded.
Left alone, Helen gazed wonder-
lngly around the studio. It was plain
ly the living room, sleeping room and
workroom In one. An old leather
screen partitioned off one corner.
The heavy beams of the roof were
tare and besides the skylight there
was only one window, which looked
out on the tangled garden. In spite
of the dust and confusion. Helen felt
the charm of the plAce. It was
KANSAS WOMAN
WHO SUFFERED
r , - f
From Headache, Backache,
Dizziness and Nervousness,
Restored to Health by
Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound.
Lawrence. Kans.—“A year ago I
%*as suffering from a number of ail
ments. 1 always
had pain and was
irregular During
the delay 1 suf
fered a great deal
with headache,
backache. dizzi
ness, feverish
spells, nervous
ness and bloating.
I had been mar
ried nearly three
years. 1 took
Lydia E. F»ink-
ham’s Vegetable
Compound and
now I feel better
than I have for years. I recommend
Lydia E. Pinkham s Vegetable Com
pound to all who suffer as I did.”—
Mrs. M. Zeuner. 1045 New Jersey
street, Lawrence, Kansas.
Montana Woman’s Case.
— Burns. Mont.—“Lydia E. Plnk-
ham’s Vegetable Compound cured
me of awful backache which I had
suffered with for months. I was so
weak I could hardly do my work and
my head and eyes ached all the
time. Your Compound helped me in
many ways and is a great strength
ened I always recommend it to my
friends and tell them what a grand
medicine it is for women. You may
use my name for the good of
-others.”—Mrs. John Francis, Burns,
Montana.
The makers of Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound have thou
sands of such letters as those above
—they tell the truth, else they could
not have been obtained for love or
money. This medicine is no stranger
has gtood the test for years.
strangely quiet and peaceful, for in
the .shut-in garden, down this little
hack street, not a sound of the city
was heard.
Marion came in now, breathless
from her run up the steps, A'ith a
pitcher of cream and a bulging brown
paper bag from some nearby shop.
“Remember our stolen midnight
suppers at school?’ as she cleared the
table of paint brushes and drawings,
and brought out the teacups and an
alcohol lamp.
A Delightful Tea.
The bag held some delicious French
pastry and a tiny pot of cream cheese.
Helen wondered if, since the nights
of the stolen suppers, she ever had
enjoyed anything as she did this im
promptu tea.
Marion told of her first three years
of study and the last four of work—
trying to make for herself a place in
the art world here.
“I suppose the chances of success
w’ould be better anywhere else,” mus
ingly, “for there are so many work
ers here—so many that are talented.
But I’ve grown to love this life.
There’ve been times when I’ve been
hungry, yet last winter I refused a
good post as art teacher in a girls’
school in Boston. I’d rather struggle
along here hoping for the big suc
cess,’’ with a wistful smile, “that may
never come.”
“But surely you’re not dependent on
your work?” asked Helen, anxiously.
“I thought your father left a great
deal of property.”
“It was all mortgaged. After every
thing was [>ald off there was only a
ff*w thousand dollars, and that’s gone
long ago. For the last four years
I’ve lived on what I’ve made. Occa
sionally I sell a picture and for a few
weeks I live gloriously well. The rest
of the time I do without, hut that's
th«. life of the Quarter.”
“But don't you ever worry about
the future?’’
Marion shrugged her shoulders.
“You learn not to worry over here.
You live for to-day—nobody thinks
of to-morrow. If you have money
you spend it—if you haven’t, you bor
row from some fellow artist who has
—or do without. You see.” whimsi
cally, “how It simplifies life.”
“But when you grow older—when
you’re not so strong and young and
hopeful? Hhouldn’t you try, Marlon,
to save something now?”
“Nobody saves in the Latin Quar
ter— you can’t. When you’ve got a
few extra francs you lend them to
some poor devil to keep him in his
studio. Nobody thinks of getting old
—we only think of painting the great
picture of the year—winning the
Academy prize. Most of us never will
—but we can all have the Joy of
dreaming.”
There was a moment’s silence.
Then, us though to change to more
cheerful thoughts, Marion went on
hurriedly.
An Invitation.
“I want to take you to dinner some
evening to Mme. Jouven's, a cheap
rentaurant here In the Quarter.
You'll find It crowded with art stu
dents, and you'll see what Jolly, care
free Bohemians we are.”
"Oh, I should love to go! I've
heard so much about those places."
“I'll give you the address now,"
scribbling on a slip, torn from the
1 brown paper hag. “Come any even
ing that you and Warren feel in the
i mood—you'll almost always find me
there. Mme. Jouven Is a friend to all
! the art students. When we have
money—we pay her. When we
haven't- -she credits us on her friend
ly slate."
“I wish yon were here in the win
ter- the long winter evenings at Jou
ven's are so wonderful," muaingly.
"We furnish our own cabaret -dance,
sing, recite until almost midnight.
Then we nil go to some one studio
and have supper. If any one has
Just sold a picture or received a check
i from home--we have a feast. If not.
we have just as much fun on a green
! salade and a few bottles of vin or-
I dinalre. Walt, I’ll show you a sketch
of a studio supper."
i She drew out a canvas from a pile
I leaning against the wall.
"There! It isn't finished—but you
can get the spirit. It’s supposed" to
he Craig Stilton's studio—a party we
had there last winter."
Helen was far from being an art
erltle. hut Instantly she felt the at
mosphere of this picture. The great
gloomy studio, the shadowy corners
unrt the uncertain candlelight which
lit up the faces of those gathered
around the midnight supper.
"Yes, it Isn't had,” mused Marlon.
In response to Helen's enthusiasm "1
must finish that. But there are so
many pictures of studio life—one of
thit type has to h,> remarkable to
get any .recognition. Do you like
this"" drawing out another—a street
scene of a push cart market "It
Isn't finished either, but I think the
coloring's good.”
She brought out more canvases—
most of them unfinished, but all with
a certain interest and atmosphere
Helen was >o nhsorbed that it was
almost II before she realised It. What
If Warren should get hack to the ho
tel first and he worried?
Helen Hurries.
Marion, bnroheaded, took her down
the street. made her promi-T to bring
Warren to Madame Jouven’s some
evening: that week, put her on the bus.
and stood waving: her a good-bye
from the corner.
How young: Marion seemed, was
Helen’* strongest Impression How-
care-free—how full of the sheer Joy
of living. Although thev were the
same age. Helen felt curiouslv older,
a* though her life was half lived;
while Marlon’* Roomed only begin
ning;. with the possibilities of a great
success still before her.
There are times when everv mar
ried woman, however much she mnt
love her husband, thinks of the pos
sibilities of some independent career
that might have been hors had she
not married.
And now a* Helen left the bus and
walked slowlv toward the hotel, in
the background of h« r thoughts was
a stirring of vague dreams and am
bitions that had long lain dormant
A LITTLE girl was deeply interested in mirrors and mil
linery. She was eight and her legs were just long
ing out and she wore little pinafores with blue flow
ers ou ’em, tied over her meager little shoulders. She sat on
a gray rock with her little bare, scratched feet hanging
down into the cool sedges close to the stream side.
Her hair was all in black rings around her face. On
top of the black rings was a sailor hat. Its outermost ring
of straw was ripped loose and flipped up and down with a
nonchalance that only a ring of ripped straw on a hat can
show.
Down into the green mystery of the water she looked
sometimes. Here her round pinky face lay smooth, with the
sailor hat above it. A maid and a mirror and millinery 1
A big girl was deeply interested in mirrors and mil-
■Nell Brinkley Says-
linery. She was twenty-eight and her legs now were very-
long and she wore a brocaded blouse with an Elizabethan
ruff over her round, beautiful shoulders.
She sat on a little gilt chair with her satin-clad feet
making their pretty imprint in the green depths of a velvet
carpet.
Her hair was all in black rings around her face. On
top of the black rings was a tulle hat. In the tip-top of its
crown was the charming name of a Paris maker of chapeaux.
On its tip-top was a great butterfly bow poised with half-
folded wings. Into the silver mystery of the mirror she
looked sometimes. Here her slender, lovely face was held—
with the tulle hat above it. A maid and a mirror and mil
linery.
It was the same girl!
CUPID’S PLAY CROP
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
His Misfortune.
The magistrate had the misfor
tune to be cross-eyed, the result of
xi hieh at times was rather amusing.
One day he had three prisoners be
fore him.
“What’s your name?" he inquired
of the one to the left.
“James Patterson." promptly re
plied the man on the right.
The man on the bench turned
round quickly. “I was not address
ing you. sir!” he snapped.
At this the one in the center, quak
ing and trembling with fear, stam
mered :
I—I—I never opened my mouth,
r"|~AOURISTS’ guide books give ei-
I plicit directions for those who
wish to go to mountain or sea
shore suitably dressed for a climb or
a swim.
Don’t wear thin-soled shoes; don’t
wear long-trained skirts; don’t wear
silk hose; don’t wear garments built
j exclusively for show; don’t wear this
: and don’t wear that; page upon page
for the guidance of the girl who is
packing her trunk and not a warn
ing about a certain little adornment
commonly worn in summer in a most
conspicuous place.
Here is the warning which they
willfully omit; Don’t wear your heart
on your sleeve!
Beware the Moon.
A sole too thin, or a bonnet too
perishable never returned from a
summer outing showing such irrepar
able signs of wear as the heart that
is worn on the sleeve. They may be
replaced: it can never be. The dam
age to the shot and the bonnet are
forgotten. One seldorii entirely re-
covk r s from the damage done to one’s
heart.
Few things said in the moonlight
are said seriously. A boy, a girl, a
moonlight night with its poetic ac
companiment of silence and solitude;
and Cupid chuckles with impish glee.
He knows a spell has been thrown
over the man which will cause him
to say things he does not mean. He
knows a’so that the moonlight will
make of the most doubting girl the
most credulous. It is a rare setting
for his annual play crop, and he raises
his bow and takes careful aim at the
heart worn so conspicuously, and so
unguarded, on the girl’s sleeve.
A play crop for Cupid, but seldom a
play crop for those who are his vic
tims.
The man. after the manner of his
sex. recalls other moonlight nights
with other pretty girls, on which were
said and done the same things. Repe
tition of the story of love never in
creases its sacredness, and he has
learnefl not to take himself too se
riously. He enjoys making love. He
makes it, and he forgets It.
She Is Blind.
The girl, after the manner of her
unfortunate sex, wants to love and to
be loved, and is so blinded by this
longing to behold her lover that there
is none but welcome lights in her
eyes; not one little searchlight to seek
out signs of insincerity.
She nears and believes, and returns
from her vacation with her heart
singing. She counts the days till that
when he said he would come, and
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Special Mall Order Department
out-of-town customers
Send for Catalogue and Price List.
never learns till she has countea
them off, over and over again, with
her tears, that that which to her was
seriousness was to him nothing mor«
than a season’s nonsense. He never
comes, he never writes, and when she
has waited till she can wait no long
er she writes little tear-stained letters
to me.
“What shall I do?” she cries. “I
love him, and his silence is breaking
my heart.”
There is nothing she can do save
wait patiently and quietly for the
healing hand of time. Her heart has
beer, battered, and the next season
she doesn’t wear it so conspicuously
unguarded on her sleeve.
for
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years knownas Best. Safest. Always Reliable
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sir!”
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25c
All Jacobs’Stores
t*HE
1 lui
HE hygienic providing of school
lunches is a thing in the front
rank of educational aids. Mrs.
Louise Stevens Bryant, in "School
Feeding,” gives the history and prac
tice of this sensible custom at home
and abroad. I quote from her open
ing pages:
“More and more are we coming to
understand that education is for life,
and that physical health is essential
to full mental and moral development
and effective living. To the extent
that the body fails to serve the will,
the will is paralyzed and the best
emotions rendered useless. The is-
tablishment of the physical health has
therefore come to be regarded as a
most important part of education. To
a very large extent health must de
pend on right habits of eating.
“The custom of providing meals for
children at school has, in recent
years, become well established both in
America and Europe. In America the
work was begun first in the high
schools. For several years midday
meals have been provided for high
school children in many of our cities
and larger towns. It is only recently
that the more important task of pro
viding meals for the smaller children
has been attempted.
First in Germany.
“At present, meals are provided in
one or more elementary schools in
nearly half a hundred cities. In
Europe this work was begun earlier
than here—in Germany a century and
a quarter ago—and the school lunch
eon is now a part of the daily pro
gram in the elementary schools of
many of the most progressive coun
tries.
“There Is little doubt that the
school luncheon idea, now well rooted
in this country, will spread very rap
idly, especially in our cities. In our
large cities and smaller industrial
towns many children come to school
having had little or no breakfast.
Many have eaten their breakfast at
a very early hour, some as early as 5
or 6 o'clock, and so become hungry
and faint before the noon hour. I
have known many school children
whose daily schedule of meals con
sisted of a light breakfast at 6 or 7
o’clock, a cold dinner bolted at 2 or 3
o ciock, ana supper at 6 o’clock.
“Again many parents, instead of
providing a luncheon for their chil
dren at school, give them small
amounts of money with w r hich to buy
food, and which the children spend
for unwholesome and unnutritious
stuff sold at large profits from push
carts and corner stores.
The Main Object.
“The object of the school feeding
movement is to supply such facilities
as will make it possible for every
child to secure an adequate, whole
some noon meal, despite the fact that
he is attending school.
“The first provision of school meals
of which we have record was made in
Munich in 1790, w'hen municipal soup
kitchens were started by Count Rum-
ford as part of his international cam
paign against vagrancy. The kitch
ens were designed to meet the needs
of the people of all ages, and from
the start the schools were encouraged
to send groups of children to them
for a warm meal at r.oon. This work
was long unorganized but never dis
continued, and in the seventies the
obligation of providing meals was
put upon the school authorities.
From this ancient beginning the
school feeding movement spread
throughout th P German Empire until
now it is national in scope, and about
half of the cities contribute to sup
port wholly or in part school break
fasts or dinners.
Victor Hugo a Pioneer.
“School feeding began in France In
;849. The founder of school feeding
in England was Victor Hugo, who,
in the early sixties, provided warm
meals in his own house in'Guernsey
for children attending a nearby
school, and so gave the initial im
petus which led to the establishment
in London in 1866 of ‘The Destitute
Children’s Dinner Society.’
“From these early beginnings in
Germany, France and England, the
work of school feeding has spread,
until now, grown beyond the local
issue, it has received national recog
nition and been made the subject of
national legislation in France, Switz
erland, Holland, Great Britain, Den
mark, Sweden, Norway, Finland.
Austria and Belgium. It has also
been started in Spain, Russia and the
United States.
“The movement has attained great
momentum in America in the last
twenty years. The problem confront
ing those who have at heart the wel
fare of American public schools is
no longer, ‘Shall we have school
luncheon?’ but rather, ‘How may we
best guide this movement so as to
develop all of its poetical benefits
and at the same time avoid possible
dangers?’ ”
Eat This Food During Summer
Be careful what you eat during
hot weather. What you need
is food that nourishes but does
not heat the body.
Faust Spaghetti fits right into
that class. It is a high gluten
food—a bone, muscle and flesh
former—but contains practi
cally no fat, therefore cannot
heat tlie body.
SPAGHETTI
makes a savory,
appetizing dish.
It can be served
in a great many
ways that appeal to the palate.
It is easily prepared—it makes a
nutritious, non-heating meal during
the summer. Write for free recipe
book, “Spaghetti and Its Uses.”
Faust Spaghetti put up in air-tight,
moisture-proof packages.
At your grocer’*—5c and 10c packagee
MAULL BROS., St. Louis, Mo.
Enjoyed Smoke.
Gibbs—I went on a railway Journey
the other day and took a box of cigars
with me.
Nibbs—Well, I suppose you had a
good smoke.
Gibbs—Aye, I had that; but when
the train had started I found I had
no matches
Nibbs—No matches, and yet you en
joyed a good smoke? How did you
manage for a light?
Gibbs—Well, you see, I opened ihe
box, took out one, and that made the
box a cigar lighter.
Poor Appetite.
The Cleric—Just think, my deer
lady, one missionary to every 15,000
savages!
The Dear Lady—Dearie me! Wc’l
they must have poor appetites or verv
big missionaries!
■ ■■
— ^
T»”" www
Sfw ■ - sstsfm
W MfmHP|
Their Married Life
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
Mirrors and Millinery
As It Is for Her Now
Copyright, 1913, by International News
Service.
By NELL BRINKLEY
and Used To Be
School Children’s Luncheons
Selected by EDWIN MARKHAM