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Art The wonderful career of Frances Cranmer, who painted Mrs. Wilcox’s Portrait. A MONO the artists who have painted the portrait of Ella Wheeler Wilcox, it has re mained for a young girl of little more than a score of years to make a re markable success. Miss Prances Cranmer is the artist, ®-nd in three sittings of four hours each she produced a portrait which is pronounced by all Mrs. Wilcox’s near family and friends to be a wonder fully correct likeness; and by all critics who have seen the portrait to be an exceptionally fine piece of art work. Miss Cranmer has already distin guished herself in portraiture work, and has received medals and praise from high sources. Born in South Dakota. Prances Cranmer was Dorn in Aber deen, S. Dak., in 1890, spending her early years there. After finishing her high-school studies at a private acad- ei «y in Madison. Wis., she went to Washington, D. C., at the age of six teen. where she entered the Corcoran School of Art, under the instruction of E. C. Messer. After spending three years there she studied at the Art Students’ League in New York City for a year. Prom there she went to Boston, en tering the portrait class at the Mu seum School of Art. After a winter’s study there she went to Paris, attending classes at the Academie de la Grande Chau- miere, also spending some time Holland, copying in the galleries. Since returning, Miss Cranmer 1 ? studio has been in Washington, D. C., until going to Minneapolis last fall, when she opened* a studio in the Miss Frances Cranmer. One Woman’s Story . By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER < >; | The Painting of Mrs. Wilcox by Miss Cranmer. Handicraft Guild. Miss Cranmer ,s a pupil of William M. Chase, Prank Tendon, Rubert Henri and the Span ish painter, Ca3teluccio, and was awarded the gold medal at the Cor coran Gallery of Art at Washington, D. C.„ in 1908. Miss Cranmer is a young woman of striking beauty, great personal charm and unusual mental attain ments’. She feels that her portrait of Mrs. Wilcox has been the most gratifying success of her brilliant, if brief, career as an artist. Miss Cranmer was called to Tuxedo Park immediately after finishing this work to paint the portrait of Miss Margaret, the winsome and attractive young daughter of George Grant Mason. Miss Margaret has taken many cups and ribbons in her sportsman ship and was painted in riding habit. To Give Exhibition. The portrait of Mrs. Wilcox was painted in a sunset yellow gown and mantle against a dark green back ground, and is most effective. When asked for her own opinion of her por trait Mrs. Wilcox said: "I think it is such a decided work of art that long after my name is for gotten it will live in some great gal- ery as ‘A Portrait of an Unknown Lady, by Frances Cranmer.’ “It’s art value will survive tempo rary personality.” Miss Cranmer is to give an exhibi tion of her work in New York in No vember. CHAPTER XXI. M RS. DANFORTH turned a* Mary entered the kitchen, then started in surprise when she saw that the girl still wore her hat and jacket. “My dear!” she exclaimed. “I thought you were getting ready for supper?” “Mother,” said Mary, hurriedly, ‘I happen to remember a telegram I have to send, just a little matter of business about which I can not tel» you Just now. I must run around to the telegraph office before supper. I will be back in a quarter of an hour.” She paused long enough to put her arms about her mother and to kiss her with a tenderness that was al most passionate. And, at the dem onstration of affection, the older woman’s w'ounded feelings were healed. Felt For the Card. As Mary hurried toward Columbus avenue she felt in her hand bag for o card that Bert Fletcher had given her, a card bearing his name and ad dress. In handing it to her, he had explained awkwardly, "If you should care to see me at any time, you can send me word there, where I live with my mother. Anything sent there geta me.” By the time the girl had reached the telegraph office she knew by heart the address on the bit of pasteboard Seizing a telegraph blank and a pen she wrote quickly, as If fearful that her resolution would fail, the name of Herbert Fletcher, with the street and number of his home. Then, with out faltering, she penned her ten- word message. “Have changed mind. Home to night if you care to call.” Signing her initials, she handed the slip to the waiting clerk, gave him the money for the message, and added - “See that this gets off at once, please.” The clerk grinned. It was evident that he considered this a pretty girl sending a summons to an admirer. “Oh, yes, Miss,” he began pertly. "Don’t worry, I’ll ’’ He stopped abruptly as he met Mary’s stern and surprised gaze, and had the grace to mutter, “Excuse me!” flushing to the roots of his reJ hair Mary had forgotten the incident and her own displeasure by the time she turned again into Eighty-fourth street, and walked westward. The glow that, such a short time before, had seemed prophetic to her happy heart, had died entirely from the western sky, and in Its place was a bank of fog rising slowly from the river. She Sighed Again. “The whole world has change! once more,” she muttered, wretched ly. “If it were not for mother, 1 would like to die! But she ne?3s me. I almost wish she didn’t.” Yet when she opened the door cf the Danforth apartment, she forced herself to call out cheerily: “Here I am, mother dear! As soon as I can make myself present able I will come out to supper. For give me for keeping you waiting.” At the bright tone the mother, vaguely uneasy by her daughter’s recent reticence, breathed a sigh of relief. After all, things must be all right or Mary would not seem so like herself again. Girls were queer creatures, anyhow, with their vary ing moods, and Mary had been a different girl since her father's death. Which thought made the elderly wo man sigh again. As the two women sat over their simple evening meal the daughter chatted lightly, pleasantly. She tried to remember the little gossip of the office and several mild jokes that Mr. Pearson had told her to-day when he happened to stop at her desk for a few minutes’ chat. The girl laughed more heartily in telling these than her mother thought natural. At last the widow asked a question that had trembled on her lips when Mary had come out to supper, but which she had checked, moved to do this by an impulse which she did not understand. “Dearie,” she said timidly, "are you feeling badly to-night, or are you worried?” Mary shook her head. “Only tired, mother dear," she replied. “You know at this time of year the work seems hard.” The mother looked distressed and breathed her customary sigh. At the sound Mary felt vaguely annoyed. Her mother sighed most of the time now adays, she reflected. It was getting to be a confirmed habit. What Is the matter, mother?” she asked, trying to speak gently. “I was only thinking.” said the widow, “that I wish you did not have to work so hard.” “So do I,” returned the daughter. “Let’s hope I won’t have to much longer.” “You Frighten Me!” The mother looked at her hope fully and inquiringly: “Do you mean that, Mary?” she asked eagerly. “Do you mean that there’s a chance that soon you can stop all this toll, and that all we’ve hoped for will hap pen ?” Her voice broke and the tears came to her eyes. "Oh.” she exclaimed, “if so. thank heaven! Thank heaven! It has driv en me wild to see you so tired, dear, and I am so lonely, and I have hoped that you had had news from Gordon, but I didn’t like to ask about him so often. Do you mean now that he ” Mary had risen to her feet and stood pale, but calm, gazing at her mother. Her expression caused the older woman to catch her breath sharply. “Why—Mary—what is the matter?” she asked tremulously. “Dpn’t look like that! You frighten me!” "There is nothing to be frightened about, dear.” the daughter said slowly, “only I would rather you did not talk to me again about Gordon Craig. B'or I shall never marrv him.” Although the widow burst into hys terical sobs the girl’s calmness did not desert her, nor did her voice quav er when, after having soothed the agitated woman, she gave the brief explanation: “It is all for the best, mother. Gor don and I do not love each other anv lojiger. And I would not marry him if he were the only man in the world' Favorite Recipes of Fa voritt Actresses X > i—* \ «■ k m fir •0 s Stuffed Potatoes, Mamaroneck Style By Blanche Ring S ELECT big. firm, unspotted potatoes. Wash and brush them thor oughly so no sod of (>uld Erin will cling and interfere with the joy of the earnest potato eater who partakes of meal and skin alike. Bake them until they are mealy and within about five minutes of absolute done-ness. Remove from the oven, cut off the tops and stir into the crumbled inside which you have mashed in a bowl with a silver fork butter, pepper, salt and finely minced hum. Return a gen erous filling to each shell. Break over the top of each an entire egg (yolk and white). Over this grate cheese, and return to the oven until the savory smell of the melted and browned cheese makes it impossible to longer postpone meal time. Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. DON’T HUMBLE YOURSELF. Dear Miss Fairfax: I am 19 and in love with a young man two years my senior. Re cently he saw me going to a ball with another man. and he got an gry. He did not go. Since that time he does not speak to me and goes with other girls to make me jealous. I don’t take any no tice of him, but I really love him. He has told a friend of mine that if I apologized he would speak to me. I am not engaged to him and am too proud to think of apologizing for such a foolish thing. ANXIOUS. You have done nothing for which an apology is necessary', and a girl who begins by being humble has to keep it up. Continue In your present attitude^ and if he loves you enough to be worth loving he will be the one to apologize. If not, then do not spoil your pretty eyes by worrying, for the right man will some day come along. DON'T TAKE EITHER. Dear Miss Fairfax: I am 21 and have two boy friends w ho are very much in love with me. One 1s eight months younger than I, and the other Is four years older. My parents are very much opposed to my mar riage with the former, as his fam ily connections are not what could be called good. The other boy has a very good reputation; be cares a lot for me, but I do not care half as much for him. My parents think everything of him. But he does not appeal to me. PERPLEXED. Your parents object to one suitor and you don’t love the other. Good reasons why you should not take either. Walt a while and perhaps time will make your way clear for you. But under no conditions must you marry' a man you do not love. Always remember that. BLUFF By Leslie Thomas , he young man in the opposite cor ner of tne compartment pos sessed. obviously, a simple and ding nature, ard Mr. Leverton spent od deal of his time in searching for truthful souls. His means of live- >d were mysterious—he confessed to sinclinatlon for monotonous labor. Bluff’ is Archie Leverton’s motto.” vould admit to his intimates. "It r fails, my boys—never!” . eyes the vacant-looking youth in manner of a spider with an unsus- >us fly- On this occasion, it was ent, a likely subject for his wiles approached of his own accord. ,e youth caught his eye and wriggled s’pose you know the city pretty please, sir.” me of It.” Mr. Leverton ventured ten, p’r’aps you can tell me where- s Axland street is—the best way to B t them from the station?" ,h a pleasant smile. Mr. Leverton ;ed his seat, and bent down to fol- the young man’s forefinger. He the "personal” announcement curi- .gent Street. January 2. Ill the person who rescued an eld- lady from being run over by a ib kindly apply to Messrs. Colling- & Tremlow, solicitors, of Imperial e. Axland street, E. C., when a Ole recompense will be offered. 3n’t mean to say 1-t was you that I the old girl?” filed her on to the curb.” stam- 1 the young man, modestly, ju—in town?” was just visiting Aunt Martha— ig home .hen I mean, but I had half ,ur to spare; so I took a stroll, too— e things.” Name. hy, bravo! You’re a regular hero, What name, by the by?” reenhill sir. How much d’you they’ll give me? What’s ’recom- ,*?" ne as reward, explained Mr. Lever- lurrledly. He was engaged in cori ng a scheme. "Greenhill! The n’ part’s right enough!” he thought ;edly. ire say it might run to a good bit mey, eh?” ot very likely. Mr. Greenhill, I’m i.” h!” said the youth disappointedly, ot if you go there for it yourself, see you’re not used to talking to tors, are you?” “Thought not. You aren’t good at bargaining and haggling with ’em. You aren’t up to their artful ways. Don’t blame you for that. But, as likely as not they’d olTer you some mis’rable amount, and you ought to laugh in their faces. But you’d take it.” "I—I shouldn’t! Don’t see why you should think I’m ” “You’d take it,” repeated Mr. Lever-, ton firmly. “A man who’s had no deal ings with ’em hasn’t got a fair chance. They’d persuade him to anything and they’d get you to sign some paper or other ” “The question is, how much ought—” “Ah,” returned Mr. Leverton, admir ingly, “you’ve hit the nail on the head. All depends on what sort of old girl it was. Did she look well off?” Mr. Greenhill began to describe the lady. Unostentatiously, his new’ friend made notes. “Whereabouts were you standing at the time? H’m! Just near the circus? And how did the accident happen ex actly? Best tell me all about it; then I’ll be able to—ahem!—be in a position to advise you.” A Plan. Mr. Greenhill added voluminous de tails. When his memory failed, a hint from Mr. Leverton would start him off again. “Good!” declared the latter gentleman, patting his shoulder. “Now, let me think.” He started up presently. "You take me with yoif," he suggested blandly. “I’ll manage the talking. I’ll see you aren’t put upon.” “But It ud be wasting a lot o’ your time, sir.” “No, no; I’m very Interested in the matter.” "And I reckon,” added the youth, wisely, "you’d be expecting something for your trouble.” “Smart, I see,” cried Mr. Leverton beaming, "and cautious, too! You’re wrong, though. Of course, if you care to stand me a drink afterward, I won’t say ‘No!’ But otherwise—you see, you remind me of a favorite nephew of mine, and I wouldn’t accept even 5 per cent —even 2^. No!’’ “Very kind. I’m sure.” “Good-hearted, I am; it always was my falling. I’ll show you Axland street Here’s the train stopping We’ll go straight there. When we come to Im perial House, in we go—or, rather,” he appeared to reflect—“you better wait outside, if you’ve no objection. Under stand? I’ll send for you If you’re wanted. But I’ll get more money out of those lawyers than you would. I ex pect the old girl’s said to em: ‘See what he’s satisfied with. Give the good, brave fellow what he think’s right. I leave it to you entirely.’ ” Mr. Greenhill was pondering deeply. “I thought of catching the next train back,” he observed, “to tell ’em at home all about it. They’re waiting very anx ious.” "Well, it won’t take us much over three-quarters of an hour.” “Then I’d manage it all right. Only I wanted to buy Rosie a—present.” No Money. “Your young lady?” “Ye-s,” agreed Mr. Greenhill, giggling In discomfort. "Buy It out of what I get from the lawyers, you see, sir. Still If I wait till you meet me with that money ” “Haven’t you got any with you?” “Only sevenpence and my ‘return ha??,’ sir.” “I'll lend you five shillings. Do your bit of shopping while I’m Inside.” Outside the Imperial House the coin changed hands. “If you’re not out when I come back, sir. I'll stand just here.” “Righto!” Mr. Leverton nodded. Once out of sight, moving toward the lift, he gave vent to his restrained mirth. “Aha, Bluff!” he gasped, exhaustedly. “Heads I win, tails you lose. Now, then, for Messrs. Collingham and Tremlow. Saved the old girl’s life. I should think I did. Rather! I remember the whole thrilling scene. And If she happened to describe me as younger and more stu pid-looking—well, she made a mistake In the excitement of the moment. More bluff!” A clerk inquired his business. In due course he sailed jauntily Into an Inner room. But five minutes later he burst out and stumbled down the stairs. “A woman. It was—been rewarded al ready,” he babbled. “He told me every thing wrong—wrong side o’ the road even—wrong sort of old girl—‘obtaining money by false pretenses’—what did the old josser say I could get for that'’ Where’s that Greenhill fellow? I’ll—I’ll —see if I don’t ” The simple young man was not wait ing at the door; neither did he return. “O’ course not,” lamented Mr. Lever ton, bitterly. “He’s got a quid of mine Bluff—sheer bluff!’’ he moaned In an guish. "Oh, I’ll have to take to short frockg and pinafores again, and have a nurs^to look after me!” Snap- •* Shots By LILIAN LAUFERTY. Happy the man, and happy he alone. Who can call to-day his own. He who secure within can say: “To-morrow do thy W’orst; for I have lived to-day. Be fair or foul or rain or shine, The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate are mine: Not Heaven itself upon the past has power, For what has been, has been, and 1 have had my hour.” —Drydrn. « i • MAIDEN MUSINGS. PERHAPS— If you could look over the fence at neighbor Croesus* landscape garden you would find him peering just as eagerly through the knothole to dis cover why your plebeian sweet peas show more anxiety to clamber skyward than do bis aristocratic blooms. PERHAPS— The poor little rich girl who is hav ing all the cream puff froth and luxury of life envies you the doughnuts that are “sinkers” on the underside o’ things! 'PERHAPS— The woman who laughs at your pleas, scorns your threats and resists your force, would capitulate to your indif ference. PERHAPS— Your feast of Joy will seem all the more delicious if the first course is of misery. PERHAPS— The name you call another chap fits you better than It does him. PERHAPS— You might find that spending $10,000 a year In a world where thousands are the units of measure requires more self- denial than existing on $10 per week on Goerck street. Little Bobbie’s Pa By WILLIAM F. KIRK. Got His Number. The aged motor van was somehow always getting out of repair, and it usu ally indulged In a little breakdown about once a week. In order to vary an other wise monotonous existence. Slowly it snorted Its‘way into the broad stream of traffic, when there was a sudden whirring of wheels, a loud snap, and the weary and worn frame work came to a dead stop. “Look here,” said the policeman to the driver, “this kind of thing is occur ring too often. Let’s see, what’s your number? Yes, 1588!" “Go on!” said the precocious youth who was In charge of the cart imme diately behind. “That ain’t its num ber That’s the year it was built!” T HARE was a yung man & his wife up to the house last nlte & I felt sorry for the yung man. He dident know that I felt sorry for him, because he talked to me as If I were about two years old, but I know moar than he does. His nalm was Ralph, that is the only nalm I herd. His wife called him Ralph all the time. & he called hisself Ralph. This is the w’ay he talked: “Sum peepul doesnt know' enuff to cum in out of the rain, but littel old Ralph Is different. Thare is a lot of men that thinks thay are wise, but lit* tel Ralph knows he is wise.’’ Pa was telling sumthing about a mar ried man that found out his wife had been a shoftlifter for years. It is funny he dldent find it out sooner, Fa sed. Not at all, sed Ralph. Thare Is a lot of simpletons like him. He did not know wlmmen. I know them like a book. Thay can fool sum men, but thay never put one over on littel old Ralph, he sed. & so you understand wlmmen. sed Ma. Deer me, yes. sed Ralph. For yeers & yeers I studied them. Thay always liked me, & used to tell me a lot of things that thay wud keep from other men. Like Tom Moore, my only books were women’s looks. How vary interesting, sed Ma. I feel kind of creepy wen I am near a yung man who knows wlmmen so well, sed Ma. What if you shuld see sum of my faults that my husband dosent see, & tell him about them. Sum men mite be that way, sed Ralph, but littel old Ralph is a close mouthed man. Thare are sum things In this hed of mine that will go to the grave with me wen I die, sed Ralph. It must be yure teeth, sed Pa. I doant think you will carry many other things to the grave with you. But tell us about yure wild days w'lth the ladles Oh, Ralph never talks of those days, sed his wife. He Is satisfied to let them be burled In the past. He is a true, tender husband now, & is living all his best years for me, aren’t you, Ralph? , sed Ralph, all the wild yeers are gone. I do not suppose a quiet, hoam- luvlng man like you ewer had much chanst to study wimmen, sed Ralph to Pa. I used to have a lot of chanst to study them, sed Pa, but after I got my wisdom teeth cut I stopped trying to dope them out. There Isent any nurrishment In studying wlmmen. my deer boy, sed Pa. You are at the age now wen you think you know a lot about the fair sex, & the fair se xis jest fair enuff to let you think so. History Is full of cases Jest like yures, sed Pa. I have known a lot of deeper students of wim- men than you, Pa sed, that thought they had it all at thare tongue’s end. Then they wud marry a slmpel. Innocent gurl & start to educate her, & she wud run away with a life saver jest out of the high school that cuddent say anything except “I shud worry." Doant try to tell me. sed Ralph. No, Ralph. I will not try to tell you, j sed Pa. You are one of those “Doant lell me” boys. & I will not try to ruf- • yure feelings. Now. let us all talk about sumthing that the rest of us un derstand as well as you. What He Meant. “That last thing you sent in was good,” said the editor. “We all eii- joyc*d reading it very much.” “Well in that case,” said the youth ful poet, “I take back what I said in the letter I wrote to you yesterday about my determination never to send you any of my work again.” The editor slowly shook his head. “Don’t do that,” he murmured. “Why, that letter is what I referred to.” Up-to-Date Jokes A lady with a wasp-like waist fainted In a city street the other day and was carried Into the nearest shop. An Irish man, who had observed the occurrence, looked Into the shop after a few min utes and inquired: “How Is she now?” “Oh," said the shopman, “she’s com ing to.” “Ah,” replied Pat, "come In two has she? Poor thing! Bedad, It’s Just what I was afraid of.” * • • A veteran, talking to his great-grand son, a 11 tie lad of eight or nine years, remarked: “Nearly a generation and a half ago my head was grazed by a bullet at the battle of Chickamauga.” The little boy looked at the old man’s head thoughtfully and said: “There isn’t much grazing there now, is there, grandad?” • * • Park Keeper (giving friendly warn- ingi You mustn’t sit there, ma’am. old Lady (sitting on a seat which has lust been varnished)—’Ere I am, and ’ere I’m going to stick. Taken at His Word. Old Johnson had realized the dream of his life, and taken his only son Into partnership In the business he had worked up himself. There was great pride in the old man’s heart the first da}’ they were installed in the office together, and he was looking forward to the projects they would work out, and how the young blood would stimulate the firm. As the days went on. however, all did not work as old Johnson had ex pected, and the youngster’s overbear ing manner annoyed him considera bly. "Look here, young man,” said ho one morning, "let’s have a little less of the ‘I,’ and a little more of the ‘we’ in this business. Remember I’m still here, and that you’re only Junior partner.” The youngster “lay low” for a week, and the father thought his few words had struck home. A few' days later, however, his son appeared look ing just a trifle anxious. "I say, dad, we’ve been and done it now f ,” he remarked. "Done what?” asked his alarmed parent. ‘‘Well—er—we’ve been and married the typist!” FRECKLES Don't Hids Them With a Veil; Re' move Them With the Othine Prescription. Thi« prescription for the removal of freckles was written by a prom inent physician and is usually so •Ful ’ *— successful in removing freckles and giving a clear, beautiful complexion that Tt 13 sold by Jacobs’ Pharmacy under an absolute guarantee to re fund the money If It fails. Don’t hide your freckles under a veil; get an ounce of othine and re move them Even the flr3t few ap- f titrations should show a wonderful improvement, some of the lighter freckles vanishing entirely. Be sure to ask the druggist for the double strength othine; Tt is this that is sold on the money-back guar antee. Wife Says. “At a card party which l attended or.e afternoon last week all but tw*> of the iadies present had been divorced.” “What was the matter with the Iwo?" “They were old maids.” Nationals Conservation EXPOSITION nr ..jjjjiij JL!wrwl(romiE Do You Want White Skin? I DLE wishing never yet changed a dark com plexion If you have a very dark and coarse looking skin, TRY Palmer’s Skin Whitener There is no doubt what ever about its marvelous whitening effect upon the skin, and It makes It soft am. clear One box will prove how easy It is to improve your complexion. Good agents wanted in ev ery town. Write for terms. Postpaid^ ^ £ Anywhere All Jacobs’ Stores Ard Druggists Generally. im Nov. 1 st >N SOUTHERN RAILWAY PREMIER CARRIER OF THE SOUTH Offers through and local TRAIN SERVICE. SLEEPING CARS DINING CARS For fares, reservations and other information, write: Jno. L. Meek, R. L. Baylor, A. G. P. A., Atlanta, Ga. D. P A, Atlanta, Ga. £ ■ ■re-sis - —-