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NIL.
Art
The wonderful career of Frances Cranmer,
who painted Mrs. Wilcox’s Portrait.
A MONG the artists who have
palmed 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,
and 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
he an exceptionally fine piece of art
work.
Miss Cranmer has already distin
guished herself in portraiture work,
Rnd has received medals and praise
from high sources.
Born in South Dakota.
Frances Cranmer was born in Aber
deen, S. Dak., In 1890, spending her
early years there. After finishing her
hlgh-school studies at a private acad-
Madison, Wis.. she went to
\V ashington, D. C., at the age of six
teen. where sihe 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.
From 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 Parle, attending classes at
the Academic de la Grande Chau-
miere, also spending some time in
Holland, copying in the galleries.
Since returning, Miss Cranmer’s
studio has been in Washington, D. C.»
until going to Minneapolis last fall,
when she opened a studio in the
‘OOMd^ WOIBC3 8 9CHQ<O«0Q0tQi
Miss Frances Cranmer.
v
One Woman’s Story .
By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER
-fe»«OMOu«c-^»<^o,,o*'ci>WOMC3IOO«oA5
The Painting of Mrs. Wilcox by Miss Cranmer.
Handicraft Guild. Miss Cranmer s
a pupil of William M. Chase, Frank
Benson, Rubert Henri and the Span
ish painter. Casteluccio, 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
w'ork to paint the portrait of Miss
Margaret, the wimome 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 as
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, *1
happen to remember a telegram I
have to send, Just a little matter of
business about which I can not teli
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 wounded feelings were
healed.
Felt For the Card.
As Mary hurried toward Columbus
avenue she felt in her hand bag for
a 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 gets
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. Tt was evidert
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 rei
hair
Mary had forgotten tbe 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 chang?-]
once more,” she muttered, wretched
ly. “If it were not for mother, 1
would like to die! But she nesJs
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 T 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 inild 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 d°ar,” she replied. “You know
at this lime 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
3 T ou mean that there’s a chance that
soon you can stop all this toil, 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 hijn
po 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. “Don’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. For
I shall never marry 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, fnother. Gor
don and I do not love each.other any
longer. And I would not marry him
if he were the only man in the world’
Fa vorite Recipes of Favorite Actresses
~..
r n
* mk*
A
\Y
Stuffed Potatoes, Mamaroneck Style
My
Blanche Ring
S ELECT big, firm, unspotted potatoes. Wash and brush them thor
oughly so no sod of Oukl 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, out 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 ham. 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 Mis? Fairfax:
I am 21 and have two boy
friends who are very much In love
with me. One is 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; he
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 suttor
and you don’t love the other. Good
reasons why you should not take
either. Wait 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
T HE young man in the opposite cor
ner of the compartment pos
sessed, obviously, a simple and
confiding nature, ard Mr. Leverton spent
a good deal of his time in searching for
such truthful souls. His means of live
lihood were mysterious—he confessed to
a disinclination for monotonous labor.
“ •Bluff’ is Archie Leverton’s motto,”
he would admit to his intimates. ’Tt
never fails, my boys—never!”
He eyes the vacant-looking youth in
the manner of a spider with an unsus
picious fly. On this occasion, it was
evident, a likely subject for his wiles
had approached of his own accord.
The youth caught his eye and wriggled
confusedly.
“I s'pose you know the city pretty
well, please, sir.”
“Some of it,” Mr. Leverton ventured
“Then, p'r’aps you can teli me where
abouts Axland street is—the best way to
er—get them from the station?"
With a pleasant smile, Mr. Leverton
changed his seat, and bent down to fol
low the young man's forefinger. He
read the "personal” announcement curi
ously.
"Regent Street. January 2.
"Will the person who rescued an eld
erly lady from being run over by a
taxicab kindly apply to Messrs. Colling-
ham & Tremlow. solicitors, of Imperial
House, Axland street, E. C-, when a
suitable recompense will be offered ”
"Don't mean to say it was you that
saved the old girl?”
"Pulled her on to the curb,” stam
mered the yoipig man, modestly.
"You—In town?”
"I was Just visiting Aunt Martha-
coming home then I mean; but I had half
an hour to spare; so I took a stroll, too
to see things.”
His Name.
"Why, bravo! You’re a regular hero,
Mr . What name, by the by?"
"Greenhill. sir. How much d'you
think they’ll give me? What’s ’recoin-
pense’?”
Same as reward, explained Mr. Lever
ton. hurriedly. He was engaged In con
cocting a scheme. “Greenhill! The
•green’ part’s right enough!’* he thought
amusedly.
“Dare say it might run to a good bit
o’ money, eh?”
•Not very likely, Mr. Greenhill, I m
afraid.”
“Oh!” said the youth disappointedly.
“Not if you go there for it yourself.
You see. you're not used to talking to
solicitors, are you?”
! “No-no.” — -
“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 offer 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
mado 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 you,” 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 2V4- No!”
“Very kind, I’m sure.”
“Good-hearted, I am; it always was
my failing. 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-
Snap-
Shots
Little Bobbie’s Pa
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
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
haTF,’ sir.”
“I’ll lend you five shillings. Do your
bit of shopping w’hile 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.
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 worst; 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.”
—Drjtden.
• • •
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 sweetpeas
show more anxiety to clamber skyward
than do his 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
T har
wil
I f<
HARE was a yung man A his
ife up to the house last nite &
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 naim was Ralph, that is the only
naim I herd. His wife called him
Ralph all the time. A he called hisself
Ralph. This is the way he talked:
“Sum peepul doesnt know enuff to
cum in out of tbe 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 dident find it out sooner. Pa sed.
Not at all, sed Ralph. Thare Is a lot
of simpletons like him. He did not
know wimmen. I know them like a
book. Thay can fool sum men, but thay
never put one over on littel old Ralph,
he sed.
A so you understand wimmen. sed Ma.
Deer me, yes. sed Ralph. For yeers
A yeers J studied them. Thay always
liked me, A 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 wimmen so well, sed
Ma. What if you shuld see sum of my
faults that my husband dosent see, A
tell him about them.
Hum 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
best years for me. aren’t you, Ralph?
. sed Ralph, all the wild yeers are
gone. I do not suppose a quiet, hoam-
luving 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 wimmen. my deer boy, sed
Pa. You are at the age now wen you
think you know a lot about the fair
sex, A 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 simpel. Innocent gurl
A start to educate her, A 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,
sed Pa. You are one of those “Doant
tell me” boys. A 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 en
joyed 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 shopmani “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 litle 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
ing)—You mustn’t sit there, ma’am.
Old latdy (sitting on a seat which has
Just been varnished)—’Ere I am, and
ere I’m going to stick.
FRECKLES
Don’t Hid* Thom With a V«M| He"
move Thom With the Othlno
Proscription.
This prescription for the, removal
of freckle* was written by a prom
inent physician and Is usually no
successful In removing freckles and
giving a clear, beautiful complexion
that Tt lo sold by Jacobs’ Pharmacy
undsr an absolute guarantee to re
fund the money If It falls.
Don’t hide your frecWes under a
veil; get an ounce of othtne and re
move them. Even the first few ap-
{ illcattons should show a wonderful
improvement, some of the lighter
freckles vanishing entirely.
Be sure to ask the druggist for
the double strength othlne; It la this
that Is sold on the money-back guar-
an lee.
CONSERVA
Exposnxoi
a year in a world where thousands are us about yure wild days with the ladies
the units of measure requires more self-
deniaJ than existing on $10 per week
on Goerck street.
Oh, Ralph never talks of ■'s** lays,
ed his wife. He is satisfierTa . .hem
be buried in the past. He . true,
tender husband now. A is living all his
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
broaxl 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 ils num
ber. That’s the year it was bulit!”
Wife Says.
“At a card party which I attended one
afternoon last week all but two of the
Oh, I’ll have to take to short i ladies present had been divorced.”
frocks and pinafores again, and have a ■
nurse to look after me!”
“What was the matter with the two?’
“They were old maids.”
^0/7)
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
•kin, and it makes it soft
and clear.
One box will prove how
easy It is to improve your
complexion.
Good agents wanted In ev
ery town. Write for term*.
Postpaid2 ^ CAnywhere
All Jacobs’ Stores
And Druggists Generally.
Nova* 1
ii
RAILROADS
SOUTHERN RAHWAY
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.
Taken at His Word.
Old Johnson had realized the dream
of his life, and taken his’ only sort
into partnership in the business ha
had worked up himself. There was
great pride in the old man’s heart tbe
first day they were installed tn 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 he
one morning, “let’s have a little less
of the T,’ 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
i week, and the father thought his few
| words had struck home. A few days
I later, however, his son appeared look
ing Just a trifle anxious.
“I say, dad, we’ve been and done It
now,” he remarked.
“Done what?” asked his alarmed
parent.
“Well—er—we’ve been and married
the typist!”
■L