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\ ] 4 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