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* ■ ' 1U % ML BEHIND CLOSED DOORS One of 1 he Greatest Mystery Stones Ever Written Playing With Cupid—and After By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN. (Copyright, 1913. by Anna Kathari Green ) IVM TO-D AY’S IN ST AI. I. M F. NT "No—yes* " she murmured, down at his hand with a idd< violent change of color. “I 1 turned away and laid her l and d, which was t r at ruck him iim moment; wh uched and awe or lip* po8H« rhich ho coulr in the strengt y aroused feeli This Is the V/ay the Game with Cupid Begins— husbamr* arm "Do you wish to stay any longer?" she "It seems t< me we ought to be going.” There was confusion r her tone while her manner tf) th doctor had certainly savored of rude ness, bu Dr Molesworth seemed neither to notlc e the one nor the other "I am In no hurry.” safi he, "li the doctor’s company. penally as have another case here wh ich 1 am sure it will interest him to s An d h» looked af I>r Cameron, who at once cried: "I am on hand for any thing of that kind.” "Come, then," cried the other. "But first excuse- me while I ake off m> cults. I can do nothing at a be Jslde with them on.” And while the two walte i this str nng( man pulled off his cuffs and put them in the pocket of his ov reoat. after which operation his brow miked lighter and he passed with them Up the hall, chatting quite genially. Genevieve felt sick at heart. This business was not as pie. - nm in r« ality as in anticipation, but she kept by their side, thankful that she was not ex pected to say anything ()n the! re- turn she again expressed a w i si to leave, and this time no demur wa s made. But Just as they turned to go a startled cry made them Jo >k back. y will >u will der at mi 1 1 I it b» a HO true tha1 you w no Ir »ng i-r ! love me?' She did not .* e< • IT* to expect a ri ply. and hr * did noi 1 gl any. He felt sure of li im self . but wh y rr •peat a /.se verat that : v yen itS old as love. II e nn •rely sin i led her am i w ted for the new quei >n i that fere d on her It sect 1 tr i he serii nun one, more se- riOU tha n an whi <-h had gone be- fore It iooke d i as if she dr ea.de* 1 tc put Hi **ne our a ge d her wll Lh a kiss on the ha nd t hat la> ■ in his. "I ee; you Wl int to know what I am go ling to i ask ne xt.” she purs ued "Wi il. I r nay be a f oolish woman. but I he ive a fanei • tr i probe your heart to bolt It was from I>r. Moles worth, and the word he had uttered was: "Lost!” "What is lost'’*' It was I>r. Camemn who spoke; his wife lamed incapable of uttering word. Dr. Moles worth laughed. "Excuse me.*’ said he, "I did not mean to be so tragic; but in our short absence my Cuffs have been taken out of my over coat pocket, and though the loss is not great, it is certainly annoying.” "I know who did it." cried a voice near them. "It was that slim small man who came In after But Dr. Cameron did not keep his wife waiting any longer to hear these simple explanations; the affair seemed altogether too puerile. Would he hnve thought any more se riously of it had he known that'written on the inside of one of those cuffs the one which had been on the hand which Dr. Molosworth had extended to Gene vieve—were written in large characters these words: “Beware! I was net released so sud denly without a motive." Would you love, me" - she dropped her eye.-; from his face • "if you found that I bad kept some thing hack from you which I ought to have told; that that I had ever been fa love before, or or thought I was; that j I wns not just what you imagined mo | to be when you married me, and that— that I had a secret in my life, us many women have, which, while it argues nothing wrong in my heart, still lends) to my hours many regrets, and to my thoughts a shadow which all the pres- I ent brightness cannot quite charm j away?" "Genevieve!" Ills fa<je had changed j his lip took a hard line. "Have you j any such s«- ret in your life? Did you I ever iove another rnun?" She looked up, rpet ills eye and quak ed. "Do you demand to know?" she asked. Hi.' brows contracted; he thought of the promise she had given him to al ways tell him tiie truth, and hesitated What If she said yes would It In reuse their happiness? They were ft' tJln. T A YN y ,• v . »/• Jl *umgf i|£p n. N By BEATRICE FAIRFAX ■<i i ( * :: 1- OVE comes like a summer sigh,” goes an old song, and those who have^nown nothin] married; she loved him now, and any I °f Love, or know it only in ils begin- such raking up of old bygones was cer- | ning, think, calm-eyed, tliat Love is tainly unwise as it was unpleasant | always a summer sigh -a lutelike strain. Besides, who could expect to have the j sweet, sothing, telling a story of flow- first ove of a Genevieve Greiorex" A **>•* shaking their heavy, honey-bur- woman who has counted her suitors by dened heads drowsily In the sun; of spores might l »■ pardoned for having ! Wrds giving sleepy twitters from un- yielded one Jot of tier pent-up woman- der the shade of the leaves, and of lazy iy omotiuns in return. He would net j streams,*droning and crooning their way press ids question; he found he loved j befween warm, mossy banks, and glv- Ixt too well. ; ln * no ,1,nt In their songs that they were ever turbulent. "I demand nothing.’ was his reply. , . , i i I hat the summer sigh is followed by The fiast is past and we no longer , J , . , .. .. . i J tempestuous winds anything to do with It. As long | ... . hoods tliat tear down and sweep de- heart is all mine now and I , , 1 struction where all was lazy peace, is never credited by those who do not know Love. upon some one else.- I would dare i , , . , ....... , , ... | I he girl whose love tale Is in the be- the little g-xl about, finding renewed merriment in every moan and protest. “Love,” she sings, “is more than a sum mer sigh. He is a game. He is the greatest joy in the world.” First hot, then cold; first loving, then disdainful; the plaything in her hands would b diiven mad entirely did he not know thaf, jnst as surely as to-mor row’s sun follows to-day’s, his time will come. He is the plaything to-day. lie knows who will be the juggler to-morrow, and One Woman’s Story . By VIRGINIA TERHUNE VAN DE WATER CHAPTER XXV. But It Ends So. AH?.£Ni>e> to. had been their game. The girl who is playing with Love hav your am sure you oner ati.l devastating w|fh a face whl , h | jeillH no sign „f the a'rows tired and bids Love go He turns Husband and Wife. I T must not be supposed that the sud den and remarkable change which ■ had taken place In Mrs. Cameron’s physical appearance had passed un noticed or uncommented upon by so ciety. It was only too widely discussed, and while It formed the basis of innu merable compliments, it also awakened an equal number of surmises and ques tionable remarks They were silting In the parlor, sod Dr. Cameron, anxious to behold her smile again, was talking gaily Sud denly be paused and asked her a ques tion about some one they had seen She answered hut vaguely. Her thoughts were elsewhere Judging from the di rection of her gaze they were on her self. She sat where she could see her own Image mirrored in the gloss before her. and 1t w as upon this eb-gnnt 1 gun . clfld In gray velvet and pearls, that her eyes were fixed with an Intentress which might have suggested the pres ence.. of innate vanity, if the disdain which curled her lip had not shown that she half despised the beauty which re q wired so much splendor to adorn t Her husband's eyes followed hers and gl sferted merrily. “An imposing figure,” he smiled, ”D ; d you think you would ever he a famous beauty, Genevieve*” She rose up with an instantaneous impulse, and. coming to his side, knelt down at his feet “Am 1 pretty,” she asked, “to you?” “No.” he returned, "you are not pret ty: you are beautiful, and just a lit tle awe-inspiring. I love you. and I wonder at you You at- *o different She Aid not wait for him to finish ds "Tou love me.” she murmured "How much do you love me, Walter? Kro»*gh to care more for me th:m for mv beau ty? Would your heart still glow ard your arms still embrace me if Instead of .pleasing your eye. I only appealed to your sympathies and you-- afT ethos? -Do not say yeg eareles^A Waller )]< w deep have I sunk Into y. qr > earf* Pn-t the first boundary or not. Walter? Speak! 1 am strong enough to h. ar." Affected deeply, for her look was even more earnest than her words, he drew her to his side*, and answered gravely: "You are my wif> . you ar*- the w man ~ l have chosen and \v- uld choose again out of all I have ever seen for my own. I love your beaut > how can 1 it is what 1h it to me that e smiled for a week of a montit ome one else. - 1 would dare that no one but myself ever touched these Ups." Her smile flashed out bright and daz zling "No one ever did.” said she, and 1 at that word and at that smile hi* brow cleared and he almost laughed. "Most every life has had some harm less flirtations in It,” he remarked ”1 adored a girl myself once for a fort- ' night. But that does not make me un- j happy now. On the contrary, 1 think it adds a little to my satisfaction The ! value of true gold is more apparent after some slight handling of dross." She drooped her head There was a far-away look in her eyes. She did not seem to hear what he said. "1 wish 1 could see you really cheer- j ful again," he ventured. "You are not i 111 enough to look so sad." Brought back to realities, she moved | a little farther from him, while a reck- j less gleam shot from her eyes. "I have read,” she began slowly, and as if pursuing her own train of thought, ”ihHt love Is powerful with some men. That no ambition is considered too dear, no hope too precious to stand in the way of their passion. Is there truth in such tales? Is there a man among your acquaintance, for instance, who would h. willing to sacrifice any nalh Komi thing hr possessed for the - ke of an unfortunate woman who was dependent upon him for happiness?" "I hope " he commenced. But she stopped him with an impe rious gesture. "Do you know of one man," she asked, “who would share disgrace with a woman cheerfully 7” Disgrace is a hard word,” he assert - :. “and cheerfully does not readily go ; ginning regards Love as she* would a ; plaything She tosses him in the air, sometimes catching him with fervent \ arms and loving kisses, and as often b iting him fall that she may laugh at his woe-begf ne face and make merry over his bruises. She tweaks, pinches, slaps and throws malice in his heart be submits to every torture ,she imposes. And bides his time! What hour marks the beginning of the new game where- Love is the juggler and the plaything in his hands is the bruised and aching heart of his tormentor no one knows. The inexperienced declare that that hour never strikes. The iove-scarred know that it struck when they were merriest, and that in a twinkling they found themselves the sport of that which •to depart, and there comes to her swift revelation of the dreariness of life without him, and she commands him to stay. The hour has struck! He refuses, and then she drops to her knees and begs for that which she once scorned. "Only stay," she implores, "and you may do with me as you will.” And Love stays, and for every tear that she has made him shed lie makes her shed a torrent. Ever.v little pinch and bruise on his bod3 has made a mark on his heart that is charged to her account, for which she must pay in humiliation and anguish. No cold-blooded, calculating enemy who starts out to destroy and lets nothing under heaven interrupt or change or balk or defeat his plans, was ever more ruthless than this little Cod of Love. Love is, as the young hope, the only real joy life holds. And only those who have known it know the depths of de spair and sorrow'. In the beginning it is the plaything; in the end the hearts of men and wom en are its toys. I he Cry of the Heart By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. The One You Didn’t Marry BY DOROTHY DIX. “L iat gives that boose, were it oly form, the « help It'-—and 1 love v beauty life Had I t<* given me fo have this 1<> brilliant eyes, this wl and speaking figur*-. w treacherous soul within your heart, your into He lure in a faded or i Shoirtd take "Which?" Her eyes were btirhin parked she was breath "Your heart ami na’ should, and I rejoice f? charmed me. Oenevo v» sist your spell nor do ! try ar to dp so. Were thes* features all over cast* there would sti’l he vnur . - . n- ahty left; a personality which I do not understand, hut which holds me and Interests me more than any amount of grace or beauty could do " ’‘Then 1 a:n an enigma, only ar igu.a to yrtu. When 1 am solved—r- ,> ‘Will you ever be solved. Genevieve ” She did not look as rt ihe would -The with it." "But "I am thinking of an extreme case. Perhaps you did not mean positive dis grace. Such does not come often to a man from a woman. It is more apt to come to a woman from a man." "You speak of an extreme case," she s. nl.v whispered. "Let us put it at Its extremist. Say that I had done an act which if known would brand me with ■ fiamy; that you became aware of it and also knew that the heart which prompted it was not bad, only untu tored and . impetuous, would your love be so Light that It would give wily under the revelation, or would It hdld fq/ti, and, though changed, remain to s< lace ami encourage one who- who— never realized ” Her voice sank to an unintelligible •nuimur; her eyes, which were fix*.! on l.s, turned glassy, for his hr w had grown threatening and his regard stern. hi the qnesLions ing? U thei ir for But or * "these are not « x-dted fancy There What mean- rking in the a py thing—” *• out merrily II th lu or mat ft T enl ig lit g ov ' ’C-\C m. . She entreated "1 had h na r. to tost the t \»* nt of y< ir love. I 1 think there Is yet opportunity for it to deepen and broaden. But perhaps 1 <io n . understand men. I have never cared to study them until now. J did mo know my happiness would hang upon your regard. Your regard," she repeated, "rot the world’s, Walter" To Be Continued To-morrow. OVE, courtship and marriage are not passing sentiments or accidents. Romance and science must become fast friends. Sentiment and reality must meet. I want the young man and woman to i know each other and to greet each other sanely and well under the best influence I know of- the church.” The Rev. John R. Gunn, who made this statement is pastor of the North Baptist Church, No. 234 West Elev enth street, New York. He has heard the Cry of the Heart, lie has learned through his associa tion with young people that in the civilization and salvation of this gray old world the heart must he reck oned with as well as the soul, the body and the brain. It is not enough to throw open the church doors to save souls. The work does not end with establishing schools to train the fingers and brain. The public clinics that teach the care of the body accomplish wonderful re sults. but this and all these are not enough. The man with perfect lungs and liver, skilled hands, a well-trained brain and a soul that he believes is saved is of no more account than a collection of dry bones if his heart has a longing that neither mental nor physical tiring can still He wants to love and be loved. He wants the greatest gift life holds, and the same longing is implanted in the breast of | every woman. In ;t small town where every one | knows every one else meeting and ' mating are easy. A man sees a girl 1 lie admires and the next day a mu- I Dial friend introduces them. In a largo city he may see The Girl every da> for an eternity, and the rules ! which were made for her protection prevent them from speaking without j an introduction and there im no one in I the world who knows him and her j who cares. Their Cries. The girl a nice man wants for a wife is not the girl who lets a street corner stand sponsor for him. The i! who will let a wink or a smile : • an introduction is not the cud he wants to marry, lie wants to m*»< i and marry the nice, modest kind i a ■ rl he knew hack home.” and : knows as every one knows, that city is full of them. He also ws that Ms' chances for meeting h*r are not any better than if she were siranded on an island in the North Sea. end he were a nomad in tip- Sahara Desert. Love is too priceless to be lost through formality and too precious t risked through its lack. The re ■it me to any young man. Anyhow, they are the kind of men they meet in public dance halls, and I don’t rare to know them. Will you tell me of a way to meet a few nice men?” "1 am in love with a young girl.” writes another, "who is working near the place I work. She is looking at me all day long with a great deal of interest but she never says anything because we have not been introduced. 1 try to make her understand with my eyes that I love her, but she keeps silent, just looking at me all the time. Is there a way I can meet her and get acquainted?" ”1 am eighteen”—this time it is a girl—“and every day meet a nice young man who says 'How do you do?’ and passes on. I like him very much, bul have never been intro duced to him. Tell me how I may know him.” ‘I am a young man of nineteen and am very very bashful. When with young ladies I do not know what to converse about. Lately 1 have been corresponding with a medical Institu tion that offered to permanently cure me of my bashfulness in twelve les sons but I have an idea I could be cured quicker if I could meet more girls and be with them oftener. But 1 live in a large city and never me°t any girls, and am In despair." One Way. It is the Cry of the Heart for love, and the cry is universal. The man r woman who fails to heed it or who stills it pays the penalty all through life. Only through satisfying this hunger for love may happiness he se cured. The Rev. Gunn, recognizing this de mand. has opened a parlor in his church for the purpose of making if possible for well-intentioned young men and women to meet. He will act as (he intermediary of Cupid, and the poor little god of I ove needs more in- termediar os these days than at any previous time in tlis troubled exist ence. Let others who claim they want to do good emulate the Rev. Gunn. Sat isfy this longing for love first of all, and ambition, achievement, and all that counts In the progress of human ity will follow. “I : >m ’ -■ s m is’ in time recognize this • , n so< il • enters where decent young men may meet decent young women in a sane, decent was. On this the happiness of the world de pends. ”1 am a young girl nineteen year: of ngi w rites one who signs herse!’’ ’Anxb A US, "and have no chance what - evi cr to get ;tc •qualntec ! with young in* *n. w bile I 1 '.ave girl friend s. thf> ar* ■ selfish and would not introdj.-o Harum 2d. Two farmers stoped to'talk crops arw? the price of. potatoes. * i»ay r Jim ” finally remarked one of I the agriculturists, "are ye in the market j I for a good boss?" "Wouldn’t mind havin' a boss if it ; j suited me.'Jake.” responded Jim "What j kind of a hoss Is it?" "It’s thet little foa-n -mare o’ mind" V hain’t ye?" j "Think I her.” reflectively returned 1 Jim. "Yes. I know her. all r gut.” | "Might?* good little h- ~s. de* ured I Jak*, with u h* :> Dll g!:m.>- at Jim. ' An’ she's ycv"< oheap fer a cash d si.” "It’s Je<' this why, Jake." Jim.) picking up lus Vines and preparing to ! ; start. "Id like to have her. all right, an’ ! huy he:* th : ; m-ruin’, only I hate to 1 i bust a dcllctT.” | FANCY,” said the woman who likes to philosophize above her tea, “that there are very few of us. either men or women, who do noi cherish the memory of some rare and radiant being that we have met some where in the past, and who do not have moments in which we speculate upon what life might have been if only we had married the ideal, instead of the individual that we did marry. "Of course, for the most part, we are fairly well satisfied with our own par ticular Darby or Joan, but in times of domestic strife we recall with a sad, sweet pleasure, the face of Angelina or Edwin, and reflect that he or she never would have been such a goose, or so pig-headed, or raised such rows about nothing as does the wife or husband to whom we are tied. “Ah, no! Angelina would always have been fair and beautiful, and slim and young, a perfect housekeeper, and. a marvel of economy, far different from our own fat and grizzled middle-aged Joan, who is a hit-or-miss cook, and apparently thinks a man can gather money off the trees. Our Edwin, too, would always have been a romantic hero, who could make us thrill at his touch, who would murmur beautiful sentiments of affection, couched in Booth Tarkington language for forty years at a stretch, and who would have lived on such a high plane that he wouldn’t even have perceived when the coffee tasted like dish \Vatef, and the soup was cold, and the ices hot. And he would have been utterly incapable of saying such things under such circum stances. as does the commonplace Dar by to whom we ai a united. The Retrospect. "As the years go by, and we get far ther ami farther away from Edwin and Angelina and the gilt rubs .more and more off of the gingerbread of matri mony that we are d^ily forced to con sume, the pictures of our early loves grow brighter and brighter, with a more and more roseate halo, until at last we come to the place where we privately • nsider ourselves blighted beings, who have made fatal mistakes in matrimony. "1 am convinced that a great deal of domestic unhappiness arises from tfv.s cause, and I think that ten years aft. r u’.arriaye there ought to bo a com- y exe-.i'rsion back to the scene of on* s early romance, so that husbands . w J v. s c-miM get a near view of their Dr - • >v._*. Take my word for it, that it we Id do more to make men and women - .tisfUV. .with the life partners they did get than anything else on earth, for if there is one thing that makes you want t* g*> out and burn joss sticks to luck it is to meet up with the one you didn’t marry. "1 Lave just been seeing a most illu minating example of the value of my theory T Liv*> friend, whom I wlii - because that isn’-t her name, w''o. vvber - e \v m a young girl, fell ... vc w a vcv >i looking and attrac tive young fellow who was one of those youths who live upon their mothers. "Fortunately for Susie she had a sen sible, hard-headed father who repre sented to her that a man who had never supported himself was not likely to support a family, and as Susie had too much independence to want to set tle down on a poor mother-in-law to be taken care of, stye was kept from marrying the young man. and, of course, in time got *over her girlish fancy. "Eventually she made an excellent match. She married a thrifty business man in a distant city, who was able to give her a beautiful home, fine clothes, an automobile, and every luxury that wealth can supply. Also her husband is a man of weight in his community, looked up to, and deferred to.. "But always her early love has loomed in Susie’s mind as a fairy prince, and. she has contrasted her husband unfa volubly with him, and said to her self how blissful she might have been with a man who understood her poetic yearnings, and her grasping at the whatbesa of the what, instead of with a sordid business man, whose soul was not on material things.. "Well, last month Susie went back home for the first time in many years, and saw her early love. Also his wife and children. The shiftless ne’er do well had gone down, and down, until he had become the village loafer. People spoke of him with sneering con tempt. His wife was a poor, pitiful, overworked drudge who supported him by taking boarders. Half a dozen dirty little children clung to her skirts. The Outcome. "You never saw such an instan taneous cure as that sight of the man she didn't marry worked on Susie. She scuttled back home as fast as she could go, and she’s been so busy ever since scattering rosesMn ttre path of the man she did marry that she has got him guessing as to What has happened.” “That's right," said the other woman cooingly, **I never inlss an opportunity of inviting my husband’s early loves to dinner. They are sure to be fat and frowsy, or living skeletons, and I can see his ideal crumbling to pieces as he contrasts them in propria persona with the way he remembered them." "But we also have changed since we inspired K>ve’« young dream," suggest ed a third woman. "Oh. our husbands are used to us." replied the woman philosopher, cem- fortaMy ‘ And they’ve quit looking at us, anyway.” A S soon as Herbert Fletcher was engaged he brought his mother to call upon his future wife. That ! was the only time that Mary Danforth j saw her soon-to-be mother-in-law until after her marriage. Mrs. Fletcher was a large-boned, stout woman, florid of face and with a voice that was masculine In quality. She shook hands with Mary and eyed her critically "How do you do?" sue said, adding, as in duty bound, "My son has told me about you." "And he has talked to me often about you," Mary rejoined timidly. ”1 am glad to know you. It is kind of you to call." "Bert insisted on my coming." re- ! turned Mrs. Fletcher bluntly. "I wa.* willing to humor him to keep the peace." She Was Surprised. Mary was surprised to hear herself talking with assumed lightness of trifling matters—the weather, the noise of the city streets at this time of the year when the windows were open, the many impersonal matters that make w’hat is known as "small talk.” Fl&teher sat by and looked at her with uncon cealed admiration; her mother seconded her efforts -to keep the conversational ball rolling, but Mrs. Fletcher said lit tle. Her quick eyes wer taking fn every detail of the simply-furnished room, and Mary felt that her gaze was an appraising one. She looked often at the embarrassed girl, and at last voiced her thoughts; “I guess you’re not very strong, are you?” Mary flushed hotly. "Why. yes,” she said, trying to laugh. "I have never been really ill in my life. Perhaps the first W’arrn weather may make me look a little pale, but I am very well, thank you!” Fletcher spoke 4jp quickly. "Jt isn’t always the big women that are the strongest, ma," lie said oracularly. "You, yourself, ain’t quite up to the mark sometimes." "1 know that,” said his parent as she rose to leave. "But,” turning to Mary, "my son tells me that you and he have decided to get married, and I think it only fair to say to you that, as he hasn’t a fortune, any girl that mar ries him may have to work. But I guess you’re used to that here in your own home. And," as an after-thought, "I hope you both will be happy.” Mary did not return Mrs. Fletcher's call—indeed, was not asked to do so. But she wrote a pretty little note to Bert’s mother asking her to come t«. j the w'edding, explaining that it was to j be the quietest affair Imaginable. To this invitation the older woman sent a verbal acceptance by her son. Herbert Fletcher had always wanted to live in the country, and Mary was witting to get away from New York and from all the old asvsooiations. She and her husband took a w’edding trip down to Atlantic City and staying in an inex-* pensive boarding-house over Sunday. Then the young couple returned (p the Danforth flat and began preparations for moving out of town. Decided on Small Town. Fletcher had decided upon a small village in New' Jersey, the distance of three-quarters-of-an-hour from- New York, making it convenient for him to commute daily. He and Mary w ant to Middlebrook one Saturday afternoon and chose the little house in which they w T ere to live. It had seven small rooms and a diminutive bath, but to the girl who, for twm years, had lived in a cheap flat, the cottage looked quite large. All the water used in the bathroom ami kitchen must be pumped by hand into the tank at the top of the house, the pump being close to the kitchen sink. "A good job for a fellow that’s get ting too stout—eh, Mamie?’’ Bert re marked jocosely. (He had insisted that "Mary” was "too forma!” a name for a man to call his wife by. Mary hail suggested that she preferred it to any nickname, but her husband had his way.) “When I don’t feel like pumping the w'ater, the girl can do it," he said later as the two sat together on the train taking them back to New York. “Are you sure f can get a maid?” Mary asked timidly. "I nave heard that it is sometimes difficult to secure one in a country place." "Well, we’ll get one from town then,” said the master of the house loftily. "I don’t mean that you should do rough work in my home—at least, if you can ! hire a girl whose wages make iv pos- I sible for us to keep her.” “Ma Says You Were Right.” It was evident that he discussed this ! matter with his mother, for the next • evening he remarked to' his wife: "Ma tells me that you were right in saying that it’s hard to get good help in the country. You know she never keeps a girl, and she seems to think that you and'your mother could do a good deal of the w r ork of that little house yourselves. Perhaps you could.” Mary hesitated. "I dt> not want moth er to do housework, Bert,” she de murred. "She is not strong, and work in a house is harder than in a flj*t If you can not afford a maid, the house must l»e attended to by me—but I would prefer keeping a servant, if pos sible.” She tried to speak firmly, but there was n tremor in her voice and her hus band noted It. "Well,” he said, "let's hope we can get a girl cheap somewhere. If not, my dear, I guess you'll just have to put up with matters as lots of other women do, and as you and your mother have done lately and as my mother has al ways done Your husband ain’t rich, you know'.” His wife made no reply. She seemed these days to be slowly awakening from a stupor in which she had lived since the night on which she received the news Of Craig’s engagement She had not allowed herself to look a day ahead, nor an hour backward. That was the way, she reminded herself, that she had lived through the past three months. Che Aroused Herself. She aroused herself to listen to her husband again. "Ma says she’ll help me choose any furniture we need,’-’ he was saying. ‘LShe’s a crackerjack at finding bargains. I never knew such an economical buyer.” I thought,” ventured his wife, "that we might choose our furniture to gether” "Oh,” the man returned easily "you’re bucy packing, so you’d better let ma and me attend to tliat. I saw a real bright and cheerful blue’'sofa on Four teenth streer the other driy, and I’ll see what we can get it for for our parlor* I’ll let ma make the deal." Suddenly the wife appreciated that if she would not protest too much she must keep silence. Sixth City. The city of Cleveland has a citizen who is a great booster. When he stops at a horel he invariably registers “Sixth City” instead of Cleveland. He is anx ious fur every one t<> know that Cleve land is the Sixth City in the United. States. Ilis zeai in this respect nearly cost him a lot of trouble last week. One of his New York business acquaint ances called up the Waldorf, where lie had been told Mr. Rose was stopping, and asked for him. "I want to speak with W. G. Rose, of Cleveland," 'aid the New Yorker. After a long wait the clerk told him that there was no XV. G. Rose, of Cleve land. stopping there. The New Yorker insisted that Mr. Rose w'as there and. asked the clerk to make another in quiry. “No.” answered the clerk, after an other long wait. "There is no Mr. Rose, of Cleveland, here. But we have W. G. Rose, of Sioux City.” Hereafter Mr. Rose is going to regis ter “Cleveland -Sixth City” t,o avoid mistakes. That Reserve. Boob—What’s this federal reserve that they’re talking about? Simp—Why, that’s the Wilson policy about doing nothing in Mexico. There*s a wide Difference in Teas Try Maxwell House Blend For Top Notch Quality No Other Like It Uncolored Unadulterated Delightful Economical K-lbit, 1-2-lb., 1-lb. air tight canintera A»h your grocer for it Cheek-Nc.a! CoEIee Co., Hesfcrilia Roaitwa .Jackaotmlle INDIGESTION? Stop It quickly; Have your grocer send you one doz. bottles of 5 H I V A i< GINGER ALE Drink with meals, and if not prompt ly relieved, get your money back at our expanse. Wholesome, deli cious, refreshing. Prepared with the celebrated Shivar Mineral Water and the purest flavoring materials. SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers SHELTON, S. C. E. L. ADAMS CO., Distributors, Atlanta* Why Women Have Nerves r*remos Hawkeye. Eastm^ni 11* * rs ’ Class Finishing and En- ; • ■**% iarging A complete stock dm.-. plates, papers, chemicals, etc Skeeial Mall u- lev Department for •ut-of-town oust. mers. Send for Cataloa^-® ~ne» Pr4«« List. • < ft. C . Kodtk Otot'tun | 4 Whitet.al! St. ATLANTA GA The “blues”—anxiety—sleeplessness—and warnings of pain and dis-ft^" tress are sent by the nerves like flying messengers throughout body and limbs. Such feelings may or may not be accompanied by backache or headache or bearing down. The local disorders and inflammation, if there is any, should be treated with Dr. Pierce’s Lotion Tablets. Then the nervous system and the entire womanly make up feds the tonic efiect of DI PIERCE’S favorite prescription when taken systematically and for any period of time. It is net a‘ : cure-all.” but has given unitorm satisfaction for over forty years, being designed for the single purpose of curing woman’s peculiar ailments. Sold in liquid form or tablet? by druggists—or send 50 onc-cent stamps for a box of Eh*. Pierce*# Favorite Prescription Tablets. Ad. Dr. R.V. Pierce. Buffalo, N.Y. F.ocry teaman ought to poweis TV*, f Peoples’ Common Sens* Medical jQJ-t | viter R.V. Pierze, M.D. !00S\ j papas. U irawirs Qbeetion) of acx-~ j k 7encher mothers fun> to care for their. , children and l:iemm h-et. It’s the enter. | . ftemy doctor In vou» omn home. Sent/! A 31one-cent stamps to £)r. Pierce as abov •„ ( i t