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* MAGAZINE. Little Bobbie’s Pa The Three of ’Em—Betty and Danny and Billy By NELL BRINKLEY By WILLIAM F. KDUL I STAYED up late wttti Ma last nite beek&ue Pa went to a lodge bank- wet & Ma sed she wud feel lone- pum up In the country If I dident stay up & keep her cumpany. I guess Ma 'vas kind of scared, beckaus wen we are In the city thare Is always the poleece to call up & up In the country thare lsent any poleece. So I stayed up. Pa was awful good, for him. He knew Ma & me was up waiting for him, so he dldent stay vary long at the# bankwet. He was hoam at 11 o’clock, but he brought a man with him & the man had drank too much champane & Pa had enuff too. Mister Hathaway, sed Pa, here Is my fleet, waiting for me. Wife, sed Pa, thla Is Mister Hathaway of Call- fomy. Bobble, this Is Mister Hath away of the Golden West. He la a •koller & a gentelman. It does my art good to run Into a Westerner ' ggenn, sed Pa & I was telling Mister Hathaway he wud have to stay here tonite insted of going to a hotel. You have a wonderful fambly, sed Mister Hathaway, wen he was taking off his overcoat, a wonderful fambly. He hadent saw us at all, he was look- . lng on the floor for a peg on wich to hang his overcoat on. Yes, I think thay are wonderful, sod Pa. “It la a wonderful thing to«have a wonderful fambly, sed Mister Hath away. I used to have a wonderful fambly too, a wife & son. but that was long ago. Thay are sleeping thare last sleep now, out ware the blue Pacific rolls endlessly In upon the golden strand. Then Mister Hath away beegan to cry. Thara, thare, sed Ma, doant feel so badly. Let me hang up your coat & talk thi/s chare. These teer9 are unmanly, sed Mister Hathaway, but wen I think how happy I once was, A see how happy yure husband is now, I must weep. The workings of Fate are inskra- tabel, he sed. Then he tried to set down on the back of the chair & Ma helped him into his seet. Tell me all about the bankwet, sed Ma. Did you have a nice time? How cud I have a nice time, sed Mister Hathaway. The guests were smiling & the wine was sparkling, but 1 cuddent touch It. It wud have choked me, he sed. beekaus my hart was away out In the West, ware the blue Pacific thunders aggenst the Seal Rocks. Then he began to cry sum moar I was out thare three years ago with my husband sed Ma, & we saw all the seals on the rocks. Thay was very cunning. I thought, thay played around so happy. Of course thay played around hap py, sed Mister Hathaway. Why shud- dent thay be happy. Did them seals have any wunderful fambly lying un- der the green sod of my native state? rfo, thay did not. Who dares to say that they did? he hollered. Nobody, my deer Mister Hathaway, j sed Ma. Plees calm your self. You shuld at lees* have sipped sum of the wine, sed Ma. It wud have cheered you up. The wine, the sparkling, mocking 'wine, sed Mister Hathaway. Take it away from me! Why shud I drink it. sed Mister Hathaway Then he went to sleep in the chair & Ma ■ iped the teers off his cheeks A sed Poor man, I haven't the hart to skold i.o v. Ma is a deer Ma. Then Pa put his friend to bed. The Cure for Jealousy By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. MAIDEN MEDITATIONS. I N Fate's menu most of us have to be satisfied with a half-portion of love and a demi-tasse of happi ness. , Don't be sure that a man in in love with you Just because he runs after you; reserve judgment until he gets so agitated about his cherished “freedom” and “independence” that he runs away from the little girl who Is threatening them. H ERE they are—the three of ’em. They sing through all my days. Nobody seems ever to get tired of the sentimental tale of a Man and a Girl and Love! Sometimes I think I do—when I’m stumped for an idea and I lean my head on my hand and my brain goes round and round—yet always comes back to the three that seem to flicker behind all my days—a Betty, a Billy, and Danny. I appeal for an idea to my mother, or the Gentle Cynic. My mother smiles and puts her brown head to one side. “Why, make a picture of a Man, a Girl—and Love!” And she ends up triumphantly as though she had thought of something new. And the Cynic gives me an amused look from the bachelor face of him and says, “Oh, make a pictnre of a Man. Love— and a Girl!” He thinks he HASN’T thought of anything new. And they’re both right. It’s new and it’s old. And there I go—making a picture that holds the darling three of them— Nell Brinkley Says: Betty and Billy and Danny—whatever the idea. Here they are—with no idea behind—just the three actors, making their little bow She is sometimes blond, sometimes gypsy-dark. Always her month is full and hiring. She walks with the grace of the wind in the grasses. There are always little lines that make her fairy-like on her high-instepped feet. And she is always in love. Danny is a “wishtfnl,” warm-bodied slip of a boy—some times called cherub. He has a slow and melting eye and a taking way with him. He is greedy of hearts. He is the big actor in the drama—and even when he is in only a moving pictnre—-where he’ll never hear their nraise—the people clap and whistle. And if you’ve one.* had his rose-leaf, steel-strong hand around your heart, you'll remember it, I swear! lie looks a jolly outlaw. Billy is—why, he’s the Man. Lots of men don’t like him—but the girls all do. I wonder what that means. A blond man wondered to me, roughing up his Viking, goldy mop, “Why, you make his hair forever BLACK!” Maybe I have a tender spot for black hair because my own is blond. But that isn’t the whole reason—the why of it is most practical and earthy—I make 1 it black because I need a black spot in the picture so many times—and his head often is the only place for it. And when the picture cries aloud for BLACK, why Billy’s blond head must go. He is the actor with the yearning pyes, the eagle nose, the tender mouth. And he follows Betty with wide arms the world around, crying, “Come to me, picture girl—lift up your lips to me!” He’s always in love. too. It’s a mutual admiration affair—“arms all ’round!” Here they are, the three of them—the pawns that I move about in different figures day by day A9 Now that ships that fly In the air and pictures that talk have come true, some genius may discover a way to make platonic friendship work. Be careful about your "Innocent flirtations”—It is easy to start some thing, but not quite so simple to stop It when you have had enough. The party of the second part may wffnt to keep on going. Benefited Many Who Had Lung Trouble BEHIND CLOSED DOORS By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN q§3 One of the Greatest Mystery Stories Ever Written (Copyright, 1913. by Anna Katharine Green.) ’ Those who suffer from bun* TrouMe ere sen erally troubled with night sweats, ferer, loss of J strength and little or no appetite. Eckman s . Alterative Is a medletne which haa been most , successful in stopping night sweat., reducing • fever and promoting appetite, and man)' who I hare used it declare It saved their llvca. Invea- tlgate what It did In thla case: ■Dear Sir: For four years I was troubled, with a cough, which gradually became worn,. . I had night sweats and pains In my chest. ! was losing my appetite and had become so thin | and weak I could not attend to my household , — ,ues A physician pronounced my disease ; consumption Not being saUstted. 1 was esam- Incd by the physicians of Uie Polyclinic Hot- ultal. They also confirmed my trouble, and was ordered away for treatment My nephew a-ould not allow me to go until I had tried (v groin's Alteratire. llefore 1 had taken the , medicine three weeks, 1 had marked relief, night j sweats ceased, pain In the breast reUered. cough i became loose and eaay. fever left me, and 1 , commenced getting well. My heaUJh became non ' mal 1 am in excellent health now and have e-en for twelve years. 1 strongly recommend It. (Klgnedl (MBS.) MABY WASSON. Care Ed. Green. 1722 S. 17th St, FhUa., Pi (Above abbreviated; more on request.) Eckman-s Alterative has been proven by many v.sra- teat to he most efficacious In ease, of se- t,"e Throat end I*ung Affections. Bronchitis. ! “X™ -’haM, -forming dTp* ™» ! dclpUi*. P* • for booklet telUn* and additional evidence. TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT The packet might have been removed from the table before that gentleman took his place at the curtain; and, if so. the probabilities were that he did not even know of its existence. As he asked himself this question, he raised his head and unconsciously glanced about. As he did so his eyes fell on a certain chintz-covered sofa that filled one corner of the apartment in which he sat; and remembering that it was the one article which Genevieve had requested to have brought over from her old home, he rose hurriedly and approached it. It was old, it was ugly, it was uncomfortable; he had never seen her lie or even sit on if, and yet she had not been easy till it was brought into the house and established in this bijou room, where each and every object surrounding it was a work of the highest art and greatest expense. There must be a reason for this inter est in so Incongruous an article. Could it be—he did not complete his thought but rapidly stooped and ran his hand around the Reat. , He stopped suddenly. He had touched something smooth and firm and round. It was a roll of paper, and the moment he drew it out he recognized it for the one he was in search of by the looks of the writing upon it and the small thread of blue ribbon that surrounded it. But before pursuing the matter fur ther; before even undoing the roll he held in his hand, he went In to look at his wife again, for he was not easy long away from her side, and though the minutes had been few since he had seen her, an occurrence of such impor tance had taken place that it seemed a/ if hour^ instead of minutes had When he returned, he closed the doors between and took up the roll. About to pierce the secrets of another soul, he had a moment of recoil. But an In stant memory of his purpose gave him the hardihood he required, and, tear ing off the simple blue ribbon that held the sheets together, he smoothed them out before him, and took his first glance. Great heaven! this was no man's writ ing; nor was it such as he would ex pect from the woman he believed Mil dred Farley to be. It was—he stoped wth a gasp, looked around him to see that he had not lost control of his reas on, and then glanced back. The effect upon him was the same, ft It was not his own wife’s writing, it was so like it. Jumping up, he procured the two or three notes she had written him before ' they were married and compared them | with the lines lying before him. The j chirography was identical. The words j he was destined to read were Gene- ; vieve’s! written to whom, and for what? This was the secret it had now become his duty to unravel. Glimpses of a Buried History. Meanwhile Mr Gryce was engaged upon quite a different search. Con vinced by Mrs. Cameron’s evasions and by the ravaging effects of his examina tion upon her that a murder and not a suicide had taken place 1-n Genevieve Gretorex’s room, he found it had become ( his duty to discover what motive this petted child of fortune could have had for desiring the death of so humble a person as her dressmaker, as It had become that of the doctor to establish the sufficiency of Mildren Farley's own despair for the tragedy which termi nated her existence. He went, therefore, to work upon this matter with his usual vigor and pre cision, his method of procedure having one point in similarity with that of Dr. C||r<eron. Tills was that it started with a fact of which he had spoken to no one an<l which dated hack to the moment when Mrs. Gretorex first heard from hiR lips that her daughter had been inter ested In a person by the name of Farley. That name—he was sure of R—had awakened memories in the elder wom an’s breast which were connected with some secret she sought to hide and which it disturbed her to think had been discovered by her daughter. Whatever the secret was. whether of honor or dis honor. happiness or unhappines, it wa.i evidently one that he ought to make his own; for upon these old family secrets present crimes often hang like the final link upon the end of a rusty chain. To Mrs. Olney's house he therefore repaired, and after some talk with that lady, sat down before the trunk which held the effects of Mildred Farley. But he did not remain there long, for the letters he found were such as he had seen before, and consisted of school girl notes, interesting enough to the writer perhaps, but of no value to one on the search for any kind of knowledge. Be sides it was not in the letters written to Mildred that he expected to find the clew he was seeking. If the secret he was after was an old one. he would he more likely to discover tokens of It in the correspondence of the mother. 80 he sought out Mrs. Olney again with the quostion as to where he should look for souvenirs of Mrs. Farley. Whereupon he was directed to an old chest in the attic, which, being emptied, produced more than one packet of Just such letters as he desired to see, old letters with discolored wrltin, some of them bearing the date of ten years back and some of them of twenty. With these in his hand he felt that he held the key to the widow's history, and going back into the room provided for his use by the accommodating landlady, he set about perusing them with all the care and circumspection of which he was capable. They were from various persons, most of them women, and H was not long be fore he discovered that those signed wMth the name of Annie showed the most familiarity with the widow’s af fairs, as well as expressed the most af fectionate Interest in her. To these therefore he paid the most heed, and was soon rewarded for his efforts by gaining a very good idea of Mrs. Far ley’s earlv life and circumstances. They were such as are very apt to follow a runaway match such as hers had evidently been; six months of ex treme Joy, followed by sickness, want and growing neglect on the part of hirn who led her Into this trouble. A few months later and the sickness had in creased and the poverty deepened; then some blow, dreadful but keen, called out the hurried line, “O, my poor darling, bear up till I come; you shall not en dure this fearful grief alone!” after which there was a lapse of letter writ ing on the part of this person for months, and when it was taken up again the frequent expressions of sym pathy for her correspondent's widow hood, showed what this grief had prob ably been; though there were other and less comprehensible allusions to some great sacrifice she had made, which threw an air of mystery over this por tion of the correspondence that for some time the detective found It impossible to penetrate. Not till he read In a much later let ter, “I hope your sweet little Mildred is well; I wonder If the other one has flourished as rapidly and looks as well,” did the light he was seeking break lb upon this seemingly commonplace his tory. Then indeed he appeared to catch a glimpse of something that might lead him. out of the maze his imagination had wrought for itself, and he ad dressed his attention to the remaining letters of the packet with renewed in terest. But beyond a sympathetic word here and there, and some expressions of relief that Mrs. Farley had had th courage to reiaau i of her bur den in order that the rest might be sustained, he found nothing to corrob orate his suspicions till he suddenly stumbled upon these words at the be ginning of a letter dated from New York: i “I have news for you. I have seen her, and she Is as much like Mildred as any little lady brought up in the lap of luxury could be like a child who has not always had two pairs of shoes for her feet. I met her as she was going to school. I was on the sidewalk in front of the house, and she passed so near me I could have caught her in my arms. Why didn't I? “She would only have thought me crazy, and that wouldn’t have done me any harm, while the letting her go by me as if her sweet body did not con tain a drop of my blood did. But her rich dress and the haughty way In which she held up her head overawed me, and I did not even follow her down *he street, though I own my heart went after her almost as much as if she had been my own child. What grief, what longing must be yours! I appreciate it now that I have seen with my eyes this facsimile of the darling you have re tained for your own solace.” And this letter was signed Annie like the rest, and bore a date only ten years back. After this Mr. Gryce was not aston ished to find a change in the direction of the epistles addressed to Mrs. Far ley. From being sent to a small town in Ohio, they were now Inscribed to a certain number in Bleecker street. New York. The widow had moved herself and her child to the great metropolis, and henceforth the letters recognized the fact that a stern conflict was going on in her breast, that, added to her daily struggle for bread, was fast undermin ing what little health she had. At last, words of condolence took the place of words of hope, as the two struggles culminated; followed by sud den congratulations that she had found strength in her weakness, and had not only been saved from breaking a most solfemn oath, but had found in the child who shared her life fortunes a help and comfort that would yet compensate her for all she had lost and suffered. And then a sudden failure on the part of Annie to write; with hurried lines, manifestly from some other member of this same Annie’s household in which hope was expressed that Mrs. Farley was well and news given of the invalid, as Annie was henceforth called; winding up with this single injunction in the old handwriting, "Do be careful; Mildred's happiness as well as that of the other depend-M upon keeping things as they are. Remember your oath.” And the packet was exhausted. But what had he not learned? Or, at least, what was he not at liberty to surmise? Procuring the date at which the first mention of Mildred was made, and stor ing up in his deep memory the name of the trswn from which came these letters Annie, he left Mrs. Olney with a sen..© of great professional compla cency, notwithstanding the secret dread which sprang upon the track of a crime destined to plunge a beautiful woman and a noble man into a pit of shame and dishonor. What he did with the facts he now gleaned and what result followed his pursuit of the unknown Annie to her place of residence. 1 leave him to teil for himself In the ensuing chapter. To Be Continued To-morrow. KODAKS The Beet Finishing »nd Intern ing That On* Bo Prodimd.' 1 Eaetman Films ami com- plet'- ntnefc amateur Mpplle*. Ire for out-of-town custom ora. Send for Catalog and Price List. A. K. HAWKES CO. K r ? E °A K 14 Whitehall St.. Atlan^ Qs. Y OUR husband’9 sister is Jealous of you and wants to get him away from you. does she. little woman? You’ve been married two years and every time you’ve quar reled, it’s been about that sister or something she tried to get your hus band to do. She makes fun of you and he can’t see it. She gets you into false positions and he can’t re alize it. She makes you believe your husband wishes he’d marry the girl he was so sw’eet on before he met you and you cry and tell him you wish he’d married his old sweet heart, so there! Doesn’t Do Any Good. And then he's cross and won't speak for a day and you wish you were dead and she always happens In to see you Just at that time and . gets you to tay things you don’t mean and, oh dear, what shall you do, and was ever a human being to afflicted before? There, there, little girl, don't cry. It doesn’t do a bit of good, the cry ing. It does harm—lots of harm— that’s why the jealous sister is al ways making you do it, she wants to do you harm, poor silly, small- minded thing, and you are playing right into her foolish hands, you funny little woman, you. Turn right around in those tracks of yours and turn to-day—thla very hour. She wants to make you quar rel with your husband well, don’t you do it. Be sweet to him, sweeter than sugar ever dared to be. Tell him how nice he is and how good to look, at, and how clever, and tell him you are sorry for the old sweet heart. She must feel dreadfully at having to give him up—and say you don’t blame her at all for loving him, and tell him you think his sister Is sweet and tell sister so, too. Every time sister tries to hurt your feelings, act as if you thought she loved you sincerely and was trying to help you and be, oh so grateful and so good and so loving. Tell lister how much brother loves her, and how you admire him for it. Tell sister how you love brother and how anxious you are for brother to love you. Tell brother that you want sister to like you—and never, never let her dream that you think she is mean, or scheming, or Jealous, or anything that she should not be. Don’t understand, don’t see, don’t realize—don’t you know that a soft bran wall is the bet* thing In the world to keep out a bullet? They’ve found that out in the army. Don’t let a lot of fool tacticians know more than you do. Be soft, be sweet, be yielding—and she can’t even touch you. Don’t Fight Back. Fight back and she’s got you beaten before she begins. That's what she wants—to make you fight. Don’t satisfy her. You won brother from all the rest of the world full of girls, rte must have liked something about you to make him do that. Find out what that something is— and practice it clay and night and all the time—sister couldn’t keep him away from you whf?n he was just a sweetheart. Why, she hasn't even a chance now that you are his wife. Make his home the sweetest, pleas antest place on earth for him. Let her do all the quarreling, all the lighting, all the disagreeable things. Associate yourself in his mind with all the pleasant things—a low voice, n light laugh, a happy smile, a good dinner, quiet peace; love and laugh ter. Sister can never tight that com- blntion in all the world. Try it and you’ll be amazed to find how it will work. Nearly. "Dear Mabel,” he began, "do you love me? “O-h, George!” “Don’t you, Mabel? Just a little tiny bit?” "Well, y-e-s, George.” “And if I married you would your father give us t separate establish ment?” "Yes, George.” “And take me Into partnership?** “Yes, George.” “And would your mother keep away from us except when 1 Invited her?” “Seh would, George ” “And your brothers and sisters, too?** "She would, George.” “And. of course, the old gent would settle my debts?” “Of course, George.” “And buy an automobile and provide you with a handsome dowry?*’ "Yes, George.” “Darling, will you marry me?” “No, George!” FRECKLES Now Is ths Tims to Get Rid of Thess Ugly Spots. There's no longer the slightest need of feeling ashamed of your freckles, us the prescription ©thine—double strength—Is guaranteed to remove I these homely spots. Simply got an ounce of othlne—dou ble strength—from Jacobs’ Pharmacy and apply a little of it night and morning and you should soon see that ( even the worst freckles have begun ( to disappear, while the lighter ones > have vanished entirely. It is seldom \ that more than an ounce Is needed to s completely clear the skin and gain a > beautiful clear complexion. \ Be sure to ask for the double ' strength othlne as this is sold under guarantee of money back if it fails o remove freckles. IN DIGESTION? 8top it quickly; Have your grocer send you one doz. bottles of SHIVA R GINGER ALE Drink with meals, and If not prompt ly relieved, get your money back at our expanse. Wholesome deli cious, refreshing Preoared with the oelebrated Shivar Mineral Water and the purest flavoring materials. SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers 6HELTON, 8. C. v ft. L. ADAMS CO., Distributor/. Atlant^