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One Woman s Story $ THE TUNNRL greatest STORY OF ITS KIND SINCE - JULES VERNE The Engaged Girl By Virginia T Van De Water. f^rwrn tti# 0*m*a nf Bernhard gRlltrmsna—, by •• ha Wr;«t, Berlin. English translation and lint - JJ t*y n(er, and •rook cot- miewhat rnonoto- knew few of CHAPTER XXVIII S UMMER Slipped into autumn, and autumn faded Int the life In the Ml Hire continued on it HOOS was Ma|y F Iter neighbors, for, although several of the villagers railed to see her. she did not return their visits She found them to be kind, good-natured people, but ihose with whom she was brought Into rontact had tastes and manners entire ly different from hers. It whs now that she appreciated for the first time that in marrying a man on a lower plane «>f education, breeding and refinement from herself, she was cutting herself <>ff from th TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. das which she belonged. There were In Middlebrok families "f culture, but none of these came to sec her. The. men of such families, meeting Bert Fletcher on the train, found him coarse and common arid took it for granted that his wife whs like him, therefore never suggested that their wives and daughters should call on her and her mother. The peo ple of whom Bert Fletcher would have made friends considered his wife "stiff and haughty." Mary went out little, for her household duties kept her at home much of the time and she did not like to leave her mother alone Moreover she herself was not well and shrank from making new acquaintances Early Breakfast. So one day was much like another to the young wife Each morning she pre pared her husband’s early breakfast, then cooked her mother's breakfast, tak ing her own morning repast after Bert had started for his train lie was u j ... vj ieepar, ai m at 6 o'clock on a winter’s morning was not an easy task. He usually lay abed so late that he had time to gulp down only a hasty breakfast before leaving the house. Under these conditions the wife could not eat with him. and he did not ggest that she do so, but seemed very willing to have her wait upon him, bringing him his cereal, egg bread and coffee as he was ready for them. When the furnace fir* was started at the beginning of the cold weather Bert had attended to it morning and night Ho<»n. however, he detailed the morning shaking down of the furnace to his wife, and. as she did not demur, he got into the habit of letting her perform this work. Several times lately he had come home at night with his breath smelling of liquor, and on these oc casions Mary had advised him timidly to "go to bed early," and she had banked the fires for the night and. when necessary, pumped the water into the lank for use in kitchen and bathroom. In the hours between her husband’s leaving and returning home. Mary tolled, not only because in a country house, there is much actual toll to he per formed. but to keep herself from think ing Sometimes Bert remained in town oil night, and she was conscious of a sense <>f relief when he did this, even while she whs afraid to wonder what he whs doing and if his breath smelt again of whisky. Her father had never cared for liquor in any form and she had the horror of drunkenness felt by women who have known only temperate men. It seemed to her as if a dark shadow were creeping stealthily into her life, but she feared to face It There were days when Burt would ap pear as his good-natured, clear-headed self, and then his wife tried to love him She made herself consider his good traits, and to talk of them with her mother. When her mother-in-law came out at Christmas to make a visit. Mary played her part so well that the preju diced matron remarked to Bert that j«erhai>s. after all. he hud "picked u bet ter wife” than she had at first feared. •'But she ain't very strong. Bert." she warned him "if you don’t want a sick ly woman on your hands, make, her take care of herself Herbert Fletcher laughed comfortn bly "Oh. don't you bother about her. ma,” be said. "She never complains, and she Would If she was sick Besides, she don't work near as hard as she did be fore I married her. Then she was in Pearson’s all da>. and doing housework at home morning and night as well.” "No; but sometimes our benefits are so much like impositions that a near sighted and quick-tempered man is likely to get th* two mixed up. in the meantime all we can do Is go ahead. But don . mistake the motives of your investors. You’ve siinpiy given them a new experience a new song, a H<»ng In keeping with the ag< You’re digging a hole and you r** go ing to make them rich. It's like the roar of the subway they can under stand it. But that doesn't make them like paying for rides to pay Interest on watered subway stock.” "Let’s go In and get one little drink.” suggested Allan, rising with laugh "I think you need it. Your mental vision Is obscured.” “No,” returned Rives, ns he. too, rose, "mv mental vision is again bu*' regarding the ruins of the Tower of Babel.” A Crisis. f I Mi AT same afternoon Maud Allnn J had a somewhat casual visitor, an occurrence that might have had strange results if Destiny had not at once begun to move in the great tunnel drama with Inconceivable sud denness. The visitor was Ethel Lloyd. There was no reason why she should not have called on M a. Allan at the Tun nel City, excepting that she had not done s<» for several years. Also, there was no reason why she should have two several and distinct ex uses. And, furthermore* there was no occasion foi h< r to blush when she gave either one of them- but she did all of these things. Mrs. Allan was somewhat flustered at first herself when the caller was announced, but ^-he received the girl with sweet cordiality. Hhe had Just been talking to her husband over the telephone, and possibly this had some thing to do with it. He told her Rives was on his way down to Tunnel City ;ind that he. Allan, had Just been (ailed to Montreal. "It has been a long time since I have seen you.” she said, as she pressed the girl’s face and looked into the lovely face. "Yes." said Miss Lloyd, "I have never been so busy. Papa gives me more and more to do all the time, and It seems to me I have hardly breathed for a year." "Mr. Allan tells me he sees you occasionally.” Their glances flickered find crossed for an Instant, and Maud felt a long- formed sub-conscious suspicion leap into a conscious certainty. "Yes," the girl was saying, calmly, "papa has given me most of the de tail of the tunnel work to handle. But —" she smiled like a child. "I didn't come to talk about my work— I want to gee jours." "Mine?” Mrs. Allen smiled a little vaguely. "Yes. I’ve heard so much About your model hospital and kindergarten and all the rest of it for the working people here. You know. I’m greatly Interested In that sort of work, too, In my leisure time.” A Peculiar Tone. f '<*. fit L •' > •*** V, . , . ,:V " Tv A; . U ■ • ' ' S' ,• - c ~ > M/• A"' m— ' r v ** -■ '■ * ■ v. '<;> , T L '• - ' ' • • • . *?• f • • / L> ■>. V >jv.- v ^ .*. v- i ' *♦—— ■ -v. ■ »- you could always And time for m;—i because you loved me!” He was silent for a moment, con- i fused and groping. Then the sense of his position came over him with a rush. "But, Maud! Maud! Mac is my best j friend in life and—look! I’ve broken every line of decency, of honor ; of ” He filled the hiatus with a j groan. By FRANCES L. GARSIDE. Maud Allan and Jack Rives, two human beings to whom what was, perhaps, the inevitable, had happened. She Did Not Answer. only once did Mary venture to apeak 1o her husband of the fear that gnawed at her heart, it was the day after New Year’s. Mrs Fletcher, Senior, returned to town on January 1. declaring that she had "stood the lonesomcness of the country" as long as she could pert had escorted her ba» I' to New York, mating hla intention of staying in town that night Mary took it for granted that he would dine with his mother, but when, the next da> Sunday he came out on the morning train, she saw by his heav\ eves that he had been up ]«(.■ the night before, and noted that there were still the fumes of stale to bacco on hla breath. She said nothing about the mutter, however, until, the Hooti meal dispuicned, he threw himself on the parlor sofa i<> read the Sunday papers Then i.«* held out his hand to lie • "Sit here by me. why don’t you, Ma mie.’ Per bop* tie smell of my pipe make* you sick, does it "” he asked Solicitude for her welfare was not fre quent with him these days, and his kindly inquiry touched the unhappy woman. She came to him swiftly, and, drawing a chair up to the edge of the sofa, spoke eagerly, vet etnharrassedly. touching his huge hand lightly with trembling fingers ’’Bert.' she began gently, "I don't mind the smell of tobacco. But lately -I have worried Bert worried, dear because your breath smells oft* n of whisky, ami I have been afraid Her husband threw back his head with a boisterous laugh "Little goose!” he exclaimed "Have you let a silly thing like that worry you" Look her. Ma mie, I do take a glass of liquor with a friend sometimes, but it don’t hurt me. I've been doing it for years, ami l don’t propose to stop it new. see?” His wife did not answer, and he went Mrs. Allan felt that the tone some what belittled the great humanitarian work she had carried on in the Tun nel City, and resented It; but sho smiled as little Edith trotted out onto the veranda where they were sitting. "I can give It only my leisure time, too." she said "This is my real work.’ Miss Lloyd cooed over the child In the most approved fashion, and then suggested that she would love to see the hospital and recreation building if Mrs. Allan could stare the time to guide her. This was safe ground, and the two women passed an interesting ♦tour on an inspection tour, in the course of which Miss Lloyd Insisted that she be allowed to complete the somewhat inadequate library. "Mr. Allan is not here?” she in quired, with Just faint suggestion of an effort to be natural. They had re turned to the house and she wa.s pre paring to make her adieu. “NT unfortunately," replied Mrs. Allan, with regret. “He tel- • phoned Just as you ('ame on: You don't know life, and you don't know me. If you did you would under stand that business demands that I treat a chap now and then, and drink with him, too, if I would not seem like a cheap skate And. child.” becoming se rious as he saw her anxious face. "1 never take a drop too much, s-- don't let's talk about the matter ~~*Mn I'm free, white and a good ways past 21, and 1 don’t need management, even by Mi II ■ i ire law stubbornly. "I don't mean to stand it *rom any woman Don’t forget that. 1 won’t be bossed! There was no danger of her forget ting the fact, the wife mused bitterly. that he had been suddenly called to Montreal. I was expecting him this evening.” “That’s too had!” exclaimed Miss Lloyd, sympathetically. "Hoxv is he?" "Very well. I think, but badly over worked. Sometimes he is unable to come home for even a few hours for weeks together My only fear is that he will break down under it. He has kept, this up for years, but he thinks that the work will be lighter from now on.” Miss Lloyd shook her head as on - * who longs to be optimistic, but can not conscientiously. Her wonderful eyes were filled with concern and Mrs. Allan resented this, too. "And now he has this new worry,” said the girl. Another Lie. Why Don't You (iet of That Corn To-night: Mrs Allan eyed her. questioning. ’ 1 mean the financial one. You know it was understood that we would not try to raise the second $3,000,000,000 until the work wa.i practically half completed. The ser pentine tunneling at Bermuda ate up such an awful lot more than was ex pected that it won't be possible to finish more than a quarter of the en tire work on the first subscription, and Mr. Allan is tivlng to figure out how he can make the showing s good as possible. But. of course, yju knew about it." she broke off. "1 knew something of it.” lied Mrs. Allan, and she was angry because she knew that Miss Lloyd could tell she was lying. There was no reason f<*r her re sentment. she told herself, on tin* particular count when her visitor was gone. It whs natural that Mar ahouli talk over many business things with Lloyd's daughter, matters that he. had no time for in the few softer mo ments of his visits home. But while the Intimacy between her husband and Miss Lloyd might have been, and might still be, all business on his side. Maud Allan knew that there was something beside business In Miss Lloyd’s attitude toward her husban i. Was this also trm* of him? She asked the question with a calm ness that startled her. Was this the reason that ho did not find or mak • time for more frequent tylns to Tun nel City? Something gripped her tight -something at her heart—when the thought came; but shq was shocked to find that It did not bring the desolation she would have been sure would have followed. She had leaped to arms instinctively when aha divined Miss Lloyd’s attachment for her husband but how much of her readiness to do battle was prompted by pride and the right of possession? Was it true that he had grown awav from her and toward this wonderful and masterful young woman in thes • years? And. more amazing, was it possible that she had ceased to re gard him as the mainspring of her life? Possibly it was.. In nil that long afternoon In which she struggled with new and strange thoughts she did not one'e consciously recall to herself the fact that Mae was the father of Edith. and when Rives (‘ftme up the steps In the twilight she greeted him in a sudden warmth of feeling she had never known be fore. It had not been n very pleasftlit afternoon for Rives He had hur ried to his office where he had sat for an hour gazing at the piles of work before him, and his thoughts were far awav from It His thoughts were not altogether unpleasant, but lie. too. was undergoing a en ss ex amination at the hands of himself He came out of it well,* he t« Id himself, but Eonscienoe still kept step with him. Ho had a sternly re pressed feeling of Joy. a feeling that a man forbids himself to recognize. It arises from the knowledge that what we have secretly desired to hap pen is happening, though we have striven our hardest In our duty to prevent it. Bad News. WHAT HAS GONE BEFORE The story opens with Rives, who is In charge of the technical work ings of the great tunnel from America to Germany, on one of the tunnel trains, with Baermann, an engineer, in charge of Main Station No. 4. They are traveling at the rate of 118 mites an hour. Rives is in love with Maude Allan, wife of Mackendrick Allan, whose mind first, conceived the great tunnel scheme. After going about 250 miles under the Atlantic Ocean Rives gets out of the train. Suddenly the tunnel seems to burst. There is a frightful explosion Men are flung to death and Rives is badly wounded. He staggers through the blinding smoke, realizing that about .1,000 men have probably perished. He and oher survivors get to Station No. 4. Rives finds Baermann holding at bay a wild mob of frantic men who want Pi climb on a work train, homebody shoots Baermann. and the train slides out. The scene is tl en changed to the roof of the Hotel Atlantic. The greatest financiers of the country are gathered there at a summons from H. Lloyd, "The Money King." John Rives addresses them, and introduces Al lan. Mrs. Allan and Maude Lloyd, daughter of the financier, are also pres ent. Allan tells the company of his project for a tunnel 3.100 miles long. The financiers agree to hack him. Allan and Rives want him to take charge of the actual work. Rives accepts. Rives goes to the Park Club to meet Wit- . terstelner, a financier. At Columbus Circle news of the great project is being flashed on a screen Thousands are witching it. Mrs Allan becomes a lonely ) and neglected woman and Is much thrown In the company of Rives Sydney <J Wolf, the money power of two continents, plots against Allan and Rives. ' me and—I let you stay. If I had been as clever with myself as I was with ! you I would have known why. But I didn’t know—really—until to-day.” Her voice was very, very low. “Now —both of us know!” He rose and stood before her, look ing down. “And I never dreamed that you guessed I—oh, M«ud! I believed that you never thought of anyone but Mac—that you never loved any one " A Woman’s Story. “I understand, dear,” said the worn- i an. Why is it that at a time this a woman Is bo mucl and surer of the two" She took his , limp hand and pressed it to her cheek, j “But you couldn’t help It, could you ?” “No,” he groaned. "I couldn't he'p loving you, dearest—God knows! But I could help the—your .knowing It— this way.” She laughed a. little low, tremulous laugh. "Haven’t I told you, my big honest boy, that I've know it for ever so long?” "Yes, but I didn’t know r that you knew—and that is where the hell of It lies. And there is no hell quite as hot as the one that w r aits for *he man who violates the home of his friend.” She pressed his fingers hard. “I know, Jack, dear. I’ve thought about this—T know how r you feel. But this Is different. I wonder if that cooe was invented by men so that they might neglect their wives with Im punity? A man's wife ought to be the biggest thing in his life, and no one has a right to tamper with the big gest thing in anyone’s life. But I am not the biggest thing in Mac’s life. He would feel less the wrecking of his home than the wrecking of his tunnel, if I loved him In spite of It. this would be all wrong but I have not loved him for a long time.” "But, Maud,” he protested, aghast, as the future opened before him. "What can we do? I can’t go to Mac and tell him ill this. Ah—I don’t see what else I can do and hold any semblance of honor.” y "The trouble about ‘honor,’ Jack,” she said, gently, "is that it admits of too many definitions—all of them made by men. Do you think it !s honorable—or even moral—for a woman to hold the place and position of a wife when she no longer has for a man the attachment that should accompany that position?" Rives shook his head and groaned again. “I can’t think—I can’t think about it to-night, dearest, ’ he said patheti cally, and he rose to go. “I’ve got to go down to the end of the workings to-night—should have gone there earlier. I’ll see you to-morrow, and by that time we'll have it thrashed out. Good-bye—and God bless you!" He took both of her hands in hL and, stooping, kissed them. She watched, with that soft light in her eyes, the bowed head, with its wavy hair, and she suddenly took it in her hands and kissed it. “Good-bye—till to-morrow." she whispered, “and take good care of yourself.” She stood at the head of the stepe and watched him until his white fig ure was lost in the white background of the road. To Bo Continued To-morrow. Do You Know- cast Aside. Now Go On With the Story. formed him gravely. “He telephoned this afternoon. He has been called to Montreal.” "To Montreal?” "That’s what he said." "llm! Oh. yes.—that Uanadian steel. Well, that won't take him long." “I hope not. In the meantime, we needn’t wait dinner until he gets back." Rives smiled back at her as they went into the dining room, bu: his smile was a little puzzled. He nud never seen her in quite this mood be fore. It was not her custom to tak- 1 disappointment In the matter of Mac’s visit in this seeming off-handed way. But his heart leaped as he told him self he had never seen her so lovely, so alluring A Bad Meal. Maud, ed his face and—their lips met. "Maud! Maud! Maud!” he whisper ed brokenly and her head rested lightly on his shoulder. Then suddenly he almost pushed her from him and sprang up. "My God!” he exclaimed. The Reaction. It was a mad sort of meal in some filmy white dress, sat across the table from him and laughed and talked In light-hearted abandon. There was softness in her eyes as she looked at him. a softness in her sil ver voice as she laughed at him and softness in her fine-spun hair in the mellow light and all of it went to his head like wine. And through all of it there was a barely sensed tense ness as of expectancy. At last she rose and held out her hand t.« him with a bowildoting smile. “Come out on the piazza,” she said. "We can have our coffee and » .... .... ,1.^-. •> To Women h Where is the reason in paring, peel ing. picking and gouging at that ' :i when you have been at it for months and il hurts more than ever Yu can't remove the whole coin that w..; bir you can and do endanger your- • ’o blood poisoning. Yes, many dcai .s have resulted from a careless slip f * Made and an irritated, bleeding Jacobs' Magic Corn Liquid i a s on formula from our own !;;»■< ratorv re have thoroughly tested an K a ran tee to be aucc*-s.-fui. 'Hi ere i> positively no pain and no danger in eihod, and it will bring out any I or soft, completely, root and tter how deep the growth. It is and safest corn remedy iha 1 ver sold. Use It to-night and ' that painful, torturing corn )22c. —(Advt ) Do Not Delay If you are convinced that your sickness is because of some derangement or dis ease distinctly feminine, you ought at once bring to your aid Dr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription It arts directly on the organs affected and tones 20c. the entire system. A^k Your Diuggist “f have had news for you. Maud,” he said, ns he came up the steps. She smiled at him—easy-moving, sun-blackened and handsome, and dressed in white from collar to shoes. "Have you?" Her tone was light and here eyes soft. "Do you know what you look like?" He was a trifle taken aback, bur he laughed joyously to find her in a light-hearted mood. "No- tell me. 1 guess I can stand It.” “You look like a photograph nega tive when you hold It up to the light." she bubbled. He threw his hat on a table and slumped into a seat with an affecU*- tlon of affront "That's nice,” he reproached her. "Here I've been playing tennis to keep my pristine grace and gone hat less to get ;i fin*-, athletic color and even now I um fresh from a bath and a shave. 1 expected nt least that you were going to say 1 looked like a young god alighting before a mo - tal damsel Instead of which I am told I look like a dolled-up nigger.” "The reward of foppishness.’ she told him. But what is the bud news ?" "Mac can’t get down to-nigh ." She nodded. "1 knew it,’ ehc n- your igarette out there Looking hack and laughing like a child she led him out to the piazza where the coffee and cigarettes were served. It was a wonderful night, and the magic of it came upon them so that they sat long in dreamy silence. Out beyond in the white moonlight the great white horses of the Atlantic were racing shoreward and the swish of their manes and the thunder of their charge came up to them from the strajid. The fresh salt air was scented with perfume of sweetpe&s that grew in the thick tangle along the rail. The beat and clamor of Maud sat with her head bowed and he could not see her face. His head was whirling and there was singing in his ears. He could not seem to grasp that that which had happened had happened, and when realization came it brought with it a stab of an guish. "Now—I’ve done it!” he exclaimed in a low voice. "Maud Maud—can you ever forgive me?" The pain ip his voice rather than the question made her look up at him. Her own voice was low and steady. "There is nothing to forgive on your side." the tunnel working far inland were onlj a faint murmur. Rives' gaze was out to sea. His cigarette burned down to his fingers; until, at last, he tossed it over the railing and turned to her with a sup pressed sigh There was only a small j H E stood for a moment in rigid silence and then suddenly sat beside her again and took her hand. "Maud—Maud.” he began. "I can't —I don’t " “Don't try, Jack.” she Interrupted gravely. "It wasn’t your fault.” “But It was—It was!” he cried, dropping her fingers and clutching his hair with both hands. His "code”— his system of honorable living—had been shattered from end to end. "If there was any fault,” she said, slowly and distinctly, "it was mine, Jack." He could only groan miserably. "You see. dear boy." she went on softly, stroking his hand with her fin gers. "I've known that you loved me for ever so long. ' At this he straightened with a sort of gasp and stared at her. She smiled gently upon him. “Didn’t you suppose that I knew? Why, Jack, you are so open and frank and honest that I am glad that there have not been other women around here much. They would have seen it a* easily-as I have." "But why—why did you let me ” Her eyes fell, “I knew you loved “I wonder," she said, slowly, "if I ever loved him. I know I could have. Jack—I know that! But I was so* young when we were married. I had never seen any other men. and Mac was so masterful and sure of himself —Just the sort of a man to take a girl by storm. W’hen he proposed to me and 1 put him off I got a note the next day—like a business letter—giv ing me 24 hours to decide. That took me. But the woman in me never truly loved him—it was only the girl's ado ration for a strong man. He won the girl and he never thought it neces- , sary to win the woman." “Do you mean ” he began won- j deringly. "I mean, .my dear boy, that the j love of the woman w'aa cast aside for , the honor of digging a bigger hole j than anyone had ever dug before." she said, without bitterness. "Please i don’t think 1 am spiteful or small or ! ungenerous. I glory In Mae’s achieve ments and am proud of his greatness. I told you that one night when we rode up the Lakewood road. But a j man doesn’t win and hold the love of ! a woman by digging remote holes in the ground.” “You don’t think Mac doesn’t love you!" he exclaimed. "You know that everything he does is for you.” "Sit down. Jack," she gently ordered him. And when he had mechanically obeyed: "That is a very beautiful thought. It is what young girls be lieve of the man they love; but grown women know better. A man's love doesn't find expression In steam shov els. You know and I know that Mac would have built this tunnel no mat ter whether he had ever »een me or not. When a man says that every thing he has done is due to his wife. It is merely i beautiful compliment. The wife, if she has any sense, knows that it isn’t true, (’an you imagine yourself building a skyscraper at Rio Janeiro as a proof of your love for me?” "Not that, exactly,” he conceded, feebly, “but- ” “Ivet me finish,” she interrupted. “You have been nearly as busy as Mac. You have been called awav from here when it would have be?i easier for you to stay a week—but you have come back, sometimes . every night, at the cost of sleep and rest and comfort to have an hour with me. Your work is just as im portant to you as Mac’s to him—but Before the decisive battle af Tshtlbxan ingenious method of signaling on the part of the enemy was discovered by the Servians. A cowherd was taking five cows out to pasture on a hill half way between the two camps. He drove them about, sometimes two together, then one at a time, then three, 1 thus conveying information to the Bulgarians as to the position and strength of the Servian battalions. The Mountaineering Flub of Raber- hau3er, in the Harz Mountains, has pre sented a diploma to Frau von Hansteln, a 76-year-old lady, who last month made her sixtieth ascent of the loftiest peak of the range, a snow-clad cre6t 4.000 feet high. Tfiree nuns have just left Montreal to spend the remainder of their lives in the leper colony at Sheeklung Island, near Canton All three are only a little more than tw'enty years of age. For a time, at all events, they will be the only nuns to care and tend for four hundred Chi nese women suffering from the awful disease of leprosy, and a separate hos pital has been erected for them by Father Cfftirardy and his few assistants. txt HAT shall a girl say when she XX receives an engagement ring? Well, now. what du you think of a question like that? Who gave you the ring, little sis ter. and what did you think when h« gave it to you? Do you love him, were you so happy you could scarce ly breathe? Well, then, why didn’t you say so, and be done with it? What shall you say, how shall you act; is this proper; is that right? The heart is the best judge when it comes to things like this. Is Your Heart Frozen? What have you done to your heart — frozen It up solid, reading a lot of stuff about what is “the proper thing” and "what isn’t done,” and who ought to speak first and who must never, never say a word though the whole world be hanging In the bal ance ? Etiquette—what etiquette Is there about being engaged? What do you think you’ll do when you come to die—ask some one to read an etiquette book to tell you how to shut your eyes and bid fare well to this vain world? When they put your first baby in your arms, how in the world will you know how to act unless some Mr*. Grundy is there to tell you? What! Shocking! Oh, yes, of course, babies are dreadfully shock ing. aren’t they, and so Is life and so is death and so is love* and so are lots and lots of things, but they arc real just the same. And so, why don’t you meet them like a real wo man and not like some little, painted, jointed doll that has to wait till you pinch her even to say “Mamma” or “Papa” in her squeaky little artificial voice. What must you 8ay when he gives you the ring, dear heart, what must you say when he’s sick and wants you to hold his hand and make him something good to eat and pull down the shade and make the room comfv and read him something to send him to sleep. What Must You Say? What must you say when you and he stay up all night watching for th. dawn to tell you whether she’s going to live or not?—the little girl you both love so dearly. What must you do w’hen somebody tries to take him away from you and your heart is breaking and you don’t really know whether lie cares or not* What are you, little sister, any how; a girl—a real live girl—or just a make believe, cut-out of some fashion paper with bits of feet that couldn't walk an honest step to save anybody’s life and tiny hands that couldn’t put a biscuit into shape if the fate of a nation depended on It? What must you say?—why, say what you think, say what you feel, say what you mean—and stop think ing about it. that’s all. Who Was? Little Biffins—Jolly party that at the Highflyers last night. Is it true you were the only sober man In the room after I left? His Reverence (shocked)—No, cer tainly not! Little Biffins (innocently) — By Jove, you don’t mean that? Who was then? The Best Food-Brink Lunch at Fountains US" insist Upon ORIGINAL GENUINE 'HORLICK’S Funeral Designs and Flowers FOR ALL'OCCASIONS. Atlanta Floral Company 455 EAST FAIR STREET. Avoid Imitations—Take No Substitute More healthful than tea or coffee. Agrees with the weakest digestion. Keep it on your sideboard at home. A quick lunch prepared in a minute Rich milk, malted grain, in powder form. For infants, invalids and growing children. Pure nutrition, upbuilding the whole body. Invigorates nursing mothers and the aged. As Easy To Keep Tlie Hair From Turning Gray As To Keep The Scalp Glean low stand between them and their chairs faced the sea. Maud was I leaning her elbows on the arm of her I chair, watching him Her lips were parted in a wonderful little smile. 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