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Their Married Life By MABEL HERBERT URNER. H ELEN was tired — tired and warm, and Just a little Irri table. There la nothing more Irving than continuous shopping and sight-seeing. By the large gilt clock over a Jew eler's window on the Rue de la Pa lx it was now half-past four. Helen paused undecidedly. She was too restless to go back to the hotel and wait two long hours before Warren would come. She would go somewhere and have lea—that would give her a chance to rest. The Rltz! Why not go there? Sho knew that to have tea on the terrace at the Rltz was on© of the things "todo” while In Paris. When she reached the imposing en trance of this smart hotel. Helen wondered if her simple traveling suit might not be rather plain fpr tea at so pretentious a place. But at least, no one would know her. Helen was always Impressed by the atmosphere of appointment* of a great hotel. When she was with Warren, his assured “man of the world” air gave her confidence, but now ns she pas.^ed alone through the luxurious foyer and lounging rooms she felt both timid and self-con scious. The terrace, an Inner court garden, was gay with flowers and the red and white parasol-shaped awnings that shaded each table. It looked like a garden party on the stage, and a concealed orchestra, playing softly, heightened this inspiration. There was a small vacant table near the entrance and Helen took It hurriedly. She wished now she had waited to come some afternoon when ehe was more appropriately gowned, for her dark, tailored suit seemed conspicuous among all those light summer dresses of silks and chiffons. To Helen’s surprise, a waiter now hurried up to her and began talking very fast In French. Seeing that she did not understand, he rushed off and returned with an arrogant head waiter who spoke English. * A Rebuff. *Tm sorry, madnme. but you can not sit here. This table Is reserved." Helen flu.^hel. There was a subtle note of condescension In his voice which she sensed was due to he# plain gown. "That is also reserved,” as she gathered up her purse and gloves and turned to another .able "but I can seat you inside.” Intuitively Helen knew the tables were NOT reserved, but that he did not wish to give to her a desirable table that would seat four. For a •moment she forgot her shyness and s£if-consciousness and turned to the pompouk head waiter with blazing eyes. "Do you mean that every vacant table on this terrace is taken?” "Yea, madnme; but I will give you a table Inside.” With flaming cheeks Helen turned to leave the place. She felt that everyone was looking at her. Oh. why had she come here? Why had she subjected herself to. his embar rassment ? “I AM unfortunate! This Is one of the ‘unexpected pleasures' that don't often happen," Startled, Helen turned to And be side her tlie man she had met in the Louvre. He looked even taller and more distinguished than she had re membered him. With increased con fusion she murmured some almost in audible greeting. "Please don’t say that you’ve al ready had your tea?” "No, I—I—” Helen’s eyes were still ablaze, "the waiter just told me all tho*e tables were engaged.” "Which waiter said that?” he de manded quickly. “The head waiter—the one that’s coming now,” for that pompous Indi vidual was hastening toward them with a look of anxious concern. "Pierre, did you tell this ladv that all these tables were engaged?” "The lady did not say that she was having tea with ‘anyone, Mr. Ford- ham, and I — you see. we are so crowded this afternoon,” apologeti cally, "and these tables Meat four, if the lady had onl' said—” But Mr.* Fordham cut him short with an impatient. "Lot us have serv ice here AT ONCE!" Before Helen realized it, they were seated at the same table which she had been asked to leave a few mo ments ago. Hut now both the waiter and head waiter were most solicitous in their attentions. Helen was still OO furiouslv Indig- rant over the Incident that she could think of nothing else. It was not until they had been served that she was really conscious that she was having tea with a stranger. Should she have made some ex cuse? Was it a very unconventional thing to do? Yet nhe could not help feeling grateful for having been re lieved from so embarrassing a posi tion. Just then a brass-buttoned bell „ -ante up to their table. ’’You’re wanted on the phone, Mi. Fordham." “Will you excuse me a moment?” turning to Helen. Her glance followed his tall, gray figure through the terrace and Into the corridor. So he w as staying here! That accounted for his being so well- known. and for his being treated with puch solicitous courtesy — and his name was Fordham. Helen’s thoughts were In a whirl. Not since she was married had she dined or lunched or had ten with any man except Warren Her glance fell on the straw hat and stick on the chair beside her How like Warren’s. The same plain wood, crooked-handle stick, and even the maker’s name in the upturned hat was the ‘time. She could hardly believe that it was not Warren who had been railed to the phone. And the crumpled nap- Beauty Secrets of Beautiful Women Corset less, Collar less Com tort as a Real Aid to Beauty Discussed by Louise Dresser THE TUNNEL GREATEST STORY OF ITS Kind since jules verne I kin beside his plate—the very way " arren always threw down his nap kin. I’m sorry to have had to leave you,” he said, as he again took his plaue at the table, and laid the nap kin over his knee with Warren’s very I gesture. Helen Anxious. "Won’t you have some fresh tea? I’m afraid that is cold." "No—no,” hastily. "I’ll not hav* time. I only came in here to rend for a few moments.” ”I>o you know," Again that per sonal note in his voice, “this is the first time I’ve ever been on this ter race? I never take tea. I had Jus' come in and wan going up to my room when something made me come out here. What form of mental teleg raphy would you call thAt?" ”1 hardly think you can dignify it by so pretentious a name,” Hushed Helen. ”1 would call it merely a chance meeting." With nervous Angers Helen was crumbling a bit of tea cake by her plate. The conversation was growing much too perMnnal. She was trying desperately to think of something to say about her "husband" or "Mr Cur tis.” hpt she could think of noth ing that would sound natural. "It’s almost half-past Ave,” nerv ously taking up her gloves. "And I—” groping for an excuse, "I've an early dinner engagement.” When the waiter brought the check he signed it. and took up the hat and stick that looked so much llks War ren's. In a nllence that was conscious and slightly strained tTiey left the terrace and walked slowly through the now crowded lounge rooms that led to the street. Helen felt the moment of parting was going to he an awkward one. She was trying to think how she could thank him In a very Impersonal way. "My car is outside.” he said, quiet ly, "and I’m going to ask you to let me send you home. It will be quicker and more comfortable than a taxi.” "Oh. thank you.” she said 1n hur ried confusion, "but I shouldn’t want I to trouble you to do that.” They were at the door now, he nodded to a liveried doorman, who blew a whistle, called out something in French, and the next moment a glittering private car hacked out from the line of waiting vehicle* in the street and purred up to the door. Helen drew ba< k protestlngly. "Oh no -no. really I—” "Are yon gojng to refuse me so slight a favor?” The doorman had run down the steps and was expectantly holding open the car door. Helen hesitated. To persist in refusing might seem more marked — as though she was making too mueh of a slight courtesy. "Of course, I shall be vary glad—” she stammered, "only I don’t want to inconvenience you.” Gave Her Address. The next moment she was in the car. For an Instant he held her hnnd, then gave her address to his chauf feur. and the car glided off. For the second time Helen had the picture of thin man standing hack with raised hat. as she drove awav. But the ride to her hotel in the big, luxurious touring car was anything hut a pleasure. She could think only of her confusion and the awkward ness of the last few moments. How could she have refused the car without bring rude? Yet, sup pose she should meet Warren ae she drove* up ,to the hotel—what would he think? Helen had not thought it necessary, when she had merely walked through a few picture galleries with a stranger, to mention it. .But to have ] tea with that same stranger and to I be brought home in his car — that i was different. Yet, after all. Mr Fordham had simply been courteous , as might any American to another in j a foreign country- When they drew up to the bote!, I Helen was con»cioup of a sense of | relief that Warren was not in sight. But as she ran up the steps she de cided that she would tell him about the tea. He certainly would not misunder stand so trivial an incident, and she would feel more comfortable if he knew. 1 USED to wonder 1f the man who wrote ”Oh, You Great Big Beau tiful Doll” had visions of Louise Dresser the while the Muse burned— but that was before I had talked *o Louise Dresser. For no great big beautiful doll is the stunning blonde Louise, but a sarie, thoughtful and altogether very womanly woman. "Beauty Is a somewhat overrated asset of the feminine hank account,” said Miss iJresser in answer to my plea for "secrets." “Whenever any one starts a discussion of it, I th.nk' of a friend from the West, went abroad to feast her eyes on the beau ties of Westminster Abbey and the Italian lakes, and all the eager little knowledge seekers in her home town kept writing to her to be sure to And out the latest methods of Aesh freduu- tlon and hair retention and complex ion beautiAcation! Well, I believe in comfort - C-O-M-'F-O-R-T — and health and calmness and living one day at a time and charm of manner; and if out of that combination beauty does not Just naturally evolve, some thing Is radically wrong with the woman who Is practicing my Ave car dinal virtues." Miss Dresser was donning the Ar- verne Sack of Ruth Snyder, the charming stenographer, who delighrs “Potash and Perlmuttor'’ and the au diences up at Cohan’s Theater—and with a Anal settling flirt of the big butterfly black flat, she herself set tled down to pay strict attention to me—and Beauty! Her Pet Hobby. ”L€t’n dlscuas your Ave cardinal points one extra for that compass, but it seems to have a magnetic South of loveliness.” "All right,” said obliging Miss Dresser. “\Yn begin with my very pet hoi>by comfort—C-O-M-F-O-R-T. Please have that put In the biggest type there is—for it is so important. Comfortable shoes—no more strained expressions that say as plainly ad possible, ‘Oh, If I only last till I get home and into comfortable Bllppers!’ Now, why not wear comfortable sho^s all the time—your feet will only bulge out somewhere if they are compressed into triple A when they yearn for the sanctuary of a C? Com fortable clothes- -no chokim, collar bands or waist bands—or stiff, strait- jacket corsets, when a pliable ‘tricot* will so much better keep the natural Just About Men line of the Aeure with the somewhat sloppy look the average woman ge*s when she tries to appear absolutely uncorseted. Your disposition will be sweeter if you have not the achingly painful irritation of clothes that bind and too strongly remind you of th“ir existence. Your expression will be more charming, your general healtn will reach a higher standard—and you win be so much better able to enjoy life and meet trouble with a smile if you will Just do away with the handi cap of physical discomfort. “The clothes of to-day may be Im modest when they fall into the power of the woman who used to make tho tailor-made suit suggestive, but prop erty designed and worn they are.lovet ly. graceful, modest and COMFORT ABLE. Miss Dresser in a charming pose. "From comfort to health is a sim ple step, with outdoor life and sensi bly chosen food to aid and abet In the search for preservation of health. If you are comfortable and healthy, you can easily cultivate calmness, and if you are calm, you won’t let yourself get flustered and flurried about what happened yesterday or may happen to-morrow. You will learn to just live one day at a time and to get all the joy and work and sweetness possible in and out of the day. "Then, with the first four points mastered, you will feel so young and happy and 'springy'—instead of all shaken down into a rut—that it won’t be a very diflicult task to cultivate charm of manner. And that is the greatest aid to beauty I know. You never realize that a plain looking woman is almost homely if she is charmingly courteous and sympa thetic and sweet-manneredly uncon scious of herself and interested in you. Charm of meaner and becoming clothes that bring out a clear com plexion or cast a merciful glow over a dull one—and a homely woman sometimes manages to look more at tractive than her pretty sister who is wearing the particular color that made some other girt she knows loik smart, but that is guaranteed to make her look her worst.” Try the three “C’s”—COMFORT. Color-study and Charm—for the ac quisition of the one big B—that is, i for Beauty. It will really pay you ta , try, for Louise Dresser, lecturer, i practices exactlv what she preaches. —LILIAN LAUFERTY. AN FOR IDEAL TRIP SEPTEMBER. The Warm Springs Hotel will remain open until Sep tember 15, and those who are acquainted with this famous watering place will find it ready and anxious to serve them with the best the country affords. This is just the season to enjoy Jiaths and the beautiful [•roundings. S HOULD a man announce that hereafter he Intends to make a greater effort to behave, one man in ten rejoices and the remain der regard him with suspicion. When a man has sat on a keg of powder for a time, and nothing has happened, he grows bold and lights a pipe. There are many men whose re ligion doesn’t fool the moat credulous on earth* but they expect the Lord to swallow It. When a man runs for office, every one in town gets in on some treat j but his wife, and «*he is the only one who hears his grumbles when he is defeated. A man Is pleased when he learns a pretv woman admires him; never / surprised. Don’t interrupt a man when he is telling his troubles. If you do, he will start all over at the beginning. If a m.-in sits in the same room with a baby that is sound asleep in Its crib, he think* he should have credit for taking care of it. Pay a man over flftv a compliment, and when he walks away he carries himself as If he were ten years younger. All that being prominent gets h man in the certainty tJvat all the book agents will call on hi\n. A man’s idea of religious liberty Is the privilege of staying home from church. A man can never understand why one girl's party clothes shouldn’t fit another girl; they are made just loose enough to cause alarm, and Just tight enough to hang on. After a man 1* married he doesn’t have to be a humorist to make his friends smile. Ail he need do is to remark that he is free to do as he pleases. —rqjiSCES L. G4RSIDE, COLLEAGUES (0 A COMPLETE SHORT STORY A N early summer morning an old man was walking along the road between Brussels and Na mur. He was waiting for the stage coach, and, as it did not come in time, he had set out to meet it. As he had plenty of time, he care fully observed anything that met nls eyes. At last be stopped to look at a painter who was standing on a ladder painting an appropriate sign for the Inn of "The Rising Sun.” "I am sure,” the old man though*, “that fellow considers himself the equal of Rubens, though he probably knows no more about perspective than a field mouse. Good Lord, how he puts on the skyblue paint!” He began to walk up and down in front of the inn, as he might as well wait for the stage there as anywhere else. In the meantime the painter continued to put on blue paint, which irritated the old man awfully. When the painter once more dipped his brush in the blue paint, he could stand it no longer and growled quite aloud, "Too much blue.” The painter stared at him from the top of his ladder and said very calm ly: “I suppose you don’t see I am paint, ing a sky." "Of course, I see that you are trying to paint a sky, but you use too much blue, anyway.” "Did you ever see a sky?" "Yes. but never a sky like that, I am sure.” "But this is supposed to be a clear blue sky at sunrise.” "And I tell you that nobody but h fool would think of painting a sky blue at sunrise.'* "I suppose you know all about it and you would paint a sky without any blue.” “I never said I was a past master in the art of painting skies, but I would certainly never use &£ much blue jxs xpu do.” "Oh, you juat keep your remarks to yourself, you old fool. I have painted signs for 'The Red H^rse,’ ‘The Green Bear* and ‘rharlemagne,’ so I should think I know my business.” "I don’t care anything about your ‘Green Bear’ and ‘Red Horse’ ani' ‘Charlemagne.’ ’’ With these words the old man ran up the ladder as nimbly as if he had been 40 years younger and began to wipe off tile painting. The painter shook the ladder and shouted to him to come down at once, but the man continued his work of de struction. Havin'- destroyed the won derful blue sky, he used his index fin ger and painted thiej peasants raising their glasses to a rising sun on a gray sky. One of the peasants was a vicious caricature of the painter at the foot of the ladder. Another Interferes. A number of people had come out from the inn. among these the inn keeper, and when they saw the pic ture they laughed aloud. The painter suddenly changed tune, took the old man’s hand, and said: "I see you are a professional, and I am very glad to make your ac quaintance." Just then a man who looked like an English tourist came up. looked at the sign, and said: "I want that sign, name your own price.” "It is not for sale.” said the painter, in a tone as if he had painted it him self "That is right,” said the innkeeper; "it is not for sale, for it is already sold and partly paid for. It is my prop erty." "You are very much mistaken.” said the sign painter. "My comrade has helped me to paint it and I may sell It to anybody I please." "Nonsense," said the innkeeper; "it hangs on my house, so it is my prop erty.” "Yoik will have to prove that in court'” "I will sue you for breach of con tract.” “Wait a moment” said a strong voice. N It was the old man. "Xt seems to me I ought to have a word in this^ matter.” "Right you are, comrade,” said the sign painter. They continued quarreling, and the Englishman repeated his offer to cov er the painting with $5 bills. "But suppose I don’t want to sell it,” said the real painter. ‘‘You must,” said the innkeeper. ‘‘I am a poor man. You must let me have the profit.” "Don’t you believe him.” cried the sign painter. "He is an old miser, while I am the father of a family and you and I are colleagues.” "He is an old loafer who spends every cent he makes, so he has not a copper for his daughter’s dowry.” "That is a lie. My daughter Su- zette is engaged to an honest carpen ter who is to marry her in Septem ber.” "A daughter that needs a dowry,” cried the old man. "That is some thing for me. I sell the sign and you get the money for your daughter's dowry.” "I will pay anv amount you say.” said the Englishman, "if you w ill paint two words on the picture.” "And what are those words?" "Pierre David." Everybody arose and the sign paint er bowed his head to the groat artist. "Forgive my impudence,” he said. “I did not know you." Pierre David 6hook his head and laughed heartily. The news of his presence spread quickly and Pierre Dy-vid drank a glass with all of them. At last the sign painter’s daughter came, threw her arms around the fa mous artist's neck, and kised him squarelj on the mouth. "You have paid me mor*‘ than full \alue for my work,” Pierre David taid he returned her kiss. (Trcrm fh* ma of B*rnh*rd _ KnfirrTrian*-- Gfrrnaa *enrioo. Coprrtghwd. lOlfl. * ri.rher VerlM. B«rUn. translation an* compilation by (Ccpm«kt«d, It IS, by International News BarrlcnJ TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. I N Canada Allan found peace. No one knew where he was. He had dropped completely out of sight. This naturally gave rise to the re port that he had gone the way of Wolf and Ranson, and as he never denied it, thousands believed that he had killed himself. But those who worked In more or less contact with the great chief of the tunnel laughed at the rumors. They declared he would turn up again when he thought the right time had come. And, indeed, he turned up very much sooner than was expected. Miss Lloyd was not entirely cor rect in her statement that New York had calmed down. It had not calmed—it had concentrated. The failure of the syndicate did not have the far-reaching effect that Lloyd and the others had predicted. This was due largely to the fact that condi tions were so bad at the time that nothing mattered much. Allan had not been the sole factor In bringing these conditions about. Nor had the tunnel been the sole factor. But as Is always the case, the most shining mark was picked for the weight of the blame. The newspapers, anxious to clear the tunnel enterprise Itself of the load of discredit under which it was buried, concentrated their attack cn Allan. Daily they declared that Allan, and Allan alone, was responsible for the failure—that he had given out mis leading figures—that he had made miscalculations—that he had delib erately deluded investors. In seven years the tunnel was not one-third complete, and he had promised the finished work in fifteen. They continued the merciless ham mering until finally Allan wag indict ed for obtaining money under false pretenses. Three days later Allan ajrrived in New York and walked intoj the Dis trict Attorney’s office and surren dered himself. This was the first sensation. The second, to those who Understood the tunnel Situation, was even more im portant. The first offer of bail came from Lloyd, personally. The fact had hardly become known when the re ceiver of the syndicate also offered to become a bondsman. The public was amazed. It was a right about face for the tunnel masters. They had for months given every indica tion that they intended throwing Al lan to the wolves, and the moment he was about to be crushed they were first to come to his aid. To do them justice, or injustice, they had fully intended to adhere to itie original course and let Allan sink. Even Lloyd felt that it would he best to eliminate him. He never al lowed personal likings or obligations to weigh against a business necessi ty. But the great financier reck oned without his daughter, now a woman of past 30, and the one human being that he feared. In one evening's talk she had forced her father into his reversal of position on the tunnel builder, and, of course, the others had to follow his lead. But Allan declined bail. He ex plained that he was not ungrateful, but that he would find more rest and quiet in the city prison than any where else in the State; and he had a lot of work to do, he said. All the time he was awaiting trial he workea on his plan to drive a single galler> as a pathfinder for the completed tunnel. The Trial. The trial lasted three weeks, and it was followed in detail all over the world. Lloyd retained the best crim inal lawyers he could -find to defend the accused man, and six of the most powerful legal intellects in the world were ranged behind him in the battle against the machinery of Justice. Much of the testimony was too highly technical to be understood by the casual newspaper reader, but all of it was printed. Ethel Lloyd’s pic ture appeared in the papers dozens of times. She did not miss an hour of the trial and followed every mov,e with keen understanding. The prosecution maintained that Allan had wilfully and knowingly in duced Investors to part with their money on the assurance that the tun nel would be in successful and profit able operation within fifteen years. It was now conceded that this was impossible. The State contended that Allan had known from the beginning that this was impossible, and it in troduced plenty of expert and cir cumstantial evidence to back up its case. The defense was that Allan had planned to finish the tunnel in all good faith within the time limit set. but he had been thwarted by acts of God, which could not be foreseen by man. In spite of the tremendous pres sure of public opinion it is likely that Allan would have been acquitted but fbr his uncompromising frankness. This was his undoing on cross- examination. The courtroom was Jammed to the doors when Allan took the stand Tn his own defense. The direct exami nation was quiet but impressive and brought out the almost superhuman efforts of Allan and his field officers to overcome tremendous and unex pected difficulties. Many in the audi ence were beginning to look at him with new sympathy when the District Attorney began his questions. “Mr. Allan.” he said, “you pledged yourself to have the tunnel running In fifteen years, did you not?” “It would amount to that—a pledge. I mean.” conceded the witness, with out the slightest hesitation. His law yers frowned. INDIGESTION? Stop it quickly; Have your grocer send you one dos. bottles of SHIVA R GINGER ALE Drink with meals, and if not prompt- I ly relieved, get ; your money back at our expense. Wholesome, deli cious. refreshing, j Prepared with the ■ celebrated Shivar Mineral Water and the purest favoring materials. SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers SHELTON, S. C. 1 A- U APAM$ Q9.# Ptttrtbuton, Atlanta. “That meant that you were to'have regular trains running through the tunnel at the expiration of the fif teenth year?” “Yes.” "You were convinced that you would be able to finish the construc tion inside of that period of time?” Instead of replying with a simple affirmative, Allan amazed his law yer* and the audience with this re- ply: “I was not exactly convinced. That is too strong a word. I hoped that under favorable circumstances we would be able to complete the work in that lime, or possibly even a little less.” "Then In making this pledge you depended upon favorable circum stances ?” Instantly a short, round man who sat at the head of Allan’s counsel thrust 1n an objection. It had taken him these few seconds to rally him self after the shock of Allan’s pre vious answer. He was John Sands, the most celebrated trial lawyer In the world. ”1 object,” he snapped. “The wit ness has answered the question.” "Overruled,” declared the court, impassively. Another Objection. The District Attorney repeated his question. Allan hesitated an instant, as if to frame his answer. ”1 was, of course, aware that un foreseen difficulties might arise,” he said, slowly. "I knew that under cer tain circumstances that construction work might take two or possibly three years longer.” • "You were, then, as a matter of faot, convinced that the work would probably take two or three years longer?” concluded the prosecutor. Mr. Sands was on his feet in an in stant, his little stubby white beard thrust out. "Your honor,” he almost snarled, "I object to this line of questioning. The witness has already said that he be lieved the work could be done in fif teen years.” "That’s just exactly what he hasn't said,” retorted the District Attorney. "The objection is overruled'; pro ceed,” said the Judge. He ordered the question read from the note* and courteously requested Allan to an swer it. "I didn’t say that I was convinced that It could not be done in that time. On the contrary. I hoped to be able to do it—if all went well." “If you were certain that you could finish the tunnel " began the pros ecutor. Then he stopped and began again: “I am sure from your testi mony here, Mr. Allan, and from all that we have heard of you, you pride yourself on being a man of your word ?" . "I do.” Dm 1 I * CBN, If you were not certain that you could not finish ths tunnel In fifteen years—if you knew that you could not finish it in that time unless all the circumstances were favorable, why did you make the positive statement that you cou.d do It?" "I object," shouted Mr, Sands, and Allen's entire array of counsel rose en masse behind him. The court listened patiently while Mr. Sands argued for ten minutes and fenced and snapped at the District Attorney. Then: "The question Is perfectly proper," he ruled. More Admissions. “Grumbling angrily. Allan's counsel retired to their table, while the sen- ographer read the question again. For the first time Allan looked Just a trifle uncomfortable. The anxiety of hie lawyers probably caused this as much as his own realization of the direction in which the question was leading. He stumbled and hesitated and the District Attorney cut in sharply. “As a matter of faot, Mr. Allan,” he cried, “you named fifteen years be cause you thought it would be easier to *tart your project if you fixed a comparatively short time-limit, didn't you?” Again there w’as a chorus of ob jections, and again Allan was ordered to answer. “I suppose that hAd something to do with it,” he admitted, in a low, even voice. The District Attorney threw a quick look of triumph about the court. “You knew’ that people w’ould In vest more readily if you gave your pledge that the work would be com pleted In fifteen years than If you said it might take eighteen or twenty or twenty-five—that you couldn't tell how long it would take? Isn’t that so?” “I suppose it Is.” The District Attorney turned to th# court in triumph. “The people rest,” he said. Mr. Sands instantly swept into a loud-voiced re-direct examination of the witness, but he could not get past the stumbling block, of that first damaging admission that Allan had not been convinced that he coud finish the tunnel within the time limit set; and the case went to the jury. The jury was out three hours. It returned a verdict of guilty. To Be Continued To-morrow. Sensitive Sammy “I THINK we’ll have to move out into the country', away from these rough neighbors!” sigh ed Sammy’s mother. “I thought when w r e moved out into this really nice suburb we’d be able to live in peace, but truly, the children are worse than ever! Sammy’s language is painful, at times!” Sammy’s mother hurried to the window as a shriek of anger rent the air. “Yes, there it Is again! There’s poor little Sammy, who never knew what fighting meant, right In the thick of it! And just look—all tho?»e boys attacking my poor child!” She ran downstairs. "Boys.” she called, breathlessly. “You stop that this minute! Sammy, come here to mother!” She ran out into the street to meet her offspring, w'ho slowly came toward her. walk ing backward, making grimaces at his enemies. “He slapped my brother!" declared one boy to Sammy’s mother. “Don’t talk to me!” Indignation rang in Sammy’s mother's tone. "I saw you—a lot of young cowards— actually pitching upon one littla boy!” “Aw. he’s older than all of us!” re turned the champion of his brother. Sammy and his mother returned triumphantly to the caller. “They were fighting—a lot of them attack ing Sammy,” explained Sammy’s mother. “And he’s not been brought up to that sort of thing—poor child! “I’ll Just have to go out where Sammy will.be away from them! City children are all alike—you don’t know what to think of their parents! Now, I’ve always tried to bring Sam my up with a thought to his future. The Remedy. "Sammy, dear.” She turned to her son. "Run out, now. It’s not good for little boys to listen to people praising them.” “Aw, I’m tired, and my leg hurts," responded Sammy, pulling down his stocking to examine the trouble. “Sammy, dear, it’s not polite to do that before company," expostulated his mother, gently, casting a smiling side glance at her caller. “It don’t hurt her none," returned Sammy, earnestly searching for the wound. “Those darn kids, anyway— they kick!" He found the spot that felt sore. “Feel that, ma!" he urged, putting his shoe on her lap. “Yes, dear, mother’ll- dress it for you soon. She spoke soothingly. "Gee. the kids are a bunch of softies,” disgustedly remarked Sammy to the caller. "They’re afraid to meet me alone, *but they go get all their brothers and friends to help—and no wonder the bunch can lick me. But I could do up any one of them single handed! They” “Sammy!” His mother spoke in a shocked tone. "Why will you repeat all those- awful things you learn on the streets!” Sammy laughed, glancing apprecia tively at the caller. "Why, ma,” he said, “the bunch in this neighborhood don’t know what I mean when I talk plain English, they're so flossy! They teach me! Huh, I could teach their father’s a few things!" "You see, well have to move!” al most wept Sammy’s mother. "Sammy always was so good—until he began going to school and meeting other children. He's so unselfish, and they take advantage of it, until he has to take a stand, poor child! He ought to be out with the flowers and birds —his sensitive nature is being ruined here!" She sighed again. "Yes,” agreed the caller, taking her purse from Sammy, who held it sug gestively. “It would be splendid if one could isolate such children!" EASY RELIEF FROM CONSTIPATION The Remedy That Replaces Calo mel—Causes No Restriction of Habit or Diet. It is a mistake to take calomel when your liver is lazy and needs toning up. Hundreds of people in this section have discovered that Dodson’s Liver Tone i° a thousand times better and safer, and its action is just as sure. There are non6 of the bad after-effects of calomel to Dodson’s Liver Tone and no danger of salivation. For attacks of constipation or biliousness one or two spoonfuls of this mild, pleasant tasting veg etable liquid are enough, and all druggists give a personal guaran tee that every bottle will do all that is claimed for it. Money back in any case where It fall*. Dodson’s Liver Tone costs only ’ BO cents for a large bottle. Re member the name because there are any number of remedies sold in imitation of Dodson claims. Some of them have names very similar to Dodson’s Liver Tone— and are in same color package. These imitations are not guaran teed and may be very harmful. Go to any dealeT and you will surely get the genuine. Agnes Scott College DECATUR GEORGIA Session Opens Sept. 17th For Catalogue and Bulletin of Views Address the President, F. H. GAINES, D. D., LL. D. t 4» * A I : I .