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Their Married Life
By MABEL HERBERT URNER.
I (
w H -
’HAT do you think we'd hat
er get for mother?” de
manded Warren Whal'd
you take her from I>>ndori la*! year?”
A chiffon scarf—don't you remem
ber? And I don’t hell eve she’s ever
worn it.”
‘How about a good umbrella?”
Helen smiled. Warren always sug
gested an umbrella. It was his stock
solution for any "gift” problem.
"Why, dear you gave her one for
her birthday—and your mother never
goes out unless the weather’s perfect.
She has three or four umbrella.* that
I don’t think she’s ever unrolled.”
"What about Carrie?” Thought of
anything for her^”
Helen made h gesture of despair.
"Dear, I don’t know—I never know
what to get her And your father—
If you’d only help me select some
thing for him!”
"Now look here, I said I’d go with
you to get sometnlng for mother and
Carrie—but that’s all. Why on earth
did you put this off till the last min
ute? You should have had all these
things bought days ago.”
‘‘I know I * lould,” apologetically,
"but It's s» bard to deride on pres
ents And 1 kepi thinking 1 might
see things I’d like better.”
"What’s all that. A list?” as Helen
unfolded a slip of popei she had
taken from her purse. ‘‘You’re not
going to take something to all those
people?”
"Dear I'll HAVE to! They’ll expect
some Httle thing ”
“Well. I’d let ’em expect.” snapped
Warren, an they now got off the bus
"It's a hi line nuisance having to cart
a lot of truck hack every time we
Come abroad.”
Warren Determined.
A few moments later they were
malting their way through the crowd
ed aisles of the Bon Marche. War
ren. was striding abend with the grim
determination of getting something
for his mother and Carrie—and get
ting It quick.
“They’ve got the greatest lot of
junk In these stores,” he muttered,
frowning around at the enormous
quantity of fancy and rather tawdry
articles* that are always displayed on
th* first floor of the Paris shops
“Here,” pausing before a large coun
ter of handbags ‘How about a hand
bag for mother?”
The salesgirl began eagerly to
show him the bags.
“Too cheap. Not good enough.” crit
icised Warren, feeling the stiff, shinv
leather.
“Oul. our. monsieur.” taking out a
trav of more expensive ones.
“No no, none of these fixings.” as
the girl opened a fitted hag to dlsrday
the tnv powder puff mirror and accent
bottle. “This Is for in old lady: she
don’t want all that foolishness. Let's
see a good, plain h.ig”
The girl did not understand Eng
lish but she snw he objected to the
fittings and now brought out a plain
black bag of the finest seal
“That's not bud,” and Warren
glan red at the price tag. “Sixty
francs What’d you think?” turning
to Helen.
“Oh, did you wnnt to get anythin*
so exp'Tsive.” anxiously, for she had
not thought < f paving over 2^ franc.* 1
for his mother’s present.
“Well, I’ve got no time to shop
around. Couldn’t ret a gxiod bng for
leu* than twelve dollars, anywav. All
right. we’U take that." shoving It
toward the girl.
As H*-len wag to eet the other pres
ent* ifere. they decided to have a
shopping csrrt. so everything would
be i t m together.
"Why not. uet Carrie a bag, too,
while we’re ut It? Save time.”
“Oh. no—no. hastily, fearing he
would nay another twelve dollars for
Carrie s present. "I think she has n
good bag. If you haven't ' • ne, dear.
Ill trv to get her something”
"All right,” with evident ■ ellef. gel
her an umbrella tf you can’t think of
anvthlng ebe. Now. which way do T
ge* out of her« ’’ looking helplessly
around the bewildering aisles crowded
w1*h vom^n shoppers.
Helen steered him toward one of
the entrances, and he hurried off
with a brief
Warren Leaves.
"Take care of yourgelf. I've got a
lot to do to-day may not get in until
seven.”
As Warren’s tall swinging shoul
ders dlwippesred through the crowd
Helen turned back to her shopping
with a weighing sense of responsi
bility. They were silling Wednesday,
and hoc MUST get everything to-day.
After almost an hour’s wandering
through the shop she finally decided
on a fine hand-embroidered collar for
Carrie, and a dalntv boudoir cap for
Warren’s younger sister, Edith. For
her own mother. Mho bought a black
silk shirtwaist.
Then she came across a bargain
counter of gloves, real French kid
reduced to 3 francs. 60 cent*, and for
everyone whose size she knew—she
bought gloves.
SEEING THINGS
Whether it’s through a field glass, >
opera glass, tlescopes or a pair of (
Krvptok eyeglasses be sure they )
are from "Moore's " "Moore" qual- j
ity is our watchword “We sell j
everything to see with." Jno. L. S
Moore Sons, expert opticians. 42 {
North Broad street. J
Non-Collapsible Aeroplane—A Wonderful Invention
The Items on her shopping card
were counting up alarmingly. Over
$80—it seemed a great deal to gpend
on presents
It was almost 3 before Helen
stopped, too tired to drag heraelf on.
There were still five names not
marked off on her list. But she would
be sick If she did not pitop to rest and
have some lunch.
She made her way out of the store
trying to think where she would go
for lunch. There were several hotel
restaurants near, but they would be
expensive, and Juat now Helen felt
very poor. She had spent ho much
on presents that she felt she ought to
economize on her lunch.
Turning a corner vhe found herself
In a lltlc back street, narrow and
winding It was an unexpected bit of
“Old pHris” In the very heart of the
city. The shops were small and
quaint. Helen paused In front of what I
looked like an old tavern.
A stout, comfortable-looking wom
an was sitting In the doorway, boldde
her lay a big maltese cat. Beyond j
Helen caught a glimpse of white-
clothed tables, a sawdusted floor :
From the glare of the f*un-baked !
street the place looked dark and cool !
and restful.
Everything Spotlessly Clean.
The woman smiled and nodded as •
Helen entered hesitatingly. There
was a bar at the back, but the two j
waitresses were reassuring, and ever-,
thing was spotlessly clean.
It was certainly cheap Not an
Item on the dim, violet-ink written
menu over one franc. The only dP'li
Helen recognized was “Artlchaut,"
for that wan almost the name as In j
English But it was only 40 cen- ,
times 8 rent* could a* artichoke be
good at that price?”
Under the entree* was “Cervelle an
beurre nolr.’’ The “au beurre nolr”
Helen knew meant “with brown but- j
ter.” but what was “Pervelle?”
She pointed to the wor l and the ;
waitress tried to explain In rapid
French. But Helen still looked blank j
Then, with o gleam of inspiration the
girl tapped dramatically on her fore
head Brain*! Helen broke Into an
appreciative laugh as the meaning I
dawned on her.
The waitress, much pleased at her
own cleverness, went off smilingly
with the order for artichoke and |
calve*' brains.
The brains, delicately browned ir.
butter, were served first, with a half
pint bottle of claret, the order for
which the girl took for granted.
Then the artichoke was served cold,
as a salad, with a delicious Mous-
sellne sauce. As Helen ate It slowly,
leaf by leaf, and sipped the claret, she
felt she was really resting. There
was an atmosphere of peace, quiet,
nnd restfulness here, that she could
not have found In the glitter of the
big hotel restaurants.
The wnole luncheon. Including the
claret, was onlv 1 franc-90—38 cents!
The waitress took the change nnd her
tip with a smiling, “Mercl, mere!,
maclnme!" And Helen left with a
very kindly feeling toward this quaint
Utile place.
Very Trying.
The glare of the street seemed even
more trying after the quiet nnd cool
darkness, and she dreaded to return
to the Killing, crowded store. But
there were still several presents to
get. so reluctantly she made her way
back to the Bon Marche.
When she finished It was almost
5. Wearily, she took the bus to the
hotel, \viih a troubled sense of having
spent a good deal of money—and hav
ing very little to show for it.
Already she was beginning to worry
over her selection* The cane she had
bought for his father—after all he
had so many canes. And why had
she chosen a boudoir cap for Edith,
who was so clever in making such
things herself. And the dresser scarf
for Mrs. Stevens—it did not seem
enough to take her. And what HAD
possessed her to buv a traveling work
box for Aunt Mary—who never trav
eled ?
For the rest of the evening Helen
worried herself almost sick over the
presents. Whatever she had bought
«hc wlohed now she huu bought some,
thing else.
Why should she feel compelled to
take back a lot of presents from
every trip? she thought rebelllously.
Surely the extra expense of traveling
were heavy enough wl bout this add
ed strain on their purse
The next time— But Helen knew |
1n her heart that the next time would !
be Just the same. She would spend
the same time ano money taking
back things* to the "folks at home.”
And whatever she took, she would
feel, and THEY would feel, that it
should have «een "something differ
ent” or “something more.”
HERE ARE PICTURES OF
THE MOST WONDERFUL AER
OPLANE IN THE WORLD.
THIS AEROPLANE IS TO
THE AIR WHAT THE LIFE
BOAT IS TO THE SEA IN
OTHER WORDS, IF TURNED
OVER IT IMMEDIATELY
RIGHTS ITSELF!
THIS MACHINE HAS BEEN
INVENTED. TRIED OUT SUC
CESSFULLY AND IS BEING
BUILT BY LIEUTENANT
DUNNE, OF THE BRITISH
ARMY. IT HAS TWICE FLOWN
MoyEA&i.e
CONTROLLING
FLAP'S
PASSENGER'S SEAT
PETROL fr OIL TANKS
pilot's seat
MOVEABLE CONTROLLING
FLAPS
♦.FIXES
VERTICAL SIDE
CURTAIN
ACROSS THE ENGLISH CHAN-
NEL. THE MACHINE IS CON
TROLLED SIMPLY BY TWO
LEVERS WHICH WORK A
FLAP AT EACH END OF THE
WINGS. THE BIPLANE IS AS
AUTOMATICALLY STABLE AS
ANYTHING YET PRODUCED.
IT FINDS ITS OWN "BANK,”
IT CAN NOT DO A NOSE DIVE
OR A SIDE SLIP, AND MANY
OF THE GREATEST AUTHORI
TIES PREDICT THAT THIS IS
THE TYPE OF MACHINE OF
THE NEAR FUTURE.
THE INVENTOR HIMSELF
ADMITS THAT IN ITS PRES
ENT STAGE IT IS CAPABLE
OF CONSIDERABLE IMPROVE
MENT; YET ONE CAN EASILY
APPRECIATE THE FACT
THAT WHEN HIS IDEALS
HAVE BEEN REALIZED A
VERY GREAT ADVANCE WILL
HAVE BEEN MADE. IN ITS
PRESENT FORM THE CHIEF
OBJECTION TO THE DUNNE
MACHINE IS THAT IT IS
HEAVY AND COMPARATIVE
LY SLOW, BUT IT UNDOUBT
EDLY FULFILS THE INVENT
OR'S CLAIMS TO AUTOMATIC
STABILITY.
THOSE CLAIMS ARE THAT
THE MACHINE CAN NOT BE
TURNED OVER TO A DANGER-
. ■
. -
j ‘ -
Tzassassr
OUS ANGLE IN THE AIR, AND
THAT ANY ONE WITH SUFFI
CIENT SENSE TO DRIVE A
MOTOR CAR CAN DRIVE IT.
IT IS NECESSARY TO REAL
IZE THAT ANY WELL-DE
SIGNED MODERN AERO
PLANE WILL RIGHT ITSELF
IF BLOWN OVER SIDEWAYS
BY A GUST, PROVIDED IT HAS
ROOM TO FALL AND
STRAIGHTEN OUT AFTER
WARD. THE POINT ABOUT
THE DUNNE IS THAT THE
SAME GUST THAT BLOWS IT
UP ON ONE SIDE PASSES ON
AND BLOWS IT UP ON THE
OTHER SIDE AS WELL; SO
THAT, INSTEAD OF ROCKING
WILDLY FROM SIDE TO SIDE
AND DROPPING A CONSIDER
ABLE DISTANCE BEFORE IT
RIGHTS ITSELF, THE DUNNE
MACHINE ROLLS GENTLY
AND RISES AND FALLS AL
MOST ON AN EVEN KEEL.
CONSEQUENTLY THE PILOT
DOES NOT HAVE TO FLY THE
MACHINE; HE MERELY DI
RECTS IT. THE DIFFERENCE
IS VERY MUCH THAT BE
TWEEN A RACING SKIFF
WHICH HAS TO BE BAL
ANCED BY THE OCCUPANT
AND A LIFEBOAT WHICH
BALANCES ITSELF.
e
e • •
Cupid in an Auto
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I have been keeping company
with a girl for about eight
months, during which time she
has on several occasions given
evidences of her love toward me,
and. o.f cours«, she was recipro
cated.'
Lately, however, she insisted
upon going with another young
man. who, unfortunately, owns an
automobile, and has at different
times taken her out joy riding.
I'm positive that this girl does
not love or even like this young
man, but as she has told me, goes
out with him for the pleasure of a
ride I'm afraid that in the long
run she will learn to love this
young man and forget me alto
gether.
What other thing, outside of
buving an automobile, which I
can not afford, would be advis
able under the circumstances, to
keep this girl from going out
with him? , , . .
Kindly accept my anticipated
thanks for an early advice.
AUTOMOBILE! TROUBLED.
H ONK, honk—chuff, chuff—here
it comes rigiht down the middle
of the road, the big, red au
tomobile—and poor little Cupid has
to sit down in the dust and watch
lt So she goes a-riding with the
young man with the machine, not be
cause she loves him. but becausie
she loves the machine, does she.
What a silly, silly little girl. And
what a very human one.
It is fun to Kt up there in the great
90ft, easily-cushioned seat—and Fmile
to see how dusty the road is there
in the footpath.
It is fun to pass everything in the
road—to see the landscape fly by like
a shadowy dream. It is fun to tell
the resit of the girls the next day
about the run into the country or the
speed we made on the Stone Mountain
road. It’s fun to be in things right
in tihe very midst of them. It » fun
to have what everybody else wants
and can't seem to get. It's fun to
look superior and ask the wondering
others how ever they manage to keep
machine starts. It's fun to make jou
jealous, too—poor, foolish you, with
your wistful eyes and your faithful,
grieved heart—but do you know who
1 pity all the time? The poor lad
with the machine.
Think a minute, don't you—honest
ly now?
Which would you rather be—the
auto youth there in the machine with
the girl liking his machine and laugh
ing at him—or you there in the shade
by the road with the girl's heart in
your keeping?
Poor man in the machine — there’s
nothing to him—but his machine-
how can you feel anything but sorry
for him?
The girl—what shall you do to keep
her from going with the machine and
the man?
Not a thing, not a single, tiny thing
—this is your chance to find out ex
actly the kind of girl she is—you
couldn’t have a better one If you
planned a dozen years. Which does
the girl care most for—you or a ma
chine? What is it she wants In life—
love, sympathy, companionship — or
money, show, ease?
Now's the time to find all this out
—before the wedding bells begin to
ring Don't wait till you’re in town
trying to earn the money to make the
first payment on your little home—
the home you have dreamed of so
long—and then discover some fine day
that the girl you married is dissatis
fied with you—because she has to do
her own work and help save the bank
balance.
Don’t try to make that girl you
think you love over, young man; you
can't do It. She's what she Is—and
always will be—and neither you nor
anvone else on earth can change her
If she's a peacock, don't try to
make yourself think she's a neat lit
tle brown hen, and then be sick and
sorry when she refuses to stay in the
barnvard with you, but wants to strut
somewhere with the rest of her gay,
vain family.
Honk, honk—chuff, chuff—the man
with the automobile—he's the best
friend you and the little girl who’s
trying to decide between you, ever
had. He'll help you decide the great
question, and decide it the right way,
and whisper I wouldn’t be too cross
with the little girl, just yet, anyhow;
she'll decide for you, see if she don't,
and then just think how proud you’ll
be of her decision.
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
One of the Greatest Mystery Stories Ever Written
Worth It.
“Prisoner at the bar.” said the
Judge, "is there anything you wish
to *hv before sentence i» passed upon
you?”
“No tnv lord there is nothin’ 1 care
to sav; but if you’ll dear away the
tables and chair* for me to thrash
my lawyer, you can give me a year
or two extra.”
(Copyright, 1913. by Anna Katharine
Green.)
Mixed in Her Dates.
He—Do you love me, darling?
She Yep. Jack dear.
He Jack! You mean Harold, don’t
! you?
She—Of course! How absurd -
! am! I keep thinking to-day’s Sat
urday.
The Best Food-Drink Lunch at Fountains
insist Upon
ORIGINAL
mm HORLICK’S
Rk
>!
Avoid Imitations— Tako No Substitute
More healthful than tea or coffee.
Agrees with the weakest digestion.
Keep it on yoyr sideboard at home.
A quick lunch prepared m a minute.
Rich milk, malted grain, in powder form.
For infants, invalids and growing children,
ire nutrition,upbuilding the whole body,
gotalu uuisaig mothers and the aged.
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT
•• "You are in a frightful position. I
sec that. You have married Dr. Cameron
and are expecting his presence every
moment at the door. If she is seen, you
are lost, for you could not bear a com
parison with her, point for point, how
ever perfectly you carry off her appear
ance when alone. What then Is to he
done? I can see hut two alternatives.
Either acknowledge the whole and re
lease the doctor—a course I certainly
should advise—or you must trust me
with this body to dispose of as I think
fit.’
“ *1 can not tell Dr. Cameron,’ was my
answer. I have married him and I mean
to live with him. He would wish it if he
knew. He loves me and there is no
Genevieve now. I hurt no one by my
action and I save everybody from deep
and lasting pain.'
"His lip stern as Iron. Just quivered
for a moment as if he denied this last
assertion, but he said:
“ ’Listen, then, I will help you, Mil
dred because, hard-hearted as 1 am.
I pity you. When you are gone—you
are going on a wedding journey, I pre
sume “
“I nodded.
” 'I will carry Genevieve out. secretly
If I can, openly if 1 must, and putting
her In my phaeton drive her to Mrs.
Olney’s house. My driver is with me but
I will dismiss him, and by taking evert
precaution possible to avoid observation.
1 may succeed in getting away from the
house unnoticed. If 1 do. I will say she
took poison on the route; if I do not,
that she is ill and that I being a phy
sician and her engaged husband. I am
taking her home. In either case 1 shall
declare her to be Mildred Farley, and
to this story I shall cling till you your
self Inform me that your husband knows
the truth and that It Is useless to per
sist in the lie any longer. Do you un
derstand me, Mildred?’
“1 signified that I did, and he went on.
“ 'I think I can manage it so that you
will be saved from all inquiries. If I
do not, remember that you are Gene
vieve Gretorex, and play your part well.
Now. where Is the bottle from which she
took the acid?’
“I showed him, and he picked It up
and put lt in his pocket. He had
hardly done this when I heard my hus
band’s rap.
“ ‘Put out the light.' he motioned.
‘And keep him out of the room at all
hazards,’ he added, in the lightest of
whispers.
”1 did as he bid, and succeeded in
getting another moment alone with him.
” ’Have you her veil?’ he asked.
’’I had not, and knew not where to
find lt.
“ 'I must have one.’ he said, ‘to throw
over her face.'
“I tossed him the one I had intended
to wear myself. He took it. and I has
tened to gather up my own clothing
and leave the room.
“When I went back again, it was with
Peter. Remembering that Dr. Moles-
worth, in all probability, knew nothing
about the house we were in. I took
occasion to ask this man. as he lifted
up my trunk, who was in the kitchen.
He answered, 'No one but the caterers,
ma'am.’ After which 1 inquired if the
back stairs were clear, and, being told
they were, advised him to take the
trunk down that way, to which he re
plied that he intended to. 1 finished
by asking him to go around with the
carriage to the side entrance, whore I
should have some money to give him
Thus. 1 freed the back stairs and gave
to Dr. Molesworth. listening near, a hint
of the way he should go. 1 suppose he
acted upon it. but never having had
the opportunity to speak to him again
alone, I do not know anything more
about it than the rest of the world.
“Of the events following that dreadful
night, you already are acquainted.
From a belief that Dr. Molesworth had
succeeded in his undertaking. I was sud
denly awakened to the consciousness
that from some error in judgment he
had laid himself open to the worst kind
of suspicion.
“Was it a shock, do you think? And
when in a still more dreadful hour that
suspicion shifted to myself, and I saw
the secret upon which depended my
honor and happiness threatened with ex
posure, do you wonder that my integri
ty succumbed to my fears?
“Driven by the instinct of self-pres
ervation to subterfuge and prevarica
tion, I soon found myself entangled in
a network of deceit. Even when I told
the truth as 1 did to the inspector at
the time he pressed me to give him
the name of the woman who made my
dresses, I followed It up with a lie to
my husband. For while the half coy.
half audacious admission that I had
made them myself was calculated to
silence the man whose question I feared,
it would hardly have helped my cause
with the doctor, who had been told
more than once how helpless Genevieve
Gretorex was with her hands.
“And so the vain struggle went on un
til it was suddenly made apparent to me
that my husband’s respect was giving
way before my duplicity.
"Then, in an agony of remorse, I took
an oath, the keeping of which ulti
mately brought on the revelations I
feared. But I can not regret this. It
has slain my husband’s love for the
false Genevieve, but from the ashes of
this passion I hope to see arise a love
for Mildred Cameron that will in time
make the happiness of my life.
"It is the aim of my existence to be
henceforth worthy of that happiness.'’
(THE END.)
A Bad Actor.
“So you want to join our company?”
said the theatrical manager to the
seedy-looking applicant. “In what
pieces have you ever appeared ?”
“Well,” replied he, “my las; ~e-
ment was with ‘The Blot ;c-
’Scutcheon.’ ”
"What character did you
“I was the Blot.”
w ’-r 7 ELL, well, well, what a sensa-
V/V' tion we are creating, sisters.
Talk about the emotional
sex! Did you ever hear the like of
the commotion about the women’s
new sort of frocks?
They arrested two perfectly nice
girls in Portland, Oreg., the other
day and sent them home in a taxi be
cause the policemen didn’t approve cf
their skirtycoats. They fined a wom
an in Kansas City last week for the
cut of her dress, and in New Eng
land they are thinking of passing .i
law about what shall be worn and
what shall be left off. Dear me! I
never had the least idea our clothes
were so important.
How much less interest we do take
in the way men dress.
Can you fancy the women calling
out the police because they didn’t
think men were dressed properly?
They would look the other way and
never even mention brother’s eccen
tric clothes. And unless they were
very* bathing suity indeed, they would
never even know that there was any
thing at all peculiar about them. 1
wonder why?
I heard them talking about it -it
dinner the other night, the men—oni
middle-aged and two young—and, oh,
the things they said about us for
speaking to the women who wore
’em! And yet do you know I hap
pened to be with the middle-aged
man when we met two of the ladios
who shocked him so. and I thought
he looked rather pleased than other
wise.
Still he seemed so cross at dinner!
Isn't it odd?
“But my wife ” said the middle-
aged man.
“But my sister ” said the young
man.
"But my sweetheart ” said the
other young man. And I do bellevo
that every one of the tnree was per
fectly willing to have somebody else’s
wife and somebody else’s sweetheart
and somebody else’s sister be as mod-
ern as the latest fashion plate from
Paris. So it is evident that they no
not think the new fashions ugly—isn’t
it?
I wonder* what it all means—this
sudden return to the “altogether” ‘.n
the way of dress or undress
Some of the frocks are really—er
—and when you see the faces of the
women who wear them—nl.se, friend
ly, decent faces—just the sort of
women you’d pick out to pal with in a
long ocean trip. If it wasn’t for thei?
astonishing frocks—good women,
modest women, kind women, women
who wouldn't think of "breaking up
a home," and yet—what in the world
does it all mean ?
Are women getting worse and le9S
modest? Have the ragtime songs
really struck in, and do nice women
think of things they never used even
to know existed? Or are they getting
nicer and more modest and cleaner
minded—so clean minded that they
don’t see anything so very interest
ing in a trim ankle and don’t under
stand why anyone else should, and
are going to let it go at that?
After all, the most immodest
frock I ever saw was a nun's tlrel-s
at a masked ball. The dress wu cl'
right, but the woman who wore it
made it a horror. Are we getting e
that we can think of something he
sides sex, we women, and do we
, walk abroad clad in these very sug-
! gestive garments without meaning a
hint of a suggestion at all? Are we
I evoluting or are we sinking back?
"Whither,” in fact, “are we drift
ing?” The meanest man I know’ acts
exactly like the most generous ones.
Sometimes it’s hard to know which
! is which. It has always been ad
mitted that absolute innocence and
unscrupulous boldness had an amaz
ing family resemblance. What are
1 we getting to be, we women—bold
faced jades or open-browed inno
cents?
Are we reading and working and
thinking so much that we’ve forgot
ten all about the primitive facts of
life, or don’t we think about any
thing but those facts?
Doesn’t it mean a thing, the old
superstition about the natural mod
esty of women, or does it mean ho
much that you simply can’t fathom
lt at all? Who’ll answer? Who
knows?
Not the men—oh, never, never, the
men—not even those W’ho pride
themselves on the fact that they
“know’ women.”
But really, now, gentlemen and
brethren, haven't you Just a little
bit of a faint Inkling of how funny,
how outrageously funny all this
shocked surprise is on your part*?
Now, if you were all burlesque
managers ?——
Business is—after all is said and
.done—business, isn’t it? But—Just
plain, everyday men who have to
pay to go to musical comedies—tell
us, do, why do you Just show such
alarming symptoms of outraged
virtue?
It would be edifying to know,
and maybe your attitude wouldn’t be
so incredibly funny—if we Just
knew. Do tell us.
INDIGESTION?
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Drink with meals,
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ly relieved, get
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E. L. ADAMS CO.. Distributor*. Atlanta
No Wonder.
, “Do you play any instrument, Mr.
Jimp?”
"Yes; I'm a cornetist.”
“And your sister?”
“She's a pianist.”
“Does your mother play?”
"She's a zitherist.”
“And your father?”
"He's a pessimist.”
Despondent?'
KODAKS?...',.
tsstmuni
First Class Finishing ar.d En
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special Mall Order Department for
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Send for Catalogue and Price List.
A. K. HAWKESCL Kodak D«»arimer
I 14 Wh.tehai; St. ATLANTA. GA
Have you f requent headaches, e coated
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IYoul Drusaut Cu Supply Ym
HID, Liquid or Cream, 25c
Ail Jacobs’ Pharmacy Stores
J
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