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F ROM top to bottom, everything in the house revolves around the
telephone. Be it coal for the cellar or butter for the firkin, be it a
bargain from the department store or a man to fix the roof, the
telephone—the indispensable Bell Telephone—will get it and get it in
a hurry.
Cast your burdens on a Bell Telephone and learn to enjoy life.
You can accomplish more with less effort and in less time by its aid
than in any other way.
Have a telephone in YOUR home. Call the Business Office to-day.
Southern Bell Telephone
and Telegraph Company
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TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
She panned and he could hear her
quick breathing
"What you nay in probably very true,
Minn Lloyd," he naid quietly, after a
little pause “But, why should you
care?"
"In other wordn,'' she replied an quiet
ly, "It is none of my particular con
cern. No—don't interrupt. It is only
my concern an a very dear friend You
may not give me that title on your
aide, hut I take it on mine. Leaving
that aside, there Is the duty of success.
1 hate failure—and, above all. I hate
failure In a man who has not In him
the elements of failure. You have not,
Mr Allan If it were nothing else,
father pick* men too well to make a
mistake in so big an enterprise as this.
It hurts me to nee you throwing away
the one thing that you’ve lived for-
quitting under lire, burying yourself
alive. Instead of taking your place on
the firing line!"
Allan stared straight out before him
for a few minutes, and then he smiled,
a weary little smile
"Miss Lloyd." he said, "In spite of the
way you wmrd It, I understand how
great a compliment you are paying me.
I haven’t quit under fire. There in no
battle, nor even an active siege. I’m
Just being starved out. I am cut off
from my source of supplies, and for the
present, at least, there can be no
thought of an active campaign
"Why not?" she demanded.
He gave her a quick, curious look
Certainly she must know why.
"We have no money," he replied
briefly.
"Well, how do you suppose you are
going to get money? Who Is going to
get It If you don't? And how are you
going to get It while you are burled
down here 0 I don’t know of any one
who is going to hire detectives to run
you down and tie you while they can
force money upon you." Allan laughed
a little, silently, and then turned grave
"I have tried everything I can think
of, Miss Lloyd," he said, In a tone that
Indicated that the conversation was be
coming a bore. This the girl Ignored
"Lid you talk to father?" she demand
ed. though she knew- every detail of the
negotiations.
Allan nodded. "Of course.”
"Well?”
"Mr. Lloyd did not hold out the
slightest hope that any money could
be raised in the near future."
This time it was the girl who laughed
silently He gave her a puzzled, curious
look.
"When was that?” she asked.
"l^aat November."
"A year ago!" she exclaimed re
proachfully. "No wonder! Father's
hands were very much tied then—he
was Just rounding up the remnants of
the panic. Everything is very different
now."
A quick flush, a gleam of hope leaped
to Allan's face.
"Do you mean that you think your
father sees some hope of raising money
again?" he asked, and his voice trem
bled slightly
"I am sure of It,” was the unexpect
ed reply. It was fully ten seconds before
Allan could trust himself to speak again.
The girl appreciated the effect of her
own words.
"What—how -what makes you think
so?" His voice was almost husky with
emotion
She did not answer at once. She ap
peared to he reflecting
"Mr. Allan." she said with some tim
idity, real or feigned "If I would—if I
were to trust you with what Is practi
cally a confidence, you would not be
tray me—you w'ould be careful, wouldn’t
you ?"
"Of course'" he cried eagerly, and
then he remembered. "But If It Is a
confidence " He left the sentence
open.
Again she appeared to he turning
something over in her mind. Allan
waited with a beating heart, his eyes
hungrily trying to read the beautiful
face She was buttoning and unbut
toning a glove.
"I'll tell you," she decided "There In
not only a chance, but a practical cer
tainty, If you handle the matter with
your old skill. I talked this over with
father—a sort of Anal talk the other
•lay He said that there was no chance
that the public could be Induced to In
vest for at least a year after work had
been resumed and was showing the best
results.
" 'Well.' I said, 'can’t you and some of
your friends put up the money to carry
on the work until the public Is ready
to come In ngain’’*
" ’Possibly,’ said father. 'In fact, T
am almost certain that some such ar
rangement could now’ he mane if we had
any assurances that Allan feels
able to g" on and finish the
work. We can't go to him and cross-
examine him about It. That's one rea
son I hoped you would he able to induce
him to call ' Now. then, Mr Allan, in
the vernacular of the street. It seems to
me that It's up to you!"
Allan was holding his handkerchief
up to his face as If he had been per
spiring When he lowered It his cheeks
were flushed and there was a strange
glitter In his eyes He readied over
without a word and pressed her gloved
hand In his until the pain almost marie
her cry out.
"I wonder," she smiled, "I wonder If
now. vou would come to dinner, Bay
the day after to-morrow.”
"Would I°" he laughed uncertainly.
"Why. Miss Lloyd, you’d have to call out
the militia to keep me away."
The car drew up to the door of the
administration building a nd Allan step
ped out
"Until day after to-morrow’." he said,
holding her hand for an Instant "And—
God bless you!"
And hh the big car darted off. Miss
Lloyd leaned har k against the cushions,
rubbing her bruised fingers softly
against her cheek, with a little trium
phant smile on her 11ns
More Fencing.
There w r ns no doubt that Lloyd was
glad to see Allan. If for ro other
reason he would have been glad
because the presence of the Tun
ned master gave pleasure to his daugh
ter. Mr. IJoyd did not pride himself
on his social diplomacy, hut he was a
delightful host—and his daughter was
the one living thing that he loved.
’ Allan thought when Ethel entered the
library where they were taking a cock-
tall before dinner that he had never
seen so magnificent a woman She wore
the price of an office building on her
shoulders and In her hair, hut without
any adornment she would have been
striking. She was fully as tall as he
was, with long limbs and slender, broad
nnd slightly sloping shoulders. Even In
her amazing dinner gown she. moved
with the easy, sleepy grace of a wild
thing
"Diana civilized!” Allan exclaimed
under his breath.
"Why, how do you do, Mr. Allan!"
she exclaimed. "I told father you had
finally written to accept an invitation,
but that he’d better not believe It until
he had seen you."
Allan quickly grasped the Idea that
her father was not to know of her
visit to Tunnel City."
"I came as soon as I could, Miss
Lloyd." he replied.
"Well, we’ll have to arrange things
so that you can come more frequently
—won’t we. father?"
“By all means," smiled the old gentle
man.
The dinner was a guy afTair. Mr.
Lloyd laughed and Joked with an un
usual freedom, and It suddenly occurred
to Allan that the great financier was
reaching an age where his mind might
not ulways be as keen and sure as it
had been.
Favorable Signs.
Fashions That Are Coming Soon
Exclusive Styles Described by Olivette
He also noticed for the first time un
mistakable signs that he was complete
ly under the domination of his splendid
daughter. All of which set Allan to
thinking very hard behind the mask of
light table talk
After dinner Mr Lloyd suggested that
Ethel entertain them with a song or
two; but the girl shook her head.
"NO, father," she said with u little
smile, “Mr Allan does not like music."
Now, Allati hud never prided himself
on being a social diplomat either. In
stead of instantly denying the charge
he gave the girl a look of startled sur
prise.
To Be Continued To-morrow,
Daysey Mayme and Her Folks
By FRANCES L. OARSIDE
L ET a man preface a remurk with
"Statistics will show," and he
can make the most glaring of
misstatements, and there is none to
call him down.
It is the little courier of the learned
exaggeration. The world sees “sta
tistics will show," and Immediately
prepares to accept what it precedes
as an uncontrovertible result of long
and studious effort.
Chauncey Devere Appleton, as pres
ident of the Children's Congress, dis
played many traits of one of mature
age In spite of his seven years, olnoe
the day he turned from that modern
maternal fount, the nursing bottle, he
had devoted his life to the accumula
tion of statistics. pH had discovered
while an Infant that “Statistics will
•how” marked the student, and never
the prevaricator
The child statistician, after devot
ing some time to a collection of pa
rental negatives, called the Children »
Congress in special session to hear
his report.
“It is not enough." the call rend,
“that we should know ourselves. We
hicst know our parents as well.”
"I find," he said, looking over his
glasses, “that a mother averages say
ing don'tH' 93 times a day, and *qul:
’.hat’ 64 times. It is more difficult
to get a definite report on fathers,
but I have figures that show that 49
out of 60 fathers enforce the com
mand the first time."
Here he sighed. His nudienred wig
gled In their chairs, and looked some,
what depressed.
“Going into detail in other kin
ships." he resumed. “I find that
grandmother* are 73 per cent e.isv,
while grandfathers vary from 23 to
60 per cent. A spinster aunt with a
sort heart and uti Independent in
come is 97 per cent easy, and her
favorite nephews and nieces hear the
sleighbells of Christmas all the year "
He was reminded of an important
discovery. “Father^" he said stern
ly. "in 87 per cent claim there is no
Santa Claus."
His conclusion was that mother*,
grandmothers nnd ailnts are Indis
pensable. and that the happiest child
hood was that which knew no more
than 3 per cent male kin.
"We must urine,’’ he thundered,
"and demand full sufYrage for the
mother In the home.
"We must proclaim to the world
that the life, liberty and happiness of
the child demand that all power of
authority and nnance be given to the
child's female relatives "
Having decided by unanimous vote
!o remember that "mothers are 93 per
cec.t easy” ns a daily Inspiration, the
children wriggled from their chairs
and toddled home.
Each bore In Its breast a noble
purpose. If recessary each would
get a soap box and begin a street
corner campaign to secure full and
final power for m >ther.
One Woman’s Story
By Olivette
T
pMIIS simple tailor-made or dark green duvetyn
on tlie left Is absolutely the ‘‘dernier eri" of
the I’nrls modes. The woman win) means to
copy it must make sure that her tailor is an adept
at line. For graceful easy lines are more than ever
necessary when simplicity rules in the tailor-made
realm. The three-quarter <*oat is cut away above the
waist, and ends in a swallowtail at the back. At
the neck then* is a round collar of ivory liberty.
The sleeves have tucks at the line that would or
dinarily mark the cuff. A draped belt of the duve
tyn passes through straps formed by cuts in the
coat, and is knotted at the hack in two sash ends
finished by a double row of silk tassels in self-col
ored silk.
The plain round skirt has a panel of pressed
pleats extending across the luu'k in sunburst fash
ion.
The afternoon frock in the center is of copper-
colored crepe meteor with a dash of sapphire blue
in the soft silk girdle. The kimono bodice opens to
the waist line in ai surplice. The deep collar and
cuffs are of embroidered white linen edged with a
double row of knife plaited Valenciennes. The little
waistcoat is made of folds of ivory net. The blue
girdle ties in a square bow at the left side of the
surplice.
The short round skirt is gathered at the waist
and falls straight to the ankle, where a narrow fold
finishes the hem. The front panel is trimmed at the
center of its length by four close set two-inch tucks.
This stunning afternoon dress on the right bears
all the hall-marks of the smart French dressmaker,
and yet the woman who has a hit of skill or a clever
seamstress can fashion one like it. The materials
used are prairie green satin for the coat and bro
caded crepe of the same beautiful shade for the skirt
and simple bebo waist.
The waist, which is invisible in our picture, has
a deep yoke of net trimmed in simple flounces of
the same material. The coat is slightly bloused
with broad low armholes from which the material
extends in a long half fitted sleeve, buttoned with
tiny round buttons up to the elbow and finished with
little net frills. Net is the broad shawl collar edged
in pleated flounces of the same.
A huge ornament of embroidery in light tones
fastens the draped girdle at the middle front. Two
points gathered at the waist extend from the girdle
on each side of tin* front. At the back there is a
small square panel for the same height.
The skirt fastens in front and is trimmed in
groups of thp satin buttqns; and at the foot there
is a short slit to show the foot just to the ankle.
Tiny tucks extend below the hip-line and from them
a bit of fullness goes to relieve the scant line of
the skirt.
Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
AS YOU THINK BEST.
Dear Mias Fairfax:
1 am invited to an automobile
outing, and we are to be a party
of twelve (six couples).
The arrangement was that the
young ladles are to meet their
partners at a certain place. Now,
1 do not approve of this arrange
ment.
Do you think it right of me to
tell the young rnan 1 am to go
with what 1 think and ask him to
call for me?
The other girls did not seem to
have anv objection.
A CONSTANT READER.
If you object to the plans, you cer
tainly have the right to say so. But,
on the other hand, have you consid
ered that It would he most inconve
nient and cause a loss of time for
every man to call for his partner?
There could he no impropriety in six
girls waiting at the same place for
their escorts.
DON’T BE FAINT-HEARTED.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am very much in love with
a girl two years my senior, al
though we are not engaged. When
I ask her to go to a place of
amusement, she says she has a
date with another man, but she
says that she does not like the
other man as much as she loves
me Do you think It is worth
while paying attention to her any
more ? FERD1N A ND.
If you cease your attentions for so
trivial a cause, 1 shall be convinced !
your love is not very deep.
Persist in your attentions if you |
want the girl. Believe me, my dear, j
Love, like any other prize, is all Ihe j
sweeter when it is hard to win.
HE IS NOT TOO OLD.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am a girl of 19 and am deeply
In love with my sister's widower,
who has two children who have
been put away in a home and
whom I love dearly. He is living
with us, and my people object
very strongly to my speaking
with him, much more to my wed
ding him, thereby causing a great
disturbance in my home, lie is
fourteen years my senior.
EDNA.
If their objections are based solely
on his seniority they are not worth
considering.
Was he a good husband to your
sister? Is he a good business man?
Are his morals good?
If he U the right sort of man it
seems to me it would prove a good
match for you. and mean happiness
for his motherless children.
FIND WHO ARE HER FRIENDS.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am in love with a girl to
whom I have never been Intro
duced and who, I think, likes me,
because she looks at me when
ever I pass her. JULIUS.
Pin your faith in love to something
more than the turn of a girl’s head,
my son. She may look without see
ing you. Find who are her friends,
where she works, where she goes to
church, etc., and I am quite sure you
will find someone to introduce you.
HE OWES YOU AN EXPLANATION
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am a girl of 18 anil have been
keeping company with a gentle
man about mv age and dearly
love him. He returned my love.
Now, for the past two weeks he
has stopped speaking to me, for
reasons I do not kr.-w.
Kindly advise me what to do,
ns I am heartbroken.
FLORENCE.
I do not like his manner of treating
you. As a husband he is likely to be
even more extreme in his disagree
able moods.
You might write a note asking if
you have offended. Do this for Love’s
sake: for your own sake try to forget
him if he makes no reply. You have
done no wrong. Don't be too hum-
tie.
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CHAPTER XXXIV.
W HEN Mary Fletcher’s mother
died the daughter spoke of
the dead as "blessedly out of
it all." As the winter wore Itself
away, the "all" meant more than she
dared think. When she found her
thoughts straying to the subject she
looked at her child and checked them.
For after her mother's death her hus
band drank more frequently and more
deeply than ever—although he always
took his liquor In the city and never
at the Mlddlabrook saloons. Often he
would come home from town Just
Intoxicated enough to be Irascible and
impossible to please.
He was in one of his worst moods
when, on his return from town one
evening in the late winter, he
handed Mary a letter he had brought
from the village postoffice. For the
Fletchers to receive mall was an un
usual occurrence nowadays. Mary
had not kept in touch with the
friends she once had. and if Bert had
any correspondence, it was sent to his
office. So, unless Mary's mother-in-
law wrote to her—ns she did infre
quently—the receipt of an epistle was
uncommon enough to make the wife
look up in surprise when her hus
band remarked, “Here’s a letter for
you. Mamie.”
Her curiosity changed to another
.•enention as she Maw on the envelope
handed her Gordon Craig’s well-re
membered chlrographv. She did not
notice the expression of ill-concealed
suspicion on her husband’s face, but,
with hands that trembled in spite
of herself, she tore open the en
velope and glanced hastily through
the letter II was not long, and the
writer told her that, chancing to pick
up a New York newspaper bearing a
date of several months ago. he had
seen the notice of Mrs. Danforth’s
death and had thus learned where her
daughter was living. He wished to
express his sincere sympathy. He,
too. had known trouble. His wife had
died, last year, leaving him with a
tinv daughter.
“You and I have both drunk
deeply of the cup of Morrow since
last we met." he wrote. “When 1
think of what life holds In the way
of suffering, I wonder if I am the
same man whom you used to know.
I think often of vour parents’ good
ness to me, and of what an ideal
home you had, and I hope that your
present life fulfills the promise of
your happv girlhood."
Mary folded the letter thought
fully. The sight of Craig’s hand
writing. the references he made to
her former life, had aroused a flood
of recollections that made her for
get for a moment her present sur
roundings T-TF«r fnther and mother
>re gone, and h© had lost his wife.
How strange to think of Gordon as
the father of a motherless little? girl!
All bitterness was gone from Mary's
thought of him. If he had wronged
her, he had suffered. What was she
that she should condemn him?
Her husband’s voice broke harshly
upon her musings, and she started
violently.
“Well!” he exclaimed laudlv.
“I beg your pardon!" she stam
mered. “Did you speak before?"
“No, but I’m speaking now!
Who’s that letter from?"
The woman hesitated, then stead-
ied her voice and answered gravely.
“From an old friend."
“What’s his name?"
“Gordon Uralg." she replied. She
was surprised that she felt no trepi
dation. no embarrassment as she
spoke the name of the man she had
once loved. On the contrary, as
alia repeated the familiar syllables
•he seemed to gain strength and stlf-
control. , .
"An old friend, eh?" mocked her
husband. "I never heard of him."
“I knew him when I was a girl."
said Mary, briefly. She began to
talk of other matters, but the half-
drunken man was not to be deterred
from hie determination to probe to
the bottom of what he considered a
suspicious circumstance. A sudden
thought occurred to him.
“I say," he demanded, "is that the
man that was going with you when
you first started work at Pearson s
—the man I told you I heard was
paying you attention?"
His wife hesitated. Her sense of
truth would not let her tell the lie
that another woman might have
spoken. She had compromised with
honor when she married the man be
fore her. She would not add to that
sin by lying now. Her husband, his
imagination inflamed by drink, noted
her hesitation and put his own con
struction upon it. He grasped her
wrist angrily.
"Is that the man?" he repeated.
His wife looked him straight in
the eyes. "Yes." she said.
He gripped her slender wrist more
tightly, but she did not wince.
"Were you ever in love with him?"
he demanded.
The woman grew paler. "Yes, sne
said again.
“Tell me the truth about this
thing!" he exclaimed. "Did you ever
see him after you promised to marry
me?"
“No,” she replied.
"How many letters before this have
you gotton from him?"
“None." Her tone wag low but
Arm.
The angry man let her go and
turned from her, then, assailed by
another doubt, he caught her by the
shoulders.
“Have you written to him?" he
asked.
The red and watery eyes glared
wildly Into the steady ones lifted to
thorn. The man was trembling with
rage, but the wife! though pale, an
swered with wavering.
“I have not."
The fearless reply added fuel to
the husband’s rage, and he shook her
brutally.
"That’s a damned lie!" he roared.
Then, with a twist of his powerful
arms, he flung the fragile woman
from him with such force that she
staggered and fell to the floor. With
out a backward glance the husband
stamped out of the house.
He did not return until after mid
night, although his wife, bruised in
body and spirit, listened and
watched through the lonely hours.
He was drinking in the village tav
ern for the first time, from which
place, when he was hopelessly in
toxicated. he was brought home by
the landlord.
As Mary opened the door for her
husband and his companion, she
knew that her secret was hers no
longer, and that by to-morrow all
the village would be informed that
Bert Fletcher was a drunkard.
The Head Waitress
By HANK.
THERE'S Mr. Flakes?" asked
\A/ the Steady Customer of the
* * Head Waitress in the Cafe
D’Enfant as he noticed the absence of
the genial manager
"He’s on his vacation,” she replied.
"Pratty soft for some guys. You Just
com© back from yours, didn’t you?"
"Yes, Louis©," said the Steady Cus
tomer. “For one beautiful week I trav
eled on the water In a motor boat with
my friend, Jimmy."
“Did it always mote?’’ asked the Head
Waitress.
"Most always," replied the Steady
Customer. “You see, we had a good en
gineer on board. You needn’t ask who
he was. Modesty would prevent my re
plying."
“Sure, you always did hate yourself,"
said the Head Waitress. “I was In a
motor boat once myself. The engine be
haved as If it had chronic presumption
and hesitated every now and then like
you do when you’re figuring on whether
you can afford creamed chicken on
toast or browned hash. But say, all
joking aside, you want to atop writing
about Mr. Flakes In the paper. One of
the bosses was speaking to him about it
the other day, and said it looked as if
he was getting too familiar with the
customers."
“That’s too bad,” said the Steady Cus
tomer. "If they had more managers like
Mr. Hakes they’d have to turn away
the crowds. There's nothing that cheers
anyone up like walking into a place like
this and seeing somebody wearing a ge
nial expression. Why I often take an
extra piece of pie just to be able to ex
change a few more cheerful words with
him. Who’s the new manager?"
"That’s Mr. Governor," said the Head
Waitress. "He’s a very nice man, toa
That’s one thing 1 like about Mrs. D’En-
fant. She always picks out real gents
for managers. That’s what I call having
peraplcattity."
"That’s too much for me,’* groaned
the Steady Customer. “I suppose you
mean perspicacity, but give me my
check quick. I feel faint.”
"Louis© is getting too high brow for
me,” 6aid the Steady Customer to Ma
rie, the cashier. "She tried to say
perspicacity just now and even the
beans turned cold."
"Perspicacity in Indiana, where I come
from, Is a very ordinary word," replied
Marie loftily. “Very ordinary. I'm sur
prised at you. This way out."
Before Her Time.
Little Alice came in the house at
luncheon time with a pair of very
dirty hands*. Her mother looked at
the little girl’s hand and said:
“You never say my hands as dirty
as yours.”
“No. mother,” replied the child, “but
grandmother did."
Keep It.
"Look here, sir, I’ll have you under
stand I’m a self-made man."
"Don’t bother to take out & patent on
it."
'-•v-iPFr-