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Fashions That Are Coming Soon Exclusive Styles Described by Olivette One Woman’s Story 1 <jREw __ iTrnm «>• Off«ua nf Bernhirfl 0*r'T'#n »*r«1on Copyright *<1, 191S by • rt»rh#r Vtrlag Berlin tngluh tru*»l»tloo »r.l roaajtilgt'on by "V TO-DAY - S INSTALLMENT. She paused and he could hear her quick breathing "What you say Is probably very true. Miss Lloyfc," he said quietl*', after a little pause "But, why should you care 0 " "In other words," she replied as quiet ly, "It la none of my particular con cern. No—don’t interrupt. It is only my concern as a very dear friend. You may not give me that title on your aide, but I take It on mine, leaving that aside, there Is the duty of success I 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 picks men too well to make “a mistake in so big an enterprise as this. It hurts me to see you throwing away the one thing that you’ve lived for- quitting under fire, 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 word It, I understand how great a compliment you are paying me. I haven't quit under fire. There is no battle, nor even an active siege. I'in -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? I don’t know of any one who is going to hire detectives to run Xvou 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 IJoyd," he said, in a tone that indicated that the conversation was be coming a bore. This the girl ignored. "Did you talk" to father?” she demand ed, though she knew every detail of the negotiations. Allan nraided. "Of course." "Well?" "Mr. Uoyd 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. "Last November." "A year ago!" she exclaimed re proachfully. "No wonder! Father’s iymds were very much tied then—he was Just rounding up the remnapts 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. "1 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 wonts. "What how-what makes you think so?" His voice was almost husky with emotion. She did not answer at once. She ap peared to be reflecting. “Mr. Allan." she said with some tim idity. real or feigned. "If I would if 1 were to trust you with what is practi cally a confidence, you would not be tray me—you would be careful, wouldn’t you ?" "Of course!" he cried eagerly, and then he remembered. "But if it is a fldence " He left the sentence opeh. Again she appeared to be turning something ov^r In her mind. Allan waited with a beating heart, his eyes hungrily trying to rbad the beautiful face. She was buttoning and unbut toning a glove. tbei "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 wflth father a sort of final talk the other day. 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 again''’ " 'Possibly,’ said father Tn fart. T am almost certain that some such ar rangement could now be mane if we had any assurances that Allan feels able to go 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 be 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 bedding his handkerchief up to his face as If he had been per spiring When he lowered It Ids cheeks were flushed and there was a strange glitter In Ills eyes. He reached over without a word and pressed her gloved hand in his until the pain almost made her cry out. "1 wonder," she smiled, "I wonder if now, you would come to dinner, say 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 and Allan step ped out. "Until day after to-morrow,” he said, holding her hand for an Instant "And— God bless you!" And as the big car darted off. Miss IJoyd leaned back against the cushions, rubbing her bruised fingers softly agaflint her cheak, with a little trium phant smile on her 11ns. More Fencing, There was no doubt that Lloyd was glad to see Allan If for no 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, but 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, but without any adornment she would have been striking She was fully as tall as he was, with long limbs and slender, broad and 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. "1 told father you had finally written to accept an invitation, hut 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 IJoyd," 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 gay affair. 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 always be as keen and sure as it had been. Favorable Signs. Up also noticed for the tlrst time un mistakable slffns 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 tattle talk After dinner Mr. Uoyd suggested that Ethel entertain them with a song or two; but the girl shook her head. ''NO, father.” she said with a little smile, "Mr Allan does not like music.” Now. Allan had 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. GARSIDE. L ET a man preface a remark with "Statistics v ill show," ai\d he can make the most glaring of misstatements, and there is none to et.il him down. It is the litile 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 hjs seven years, .since the day he turned from that modern maternal fount, the nursing bottle, he had devoted his life to the accumula tion of statistics, eH had discovered while an infant that "Statistics will •how” marked the student, and never rhe prevaricator. The child statistician, after devot- ! ng some time to a collection of pa rental negatives, called the Children's Congress in special session to hear ais report. "It is not enough.” the call read, “that we should know ourselves. We must know our parents as well.” "I find,” he said, looking over his glasses, "that a mother averages say- ng i on’W 93 times a day, and quit ‘.hat’ 64 times. It is more difficult to get a definite report on fathers, hut I have figures that show that 49 out of 50 fathers enforce the com mand the first time.” Here he sighed. His audienced wig- j gled in their chairs, and looked some what depressed. Xiomg')into detail in other kin-i ships.” he resumed "I find that grandmothers are 73 per cent easy, while grandfathers vary from 23 to 60 per cent. A spinster aunt with a sort heart v and an Independent in come is 97 per cent easy, and her favorite nephews and nieces hear th% sleighbells of Christmas all the year.” He was reminded of an important discovery. "Fathers,” he said stern ly. "In 87 per cent claim there is no Santa Claus.” His conclusion was that mothers, grandmothers and aunts are Indis pensable. and that the happiest child hood was that which knew no more than 3 per cent male kin. We must arise," he thundered, "and demand full suffrage for the mother in the home. “Wt- must proclaim to the world that life, liberty and happiness of the child demand that all power of authority and finance he given to the child's female relatives.” Having decided by unanimous vote to remember that "mothers are 93 per cent easy” as a daily inspiration, the children wriggled from their chairs and toddled home. Each bore in its breast a noble purpose. If necessary each would get a soap box and begin a street corner campaign to secure full and final power for mother. Funeral Designs and Flowers FOR ALL OCCASIONS. Atlanta Floral Company 455 EAST FAIR STREET. By Olivette T pHIH simiilc tailor-made nr dark ereen duvet.vn on the left is absolutely the “dernier eri” of the Paris inodes. The woman who means to copy It must make sure that her tailor Is an adopt at line. For graceful easy lines are more than e\er necessary when simplicity rules in the tailor made realm. The three-quarter coet is cut away above the waist, and ends in a swallowtail at the buck. At the neck there 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 back 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 back 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 slll$ girdle. The kimono bodice opens to the waist line in a 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 (if the smart French dressmaker, and yet the woman who has a bit of skill or a clever seamstress enn 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 bebe 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 the front. At the hack there Is a small square panel for the same height. The skirt fastens In front and Is trimmed In groups of the satin buttons; and at the foot there Is a short silt 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. 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 Middlebrook 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 mail 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—as 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 sensation as she saw on the envelope handed her Gordon Craig’s well-re membered chirography. Rhe 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 It 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 tlnv daughter. /**■ "You and I have both drunk deeply of the cup of sorrow 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 your 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 happy 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. rather and mother •re gone, and ho 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 laudly. “I beg your pardon!” she stam mered. "Did you speak before?” "No, but I’m speaking now! Who’s that letter from?” The wpfnan hesitated, then stead ied hefvoice and answered gravely. “From an old friend." "What’s his name?" "Gordon Craig.” 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 she repeated the familiar syllables she seemed to gain strength and self- 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 his 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 wrisit 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. "Wara you ever In love with him? he demanded. „ The woman grew paler. "Yes, she said again. "Tell me the truth about this thing!” he exclaimed. “Did you ever see him after you promised to marry "No,” she replied. “How many letters before this have you gotton from him?” "None." Her tone was low but firm. The angry man let her go anQ 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 tQ them. 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 he* 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 tavs 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 fer he* 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. . 'r THERE’S Mr. Flakes?" asked \A/ the Steady Customer of the * * Head Waitress in the Cafe D’Enfanl as he noticed the absence of the genial manager. “He’s on his vacation," she replied. "Pretty soft for some guys. You just come back from yours, didn’t you?" "Yes, Louise," 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 preve*t 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 w’ant to stop writing about Mr. Flakes in the paper. On© of the bosses was speaking to him about it thq 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. Flakes 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 aq extra piece of pie Just to be able to ex« change a few more cheerful words with him. Who’s the new manage*?" "That’s Mr. Governor,” said the Head Waitress. "He's a very nice man, to<* That’s one thing I like about Mrs. D'Ehv. fant. Rhe always picks out real gentg for managers. That’s what I call having persplcattity." “That’s too much for me,” groaned the Steady Customer. "I suppose yov| mean perspicacity, but give me mg check quick. I feel faint." "Louise Is getting too high brow fo| me," said the Steady Customer to Mjm rie, the cashier. "She tried to say perspicacity Just now’ and even th* beans turned cold." "Perspicacity In Indiana, where I com# from, is a very ordinary word," replied Marie loftily. "Very ordinary. I’m suit prised at you. This way out." Before Her Time. Little Alice came In-the house 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 a patent on It." Advice to the Lovelorn BEATRICE FAIRFAX. AS YOU THINK BEST. Dear Miss Fairfax: I 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 man I am to go with what I think and ask him to call for me? The other girls did not seem to have any 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 be 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 1 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? FERDINAND. If you cease your attentions for so trivial a cause. I shall be convinced your love is not very deep. Persist in your attentions If you want the girl. Believe me, my dear, Love, like any other prize, is all the 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. He 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 la the right sort of man it seems to nie 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 w ho, 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 and have been keeping company with a gentle man about my 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 kn-w. Kindly advise ms what to do, as I am heartbroken. FLORENCE. I do not like his manner of treating you. As a husband he is likely to he 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. Ml B-» IL. jfei/fiisag* iHiuly n ppr j.j | ifirsna 1 T nis jar m Wi Urflw • || irnrrnitjj h ld& L-c y fe A 1 The Telephone-The Keynote || KODAKS Tlra BMt FMtrinf and lalarf- Iftfl Tftat 0*n B* PradMaB. CutCLv Film* and ,->>*»- j Mod aciataur rarv io*. , , tea 'vr out-of-town rttuKornor*. j Send for Catalog and Pries List. A. K. HAWKES CO. 14 Whitthull 6 V Atlanta, ft*. I N D I GESTION? Stop it qulokly; Have your grocer send you one do*, bottles of SHIVA R SINGER ALE Drink with meals, and if not prompt ly relieved, ga* your money back at our expense. Wholesome d«ll- ClouF, refreehlng Prepared with the celebrated Shlvar Mineral Water and the purest flavoring ira’erlals. SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturer! SHELTON. 8. C. a U AC A M', CU_ Dutributora. ABiatfc . MM | ■ ■ Do You Want White Skin? TDLE wishing never yet * changed a dark com plexion If you have a very dark and coarse looking skin, TRY Palmer’s Skin Whitener There Is no doubt what ever about its marvelous whitening effect upon the skin, and it makes It soft and clear. One box will prove how easy it i9 to improve your complexion. Good agents wanted in ov ary town. Write for terms. Postpaid^ 5 All Jacobs’ Stores And Druggists Generally. gl 2!' i\ of the House in Order 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. $1 I im :s lb •3 >2 iS « i :a Southern Bell Telephone and Telegraph Company ^ .;> * ; f t A ♦ /A V ♦