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Fashions That Are Coming Soon
Exclusive Sty'es Described by Olivette
One Woman s Story By virginia terhune vas de water
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#f"r«n ’ Cnprl^httd. '**13. t>j
P^irtor Vsrtsf. Berlin
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(Oowruhted :tlS.b* l»Um*tl<ro»l Sew*
TO-DAY’S IXSTALLMRNT
She paused and he cmik) hear her
quick breathing
“What 5*011 saj - is probably very true.
Miss JJoyd, said quietly, after a
little pans*' “Hut. vhy should you
care'”
“In other word*, sne replied as quiet
ly, “it is none of my particular con
cern. No--don't interrupt. It is only
my concent as a very dear friend You
may not give me that title on your
side, but I take it on mine Leaving
that aside, tnere is the duty of success
I hate failure—and, above all, 1 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 Are, 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 sleg^ I’m
just being starved out. I am cut off
from my source of supplies, and for the
present, at least, there ean be no
thought ol an active campaign.
“Why not she demanded.
Tie gave her a quick, curious look
Certainly sue must know why.
“We have no money,” he replied
briefly.
“Well, bow 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? 1 don't know of any one
who is going to hire detectives to rut',
you down ami tie you while they can
tor. • money upon you.” Al'an laughed
a little, silently, and then turned grave
“I have tried everything 1 can think
■•f, Miss Lloyd," he said. In a tone that
Indicated that the conversation was be
aming a bore. This the girl Ignored
"Did you talk to father?” she demand-
d, 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
V raised In the near future.”
This lime it was the girl who laughed
silently. He gave her a puzzled, curious
look.
"When was that?" she asked
“Lust November.”
“ \ year ago!” she exclaimed re
proachfully . “No wonder! Father’s
hands were very much tied then -lie
was iuBt rounding up the remnants of
the panic. Everything is very different
now.''
A quick flush, a gleam of hope leaped
o Allan's face.
"Do >ou mean that you think your
Tutli*s!’ sees some hope of raising money
again?" he asked, and his voice trem
bled sligutly.
“I am sure of it.” was the unexpect
ed reply. It was fully ten seconds before
Ulan cquVi trust himself to speak again.
The girl appreciated the effect of her
own words
"What how what makes you think
ho?" Ilis voice was almost husky with
emotion.
She did not answer at once. She ap
peared to be K'flocUiig.
"Mr Allan," she said with some tim
idity, real or feigned. ' If 1 would if 1
were to trust you with what la practi
cally a confidence, you would not be
tray me - you would be careful, wouldn't
you?"
“of course:*' ho cried eagerly, and
then he remembered. “Hut it it is a
'•onrtdenee ” He left the sentence
a^pen.
\Agaii. she appeared to be turning
something over in her mind Allan
waited with a beating heart, his eyes
hungrily trying to read the beautiful
lace. She was buttoning and unbut
toning a glove
"I’ll tel! you,” she decided. "There la
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 final talk the other
day. Ho 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 vou anti some of
your friends put up the money to cam
on the work until the public is ready
to come in again?'
"'Possibly, said father In fact. I
am almost certain that some such ar
rangement could now he mane if we had
any assurances that Allan feels
able to go on and finish the
work. We can't go to him ami cross-
examine him about It That's one rea
son I hoped you would Vic 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 reached over
without a word and pressed her gloved
hand Ip his until the pain almost made
her cry out
"I wonder," she smiled. "I wonder If
now. vou would come fo dinner, say
the day after to-morrow.”
“Would I"” ho 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,'
bolding her hand for an instant
God bless you!”
And as the big car darted
Lloyd leaned bark against the cushions,
ruhb'ng her bruised fingers softly
against her cheek, with a little trium
phant smile on her lins
lie said,
“And—
off, Miss
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. Mi 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
tail before dinner that lie 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,
but that he'd bet for 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 n 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
hud been.
Fevoritble Signs.
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; hut 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 <>f startled sur
print .
Yo Be Continued To morrow.
Davsev Mayme and Her f olks
Bv FRANCES L OARSIDE
By Olivette
rpms simple tailor* mode or dark green duvetyn
| on the left is absolutely the “dernier eri” of
1 the Paris modes. 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 ever
neeessar.v when simplicity rules in the tailor-made
realm. The three qitartt r eoat is cut away above the
waist, and cuds in a swallowtail at the back. At
the neek there is a round collar of Ivory Iil>erty.
The sleeves have tucks at the line that would or
dinarlly mark the cuff. A draped l>elt 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 lias a panel of pressed
pleats extending across llie hark 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 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 «*f the
surplice.
The short round skirt is gathered at tin* 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 bit of skill or a clever
seamstress ean fashion one like it. The materials
used are prairie green satin for the coat and br«»-
ended crepe of the same beautiful shade for the skirl
and simple bol** waist.
The waist, which is invisible in our picture, has
a deep yoke of net trimmed in simple flounces of
the same material. The eoat 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 back there is a
small square panel for the same height.
The skirt fastens in front and is trimmed in
groups of tin* satin buttons; and at the foot there
is a short slit to show the foot just to the ankle.
Tiny t.uoks extend lielow 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
I 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 Mlddlebrook 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 i
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, ii 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 ftaw on the envelope
handed her Gordon Craig’s well-re
membered chirography. Bhe 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 V was not long, and the
writer told for that, chancing to pick
up a New Y rk 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
j died, last year, leaving him with a
tiny daughter.
“You and I have both drunk
deeply of the cup of *«orrow 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 \ vu 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 prevent sur
round in en tT V * nf *' ar HTld ,nother
*e gone, ana he had lost his wife
How strange 10 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 be*' vour 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 ills name?”
"Gordon Craig." she replied. She
was surprised that she felt no trepi
dation, no ethbarrasnneht 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 .•elf-
control.
"An old friend, eh?" mocked her
husband. “I never heard of him.”
“1 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.
“1 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 \voman might nave
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
wrliit angrily.
“Is that the man?” he repeated.
His wife looked him straight in
the eyes. “Yes.” she said.
He gripped her slender wrist more crn
tightly, but she did not wince.
“Were 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 marr>
me?”
“No,” she replied.
“How many letters before this ha . >1
you gotten from him
"None.”, Her tone was low bul
firm.
The angry man let her go and
turned from her. then, assailed by
another doubt, h»- caught her by thd
shoulders,
“Have you written to him?” ho
asked.
The red and watery eyes glared
wildly into the steady ones lifted to
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 womari
from him with such force that slid
stHKUi-reii and fell tn the door. With,
out a backward glance the husband
stamped ou.t of the house
He did rot return intil 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.
for the first time, from which
place, when he war hot elessly
toxlcated, he was brought
the landlord.
As Mary opened the door for he*
husband and his companion. shd
knew that her secret was hers na
longer, and that by to-morrow all
the village would be informed thal
Bert Fletcher was a drunkard.
The Head Waitress
By HANK
( (
w
7HERE’S Mr. Flakes?” asked
the Steady Customer of the
Head Waitress in the Cafe
D’Er.fanl as he noticed tne 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 l 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 stop 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. 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-
SL> SHHK H
Advice to the Lovelorn By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
/
L ET a man preface a remark with
“Statistic* will show,” and he
can make the most glaring of
m!s.>tatemunts, and there Is none to
call him down.
It is the little courier of tiie learned
exaggeration. The world eves “ata -
tistlcs wi.i show," and immediately
prepares to accept what It precedes
as an uncontrovertible result of long
and studious effort
Uhauncej, Dev ere Appleton, as pres
ident of the Children's Congress, din-
played many traits of one of mature
age in spite of his seven years, oince
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
show” marked the student, and neve,
the prevarb a tor.
The child statistician, after devot-
- \r some time to a collection of pa
rental negatives, called the Children’s
Congress In special session to hear
his report.
“It Is not enough," the call read
“that we should know ourselves. \V.
must know our parents a* well.”
"I find.” he said, looking over his
glasses that a mother averages sav j
ing 'don't* *S times .« day gn 1 -.<•
that' t>4 time* It is more difficult
to get a definite report or. fathers. .
but 1 have figures that show that 49
out 50 fathers enforce the com |
mand the first time."
Here he sighed. His audiemed wig- 1
gled In their chairs, ard looked some, i
hat depressed.
“Going Into detail ir other kin
ships," he resumed "I find that j
grandmothers are 78 p«*r cent easy,!
while grandfathers vary from i!3 t> |
per cent. A spiipt*; aunt with a j
*ort heart and an independent In- >
come 97 per cent easy, and her !
favorite nephews and nieces heat the I
alcighbells of Ohristmus all the year.’ !
He was reminded of an important
discovers. “Fathers.” he said stern
ly. “In s7 per cent claim there Is no
Santa Glaus."
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 arlpe," he thundered,
“and demand full suffrage 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 finance be given to the j
child's female relatives."
Having decided by unanimous vote j
to remember that “mothers are 93 per j
' ent easy" as a daily Inspiration, the
i hiidren wriggled from their chairs
and toddled home.
Each bore In its breast a noble j
purport 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
Vtlanta Floral Company
155 EAST FAIR STREET
AS YOU THINK BEST.
Dear Mis- Fairfax:
I am invited to an automobile
outing, and we are to be a party
of twelve tsix couples).
The arrangement was that the
young lathes are to meet their
partners at aTertaln place. Now.
1 do not approve of this arrange
ment.
Do you think it right of me to
tell the young man 1 am to go
with whui l think and ask him to
call for me?
The other girls did not seem it*
have any objection.
A ’constant READER.
If you object to the plans, you cer
tainly hive tiie right to say so. BuL
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 be no impruprjety in six
girls waiting at the same place for
their escorts.
DON’T BE FAINT-HEARTED.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
1 am very much in love with
a girl two years my senior, al
though we are not engaged. When
i tak her to go t i ice of
amusement, she says she has a
date with another man. hut she
says that she t oes 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. 1 shall be convinced
your love is not very deep.
Persist in your attentions if you
want the girl. Relieve tne. my dear.
Love, like any other prize, is all the
sweeter when it is hard to win.
HE IS NOT TOO OLD.
Deai Miss Fairfax:
l am a g rl of 19 and am deeply
in love with rm sister’s widower,
who has two children who have
been put a\va\ in a home and
whom I love dearly. He is living
with us. ami lm 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
ort liis seniority they are not worth
considering.
Was he a good husband to your
sister? Is lie a good business man?
Are his morals good?
If he is the right sort of man it
seems to me it would prove a good
match for you. and mean happiness
for ins motherless children.
1 HE OWES YOU AN EXPLANATION
I )ear Miss Fai rfax:
I am a girl of 18 and have been
i keeping company with a gentle
man about m\ age and dearly
love him. He returned my love.
Now, for the past two weeks lie
has stopped speaking to me, for
reasons I do not kr. w.
Kindly advise m what to do,
as I am heartbroken.
FLORENCE.
T do not like his manner of treating \
you. As a husband he is likely to be I
even more extreme in his disagree- I
uble mood.-.
You might write a note asking if j
you have offended. Do this for Love's I
sake; for your own sake try to forget j
Him if he makes no reply. You have j
done* no wrong. Don’t be too hum- ’
tie.
HER FRIENDS.
FIND WHO ARE
Dear Mis* Fair lax
1 am in love with a girl to
whom 1 have never been intro
duced and who, I think, likes me,
because she looks at tne when
ever 1 pass her. JULIUS.
Pin your faith In love to something
j more than tiie turn of u girl’s head
l m> son. Site may look without see-
| ing you. Find who are her fr.endi
where sh< works, t here she goes
church, etc., and I am quite sure you
will find someone to introduce you.
‘t
KODAKS
Th# Brit F Mishina and Eft'ary
In* That C n Be Pr>dJ*rd "
n-cmar; Film# and row- ;
plrtr stork amstrur supt'H'*-
trf for out ' f • wr> rust-m-m |
Send for Catalog and Price L'H.
A. K. HAWKES CO.
14 Whitehall St., Atlanta, Ga.
J N DIGESTION?
Stop It quickly; Have your grocer send
you one do*, bottles of
SHIVA R
GINGER ALE
Drink with meals,
and if not prompt
ly relieved, get
your money back
at our expense.
Wholesome. deli
cious. refreshing
Pro ared with the
celebrated Shivar
Mineral Water and
the purest flavoring materials.
SHIVAR SPRING, Manufacturers
. SHELTON. S. C.
-J g L. ADAMS CO., Distributor*, Atlanta.
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
an i clear.
One box will prove how
easy it is to improve your
complexion.
Good agents wanted in ev
ery town. Write for terms.
Postpaid^ ^ £Anywhere
All Jacobs’ Stores
And Druggists Generally.
The Telephone-The Keynote
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.
Southern Bell Telephone
ss* and Telegraph Company
ii
in-4
home bji
nial expression. Why I often take au
extra piece of pie just to be able to e»
change a few more cheerful words wltb
him Who's the new manager?”
“That's Mr. Governor," said the Head
Waitress. “He’s a very nice man. to<*
That's one thing I like about Mrs. D’En*>
fant She always picks out real gents
for managers That’s what I call having
perspicattity.”
"That’s too much for me,” groaned
the Steady Customer. "I suppose you
mean perspicacity, but give me m'l
check quick. I feel faint."
y- | “Louise is getting too high brow fo
me, ' said the Steady Customer to Ma
rie. the cashier “She tried to say
perspicacity lust now and even th
beans turned cold.”
“Perspicacity in Indiana, where I con
from, is a very ordinary word,” rep.ic«
Marie loftily. “Very ordinary. I'm aur
prised at you. This way out.”
Before Her Time
Little Alice came in the house m
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 oil
it.”
v
v
T