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^ Society Consits of Cai^e and Late flours, and Doing One’s Thinking Next Day With a Pi ece of Leath
er ©
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V
MAGAZINE,
AT BAY A Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers
You Can Begin This
Great Story To-day
by Reading This
First
ALINE STALK HER TORMENTOR.
Mine Graham, the beautiful daugh-
T IT. S. District Attorney Gordon
am. is beloved by Captain Law-
• • Holbrook, a soldier of fortune, free
and all-round good fellow. Aline
vcs him, but, because of some secret
11 *r past, she refuses to marry him.
\\ Mile Holbrook is at her house /he re-
\ • s a telephone message from Judson
e, a lawyer and notorious black -
r11.i il• r of society. Holbrook begs Aline
11 him her secret. She refuses and
s him leave her. The message
Flagg has made her frantic, and
finally deckles to go to his house.
In the meantime the reader is given a
t ■ y. pse into Flagg's den. The lawyer
< closeted with his nephew’. Tommy,
. only human being for whom lie ap
pears to bear any affection. Congress-
in Rowland's butler. Jones, calls and
, Flagg a letter compromising Mrs.
'.owiand. As the butler starts to leave,
i'iagg presses a button and takes a se-
flashlight of the man. He rushes
from the houge in terror. Aline slips
awa\ from her home unobserved and
reaches Flagg’s home. She finds tlie
front door open and goes to his study.
Flagg produces a letter written by Aline
• Woolworth, the man she supposed
> o had marriecL t wo years before, l ie
reads it to her, enjoylng her mental tor-
turc as she hears the telltale lines. In
Em first part of the letter Aline had beg
ged Woolworth not to desert her. “Do
ii remember that?’’ asks Flagg with
a sneer.. Aline collapses. Flagg tells
her he must have $1,000 for the letter.
Mine offers him all the money she lias,
an emerald that belonged to her
mother. Flagg refuses both. He then
Its her by making love to her.
Now Read On
HI!
(From the play by George Scar
borough, now being presented at the
Thirty-ninth Street Theater, New York.
Serial rights held and copyrighted fry
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“I mean there’s S way to get it.”
The leering face leaned closer across
the desk. A new expression was com
ing into the crafty eye; it was un
masked passion; it was new horror
to pile upon the mountain high
horrors of memory and fact; it was
leering suggestion to drive Aline mac!
with the fear and horror of her posi
tion in the web of the spider.
And she would not escape un
scathed.
"You arc very pretty, my dear,”
went on the thing of poison breath
;ind foul mind. “ * * * And
nimk marriages are the real thing!”
The girl winced. Her helpless
eight was falling on her hands that
tv white knuckled on the desk, her
shoulders were, bowed beneath the
weight of degradation—the shame of
being spoken to sovby any man—but
most shameful of all to become the
creature desired by this venomous
spider creature. And still he went
on with his offer'of horrible com
promise—the price of a pink letter—
written when sorrow held been only
a cloud on her sky—written to men
ace her life with each line her pen j
had traced in forming the words on
the pink schoolgirl sheets.
“You—you’re a young person of ex
perience—we could be friends!”
“You’re mistaken,” said Aline,
coldly. She spoke, with a breath
less horror. So a man like Jud- j
son Flagg dared to think and feci ,
—these things about the daugh
ter of Gordon Graham-—about the;
woman Larry Holbrook loved—about
her—no, It was none of these he knew
—his insult was for the girl who had |
—trusted Tom Woolworth.
“No—I’m not. You and Woolwortli
had three days together by the sea
we'd have a hundred—strung through
the year.”
“There’s your money—I’m going,”
said the giri.
Flagg Interposed: “Oh, no; you’re
not!”
The girl looked around her wildly.
She felt trapped. She knew how mad
she had been to venture so far from
love and shelter. A force within had
impelled her, out now she was facing
horror more horrible than the burn
ing memory of those three days by
the sea. At the sacrifice of all she
had come to gain she knew she must
po. now, at once, while-there was yet
time.
Rut from the wild moment when
fi he had ventured alone Into the web
of the master spider—it had been too
late Life held hours of which she
mercifully could not dream—and for
Aline Graham life, could never again
ho the same. For every wild moment
of those three days by a summer sea
"'for every mad second of those min-
utes in Judson Flagg’s den-—the girl
1 Id pay, and pay full well.
"You must stop me,” she cried.
Flagg had come between her and
the door, and darker than the dark
parley with this man. Perhaps we
can defeat him and go in safety.”
"No. I must keep the letter.” crjed
the girl in desperate determination.
She doubled around the table like
the hunted thing she must become.
If only she could draw him for one
second from his guardianship of that
door and then, winged by her fear,
,< Little Bobbie’s Pa ,<
W'
IFE. Pa sed to Mt, I have got
a rare treat for you A littel
Bobbie. I doant know about
theee rare treats of yurea, sed Ma. I
havent forgotten that county fair
that you took ue to, the time you tried
to drink up all the hard cider In the
grounds.
Thie ia going to be differnt. sed Pa.
This la going to be a good old Ger
man picnic, the kind that we used to j a " ay * *ed. J» this yure llttel
go to wen you A I was yung boys A 8on '
gurls together. Pa »ed Let us go A
brother August made himself hanged
last September, he ae<i to Ma A p a .
It was raining Just like this after
noon It rained. August vsa such a ;
oh oil y fellow. Even after we found
him In der barn we saw a smile on
his face. Almost could I cry now to i
think of August.
Think of July Ir-.-d i laff. .ad Ma. I
Uf« la too short to feel sad and pass
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in New York
[Novelized byl
think of them happy days that is gone
beeyond reecall, sed Fa
I will go if llttel Bobbie A you
want to go. sed Ma, but I newer had
a vary good time at a German picnic.
Thare is always a band A thare is
always beer, but as I don’t like brass
musiek or lager I cant see whare the
fun will cum In. But I will go.
So we all went to the German pic
nic. It was at a llttel plais called Ol
denburg A thare was a lot of peopul
plcknicklng.
Ah sed Pa, here is my old frend
Fritz Schultz. Cum rite here. Fritz.
Wife, sed Pa, allow me to present
my old frend Fritz Schultz.
How do you do. Mister Schultz? sed
Ma.
Mister Schultz was awful fat. He
must have wayed three hundred
pounds.
I do all rite, he sed. aber tonight 1
am sad. This afternoon It rained a
little, und the picnic almost spoiled.
The wether is luvly now. tho, sed
Ma. I am sure we are gding to en
joy the evening
I Always when it rains then I am
sad. sed Mister Schulte I know It is
going to rain tomorrow, alretty, und
den I wiil be sa^ aggenn. My poor
Yes. It Is llttel August. said Frits
Schultz. I nalmed him after .my
brother which I. ded. alretty. He can
Play mlt yure little fellow If you va„t
him to.
(From Owen Davis' play now being pre
Rented at the Playhouse, New York, by
William A. Brady.—Copyright, 1913, by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT
“Try!” exclaimed Kitty. angrily.
. Before she could go on In her
arraignment of masculine failure to'
“provide" the little deus ex machlna—
Pa galv me a dime * I took August ,he t « ,e * ,hon6-ran *
over to buy him a drink of iemon.d. }\* 0 ’ a th,,? " “ k ' d M '“
lie B . QO , , v*muo. Claire hopefully.
, nny 00 11 ■■ Gar- “The room clerk, I suppose,’’ was the
man boy. he wud look rita at ma A I
doant think he was thinking about
anything at all.
1 bought him sum lemonade but he
dldent like It vary good, he sed to me
I Sooner wud I have beer. Not with
me, J sed to him, I am off the stuff.
That is what I used to heer Pa say.
I tried to talk to August about the
boys that he knew & about his skool &
about baseball, but he dldent eeven
know who Matty was. He sed thay
had a cow nalmed Mattie. He newer
eeven herd of Mister MeOraw. All
he sed was Maybe It will rain to-mor
row, alretty. and make me sad.
Why do you get sad wen It .rains?
I sed.
1 had a unkel, his naln. was the
ssim as mine, sed August. He made
himself hanged.
Then I took August back to his Pa
& coaxed Pa to take us hoam from
the picnic. Yes, do, sed Ma. you wud
think It was a lot of Glooms out for
a time.
— WILLIAM F. KIRK.
Some People's Names
,,yFaman comes along whose name | In t rodured to me by the delighted
I |a « Ih. vnuna woman Sackstts logether with his wife H
‘ You’re Choking Me!’’ the Girl Managed to Articulate. Tighter, Tighter Closed the Fingers.
gloom of his own room lie leered at
his' victim. He blocked the only exit
she dared venture, for who knew to
what abysses of horror—-to what
vaults and subterranean passages.—to
what Bluebeard chambers of grisly
token the other doors would t>pen her
path? She must pass Flagg.
The man’s voice had lost no tone of
its evil portent—it was quiet, because
the vitality of such vampire crea
tures as Flagg permits of no wild
bursts of passion. For them emotiort
must be hoarded—and gloated over in
the still dark, moment by moment.
Aline’s terror was very precious to
her captor. He spoke in the sibilant
accent of a snake’s hiss: -v ’
“I’ll keep the letter until you can
come to terms—pay cash for it—or
be friendly.”
The girl tightened the 'hold of hgr
cold fingers on that pink mist of evil
—that cloud that was bringing such
storm about her head. Holding her
sad little letter to Tom Woolworth,
her faithless lover of six years gone
by—she took one backward step. In*
stinct pulled her from Judson Flagg.
Instinct bade her fiy while there was
still time for flight. And the girl
whispered to instinct: “We must
flee from bis handicapped and evil
old age.
Flagg left the door—unguarded.
“Give k to me,” he cried in bitter
anger.
The girl kept up her retreat—fur
ther and further from the menacing
creature—away from the door—that
would be a bulwark of safety for
Aline.
►Still she retreated.
' No! It's mine! You have no
right to it! A letter belongs to tlie
w riter! You never mad any right to
it.”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
Smith.” said the young woman
who was telling the story, “or
Jones, and asks me to marry him. I
shall accept instantly and say ’Thank
you’ Into the bargain! Listen to the
things that happened to my sister
and myself on our trip West all be-
! ^ause iur name is Mavburn! And be
cause Cousin Charlie's name is Dutton!
“We thought it would be a clever
. thing to stop In and see the Fisks
who live In Los Angeles, and have
wasted reams of paper and gallons of
ink Imploring us to visit them
we telephoned from our hotel In Pasn-
! dena and asked if we might come
i over Thursday. The sweet - voiced
young person who answered the phone
said Mrs. Fisk was out, but she knew
she would be delighted to see us, and
that we must come In time for lunch
eon. She added that she war Mrs.
Fisk s daughter-in-law; so, of course,
it was all right.
“ The Misses Mayburn and Mr Dut
ton,' we told her.
A MISTAKE.
“Thursday we drove up to the Fisk
house, and daughter-in-law flew out
to the curb and greeted us rapturous
ly, trying in the cordial way of the
West to make us strangers feel en
tirely at home. Greatly cheered, we
tramped in—and were greeted by an
absolutely strange wjman who was
just as startled as we were.
“ ‘Isn’t there s-s-ome mistake?’ I
stuttered, “isn’t this the P. C. Fisk
home?’
“‘It is the C. P. Fisk residence,’
quavered the strange woman. “Gene
vieve told me the Misses Mayburn and
Mr. Dutton—and 1 said it must be the
was the Sacketts’
wife was plainly
But the real Mr.
thrust us into a
relative—and his
suspicious of me.
Dare bobbed up,
?ab, and, between
heart-weary answeer “Nobody else
wants me. He said I must pay to
day.”
The bell rang again
“You can stall him, can’t you? My
God. what's the good of an educa
tion!! !!’’
"Hello—yes—ah—yes! Yes! Send
him right up!”
His vnice ran the gamut of fear to
eagerness and finished with a note of
actual joy as he turned to Kitty and
said, “It’s Tom Harding."
“Good!”
The boy almost broke down.
“The first one of them that has come
to see me all this long week! The first
one of my own people."
“Hurray! The luck has turned, Ken!”
“Yes—he's a good fellow. Tom al
ways was a good fellow’’'
"I’ll get out. You can do better with
him alone. Don’t be a fool now, Ken.
Nobody has any use for a piker. IT’S
JUST AS EASY TO SAY A THOTJ-
8 1ND as \ HUNDRED IF Yur HOLD
YOUR MOUTH RIGHT!’’
The boy was deeply moved. Affec
tion, home ties, never mean so much as
when they are almost lost,
i “It it isn’t the money—I didn’t think
I anybody cared. It Isn't the money.”
"(Tf course, it isn’t, dear—It’s the sen-
; timent,” said Kitty smoothly. Then she
I hardened to practical values again the
thought of money had softened her
voice to a semblance of its old sweet
ness. “But. Ken. a little of both helps.'*
Blowing him a kiss, she let herself
I out of a door that led to a side corri-
| dor. while Ken set the main door wide
and gazed anxiously down the hall,
shaking hands and looking at his
watch, explained that he was due I waiting for his welcome hearer of home
at a meeting, but that we were to go
right out to the house, where Mrs.
Dare was eagerly awaiting us.
“‘You know wherq I live, don't
you?' he asked the cabman when we
dropped him at a corner. ’Dare's
house? Sur:e r ' said the cabman and
hurtled along to a perfectly gorgeous
house set in splendid lawns, dumped
Bo 1,8 out - slammed our trunk and suit
cases into the hall arid drove off.
“Then a cool, composed trained
nurse descended on us. She was per
fect. She said Mrs. Dare was out for !
a drive, but would be so glad to s
our room |
We have moved to our new store,
D7 Peachtree Street.
ATLANTA FLORAL CO.
Relief from the ailments caused
by disordered stomach, torpid
liver, irregular bowels is given
—quickly, safely, and assur
edly—by the tried and reliable
BEECHAM’S
Sold everywhere. In boxc», 10c., 25c.
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
I AM AFRAID YOU ARE FOOLISH,
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 17 years of age and know
a young man two years my se
nior. '
I have known him for the last
six months and have frequently
been going out to place#? of
amusement with him. Hearing
from friends and acquaintances
of his that he really loves me,®I
would like to test his love myself.
I also do not wish to. devote all
my time to one as youth Is still
before ire, with many good
chances. I consider him equal
to all the gentlemen friends
I have, and not above them. Still
further I wish to know if con
tinuing to go out with hlm^would
increase his will power over me.
(:ONSTA NT REA DER.
Why test his love when you admit
that one lover will not satisfy you?
Tf he exercises a will power over
you, association with him will cer
tainly nlerease It. If you admit he
has such power, you admit you are in
danger. I think you had better give
him up.
OF COURSE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 17. and in love with a
young man two years my senior.
Wo are both employed in the
same place, and he usually takes
me home and to lunch with him,
and always appeared to like me
very much.
He asks me for one of my sig
net rings, and I gave it to him.
and in return he gave i
ring. About two weeks
le his
ago I
came in and he didn’t botheV* to
say “good morning,” and seem
ed eoor toward me all day. Now
he doesn’t even pay attention to
me when I pass his desk. Do you
think I ought to ask him for my
ring? SORRY.
Get your ring, and never again
make such an exchange unless a
marriage engagement warrants it.
A DEAD LANGUAGE.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
Is there any such thing as
stamp language? If so, will you
tell me just what the different
meanings of it are? R. G.
I am glad to say that fen know the
stamp language these days. The time
is past when a man or maid told his
or her love by pasting a postage
stamp upside down.
Don’t try to learn it. my dear It
is a waste of mental effort and time
Hard at Work.
He was a member of the Peace So
ciety, and he came across two youths
in a back street fighting. Accordingly
he pushed through the crowd and per
suaded the combatants to desist.
“Let me beg of you, my good fellows,
to settle your dispute by arbitration.
Each of you choose half
t«\ arbiiraie.”
"Hurrah!”
Do You Know
That—
Professor Roland,'* of Paris, has de
vised an ingenious method of punish- \
ment for pupils who are idle, turbu
lent or undisciplined. Instead of mak
ing them remain in to write iines or do
yelled the crowd,
boys!"
dozen friends
Do as
i the gentleman says,
; Having seen the twelve arbitrators
CASTORIA
Tor Infants and Children.
TSie Kind Yen Have Always Bought
/?
Bears the onlooker.
Si/pature of bUr ^s‘
selected to the satisfaction of both sides,
»he man of peace went on his way, re
joicing In the thought of having once
j again prevailed upon brute force to yield
j to peaceful argument. Half an hour
| later he returned that way, and was
i horrified to find the whole street light
ing. while in the distance police whis
tles could be heard blowing and police
were rushing to the spot from all quar
ters.
“pood gracious! What is the mat-
| ter' now?” asked the peacemaker of an
the ar-
sorr," was the reply,
are at work!”
stance connection was poor and she
had misunderstood!’
" We must go at once.’ I said heroi
cally, because I could sniff the lunch
eon cooking, and it was evidently a
mighty good luncheon. ‘We’ll drive
to the P. C. Fisks. How did I ever
make such a mistake!’
‘That wasn’t the sum total of our
adventures. We went to Vancouver
by boat and made friend* with the
Sacketts on board. We were due to
similar tasks, he makes them walk five viglt the Dares, and the Sacketts were
milps. They are required to produce ,, 0 | n g to visit some relatives In
from their parents a certificate that the I the same locality. A« the boat drew
walk has been taken. The professor is ' in I thought I saw Mr. Dare on the
so pleased with the results obtained that wharf, and waved and «miled at him
ho is recommending his methods to for ^ ve minutes before I found he was
other schoolmasters. a perfect stranger, who naturally
| scorned much interested in me.
A New Zealander has arrived in Lon- [ “Ten minutes later he was being
don who declares that it Is impossible | —
to hang him. He is Anxious to demon
strate his immunity from hanging in a
music hail sketch. Kp New Zealand, he
says, he lias given a practical demon
stration of his ability. The Governor
of one of the jails there lent him the
orthodox tackle and he promptly showed
how easy it was to hang on a gallows
without injury.
us, and would w« go
and hav* te a sent up—
” ‘She can’t be out,’ I told her, me
chanically. ‘Mr. Da r e said ii* had
phoned her that we were on our way
to the house and sh* was await
ing us!’ »
Tii© trained- nurse wrinkled her
smooth brow and adopted a soothing
tone. ‘It’s the first time.’ she ex
plained. ‘that she has been driving
since the baby came. It is three
weeks old and a darling! I know she
wiil be so annoyed at the way they
treated your luggage and will have
it attended to! Do let me order tea!’
•’’Stop!’ I said faintly. Sister was
!n a state of collapse against an un
feeling bronze. 'Mr. Dare is a Joker
— but he wouldn’t go as far as that.
Isn’t this the Dare house?’
“‘It is the Darr residence,’ said the
trained nurse.
VBR1 TIRED.
"Then we picked ourselves up
wearily and phoned for a cab and got
Misses Duncan, and Mr. Maywood— hot and cold for fear Mrs. Darr would
they’re friends from Han Francisco— * return before we got out and the
she said no. indeed, it was the tra ^ d nurge pathetically insisted
other way—and I thought the Jong L \. t ,nsiHleu
t , four having tea anyhow—and
Chinese servants
tidings.
At last he saw Tom rounding the cor
ridor entrance—his eager welocme bub
bled to his lips*
“Tom! This way! How are you, old
man? I’m awfully glad to see you,
Tom awfully. Jove, this Is something
like—not just a friend, but a brother.
You haven’t shaken hands yet, Tom.”
“No, I don’t think I will, Kenneth.”
The eager boy drew back in hurt sur
prise—but the scales of his sorrow were
j to be heaped fuller and fuller—measure
on
the
got our luggage
piled on the cab and we drove away.
“Then the cabman got lost and
once we passed a house where people
were having tea on the veranda, and,
behold, it was the Sacketts and the
relative with whom 1 had scandal
ously flirted.
“Don’t bring them here ’^called the
relative's wife who felt humorous,
now that she had her husband sa'e
Don't bring them here! They tried
to get my husband.’
“While we laughed feebly and hol
lowly. we heard a great commotion
half a block down. A woman lean
ing perilously over a veranda rail
was shrieking ‘Bring them here! The
luncheon is stone cold!’ And it was
Mrs. Dare"*
In connection with the harvest fes
tival service at the parish church of
Whalfon, Northumberland, the' time-
honored custom of making and exhibit
ing “The Kern Babby” was observed.
“The Babby” is made of wheat and
dressed in the prevailing fashions and
forms the pivot of the decorations. It
has been made by one family for the
past forty years.
"The superstition Hhat if a child’s
finger nails are cut it will grow up
a. thief still prevails among Battersea
mothers,” says the medical officer of
health for Battersea.
In some cantons of Switzerland all
the dead, rich as well as poor, are
buried at the public expense.
At Whitley, Northumberland, a
policeman laid information against him
self for having allowed the chimney of
his house to be on fire. He proved the
case against himself successfully, and
Hu- magistrate ordered him to pay half
a crown toward the costs.
“Tommy,” a seagull which visits
Southwold every fishing season, has
been elected an honorary member of
the Southwold Sea Anglers’ Society,
und adopted as the society's crest.
© # Tabloid* Tales %
MAIDEN MEDITATIONS.
NO MAN -ever smoked one
cigar, took one drink or kissed a girl
once.
ever was able to db the
sum of his life over twice. He may
add a little or subtract a little, but
yesterday’s reckoning isn’t altered by
to-day's numbers.
——ev^r knew any real Joy in
giving unless it meant the forerun
ner of the Joy in going without.
-ever evoked a miracle un
less he thought he could.
ever yoked himself to a fel
low-creature In evil without coming
to hate his teammate worse than the
deed that bound them together.
ever was quite so accurate
in talking to ignorance as when he
knew that he had an audience that
could judge him.
ever loved twice—alike, for
the gypsy and the saint \wake differ
ent beings to life in his heart.
ever quite forgets gentle
kindness. The hand that caressed
him in childhopd will meet with a
kindly grip from him years after
ward.
-can tell the exact opinion
his dog holds of his master's wisdom.
ever walled his life by any
thing but the farthest horizon he
could see or failed to see why a wom
an should confine her world within
the four walls of a home.
Nobody believed Cassandra and
no prophet of evil ever won half the
listeners that the flatterer who says
“all’s serene” can gain.
—LILIAN LAUFFERTY.
• Superhonest.
“Sir,'’ said the office boy to his em
ployer. “as you know very well that
my family is in perfect health, I ask
you to let trie off this afternoon to
——-ever kept on loving a fool- j go to a football match.”
ish woman after she was so foolish j “Young man.” replied the boss,
as try to rule him by insisting that 1 "you are entirely too honest. 1 have
she w’as wiser tha£ he. my suspicions of you. You are fired.”
upon measure. The Joyously welcomed
visit of Tom Harding had Just begun!
“I got your letter Kenneth. I did not
mention it to Alice. I was going to
4hrow it in iny waste basket at first.
Then I thought I would come."
“I am ill trouble, Tom. An awful
mess! We have been friends always
and ’*
“I won't lend you money!”
“Tom, I’ve got to have It!” The boy’s
voice was taking on a note of plead
ing This was no time, he thought, for
false pride.
"I couldn’t If I wanted to-and I
don't,” said Tom, implacably.
“I want you to lend me five hundred
dollars. It's nothing to you—If wouldn’t
have been much to me once, but it’s—
it's—everything right now.’’ The boy
tried to keep his voice steady. But this
was his last hope—it meant so much-—
he had rejoiced—had built so much on
the fact of Tom’s visit. Kitty had been
so hopeful—and sweet.
“To spend on Kitty Claire!’’ said Tom,
in deep scorn.
“You!” Ken juihped forward fiercely
—then by a great effort controlled him
self. Necessity is the mother of tact!
“No! No! I’ll swallow that, Tom.
A fellow learns to swallow a lot when
h’s down!''
Some Truths.
“THEN GET UP,” said Tom, sternly.
“I will, If you ”
“Hold on! I would give a lot of five
nundreds to see you where you belong—
on your knees before your father. But
I won’t give you five cents to spend on
a woman like this.”
“Don’t, Tom. please—you don’t un
derstand, Kitty May is ”
“Kenneth, I understand all too well
just what your Kitty May is! I under
stand too well what her damnable spell
is making of you! Haven’t I suffered
for the skeleton in your cupboard?
I Why, boy, I love your sister—as you
can’t understand the word 'love’—yet.
Alice was to have been my wife until,
between you, Kitty Claire and you, you
managed to break up your family and
| make Alice so ashamed of her name
that she is even afraid to exchange it
for mine!”
Ken ceased his tone of pleading
Pride—false pride—came to the rescue,
and, like the foolish young Chevalier
Bayard he was for a worthless woman’s
sake, he became stern and strong.
There was a fine strain In the boy—If
only a good woman had strengthened
that mere strain to warp and woof and
fiber of fineness and strength.
“That’s enough! I’m groveling to
you, Tom. for money right now—right In
the dirt—or I’d do my best to kill you
for what you have Just said! Miss May
—or Miss Claire, as you choose to call
her-has lived here for five weeks in
the very next apartment as much re
spected by me—I swear to that—as my
sister is by you.”
^’Ken!” said Tom, deeply rrioved by
the boy’s innocent, ignorant, hopelessly
misplaced faith.
"Ken. my boy! I don’t know what I
can say to you -it i* all so hopeless
You are like a blind man—I can’t hope
to make you t?ee! I WONDER WHAT
WILL OPEN YOUR EYES?’*
“Five hundred dollars, Tom! Glv* it
to me—then go! I’ll pay It some tlm*—
somehow—.every cent!”
“Will you come with me to your
father. Ken? Ken. KEN. WILL YOU
COME TO YOUR FATHER?”
In fear the hoy answered—but he lit
tle knew what his prophecy meant.
“You don’t know what you are ask
ing! I couldn’t go to him—and nothing
would ever bring him to me! Nothing
hut death!” he added in an awe-struck
undertone.
“Ken! I know this much! Some
thing happened between you here In
this room that day that has mad*
Charles Nelson an old man! I don’t
know what it was. I don’t want to
But this I do know—he will forgive
you.”
“He couldn’t!” murmured Ken In
nightmare horror of that blow that
haunted him now—waking or sleeping.
“You've got him wrong. Ken, you and
your mother. I know him. Worked
with him for years—fell In love with
his daughter because she was so much
his. I’d thank Go^ for him If I were
his son. I would never say or feel that
this man had done one wrong thing in
his life. I’d say—he’s a man—a # very
human man—big enough to be for
given—hi* enough to know how to for
give! That’s what I came here to tell
you, Kenneth. I wish I dared say 1t to
your mother—although—take it from
me—he’s better off without either one
of you!”
“Perhaps. I don’t know. Perhaps.
Tom, it all seems wrong - and hopeless,
somehow."
“He's been doing a man's work sine*
the heavy load of an expensive family
that he carried uncomplainingly all these
years has been taken off his back. W'hy,
Ken. when I didn’t suspect his money
troubles, although I was his partner,
your mother reproached me for my
ignorance because I was almost his son-
in-law. I had to be rude to a woman,
for I told her she should have known
since she was ’almost his wife.' “
“It’s all very true, I suppose, Tom —
but what’s the good now? It’s all a bit
too late,’’ said Ken. with a fixed glaze
coming over his eyes. “You won’t lend
me five hundred -well, what’s the use
of all this?”
"Ken. here !■ the key to why I won’t
give you what you want. Tour father
is going to make ten times as much
money as the old firm ever made. Ha
is a. man who Is hound to succeed when
he Isn’t shamefully handicapped. BUT
AMONG YOU—YOU’VE BROKEN H18
HEART! THAT’S WHY I HAVE NO
ESPECIAL. SYMPATHY FOR YOU—
AND YOUR BUNGLED LIFE! THAT,
AND THE FACT THAT ALICE CAN’T
LEAVE HIM—AND SO WE ARE PAY-
ING YOUR DEBT—ALICE AND I! SO
I’VE NO MONEY FOR YOU. KEN,
WHILE THINGS ARE LIKE THIS!"
He turned abruptly and left the room.
Kenneth sank Into a chair—desperats,
his last hope gone, his last home tie
cut—and all for Kitty Claire.
Kitty Claire had kept her word: "I'll
get you. Charlie, If It’s the last thing
I ever do!”
There was a timid knock at the door.
Kenneth remained sunk In despair. An
other knock. Then the door opened
gently—and Mary Burk stepped Into the
room.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
SHE
OFTEN
PRAYED
TO DIE
But Friend Comes to Res
cue With Some Sound Ad
vice, Which Was Follow
ed With Gratifying
Results.
Nettleton. Ark.—"My troubles date
back five years.” says Mrs. Mary
Bentley, of this town. "I wag first
taken with awful pains In my right
side, headache and backache. The
pain from my side seemed to move
down my right limb, and settled !n
the right knee. Then It wtfuld move
back, gnd once a month I would al
most die with pain. ^
"I wns told I had tumor, and won’d
have to undergo an operation at onci.
It Just seemed I could not submit to
If. I often prayed to die. It seemed
that nothing would give me the de
sired relief, until finally I wa* ad
vised by a friend to try Cardtii, and
it Is undoubtedly curing me. I have
only used three and a half bottles, and
it is a pleasure to tell of the beneficial
results
”1 shaft erer spread the good tid
ings of what Oardul has done for mo,
and will do for other suffering ladles,
If they will only try it.”
You can depend on Cardul, because
Cardui Is a gentle, harmless, vegetable
tonic, that cari do you nothing bul
good.
Prepared from herbal ingredients,
Cardul has a specific effect on th9
womanly constitution and puis
strength where it is most needed.
Try Cardul.
N. R. Write to: Ijadles’ Advisory
Dept . Chattancga Medicine Co., Chat
tanooga Tenn . for Special I natructlone,
and 64-page hook, “Home Treatment for
Women,'’ sent in plain wrapper, on re
quest.—Advt.