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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 © 4* T 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.