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Society Consits of Cake and Late Hours, and Doing One's Thinking Next Day With a Piece of Leather
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AT BAY a Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers
You Can Begin This
Great Story To-day
by Reading This .
First
\ IJ N K STABS HER TORMENTOR.
parley with this man Perhaps* we
can defeat him and go In safety.”
“No. I rrniHt keep the letter." cried
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 hie guardianship of that
‘door pnd then, winged by her fear.
Mine Graham, the beautiful daugh-
fi I S District. Attorney < Jordon
■ ! rah am. Is beloved by MnptaJn l<**w
’♦■nr.- Holbrook, a soldier ol fortune, frp*
„inr'p and all-round good fellow Aline
:<tvps 1 iin. but. because of some se. ret
.ii her past she refuses to marry him
While Holbrook is at her house she i*
<*ivpi a telephone message from Judson
I'lagp a lawyer and notorious black
mailer of society Holbrook begs Aline
to tell him her secret She refuses and
makes him leave her The message
from Flagg has made her frantic, and
she final I > decides t<< go to bis house
In the meantime the reader is given a
glimpse into Flaggs den. The lawyer
s closeted with his nephew. Tommy.
*l,e onlv human being for whom be ap
pears bear any affection Congress
man Rowland's butler. Jones, calls ami
sells Flagg a letter compromising Mrs
Rowland As the butler starts to leave,
Flagg presses a button and takes a sc
- ret flashlight of th** man. He rushes
from the house in terror. Aline slip*
awhv from her home unobserved and
reaches Flagg's home. She finds the
front door open and goes to hL study
Flagg produces a letter written by Mine
to Wool worth, the man she supposed
•he hud married two years before He
reads It to her. enjoying her mental tor
ture as she hears the telltale lines In
the first part of the letter .Mine had beg
ged Wool worth not to desert her. “Do
you remember that''" asks Flagg with
a sneer Aline collapses Flagg tells
her be must have SI.000 for the letter.
Aline offers him all the money she has.
and an emerald that belonged to her
mother Flagg refuses both. He then
risults her by making love <o her
(Novelized by)
l-T,. ; the pla\ b> George Kcar-
■ Miy i w being presented at the
Thirt v-ninth Street Theater. N T ew York.
Senai rights held and copyrighted by
international News Service.)
TO DAY ’S INSTALLMENT.
•*| mean there’s a 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 pass<on; it was new horror
to pita upon the mountain high
horrors of memory and fact; it was
leering suggestion to drive Aline mad
with the fear and horror of her posi
tion in the web of the spider.
And she would not escape uri-
s a t hed
"You arc very pretty, my dear,”
went on the thing of poison breath
and foul mind. ” * * * And
mock marriages are the real thing!”
The girl winced. Her helpless
weight was falling on her hands that
lav white knuckled on the desk, her
shoulders were bowed beneath the
weight of degradation—the shame ol
being spoken to so by 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 had been only
* cloud on her sky—written to men
ace her life with each line her pen
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, j
coldly. She spoke with a breath- j
leas horror. So a man like Jud- j
•on Flagg dared to think and feel
- these things about the daugh- !
ter of Gordon Graham- about the j
woman Larry Holbrook loved——about !
Per—no. it was none of these be knew
-h1a insult was for the girl who had
-trusted Tom Wool worth.
•‘No—I’m not, You and Woolworth .
had three days together by the sea— ,
we'd have a hundred—strung through i
the year."
“There's your money—I’m going.” !
aaid tho girl.
Flagg interposed: ”Oh. no; you’re
not!”
The girl looked around her wildly.
?*he felt trapped. She knew how* mad
she had been to venture so far from
love and shelter. A force within had
impelled her. but now she was facing
horror more horrible than the burn
ing memory of those three days by
the sea Af the sacrifice of all site
had come to gain she knew she must
go. now, at once, while there was yet
time.
But from the wild moment when
she had ventured alone Into the we’o
of the master snider ;t had been too
late. Life held hours of which she
mercifully could not dream and for
Aline Graham life could never again
be the same. For every wild moment
of those three days by a summer sea
— for every mad second of those min
utes in Judaon Flagg’s den the girl
would pay. and pay full well.
“You must stop me " she cried.
Flagg had come between her and
the door, and darker than the dark
'You're Choking Me!” the Girl Managed to Articulate. Tighter, Tighter Closed the Fingers.
gloom of his own room he leered at
his victim. He blocked the only exit
she dared venture, for who knew to
what abysses of horror—to whqt
vaults and subterranean passages to
what Bluebeard chambers of grisly
token the other doors would open her
path? She must pass Flagg.
The man’s voice had lost no tone of
portent it was quiet, because
the vitality of such vampire crea
tures as Flagg permits of no wild
bursts of passion. For them emotion
must be hoarded and gloated over in
the still dark, moment by moment
A line’s terror was very precious to
her captor. He spoke in the sibilant
accent of a snake's hiss:
i'll keep the letter until you can
come to terms—pa> cash for it—or
bo friendly.”
The girl tightened the hold of her
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 fly while there was
still time for flight. And the girl
whispered to instinct: ”\V> mys.t
flee from his handicapped and evil
old age.
Flagg left the door- unguarded.
“Give it 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 rio
right to it! A letter belongs to the
writer! You never had any right to
it.”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
I AM AFRAID YOU ARE FOOLISH.
1 )ear M i ss Fa i r f;ws
I am 17 years of age and know
n young man two years my se
nior.
I
six
been
We have moved to our new store,
97 Peachtree Street.
ATLANTA FLORAL CO.
Aiwa j $ Reliable
Relief from the ailments caused
by disordered stomach, torpid
liver, irregular bowels is given
—quickly, safely, and assur- j
edly—by the tried and reliable !
have known him for the last
months and have frequently
gotng out to places of
amusement with him. Hearing
from friends and acquaintances
of his that he really loves me, I
would like to test his love myself.
1 also do not wish to devote all
my time to one as youth is still
before me. with many good
chance- 1 consider him equal
to all the gentlemen friends
T have, and not above them. Still
further I wish to know if con
tinuing to go out with him would
increase his will power over me.
<h INSTANT READER.
Why test his love when you admit
that one lover will not smi^fy you7
If he exercises a will power over
you, association with him will cer
tainly nicrease it. If you admit he
has such power, you admit you are in
danger. I think you had better give
him up.
OF COURSE.
Hear Miss Fair! Hex:
I am 17, and in love with a
young man two years my senior.
We .in- both employed in the
same place, and lie usually takes
me home and to lunch with him.
and always ap^aHed to like me
ver\ flinch
lie asks me
net rings, am
illy Mg-
to him.
BEECHAM’S CASTOR l A
PILLS
NoM **«*T*bcr«. In bexe*. 10c., 25c.
Tor Infant* and Children,
The Kind You Wm Always Bought
yf
Bears the
b.^uature ol /
and in return he gave me his
'ring. About two weeks ago 1
came in and he didn't bother to
sa\ “good morning.” and seem
ed cool toward me all (fay. Now
he doesn’t even pay attention to
me w hen I pass his desk. Do you
think l ought to ask him for my
ring” SORRY.
Get your tins 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 w fiat the different
meanings of it are? R. G.
1 am glad to say that few know the
stamp language these days. The time
is past w hen a mail 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 righting Accordingly
be pushed through the crowd and per
suaded the combatants to desist.
l-et me beg of you. my good fellows,
to settle your dispute by arbitration.
Each of you choose half a dozen friends
to arbitrate."
"Hurrah!' yelled the crowd. "Do as
j the gentleman says, boys!”
Having seen the twelve arbitrators
' selected to the satisfaction of both skies.
, Hie man of peace went on his way. re-
joh mg in the thought of having once
again prevailed upon brute force to yield
to p< , eful argument half an Hour
later he returned that way. and was
•
t:g. while in the distance police whis-
1 He.* could be heard blowing and police,
were rushing to The spot from all quar-
! tors. '
1 gracious! What is tl\e mat- .
lie peacemaker of an
Do You Know
Thai—
.yt Little Bobbie's Pa ,**
W TFF. p » *efl Ma, * have got »
a rare treet for you A littel
Bobbie I doant know about !
these rare tr®«ts of yures. ned Ma. 1
havent forgotten that county fair
that you took u» to, The time you tried
to drink up all the hard cider in the
gpoanda
This ia going to be dlPfernt, sed Fa.
This Is go ng to b * * * ood old Ger ‘
mar plcnle, the kind that we used to
ge to wen you * I was yung boys *
gurlg together. Pa eed Let us go &■
think of thorn happy days that 1s gone
beeyord reocall, sed Pa.
I will go it lit tel Bobbie A you
want to ge sed Ma. but I newer had
a wary good time at a German picnic.
Thare is always a band A thare i*
always beer, but as I don't like brass
muslek or lager I cant^bee whare the
fun will cum in. But I will go t
So we all went to the German pic
nic. It was at a lit tel plais called Ol
denburg A thare was a lot of peepul
picknicking.
Ah aod Pa, here, is my old frend
Fritz Schulte. Cum rite here. Frit*
Wife, sed Pa, allow me to present
my old frerid Fritz Schaltz.
How do you do. Mister Schultz? sed
Ma.
Miater Schultz was awful 'at. He
must have wayed three hundred
pounds.
I do all rite, he sed, aber tonight I
am sad. This afternoon it rained a
little, und the picnic almost spoiled.
The wether is luvly now. t.ho, sed
Ma. 1 am sure we are going to en
joy the evening
Always when it rains then I am
sad. sed Mister Schultz. I know it is
going to rain tomorrow, alretty, und
den 1 will be sad aggenn. My poor
cry now
brother August made himself hanged
last .September, he sed to Ma A Pa
It was raining just like this after
noon it rained August van such a
oholly fellow. Even after we found
him in der barn we saw a smile on
his face. Almost could 1
think of Augus*#
fhink of July insted A luff, sed Ma.
Life is too short to feel sad and pass
away, Ma sed. J s this yure li c tel
son ?
1 «s, it Is littel August, said Frits
Schulte. I n aimed him after ,my
brother which Is ded, alretty. He can
Play mlt yure little fellow If you vant
him to.
Pa S»iv me a dime t I took August
over to buy him a drink of lemonade.
He was a funny looking ljttel Ger- i
man bov, he wud look rite at me Sc I
doant think he was thinking about
anything at all.
I bought him sum lemonade but he
dldent like it vary good, he sed to me
Sooner wud I have beer. Not with :
me, I sed to him, I am oft the stuff.
That is what I used to heer Pa say.
I tried to talk to August about the
hoys that hs knew & about his skool Sc
about baseball, but he didVnt ceven
know who Matty was. He sed thav
had a cow naimed Mattie. He newer
eeven herd of Mister McGraw. All
he sed was Maybe it will rain to-mor- j
row. alretty, and make me sad.
Why do you get sad wen it rains? !
I sed.
I had a unkel, his naim was the j
saim as mine, sed August. He made !
himself hanged.
Then I took August back to his Pa
St. coaxed Pa to take us hoam from
the picnic. Tes, do, sed Ma, you wud
think it was a lot of Glooms out for
a time.
— WILLIAM F. KIRK.
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in New York
(From Owen Davis’ play now being pre
sented 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 machina
hone—rang.
Miss
isked
was the
"Nobody else
must pay to-
can't you? My
"Five hundred dollars, Tom! Give 1$
to me— then go! I’ll pay it some time- .
somehow—every cent!"
"Will you come with me to youi*
father. Ken? Ken, KEN. WILL YOU
COMK TO YOUR FATHER?”
In fear the boy answered—but he lit
tle knew what bis 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
but 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 made
Charles Nelson an old man! T 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 ir*
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 witl\
his daughter because she was so muot\
his. I’d thank God for him if I wer*
bis son. I would never say pr 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—big: enough to know how to for
give! That’s what I came here to tell
you, Kenneth. I wish I dared say it 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 since
the heavy load of an expensive family
that he carried uncomplainingly all these
years has been taken off his back. Why,
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.
Some People's Names
the telephone—rang.
“Hello! Who’s tyat?”
Claire hopefully.
"The room clerk, I suppose,
heart-weary answer,
wants me. He said
day.’’
The bell rang again
"You can stall him
God, what’s the good of an educa-
tion.!!!!”
"Hello—yes—ah -yes! Yes! Send
him right up!"
His voice ran the gamut of fear to
eagernesa 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’. Torn al
ways was a good fellow!"
"I’ll get out. You can do better with
him alone. Don’t he a fool now’. Ken.
Nobody has any use for a piker. IT’S
JUST AS EASY TO SAY A THOU
SAND AS A HUNDRED IF YOU HOLD
YOUR MOUTH RIGHT!”
The boy was deeply moved. Affec-
tion. home ties, never mean so much as j n -law. 1 had to be rude to a woman,
when they are altpost lost. * for j told heI . she ghoul(J have knowr ,
“It—it isn t the money I didn t think s j nc6 she wa » ‘almost hie wife ’ “
anybody cared. It isn’t the money.” | a „ very true . t 8uppo . e> Toni ._,
but what's the good now? It's ail a hit
too late,” said Ken. with a fixed glaze
(tI F a
1”
Professor Roland, of Paris, has de
vised an ingenious method of punish
ment for pupils who an* idle, turbu
lent /or undisciplined. Instead of mak
ing them remain in to write iines or do
similar tasks, he makes them walk five
miles. They ate required to induce
from their parents a certificate that the
walk lias been taken The professor is
so pleased with the results obtained that
he is recommending his methods to
other school masters.
A New Zealander has arrived in Lon
don who declares that it is impossible
to hang him. He is anxious to demon
strate his immunlt> frotn hanging in a
music hall sketch. In New Zealand, In
says, lie has 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.
In connection with the harvest fes
tival service at the parish church of
Whalton. Northumberland, the time-
honored custom of making arf<l 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
f F a man comes along w hose name
Is Smith.” said the young woman
’who was telling the story, "or
Jones, arid asks me to marry him. 1
shall accept instantly and say‘Thank
you' into the bargain! Listen to the
things that, happened to my sister
and myself on our trip est all be
cause our name is Mayburn! And be
cause Cousin Charlie's name is Dutton!
•*YVe thought it would be a clever
tiling 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. So
we telephoned from our hotel in Pasa
dena and asked if we might come
over Thursday. The sweel voiced
voung person who answ ered the phone
said Mrs. Fisk was out. but she knew
she world be delighted to see us. and
that w • must come in time for lunch
eon. She added that she was Mrs.
Fisks daughter-in-law; so. of course.
; it was all right.
‘ 'The Misses Mayburn and Mr. Dut
ton.’ we told her.
* MISTAKE.
"Thursday w e 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 is startled as we were
•• ‘isn't there a-a-ome mistake? I
stuttered. “Isn't this the P. C. Fisk
home?'
"*It is the C. P. Flak residence,
quavered the strange woman. "Gene
vieve told me the Misses Mayburn and
Mr. Dutton—-and I said it must be the
Misses Duncan and Mr. Maywood —
they're friends from San Francisco
and she said no. indeed, it was the
other way—and I thought the long
distance connection was poor and she
had misunderstood!’
“ *We must go at once,' I said heroi
cally. because l could sniff the luncn-
eon cooking, and it was evidently a
mighty good luncheon. ‘We’ll drive
to the P. U. Fisks. How did f ever
j make such a mistake?
•‘That wasn’t the sum. total of our
adventures We went to Vancouver
by boat and made friends with the
Facketts on board We were due to
visit the Dares, and the Sacketts were
going to visit some relatives in
the same locality. As the boat drew
in I thought \ saw Mr. Dare on the
• wharf, and waved and smiled at him
ten five minutes before 1 found he was
a perfect stranger, who naturalD
Mt.-d much interested in me
Tea minutes later he was being
Introduced to me by the delighted j
Sacketts together wMih his wife He
was the Sacketts’s relative—and his ]
wife was plainly suspicious of me.
But the real Mr. Dgre bobbed up,
thrust us into a cab. and. between
shaking hands and looking at his
watch, explained that he was due i
at a meeting, but that we were to go
right out to the house, where Mrs. j
Dare was eagerly awaiting us.
“‘You know’ where I live, don't
you?’ he asked the cabman when we'
dropped him at a corner. ‘Dare's
house? Sure,’ sa!d the cabman—and
hurtled along to a perfectly gorgeous 1
house set in splendid lawns, dumped
us out. slammed our trunk and suit
cases into the hall and drove off.
“Then a cool, composed trained
nurse descended on us. She was per-
fe t She said Mrs. Dare was’out for
a drive, but would be so glad to see i
us. and would we go to our room
and have te a sent up——
" ‘She can’t be out.’ I told her, me
chanically. ‘Mr. Dare said he had
phoned her that we were on our way
to the house and she was await
ing us!’
"The trained nurse wrinkled her
smooth brow and adopted a soothing
tone. Its 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
will be so annoyed at the way thex-
treated your luggage and wdli have
it attended to! Do let me order tea!'
"'Stop!' I said faintly. Sister Was
1n 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.
VER1 TIRED.
. s' .... . . /
up
wearily and phoned for a cab and got
hot and cold for fear Mrs. Darr would
return before we got out, and the
trained nurse pathetically insisted on
our having tea anyhow’—and the
Chinese, servants got our luggage
piled on the cab and w r e drove away.
“Then the cabman got lost—and
once wre passed a house where people
were having tea on the veranda, and,
behold, it was the Sacketts and the
andal-
Of course, it isn’t, dear—it’s the sen- i
timent,” said Kitty smoothly. Then she
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
coming over his eyes. "You won’t lend
me five hundred—well, what’s the us®
of all this?”
"Ken. here is the key to why I won d
had
relative with whom 1
ously flirted
"Don’t bring them here.” called the
relative's wife, who felt humorous,
now’ that she hpd her husband safV
’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 hereDThe
luncheon- is stone cold? And it was
Mrs. Dare '
past forty
ears.
ti
the rep'
iictuhs are «u work?’
'the ar-
"The superstition that if a child's
finger nails are cut it will grow up
a thief still prevails am^ig Battersea
mot Iters," says the medical officer *»i
health for Battersea.
In some cantons of Switzerland all
the dead, rich as well as poor, ale
buried at the public expense.
At Whitley. Northumberland. a
policeman laid; information against him
self for having allowed the chimney of
his house to he on fire. He proved the
case against himself successfully, and
the magistrate ordered him to pa> half
a crown toward the costs.
“Tommy. a seagull which visits
South wold every fishing season. has
been elected an honorary member of
the Southwold Sea Anglers' Society
adopted, as the society s negL.
MAIDEN MEDITATIONS.
NO MAN ever smoked one
cigar, took one drink or kissed a girl
once.
fever was able to do the
sum of his li^e over twice. He may
add a little or subtract a little, but
yesterday's reckoning isn't altered by
to-day’s numbers.
-ever knew any real joy in
giving unless it meant the forerun
net* of the joy in going without.
ever evoked a miracle un
less he thought 'lie could.
ever yoked himself to a fel
low-creature in evil without coming
to hate his teammate Kyorse than the f
deed that bound therri together.
ever was quite so accurate
in talking to ignorance as when !ih j
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 kept on loving a fool
ish woman after she was so foolish
as to try to rule him by insisting that
Mbe waa wieej* liicm he.
ever quite forgets gentle
kindness. The hand that caressed
him in childhood 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 w om
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.
—/J LI AX LAV! FLIRTY.
Superhonest.
"Sir.” said the office boy to his em
ployer. "a? you know very well that
my family is in perfect health, I ask
you to let me off this afternoon to
go to a football match.”
’’Young man.” replied the boss,
“you are entirely too hdnest. I have
my suspicions of you. You are flre4?’
dor. while Ken set the main door wide
and gazed anxiously down the hall,
waiting for his welcome bearer of home
tidings.
At last he saw Tom rounding the cor
ridor entrance—his eager w’elocme 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. 1 don’t think I will, Kenneth.”
The eager boy drew back in hurt sur
prise—but the scales of, his sorrow were
to be heaped fuller and fuller—measure
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
throw it in my waste basket at first.
Then 1 thought I would come.”
"I am in 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.
"1 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%*ou—it 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 sw’eet.
"To spend on Kitty Claire!" said Tom.
in deep scorn.
"You!” Ken jumped 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
hundreds 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, ToiTT. 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?
your sister—as you
yet.
Alice was to have been my wife until,
between you. Kitty Claire and you, you
managed to bmik 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, Torn, for money right now—right in
the dirt—or I'd do my best to kill you
for w’hat you have just said! Miss May
—or Miss Claire, as you choose to caU
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 moved by
the boy’s Innocent, ignorant, hopelessly
misplaced faith.
“Ken. my boy! I don't know what I
can say to you —it is all so hopeless.
You are like a blind man—I can't hope
to make you see! I WONDER WHAT
WILL uPLN TOUR EYEST
out of a door that led to a side corri- j S* ve Y° u what you want. Your father
is going to makq, ten times as much
money as the old firm ever made. H®
is a man who is bound to succeed when
he isn’t shamefully handicapped. BUT
AMONG YOU—YOU’VE BROKEN HI3
HP]ART! THAT’S WHY I HAVE NO
ESPECIAL SYMPATHY FOR YOU—
AND YOUR BUNGLED LIFE! THA I’.
AND THE FACT THAT ALICE CAN T
LEAVE HIM—AND SO WE ARE PAY
ING YOUR DEBT—ALICE AND I! SO
I YE NO MONEY FOR YOU. KEN*
WHILE THINGS ARp: LIKE THIS."
He turned abruptly and left the room.
Kenneth- sank into a chair—desperate,
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 tL®
room.
To Be Continued To-morrow.
SHE
OFTEN
PRAYED
TO DIE
Why, boy, J love
can't unde.Ttand the word ‘love’-
But Friend Comes to Res
cue With Some Sound Ad
vice, Which Was Follow
ed With Gratifying
Results.
Xettleton. Ark.—“My troubles date
back five years.” says Mrs. Mary
Bentley, of this town. “I was first
taken with awful pains in my right
side, headache and backache. The
pain from my side seemed to moo
down my right limb, and settled a
the right knee. Then It would mov®
back, and once a month I would al
most die with pain.
“I was told I had tumor, and wou’d
have to undergo an operation at one
It just seemed I could not submit to
it. I often prayed to die. It seemed
that nothing would give me the de
sired relief, until Anally I wa» ad
vised by a friend to try Cardul. an i
it ia undoubtedly curing me. I have
only used three and a half bottles, an?
it is a pleasure to tell of the beneflo! i
results.
“I shall ever spread the good tid
ings of what Cardul has done for m .
and will do for other suffering ladie.-
if they will only try it.”
You can depend on Cardui. because
Cardul is a gentle, harmless, vegetable
tonic, that c an do you nothing h &
good.
Prepared from herbal ingredient-
Cardul has a specific effect on th-*
womanly constitution and * P u
strength where it is most needed.
Try Cardui.
N. B Write to: ladies’ Advisor^,
Dept., ChaUar.cM ga Medicine Co.. Ch0'*
rnnooga Term . for Special Instructicr 1 *.
and M-pyge book. "Home Treatment top
Women." >ent in plain wrapper, on res
quest.—AdvL S
I