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Society Consits of Cake and Late Hours, and Doing One's Thinking Next Day With a Piece of Leather 4 U1 r a ^ VI ftp* 1 Vi [Af A r N F 1 p)A(n IT nl t Gl £0 SGI 3) J n k A Mi iw J 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