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AT BAY . I Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers
Little Bobbie's Pa .<£
You Can Begin This
Great Story To-day
by Reading This
First
AUXK STABS HER TORMENTOR
parley with this man Perhaps we
can defeat him and go in safety.”
"No. I must keep the letter." cried
the girl in desperate determination.
She doubled around the table like
the hunted thin*? she must become.
If only she could draw' him for one
second from his guardianship of that
door and then, winded by her fear.
ful dauirh
er -,f r R District Attorney Gordo?
Rrah&ni, Is beloved by Captain Iaiw
rence Holbrook, a soldier of fortune, free
lance and all-round Rood fellow- Aline
loves him, but, because of some secret
in her past she refuses to marry him
While Holbrook is at her house she re
reives a telephone message from Judeon
Flagg a lawyer and notorious Mack ,
mailer of society. Holbrook begs Aline [
to tell him her secret. She refuses and
makea him leave her The message ;
from Flagg has made her frantic, and
she finally decides to go to hla house
In the meantime the reader is given a
alimpae Into Flagg's den The lawyer
is cfoaeted with hia nephew, Tommy,
the only human being for whom he ap
pears to hear any aneetlon Congress
man Rowland’s butler. Jones, calls and
sells Flagg a letter com promising Mrs
Rowland As the butler starts to leave.
Flagg presses n button and takes a re
cret flashlight of the man. He rushes
from the house In terror Aline slips
away from her home unobserved and
reaches Fiagg’s home She finds the
front door open and goes to his study
Flagg produces a letter written by Aline
to Woolworth. the man she supposed
she had 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 Allnt had beg
ged Woolworth not to desert her. "Do
you remember that*’* asks Flagg with
a sneer. Aline collapses Flagg tells
her he must have $1 000 for the letter
Aline offers him all the money she has.
and an emerald that belonged to her
mother Flagg refuses both. He then
insults her by making love to her
Now Read On
n m f
(Novsllstd by>
(From the May by George bear .
borough, now being presented at the
Thlrt) ninth Street'Thsatsr, New York.
Herial rights held and copyrighted by ;
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“I 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 eyej 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 mad •
with the fear and Horror of her posi- |
tion in the web of the spider.
And She would not escape un
scathed
"You are 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
lay white knuckled on the desk, her
shoulders were bowed beneath the
weight of degradation—the. shame of
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
a 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 oould be friends!”
"Yofl’re mistaken.” said Aline,
coldly. She spoke with a breath
less horror. So a man like Jud
eon Flagg dared to think and feel
—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 i
—trusted Tom Woolworth.
“No—I’m not. You and Woolworth
had three days together by the sea-
wed have a hundred- strung through j
the year "
"There’s your money—I'm going,” |
said the girl.
Flagg interfused: "Oh, no; you’re
not!”
The girl looked around her wildly
She felt trapped. She knew how mad-
she had been to venture so for 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. At the sacrifice of all she
had come to gain she knew she must
go. now, at once, while there was yet
time.
Rut from the wild moment w'hen
she 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 Mfe coulff never again
be the same For every wild moment
of those three days by a summer sea
—for even,- mad second of those min
utes in Judson 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
W IFE Pa ..d to Ma,*I hav. rot
a rare treet for you * llttel
Bobble I doant know about
the*. rare treete of yurea, »«d Mi I
hav.nt forgotten that county fair
that you took u. to. the time you tried
to drink up all the hard cider In the
groands
This is going to he dlffernt, sed Pa.
This is going to be a good old Ger
man picnic, the kind that we used to
go to wen you A I was yung boys A
gurls together. Pa a«d Let us go A
think of them happy days that is gone
beeyond reecall, sed Pa.
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, bat as I don't like brass
muslok or lager I cant see whare the
fun will cum in. »ut I will go.
Bo we all went to the German pic
nic. It wae at a llttel pl&ls called Ol
denburg A thare was a lot of peepul
picknicklng.
Ah sed Pa, here is my old frend
Fritz Schultz. Cum rite here. Frits.
Wife, sed Pa. allow me to present
old frend Fritz Schalts.
How do you do. Mister Schultz? sed
Ma
Mister Schultz was awful 4 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. tho, sed
Ma. I 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
brother August made himself hanged
last September, he sed to Ma & Pa.
It W»e raining lust like thla after
noon It rained. August vae auch a
eholly fellow. Even after we found
him In der barn we aaw «T smile on
hie face. Almoet could I cry now to
think of August
Think ef July lneted & laff, eed Ma.
Life le too short to feel sad and pass
away, Ma sed. Ie this yure llttel
eon?
Yes. It Is llttel August, said Frits
Schults. I n aimed him after ,my
brother which Is ded. alreAy. He can
play mu yure little fellow If you vant
him to.
p » gaiv me a dime A I took August
over to buy him a drink of lemonade.
He wae a funny looking llttel dor-
man boy, he wud look rite at me A 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 aay.
I tried to talk to August about the
boys that he knew A about hla skool &
about baseball, but he dident eeven
know who Matty wae. He eed thay
had a cow nalmed Mattie. He newer
eeven herd of Mister McGraw. All
he sed wae Maybe It will rain to-mor.
row, alretty, and make me sad.
Why do you get sad wen it rains?
I sed.
I had a unkel, his nalm was the
saim 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 Grlooms out for
a time.
— WILLIAM F. KIRK.
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in Hew York
“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 what
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
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 emotion
must he hoarded—and gloated over in
the still dark, moment by moment.
Aiine’s terror was very precious to
her captor. He spoke in the sibilant
atcent of a snake’s hiss:
“I’ll keep the letter until you can
come to terms—pay cash for It—or
be friendly."
The girl tightened the hold of her
cold fingers on t,fcnt pink mist of evil
—that cloud thkt 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: “We must
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 no
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.
We have moved to our new store,
97 Peachtree Street.
ATLANTA FLORAL CO.
Always Reliable
Relief from the ailments caused
by disordered stomach, torpid
liver, irregular bowels is given
S iuickly, safely, and assur-
y—by the tried and reliable
BEECHAM’S
PILLS
^ la tosss, 10«., 2Sc. J
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 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.
I also do not wish to devote all •
my time* to one as youth is still
before me, with many good
chances. 1 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 him would
increase his will power over me.
CO NST A XT R FA DBR
Why test his love when you admit
that one lover will not satisfy you?
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.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 17, and in love with a
young man two years my senior.
We 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 mv sig
net rings, and 1 gave it to him,
and in return he gave me his
ring. About two weeks ago I
came in and he didn't bother to
say "good morning.” and seem
ed cool 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.
1 am glad to say that few' 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
CASTOR IA
For Infants and Children.
The Kind You Have Always Bought
Bbars the
Signature of
Hard at Work.
He w'as a member of the Peace So
ciety, and he came across two youths
In a back street righting. Accordingly
he pushed through the crowd and per
suaded the combatants to desist.
"Ieet 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
the gentleman says, boys!"
Having seen the twelve arbitrators
: selected to the satisfaction of both sides,
! the man of peace went on his way, re-
i Joioing in the thought of having once
i again prevailed upon brute force to yield
I to peaceful argument. Half an hour
i later he returned that way. and was
i horrified to find the whole street fight-
i lng. while in the distance police whis
tles could be heard blowing and police
were rushing to the spot from all quar-
: ters.
"Good gracious! What is the mat
ter now?" asked the peacemaker of an
onlooker. *
| "Shore, sorr." was the rep y, “the ar
bitrators are at work!”
Do You Know
Thai—
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 lines or do
similar tasks, he makes them walk five
miles. They are required to produce
from their Parents a certificate that the
walk has been takeif. The professor is
so pleased with the results obtained that
he is recommending his methods to
other schoolmasters.
A New Zealander has arrived in Lon
don who declares that it is impossible
to hang him He is anxious to demon
strate his immunity from hanging in a
music hall sketch. In New Zealand, he
says, he 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 and exhibit
ing "The Kern Babin" 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 that 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.
v W1 itley, 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
the 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,
and adopted as the society's crest.
jjtFaman comes along whose name
I Is Smith.” said the young woman j
who was telling the story, “or 1
Jones, and Ask* me to marry him, I
shall accept Instantly and say 'Thank |
you’ Into the bargain! Listen to thej
things that happened to my sister
and myself on our trip West all be
cause our name is Mayburn! 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. So
we telephoned from our hotel in Pasa
dena and asked if we might come
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 was 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 woman 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 I said it must be the
Misses Duncan and Mr. Maywood—
they’re friends from 8an Francisco—
and she said no, indeed. It was the
other way—and I thought the long
distance connection was poor and ahe
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 friends with the
Sacketts on board. We were due to
visit the Dares, and the S&cketts were
going to visit some relatives in
the same locality. As the boat drew
in 1 thought I saw Mr. Dare on the
wharf, and waved and smiled at him
for five minutes before I found he was
a perfect stranger, who naturally
seemed much interested in me.
"Ten minutes later he was being
introduced to me by the delighted
Backetts together with his wife He
was the Sacketts's relative—and his
wife was plainly suspicious of me.
But the real Mr. Dare bobbed up,
thrust us into a cab, and, between
shaking hands and looking at his
watch, explained that he was due
at a meeting, but that we were to go
right out to the house, where Mrs.
Dare wa a 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,’ said the cabman—and
hurtled along to a perfectly gorgeous
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
fect. She said Mrs. Dare was out for
a drive, but would be so glad to see
us, and would we go to our room
and have tea sent up
‘ ’’ ‘She can't be out,’ I told her, me
chanically. ’Mr. Da r e 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. ’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
w'lll 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
in 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.
VERY TIRED.
"Then we picked ourselves 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 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 I had scandal
ously flirted.
"Don’t bring them here!' called the
relative’s wife, who felt humorous,
now that she had her husband safe
‘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."
© © Tabloid Tales © ©
MAIDEN MEDITATIONS.
NO MAN-
-ever smoked one
cigar, took one drink or kissed a girl
once.
-ever was able to do 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.
-ever 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 kept on loving a fool
ish woman after she was so foolish
as to try to rule him by insisting that
she was wiser than 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 worn
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.
—LI LI AX LAUFFERTT.
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 me off this afternoon to
go to a football match.”
"Young man.” replied the boss,
“you are entirely too honest. I have
my suspicions of you. You are &re<L”
(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—
the telephone—rang.
"Hello! Who’s that?” asked Miss
Claire hopefully.
"The room clerk, I suppose," was the
heart-weary answer. "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 voice ran the gamut of fear to
eagerness and finished w^th 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!" v
“I’ll get out. You can do better with
him alone. Don’t be a fopl 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
when they are almost lost.
"It—it isn’t the money—I didn’t think
anybody cared. It isn’t the money." I
‘‘Of course, it isn’t, dear—it’s the sen- j
timent," said Kitty smoothly. Then she
hardened to practical values again—the j
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
out of a door that led to a side corri
dor. while Ken set the main door wide
and gazed anxiously dowji the hail,
waiting for his welcome bearer of home
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 hte 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 I 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.
"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—it wouldn’t
have been much to me once, but it’s—
It’s—eyerything—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 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, 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?
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 Clairfe, 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 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 OPEN YOUR EYES?"
"Five hundred dollars, Tom! Give it
to me—then go! I’ll pay It some tlm e -
somehow—every cent!"
"Will you come with me to y our
father, Ken? Ken. KEN, WILL You
COME TO YOUR FATHER?"
In fear the boy answered—but he lit-
tie 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
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 haa made J
Charles Nelson an old man! I <j on > t
know what it was. I don’t want to.
But this I do know—he will forgw*
you."
"He couldn't?" murmured Kan i n
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 God fer him if I were
his son. I would never say or feel that
this man had done one wrong thing la
his life. I’d say—he’s a man—a very
human man—big enough to be fon.
given—bi* 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 hopeleea,
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-
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 glare
coming over his eyes. ‘‘You won’t 1 r 1
me five hundred—well, what’s the e
of all this?"
"Ken, herd is the key to why T w
give you what you want. Your fa;
Is going to make ten times as m
money as the old firm ever made 1
Is a man who is bound to succeed wh» n
he isn’t shamefully handicapped. BUT
AMONG YOU—YOU’VE BROKEN HIS
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—desperate,
his last hope gone, his last home tie
cut—and all for Kitty Claire.
Kitty Claire had kept her word! ‘Til
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 th#
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 was 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 would move
back, and once a month I would al
most die with pain.
‘‘I waa told I had tumor, and wou’d
have to undergo an operation at once.
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 was ad
vised by a friend to try Cardui, 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.
*‘I shall ever spread the good tid
ings of what Cardui has done for me,
and will do for other suffering ladies.
If they will only try it,”
You can depend on Cardui, beca i"* 5
Cardui is a gentle, harmless, vegetable
tonic, that can do you nothing hid
good.
Prepared from herbal ingredients
Cardui has a specific effect on the
•womanly constitution and P ' yJ>
strength where it is most needed
Try Cardui.
N. B.—Write to: Ladles’
Dept., Chattanooga Medicine Co., ll “
tanooga Tenn., for Special Instruct *
and 64-page book, “Home Treatmer. •
Women," sent in plain wrapper, on
quest.—Advt, - ^