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© © Society Consits of Cal^e and Late I fours, and Doing One s / hinging Next Day With a Piece of Leather @ © * iPTUTT? fr* T r a N4 [A f' A, I r x XI p 1 Q) A (T^J IflnlE G1 to BCJl il£> J \y IAvLjt/Av^I k A £n iw J 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, - ^