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© ♦; Will Power Means That Determination to Spend $5 for a Gift and Not Spend $10 NIL Tabloid Tales W HAT, Mother Mine, Is'meant by “becoming philosophical?" v It means, Little One. the te- n ilzatlon that we are Jogging along °ry comfortably and happily with out that to-day which yesterday we irere convinced we could not live without. WTir. Mother, do you think It Is such ■ good thing fog every, min, to marry? Because. My Child, most men vould swell up and burst with con- •»it If they did not marry and have some of the conceit taken out of Who, Mother, Is vonr Ideal of a lappy Man? The crazy man. Daughter, with the State taking care of him. and unlim ited time to talk and handle big en- '^rprlses. He Is the happy man; It his wn« kin who are the miser able ones. ■ ■ • ’ * t WT>*r' Mother, ii tSe AtiTerenej be- w«en a woman’s conscience and a •nan’s? A woman’s conscience. Little One, nrts her- when she tells a lie- A •nan’s hurts him when he had a nance to tell a lie and didn’t Who invented -.the cooking- sto.ye. Mother Dear? ■ |^- A man, M^. # (Milld, and ever after that when he daw something good coming out of the oven he said Gold Witch The Adventures of a Golden-Haired Heiress BY‘STELLA FLORES Why. Mother, is a man ailed a woman’s protector For the reason. Little On • his natural Inplingtlon to protect her from other men imposing on her, preferring to do all the imposing imself. Was ever a compliment entirely satisfactory. Dearest Mother? Never, never. Child, for if the word- :n E gave satisfaction there is always the complaint that those who pay us compliments don't talk loud enough The man whq, ha£ mean tilings to say a ways makes himself heard. WhAt. Mother, is a genius? There are many kinds. Little One. bwt In one particular they are all eUka A genius is one who makes life unoomfortaYle fer all ardund him. Is it true. Mother, as the men l&Im. that the ink bottle at heme Is always empty and the pen never to be found? Not always. Child. When- a man's fool streak Is In control, and he wunts, to writ;e something he shouldn't, the i ink pot Is never empty and the pen •s always lying beside It and 1n per- j feet repair. r-FRAN^ES L. GAR SIDE. ‘ uu : b i • ::: ui;«. t n i\ < v* Rlways> [ \ n«. th»t tt'l fi f'J to nrnfprt L al. KM r, L,"- The Gold Witch finds an old harp—an instrument she loves In th<* dimming, twilight Tom 1 the dusk. To Tom they are visions of a happy future; to his father bitter-sweet memories of the and his father steal in to listen. As the exquisite notes throb out, shadowy pictures form in past—-of his ward's mother, whom he loved but did not marry. W earingKimono to Breakfast By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. 1 3 It proper to wear a kimono to breakfast In a hoarding ho-;*»e? What do you mean by “proper* --what sort of & boarding house do you live in’* I have seen girls come down to breakfast In a mob cap and a bou doir Jacket, and by the way they crooked their little Anger and had such a time tipping their coffee, it j was eaay to see that they imagined themselves the most charming and fascinating of creatures but they weren’t. They really were not—at all. It takes the prettiest woman in the world to look pretty In a kimono— It In almost an bad as a bathing suit , when It comes to showing up every’ defect that a girl has and ought not to hev* Besides. It really In a bit negligee for a boarding-house table don’t you think no, Morene? Tt In all very well to read about the • charmers In stutln peignoirs and dainty gold heeled slippers—that’s in a book where a girl can cry and look 1 pretty at the same time. ^ Out of a book a peignoir or a kl ; mono, or a dreaming Jacket, are At for just exactly one place In the world. I and that la in your own room. HO USE. You won't fajsclnate the young book keeper who site opposite with that kUnono—you'll Just make him wish I you would take time to dress yourself before you come to breakfast. Don't make any mistake, my dear, the one thing a man really admires In a real girl Is modesty—if he ever gets It Into his head that you are lacking in that, nothing In the world that you can do will make him really respect you again. Get yourself a couple of neat pretty little house dresses Tou can And them in the wash frock department of any of the big shops. THE WA!»H DRESS. Blue and pink and lavender and (lowered—all colors, all styles, all prices—I have seen very neat, pretty little bluo wash dresses for sale at a dollar and a half—get one of thone, do your hak in a pretty simple knot and you'll look us sweet as a peach and feel sure that you are doing the right thing at the same time Hang the kimono up on the last nail In your closet and never think of wearing it outside you: own room. That’s a nico, sweet, sensible, modest glrL THE FAMILY CUPBOARD A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in New York Adapted from the Big roadway Success byOwenDavis AT BAY A Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers [Novelized byl (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 “Twenty five dollars! Why! You ain’t a bad sort! Thank you.” He went slowly toward the door, revolving the whole matter in his sodden old mind. Suddenly he stopped, took off the old ?ray cap he had donned preparatory to exit, and stood a moment twirling it n his handB -seeking for some ade- iiiate expression of a strange gratitude felt. •'Say!'' he cried a bit huskily, at last. You ain't a had sort—you sure ain’t! So home. Kid!” “No! No!’.’ cried the boy from bellind his barrier of trembling hands. “HOME’S A SWELL PLACE, BOY! YOU'LL KNOW IT WHEN YOU GET OLD LIKE ME. AND AIN’T GOT ONE!” And so good-bye to Jim! And so codd-bye fo all the flotsam and jetsam of life—the men and women who, hav ing no ideals, have none to give their hildren—who, making no home for their hildren in their youth, are given none by their children in old age. Kenneth flat alone, sunk in his pos- jr'e of helpless, hopeless weakness and despair. The sunlight streamed in his window—the golden sunlight of the high neridian—of noon and the high tide of life and da>’ that follows It. At last the boy raised his gray young lace from his hands. He looked curi- uflly—Inquiringly—at the sunlight His wn life lay in gray shadow—in bladk despair—and regret—but the sun went on shining. Deserted! The dull 'curiosity and question re mained a moment longer on his face. Th*n he looked about him Deserted! How tawdry the room In which he sat how tawdry the causes that had brought him here. His face hardened. What was the use of thinking about it all? 'The moving finger writes—and having writ— Moves on. Nor all your piety and wn Shall lure it back to cancel half a line-*- . . . Nor all vour tears wash out a *ora of ft!" Quaintly, the old quatrain from the werse of Omar the Ten 1 maker sang its mournful cadence through his brain. What, wds the use? he thought again. \ deadly determination came over his facp. ; -Hi* eyes |bo)c on a faraway loph, * k)b*k of one wlu$ has no concern wim .... , life—who sees some goal—beyond - be-I ""'bat *s It, Kenneth. " hj do juu yond. And unless some one who loved him truly and wisely and well could banish that look—and banish that look SOON, Kitty May’s revenge on the house of Nelson must be so horrible that oven She would look on it In sorrow and terror and remorse. At last the boy got up. On his face the deadly determination deepened so that the sha/iow of it must fall across the mind of whoever beheld him. But would any one come—In time? He crossed over Into his unkempt bed room, and came back at la^t with a writing case. He sat at 'the table and began a letter. His pen trembled across the paper for- a few lines. He could pot summon the strength or the co herent thought to go on. He crumpled the sheet and threw’ It on the floor. The Mother's Appeal. He walked over to the window and looked down—eleven flights—there was sunshine down there on the cold white stone—he could almost see—a black thing lying huddled there—a stream of red oozing, oozing—the boy shuddered back from the window and his own hor rible vision as if some power to Impel him lay In the frame of the window. Not that way! He came back and picked up the phone. ”1171. Plaza. ' he said—the Alpine Apartments—his father. His mind worked ■’on remorselessly while the op erator was calling. “No! No! Wait! I don't want It— it is a mistake—I don’t want it!” He put the phone down—and crossed slowly toward the door—at the other side of the corridor lay Kitty’s room— perhaps that was the place—the place— for doing it! There was a knock at the door to ward which he was advancing with slow, haunted footsteps. Pie stopped with a frightened gasp, and stood tense and quiet—listening. The. knock was repeated. He mads no noise—he scarcely dared breathe. A look of cunning crossed his face. There was a side door—he could go down the back corridor and reach—and reach Kitty'S room. He would do It that way; on tiptoe, noiselessly he crept toward the door He reached it, turned the handle, took one step out Into the corridor. The other door opened—and his moth er stood just within his room, She hes itated. frozen with a nameless forebod ing as. she saw him. The boy turned, looked at his moth er v h a sort of wild shrewdness, and •came hack as If nothing unususl had happened. ••[>ki you knock?” he said idly. “Kenneth! Mary pleaded so with ins - that I feft I must come at once!” i- stooped and looked aroqnd the I ,, ..r r/ujl CO Opr,.lea sf I ULy. J Ms and his Yv.DO!’’ vfaiAUcould ft mean? look like that? Where is the woman?” “Gone! You- will—be glad of that!” Something in his.voice impelled her frightened her—drew her! She came forward toward him—toward the way ward son for whom sweet Mary Burke had pleaded with, the eloquence born of her love, adding softness to her gentle voice. Emily Nelson spoke tenderly now. “Ken! Come home!” The boy’s voice seemed to come back to her from far away. “HAVE YOU A HOME I DON’T THINK SO! IF YOU’D EVER HAD A HOME—THINGS MIGHT HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT! I’M GOING NOW- GOOD BYE." “Going where?” “Quite a journey, mother -and I have a lot to do—so- - Emily Nelson came closer: that name less terror was clutching a! her heart. She wondered if it were something she could light “I can’t let you go. 1 could not re main away any longer. . I scarcely needed Mary to tell me to come—to -come at once. Kenneth, I am a foolish wom an, I know, but I need you. Mary and I will love you—love you like mother and —sister—we’ll make a home for you.” “Mary—love me! I’m not fit! And like a sister!” The boy laughed as one who sees a vision of treasure he may never own— of the promised land hp may never en ter. “I need you, Ken!” His Determination. “I’m 9orry—but I can't help you. Sor- ry—but I can’t! I must go. 1 must make sure, that Kitty has not left any of my letters. She was—was always careless—and I don’t want anything more In the papers to humiliate father after—I have gone away. HE HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HUMILIATION. I UNDERSTAND ALL OF THAT NOW!” He turned and walked toward his bed room—there was a sort of strength in his,weakness. There was implacable de termination in his step. “I brought you some money, dear,” ventured the mother hopefully. “Thank you, no. I have all that I shall, need,” answered Kenneth quietly. He spoke with a slow dignity. Per haps Socrates, with his cup of hemlock in his hand, looked like that. Perhaps the young martyrs tied in the arena wore such a look of far-away exultation —the end could only mean peae<- - and rest. The mother spoke anxiously “Let me wait ii*-re until you are through ?” “Why?” 'Let me!" slu pleaded. “\ cry n > .impatiently. , "V.'-'t* tWU .< '»n - hack,'’ ;• . tt.il •!• '* .- ”lVa P*« terror seemed to fill the room with a chill mist through which she could Just see her son -but through which the warmth of her love could not penetrate to reach him. He stood far aloof— wrapped in cold dignity. “Yes—I will come back for a moment. Then I must go.” But would he come bacK—ever? Emily Nelson walked over to the ta ble and looked about -anxiously—there must be some clew some alien presence in the room to make her feel as she did. The Letter. Finally she sat in the great chair drawn to the table—she picked up Ken neth's pen idly enough. There was ink on it. It marked her white glove. Fresh ink! But no letter- no scrap of writ ing on the table! She looked around. On the floor lay the crumpled letter. , She stooped and picked It up. Smooth ing it out. she read the few lines Ken neth had traced there. As she read her face balnched with fear—and horror. She looked fearfully toward the Inner room—Ken's bedroom. She heard noth ing. She could scarcely rise from her chair to walk toward the room. At last she trembled to her feet. Then she heard Ken moving about—heard a sound of tearing paper. A moment's respite! He had said he would come back. She must keep him—from that long Jour ney—that Journey that knows no re turn—she must keep him somehow. She 3tood thinking—a mother's love—was that strong enough? Strong! strong> A father’s strength! For one second only she hesitated—then she seized the telephone. “Plaza 1171! Quickly! Quickly!” Her accents were agonized. Her voice was tense and low and as she waited her tortured nerves telegraphed for energy to her brain which was being drained by the steady demands on it for power to meet this torture, “Hello. Mr. Nelson? Mr. Charles Nel son! Oh. are you sure? Where? Yes, yes. thank you.” She rang off—then at once she caJled again. “Ilfello! The Engineers' Club! I don’t know the number—but It Is so Import ant. Thank you!” She put the phone down—then crept across the room, with fear and trem bling and horror marking every step for agonized waiting—and stood listen ing for signs of life from her son’s room. Then she went back to the phone, waiting in an agony of impatience, sinking weakly at last into the chair as the faint ring she must muffle from Ken's ears came to her own strained liea ring. "The Engineers' Club? Mr. Charles' Nelspn is lunching there. Please call U V* of nrrcat Importance »” The nun .> - j 1 * r< ' (Novelized by) play by George Scar borough, now’ being presented at the Thirty-ninth Street Theater, New York. Serial rights held and copyrighted by International News Service.) TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT. “Yes—flne fellow, too, Mike—how long you been on the force?” “About five years—goln’ on five.” re plied Donnell precisely. “Like it?” “It’s a meal ticket,” replied the po liceman, grinning confidentially. “Which is the best on the average— the salary or the pickings?" asked Larry. I Saved! Donnell grinned. “Pickings. What’s that?” in a tone of great Innocence. “A policeman who doesn’t know what ‘pickings’ is. Let me illustrate” —and the air suddenly had a large chunk of itself removed between a rapacious thumb and forefinger “Have a cigar. Donnell “ Slowly a scarlet banded perfecto was switched from a pocket and carried through the air to Just where Donnell could get Its full fine aroma. Then, as the Captain tried to hand his gift to the waiting recipient, his fingers became very stiff and awkward and the cigar slipped to the floor. Still clutching the camera with his left hand Donnell stooped after his "pickings”—and that was Holbrook’s moment. By the time Donnell had acquired his cigar, the tell tale plateholder had gone to Join the booty In the pocket of the Captain's dinner coat. As hr stooped Donnell managed to articulate "Yes. but ye know this ain't New York. ' And as he slipped the plate holder Into his pocket Larry* answered with knowledge “Yes—but a policeman Is a policeman the world over.” “I guess that ain't no He," replied Donnell. l>arry was fairly bursting with Jubi lant friendliness now "You’re all right, Donnell—and If anything ever happens to you here- your foot slips- and you never ran tell when it will maybe I could help you get a start in the BIG town” “Think you could, sir?” “Indeed—and I do.” And I^arry was ready to welcome back to the room even such once dangerous foes as the chief and the Inspector. “Chief, I don’t suppose we can get back to the filibustering matter to night?” he queried. “No—captain—this has put a crimp in it.” "Well, any time I can assist you ” said the victor with large generosity. “Not 10-night. . . .” “Sure 7” “Oh, I guess we have the matter fair ly w’ell in hand." answered Dempster. For one moment that gave Holbrook pause. But he thought of the pockets of hlfl dinner jacket and the sleeve of his topcoat and rook b** rt of fU^ce. He looped his coat over his arm and set his gray fedora, on his head after a comprehensive sweep and salute “Well—if you’re sure there Is nothing I can do good night.” And he thought the battle won. But the battle had not yet begun. Over the table In his den sprawled the de.ad spider--poisonous, dangerous even In death. And In a dainty bedroom not fAr away a girl was staring out into the night with eyes that were learning to look on horror. The men Holbrook left behind him 1n the spider's den went on with their grim business of tracking every possible clew that led to the destroyer of the poison creature before them. And the sprawling thing that had once been called by his fearful victims a danger ous and powerful man lay undisturbed across the table where he had fallen. In one dead hand he still clutched the file on which he had carefully pinned letters that might wreck for fair women a possession more precious tha,*' the poisoned and venomous life that had just been taken from him. And the rich trappings and comforts of the great den wore masterless until the law should give them to the frightened hoy to whom Flagg had left a dangerous heritage—the knowledge that human weakness may be preyed upon by that most despicable of all human weak nesses—greod. The sleuth hounds of the law went on with their work. "Have you looked over that safe?” said Inspector MacIntyre. “Not thoroughly—no,” answered the chief. Tommy volunteered a bit of infor mation now. “Oh, there's a box there — that will help you, I am sure.” Now that Holbrook had gone the boy’s at titude of reticence had changed. What Influence had this "world man” whom Aline loved and her father hated over the boy Tommy? Was it the strength of a man w’ho had learned in far and strange lands to control weak natures to his own uses—or was It some power stronger than his very self working through Iawrence Holbrook for the pro tection of a cowering victim turned de stroyer when at bay? “What box?” asked the Inspector. “A tin box. sir, with my uncle’s pri vate papers.” “What kind of papers?” “Why papers, sir—letters ’’ To Be Continued Monday. KODAK FAUST SPAGHETTI contains as mudh nutrition as 4 lbs. of beef -ask your doctor. Comes in air-tifcht, mois ture-proof packaies. Write for free recipe book. At all Gracar»‘—5c and 10c Packages MAULL BROS. St. Louis. Mo. GET A JS t. MS Br.wnl*, Jl *• *U. 3»»J , » r romplfftu catalog to-day. SPECIAL tMLARfl- ING OFFER—j. mounted, trom any kodak negattva. 300 a k HawKEs CO CHICHESTER S PILLS . T,IK DIAMOND RHAM». a Ladl**«! A»k your l>r ttK .|„ A 1 Ills In Bed an l Gold »pulllc\\gj bo.**. ^e»jeH with Blue Rlhbe«. 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