Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

1 r % e Will Power Means That Determination to Spend $5 for a Gift and Not Spend $10 Tabloid Tales W HAT, Mother Mine, is meant by “becoming philosophical?” It means. Little One. the re alization that we are jogging along very comfortably and happily with- out that to-day which yesterday wp were convinced we could not live without. » Why. Mother, do you think it Is such a good thing for every man to marry? Because. My Child, mobt men would swell up and burst with con ceit if they did not marry and have some of the conceit taken out of hem. Who. Mother. Is your ideal of a Happy Man? The orazy man. Daughter, with the Slate taking care of him. and unlim ited time to talk and handle big en terprises. He Is the happy man; It s hls sane kin who are the miser able enes. What. Mother. Is the difference be tween a woman’s conscience and a man’s? A woman’s conscience. Little One. :urts her when she tells a lie. A •tan’s hurts him when he had a chance to tell a He and didn’t Who Invented the cooking stove. Mother Dear? A man. My Child, and ever after 1 that when he saw something good coming out of the oven he said to j hlmaelf. "What a good cook I am!” Why. Mother, is a man always j 'riled a woman’s protector? For the reason. Little One, that It is his natural Inclination to protect her from other men Imposing on her, preferring to do all the imposing himself. Was ever a compliment entirely ! • atisfaetory, Dearest Mother? Never never. Child, for If the word ing gave satisfaction there Is always 0»r complaint that those who pay us compliments don’t talk loud enough The man who has mean things to say always makes himself heard. What, Mother, is a genius? There vre many kinds, Little One, but In one particular they are all alike. A genius is one who make.? life uncomfortable for all around him Is It true. Mother, as the men I claim, that the Ink bottle at home Is j always empty and the pen never to j be found? Not always. Child. When a man’s | fool streak Is In control, and he wants) to write something he shouldn’t, the j ink pot Is never empty and the pen j is always lying beside it and in per- j i'vct repair —FRANCES L. GARSIDE. 1 The Gold Witch The Adventures of a Golden-Haired Heiress | BY STLLLA FLO HLS The Goid Witch finds an old harp—an instrument she loves. In the dimming twilight Tom i 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. WearingKimono to Breakfast By BEATRICE FAIRFAX. I U It proper to wear , k!mono to brealcfMt In a boarilln, hoaee’ What do you mean by "proper" -what sort of a boarding house do j you live in? I have seen jjlrls come down to breakfast In a mob cap and R bou doir . acket. and by the way they crooked their little finger and had onrh , time tipping their coffee, It ivas eaav to eee that they Imagined themselves the moat chmrmlnr and fasolratlns of creatures—but they weren't They really were not—at all. It takes the prettieet woman In the world to look pretty In e. ltlmon#— It Is almost as bad as a bathlnc »ult when It comes to showlne up every defect that a rtrl has and ouafet net to have. Beeides. it really la a bit necllgee for a boarding-house table—iTen't yeu tblnk eo. Morene? It te all very well to read abeut th. | oharmer* la sc-tln palgi olre actd ■ dainty gold heeled allrpers— that'e In a book where a girl can cry and look _ pretty at the earn# time. Out of a book a peignoir er a W- trvoiio, or a dressing Jacked, a re fit fer Just exactly one pleoe In the wet?*, and that Is !n your ova roote. | no ns*. Ton won't faeclnate tlteyouagbeek- keeper who site opposite with that lchmotio—you’ll Juat nab* him via* you would take time to dress yeutaeif before you come to breakfast. Don't inalce any mistake, my dear, the one thing a man really admire. a real girl !■ modesty—If ho ovar gets It Into hls hoed that yon ar. lacking In that, nothing in tho world that you can do will malso him really respect you again. Get yourself e coup!* ef r.eat pretty little houee dreeses. You can find them In the waeh frock departmsiu of any of the big ehops. the wash dhess. Blue and pink and la\ ender and flowered—all color,, all styles, all I prices—I have 3B*n very neat, pretty I little blue wash dresses for sale at a | dollar and a half—get one of those. Ido your hadr In * pretty simple knot j end you'll look as eweet as a poach land feel sure that you are doing the I right thing at the eatne time. Hang the kimono up on tho laet I nail In your closet and never think of | wearing It outside yenr own room. That's a nke, sweet, sensible, modest girl. , 1 r u u pr Al vri FT \ j n [T p pAAl Dl r\ A Dramatic Story of High Society Life in New York J lx n il rAJ LVU ILI LI u 1 dUAJ KJ L/ Adapted from the Big ^roadway Success by Owen Davis AT BAY a Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers [Novelized byJ (Krom 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 gray cap he had donned preparatory to exit, and stood ’ ft moment twirling it in his hands—seeking for some ade- luate expression of a strange gratitude ue felt. “Say!” he cried a bit huskily, at last. • V.uu ain’t a bad sort—you sure ain't! Go home, Kid!” “No! No!” cried the boy from behind his barrier of trembling hands. “HOME'S A SWELL PUCE, BOY! VOU’JjL know it when totJ.oet OLD LIKE ME, AND AIN’T GOT ONE!” And so good-bye to Jim! And so good-bye to all the flotsam and jetsam of life—tile men and women who, hav ing no ideals, have none to give their children—who, making no home for their children in their youth, are given none by their children In old age. Kenneth sat alone, sunk in his pos ture of helpless, hopeless weakness and despair. Tho sunlight streamed in his window—the golden sunlight of the high meridian—of noon and the high tide of life and day that follows It. At last the'boy raised hls gray young face from hls hands. He looked curl- msly— Inquiringly at ihe sunlight, lie own life las in gray shadow—in black despair—and regret—but the sun went on shining. Deserted! The dull curiosity and uuestion re- inaiiied a. moment longer on His face. Then he looked aboftt him. Deserted! How tawdry the room in which He sat -how tawdry the causes that, had brought him here. Uis face hardened What was the use of thinking about it -ill? “The moving linger writes—and having writ— Moves on. Nor all our piety and w it Shall lure it back to cancel half a Nor all your tears wash out a word of it!” i Quaintly Hie old quatrain from the 'erse of Omar the Tentmaker sang its nournful cadence through h - brain. What was the use? lie thought again \ deadly determination came ovet i '- 1 His «•> es took on a fa raw ■ \ 1 1 look of ..Ttf Who lms « mn-rr: w M —**——>*,»..** ’ -a■no -uJU* 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 even 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 shadow of it must fall across the mind of whoever beheld him. But wouid any one come—in time? lie crossed ever into his unkempt bed room, and came back at last with a writing case, fie sat at the table and begun a letter. His pen trembled across the paper for a few' lines. He could not 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! lie came back and picked up the phone. ”1171 Plaza,” lie 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 In ward which he was advancing with slow, haunted footsteps. Hr stopped with a frigid' d gasp, and stood tense and quiet-—listening. The knock was repeated. Up made no noise—he scarcely dared breathe. A look of cunning crossed his face. There was a side door—he could go down tho back corridor and reach- and reach Kitty’s room. Tie would do it that way; on tiptoe, noiselessly he crept toward the <lonr lie reached it, turned the handle, took one step out into the corridor. The other door opened—and his moth- f r nid jus: wiihin hi room. She h* - iia'- U. frozen wiiii a nanicli ■% forebod ing as she saw' him. The boy turned, looked at his moth er with a sort of wild shrewducst and came back as if nothing unusual had happened. you kno'-K< sa.u 4i!>. ‘•Kennel : Mu pleaded v '* look like that? Where is—the woman?” “Gone! You—w’ill—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! 1 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—avd 1 have a lot to do so- Emily Nelson came closer; -that name less terror was clutching at her heart. She wondered if it were something she could fight “f can’t let you go. J could not re main away- any longer. I scarcely needed Mary to tell me to come to come at once. Kenneth, 1 am a foolish wom an, I know, but l 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 he may never en ter. "I need y ou, Ken!” His Determination. “I’m sorry—but I can t help you. Sor ry - but T can’t! T must go. I must make sure that Kitty has not left any of nr> letters. She was was always careless nd I don’t want anything more in tho papers to humiliate father after I have gone away. HE.- HAS HAD ENOUGH OF HUMILIATION. I UNDERSTAND ALL OF THAT NOW!” Ho 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 H:c mother hopefully. “Thank you, no. I have all that T .-had 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 peace -and sp< 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 be come back—ever? Emily Nelson walked over to the ta bic 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 draw’n 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 3aid 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 stood thinking—a mother's love—was that strong enough? Strong! strongi 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 j tense and low and as she waited her tortured nerves telegraphed for energy to- her brain which was being drained by Hie steady demands on it for power to meet this torture. “Hello, Mr. Nelson? Mr. Charles Nel son! Oh, arc you sure? Where? Yes, yes, thank you." Bho rang off--then dt once she called again. § "Hello! The Engineers’ Club! I don’t know' the number—but it is so import ant. Thunk 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, j sinking weakly a- last into the chair as the faint ring she must muffle from ! Ken's ears came to her own strainer! (Novelized by) Tin Mr (From the 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—fine fellow, too. Mike—how long you been on the force?” “About five years—goin’ on five,” re plied Donnell precisely. “Like it?” “It’s a meal ticket,” replied the po liceman. grinning confidentially. “Which is the bent on the average— the salary or the pickings?” asked Larry. 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 largo 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 nis gift to the waiting recipient, his fincers 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 rone to ioln the booty In the pocket of the Captain’s dinner coat. As he stooped Donnell managed to articulate: “Yo# but ye know tills ain’t New York.” And as ho slipped the plate holder into Ills pocket Larry answered with knowledge: “Yes—but a policeman is a policeman the world over.” "I guess th;u ain’t no He,” replied Donnell. Larry was fairly bursting with jubi lant friendliness now. “You’re al! right, Donnell and if anything ever happens to you here your foot slips—and you never • an tell when i will maybe l. could help you ge d etas in tho BIG town” CHICHESTER S PILLS , ’BR, UUlllOM. a A,Tk- V. ■•‘IIm. 4»t y*nr llra»i,i t*. i■'— / so?oryffjioGfiLLsmmhh: “Think you could, sir?” “Indeed—and I do.” And Larry was ready to welcome back to the room even such once dangerous foes as the chief and the Inspector. “Chief, I don’t, suppose wo can get hack 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 to-night. ...” “SureY” “Oh, I guess we have the matter fair ly well in hand,” answered Dempster. For one moment that, gave Holbrook pause. But he thought of the pockets of his dinner jacket and tho sleeve of hls topcoat and took heart of grace. He looped bis coat over his arm and set his gray fedora on hls 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 tbe dead spider poisonous, dangerous even In death. And in a dainty bedroom not far away a girl was staring out into the night with eves that were learning to look on l orror. The men Holbrook left behind him in 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 bad once been called by his fearful victims a danger ous and powerful man lay undisturbed across tho table where he had fallen. In one dead hand lie still clutched the file on which ho bad 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 tin rich trappings and comforts of the gre at den were masteries* until the law should give them to the frightened boy to whom Flagg had left a dangerous heritage—‘he knowledge that human weakness may be preyed upon by that most despicable of all human weak nesses greed. 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 » box there — that will help you, 1 am sure. Now that Holbrook had gone tho 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 who bad learned In far and stmnge lands to contrcl weak natures to his own uses—or w:n it some power stronger than hls very self working through T*awrenee Holbrook for the pro- tcetion of a cowering victim turned de stroycr 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. TKODAK *nipiet« oatolof tti-dav 1*0 OFFER—4 ,*• .•dak dCMtlva. 30c ..... infill SPECIAL l NIARG mounted, from any I A K HAWKES CO • ATLANTA Woman Is Interested an J thorn’ ! know about the wondenui I Wh.diag Jpraj Douche A {.if voordrag j: s t f or it ffbeciosot aac- p!y th- K. ? - *p* no other !v.;f serd stamp Cor boo* MnttiC».OL t A3dSt X T. fl An Opportunity To Make Money inventors. «uen ot d.-aa sad inroative ebiiity, alioetJ write |a- ■ for eur hat at igveacroas needed, and pole# offered by laedinj tufachirera u,c< * wr sur returaed “Wkv tareatar* 1 a-1, i lov. to Get Your Patent aad Y eer N^eaer. ’ *11^ otlui vaEaoi' Ixioxiets seat free to aev acidreee. tfS&a RANDOLPH & CO. 'xkK*-’- ywwi mnmiMimrm T?*- y r.y -P-sr street. N. W„