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® Don t Charge So Much to Father, He Will Be Sorry Santa Claus Didn’t Bring Him a New Wife © ©
the family
CUPBOARD
, ,. nt(d from the Big Broadway Sueeeta
Ad P By Owen Davie.
In the Web of a Woman's Smile ,-t
Ooi»>ri|ht, 1*11, International N'twi SerTir*.
BY NKLL BRINKLEY
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
[Novelized byl
II#
"What is it?”
They are in a
. nern Davis' play now being pre-
. r’lavhouso, Now ^ ork. by
v nrad.v. -Copyright. 1913. by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT
.. ?he w |il he all right. She would
. |] r | d ht anywhere. Mary is strong
nd and clean. The Nelsons never
; IM an vthing for her. She is no waster
, he kn ows now to stick. I wish I
kl see her again before I go. But
no right. Say good bye
to Mar- for me. mtoher."
Ho turned toward the door.
k | SS ed her that day. Perhraps I
mfan t it. after all. Tell her-tell her
rm glad I knew her—and good-bye!”
"Kent Dear!
"No!'
KRN' Her cry stopped him. Tn it
was a i| of a mother's agonized love.
“One minute. Ken ”
Hp turned reluctantly
"My business affairs,
dreadful state!”
“Pamton Is a good lawyer.”
“Yes—oh, yes—but after all ”
Surely, you don’t want my advice!
After the way I have muddled my own
affairs?”
’Why not?”
Phnily Nelson stepped to. her son’s
g rte. She must dare all now—physical
force, demonstration—even, if need be,
she must confess openly that she knew
where he was going.
You are my boy, my son—a man now!
A grown man. Who should help me if
not you, Ken? Come!”
Bhe threw her arms around him.
“All of us have made mistakes, Ken,
dear, all of us! Mine has been the
greatest -let’s forget them—All! Let’s
try again: We, all of us, have skeletons
in our cupboards, dear. Bnt as Sarah
Harding says, we ca!n, at least, shut
the door on them. Kefs do it—and for
get!”
“I can’t you see," said Ken, patiently.
Me must explain. He must make his
mother understand the grim impossibil
ity of doing what she asked. ‘“I can’t
forget! I have only Just begun to re
member—to think; as he said I should.
I HAVE SO MUCH TO REMEMBER.
You can’t forget—that’s the worst of it!
Not until you have paid!”
“But don’t you see ”
“[ don’t want you to think I am rude,
mother, said Kenneth, stepping away
from her with a pitiful show of grave
courtesy, “but I must go.”
“Wait!’' implored Emily Nelson.
“No!”
"Kenneth!" she caught at him, clutch
ing wild!;- for the physical assurance
of the mere feel of t.h^tex^tvrey.of his
rough tweed sleeve.
“I can't let you go,-Ken! ^Orre mthute.
Just one——”
Wild sobs were struggling In her
throat. Her eyes burned. The contest
was so pitifully uneven! She had only
words—words—and agonized love that
could make no Impression on this tor
tured young mind to whom love was
only a snare—a vision—a mirage—a
Fata Morgana.
"Why—one minute?” asked Ken with
cold impatience.
She felt how helpless she was to
bridge the gulf between—and reach her
son. She could not penetrate the mist
of suffering and touch his heart.
"I 1 want to ask you something.”
"Forgive me! I am sorry—and if—if
you ever see him—father—tell him ”
The hoy's voice broke. Here was an }
emotion at last!
“Yes? 1 ’ cried the mother’s heart ea
gerly.
That 1 know I am not worth another
char.ee' Just tell him that I love him—
’hat's a ! ust as I used to when I was
He will understand!”
'f'iki mo father be in time? Cbuld
’ *' the boy. whose only living emo-
‘ on seemed to be love for his father?
ired brain could only
ponder—and pray.
’’ I "‘ ™th?r frantic with fear and
' .tpense and longing, seized the
‘ ,y in h er elasp at last. With trem-
j :R arm * *he enfolded him and held
’ :!m c!ose ' close to her pulsing heart.
'bet me go, mother! Please!”
' Not yet. dear boy. Wait!”
1 must: Mother! I can't stand it.
I must!"
Hr struggled frantically against the
? ® 83 ' Pitiful soft < lasp of those en-
* arms Tighter, tighter, Emily
■ tlson drew her hoy. Could she hold
im. n r would he use his man’s
f!r engih and break from the soft fet-
ters?
hn!? Hear hov! I am your mother
utk 116 °" my arms about,you, just
e> wer, tvhen you were a baby.”
, , ‘ vn ' f ’ < ' broke. ‘When he was a
" 'ml the pitiful years between!
"L b " r "<"K ‘ears would no longer be
7 idden 'hey flooded her eyes.
,.. My t° y My Ken! 1 am holding you
mrth - Can t 3 ° ! 1 was a good
I, ,hfn ■ 1 tiever let you get hurt,
...... ™ y stren gth could hold you. I
He H y ° U ' Ju,t a * 1 am doing now."
"Ted in her arms. Her voice—
ism had held him for a
ACT AS IF YOU DIDN’T CARE TO
I>ear Mis# Fairfax:
I am 20, and though I know
several young men. have never
met a young man who oeyns to
care enough to propose to me.
What shall I do in order to win
someone? SORROWFUL.
If you let the men know you are on
a husband hunt they will carefully
avoid you.
Be a little Independent; And such
happiness in the society of women
the men will be interested in know
ing what you are happy about. And
don’t, worry because no lover comes
your way! He will bring sorrow as
well as joy when he does come.
NO SIGN HE DOESN’T.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
T have been keeping company
for several months with a young
man two years my senior, and
love him dearly. One night last
week when walking along the
street I met him with a young
girl to whom he introduced me as
his friend. Do you think he cares
for me? HEARTRROKEN
He Is not engaged to you. and his
appearance with another girl is noth
ing to cause your heart to break.
Hare a little more pride, my dear. Let
him see you don’t care how many
girls lie goes with and he will think
all the more of you.
PURELY FRIENDLY.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
T am very much in love with a
young man five years my senior
H© has gone away to college and
writes to me twice a week. We
are not engaged, but he tells me
how much he cares for me in
every letter. Now, I am unde
cided how to answer his letters.
A. c\
Be friendly, keeping a careful guard
on your pen. Write nothing you
would be ashamed to see in print. If
he still loves you when his school
days are ended, there will be many
opportunities for telling him that
which It is wiser never to write.
MG8T DECIDEDLY NOT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I have been keeping company
with a young gentleman for the
past year. He Insulted me in
company, and we had a quarrel,
and he has not apologized and
said he wouldn’t. Should I make
up with him or not? LOUISE.
Do you want to be insulted again?
That is what a reconciliation will
j amount to. Have nothing more to
do with him.
I KNOW a girl with a smile. From her criep metallic hair to the
straps of her slippers she Is what folks call "comely.” But it
Isn’t the crinkle in her hair, nor the white column of her neck,
nor any of these fortunate things—small ears and a beautifully turned
wrist and a head with real ideas in It and a warm heart—that calls
men to her like yellow-jackets to a honey jar! “She has such blue
eyes,” offered one chap. But there are miles of girls with blue-bluer
eyes! “Her hair is so gold.” But the girls with “golder” hair who
are prettier than she would make a glittering girdle around the world!
Only one chap confesses; *'i don’t know what it is, but WHATEVER
IT IS, and whatever you are—man, woman or little kid—you answer
right up to it and bring your heart on a platter!”
It’s her smile! She is one of those women with a SMILE. All
the angels In Paradise get out therir song-books and begin when she
does smile. The sullen little kid can’t hold o it against It to save his
slim little stem of a neck. The woman who is over-fond of masculine
camaraderie and sniffs at the friendship of her own soft sex, who is
tinctured - with the bitterness of envy of all fair women, flops right
over into the choir that sings “er praises after ’bout half a dozen
smiles. All childhood wreaths its arms ’round her waist and its
heart about her image when she stops and smiles. But MAN—the
grouchiest one of them all—glows like a kitten in the sunshine when
her eyes crinkle and the red of her mouth curls away from the snow
of her teeth; the bashfulest one spreads the gay wings of his fancy
under the warmth of her laugh like a grateful butterfly under the sun;
it’s her smile! It’s as real as the color on the cheek of a peach—it’s
as soft as a sigh—as luring as the last-plucked string of a harp—as
tender as a California valley in blossom-time! Sometimes when 1 look
straight Into the amazing marvel of her soft, soft smile the wwrfd
grows dim and fades, and before the dearness of her face a web grows
—a golden rainbowed web—and it rays out from the smile of her
mouth in a thousand gossamer threads And, caught by the wings
and toes, and tummy and nose, are countless little pink LOVES—
struggling and thrashing, caught coming for honey—blinded by the
great light of her smile—giddy with its beauty!
Thti isn't like It. I must “scratch for a living” aeons longer to ba
able to put it on plain wrhlte Bristol-board. If it wan like it you'd be
tangled up in this web also, my friend. How do you smile? Have you
ever thought to look? Maybe you have a great one If you’d lei it
come oftener. Everybody can’t entangle the world wrlth the smiles
of their mouth—but they draw closer all human kind—smiles do.
—NELL BRINKLEY.
lovFa
‘ lie must go now!
' en No! No! You can’t go!’
Be Continued To-morrow.
£very Woman
b Interested and should
‘now about the wonderful
Marvel Whirling Spray
Douche
§ The Manicure Lady § §
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
A T p A V r A Thrillin S Stor Y of
jlx. 1 DrA I Society Blackmailers
USED to think that I knew
about all the different types
of men,” said the Manicure
Lady. “I don’t think so no more,
George. Honest to goodness, there is
some new form of a nut comes in al
most every day to have his nails did.
I guess there ain’t no end to them.
Did you notice that fellow that just
went out? He is about as near a
plain bug as was ever around with
out no keeper. He told me that he
wouldn’t never have hi* nails did
only it soothed him when he got
nervous. He said he g^t nervous
every time he felt the longing for a
spree stealing on him, and that when
he felt as if he wanted to go out and
mop up all the spare drinks in our
beautiful city he always went instead
and had his nails did. If the old
gent had his nails did every time he
wanted a drink, they would he all
cut off long ago, and this young fel
low looked as if he could trot in
father’s class at that. He had one of
them big necks and a kindly but de
termined face, and any time you show
me a man like that I will show you
a sincere drinker.”
“If I was nervous I wouldn’t want
nobody fussing around my nails.’
said the Head Barber.
“That is what I was thinking,
said the Manicure LaAiy. “though I
didn’t have the heart to tell him that,
and besides I was afraid he would
change his mind and do me out of a
job, so I just went along and pinked
up his little nails as if he was a lead
ing man In a society stock company.
It did seem to kind of soothe him. too,
though he gave a kind of convulsive
twitch when he heard a fellow in your
chair saying that he had just drank
two fizzes before breakfast.
“He said his little times usually
cost him a lot of dough, and 1 guess
he was right, because he had an
awful roll with him when he paid
me, and he gave me a dollar tip as
though it was a nickel. Ain t it too
bad, George, that the kind of men
that drinks the most is usually fel
lows that you would be real fond of
if they didn’t drink at all?
“I have known a lot of men that
the drink habit got the best of. and.
as I remember them, George, they was
all regular fellows. Now you take A
chap like my brother Wilfred
life without doing nothing hard
enough to hurt them."
"Most of the hard drinkers I know
is men that would be big men in the
world if they didn’t hit it up,” said
the Head Barber, "and that’s why I’m
against whisky. If it killed off a lot
of warts and left the good fellows
safe it would be a kind of a blessing
in disguise, but it is just the other
way. and I wish the stuff had never
been invented.”
“That is just what I was saying to
father up to the house the other
night,” said the Manicure Lady, “The
old gent agreed with me for polite
ness, but it made him gulp kind of
hard, and I know it cut him to the
heart to say a unkind word about
bourbon. But it is a shame to see
what it does to a fine-looking, smart
acting chap like that fellow that just
went out. It has turned him into a
nut, because nobody except a nut
would have his nails did to soothe
him. You wait till us women has a
vote, and you will see where the
demon rum gets a awful kick in the
shins. And that ain’t the only grand
work us women Is going to do at the
polls, either And that time is com
ing. too, George.”
"Maybe,” said the Head Barber, ‘‘but
when that time comes you will be
too old to vote and I will be too old
to care.”
(Novelized by)
Do You Know-
N*
» iieiiJ iirvc; uij , , i .
body ever heard of a harmless
fellow like him getting stung by the
high-proof sluff. because that k nd
of men seems to slide along throug
The origin of the saying “as clean as
a whistle” is ascribed to the ‘ whistle
tankard” of olden times, in which the
whistle came into play when the tan
kard was emptied, or ‘cleared out, to
announce to the waiter that more liquor
was required
Perhaps the only word tha* <s the
same in all languages is the 'Hallo
in response to the telephone ( -all.
Wherever there is a telephone line the
word Is in use. and means just what
It does in English.
The butchers fo Berlin have a uri-
ous way of informing their customers
of the days on which fresh sausag's are
made, by placing a chair, covered wdh a
large, clean apron, at the side 1 the
Mhop door.
A medical expert contends that out
of 1 000 girls studying the piano before
the age of twelve, about six hundM- are
afflicted with nervous troubles in ater
lift.
(From the play by George Scar-
I borough, now being presented at the
Thirty-ninth Str<rt Theater. New York.
Serial rights held and copyrighted by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
“ 'Elio—Is Docker Ell-yut? 1’s Cat-
tain 'Olbrook, boy! Yis. sir. Cattain
’Olbrook is very seeck. You pllss come
quick is life and dee-ath—■—I
don’t know', sir Is very seeck!..
i ask him!”
He marched over to the door that
the Captain had so emphatically closed
against all comers. He sheered off a
bit and then knocked in a businesslike
manner.
“Don’t open that,” commanded the
Captain in a roar of emphasis.
“No, sir—-please—Cattain—the docker
says what is your seeck trubble.”
“Appendicitis."
An inquiring silenre on the part of
Barnadino—strange were the things he
was hearing from behind that door.
“Appendicitis!” shouted the Captain
with slow emphasis.
“Ben-sldis?” ventured Barney timidly.
“Yes—appendicitis.”
“Yis, sir,” sighed Barnadino—his not
to question why—and the malady that
drove the Captain to making pictures
at an hour w'hen every good Christian,
or heathen for that matter, should he
abed, w-ore a strange title—why, it was
a strange sick-trouble, too!
Barney addressed the phone again.
“ ’Elio! Is Docker Ell-yut? Cattain
says is Ben-sidts—yis, sir. Ben-sidis—
his room, sir—I don’t know, sir- maybe
one bah-tle Hypo—Etch-Y-P-AVV. That
the sign on bah-tle. Yis. sir—Righte-
weh. Thank you, Docker Ell-yut.”
.... ,, , • te'C « tame—arm orouemng oy me rentier
(attain, he called past that et j vainly to open it with the poker,
movable harrier of wooo. "Docker he
say he come rlghteweh.”
“Good.”
Barnadino waited for further orders.
He gazed about the room with roving
and furtive eye. Still no orders.
“I get tea—pliss,” he called, and
marched out of the room.
That roving and furtive eye was the
heritage from a race that had developed
Lb at exoresaion in lookintr buhind each
stone or- twig for an ambuscade by
an enemy that might rush out with the
bolo or krlss and cut beyond recogni
tion or hope of life. Because his an
cestors for long ages had known the
fear of poison-tipped arrow’s—and had
narrowed their eyes that a modified
share of light might r-nter and far
horizons he clear. Barnadino must look
like a sly and shifty creature to the
peoples of our Occidental world- but
Barnad no was the loyal slave of the
man whvj had dressed him in white and
brought him to a land where he found
no stealthy assassins at work Barney
did not know the high art of blackmail.
He guessed nothing of the civilized bolo
and kriss that can cut a reputation to
pieces with words the victim had forged
Into a weapon against himself.
And the ignorant Filipino boy could
not dream that words may be poisoned
arrows to torture a woman to death in
the slow agony that makes her a doomed
creature. And, of course, he had never
heard of a bill file as a death-dealing
weapon. So he was very grateful, In
deed, to the <aptaln who had brought
him to the land f>f free women and
brave men. and Alines pin was quite
safe from him as it lay in the pocket
of Captain Holbrook’s dinner coat.
The door opened and Captain Hol
brook entered, holding in his hand the
plate that might send a woman to her
death ns it pictured how a man had
gone to his doom.
The great Chinese lamp on his t »hle
oast its glow on the glass plate. Fear
grew to certainty in Holbrook’s eyes.
And would certainty erase forever the
soft glow of love? Can a man still
love a woman when hr knows the
worst? And Larry Holbrook was to
learn all the worst here to-night.
“Ah—there it is . . .” he breathed,
in a quiet voice.
“Poor little lady—there’s the whole
story. . . . With that cursed villain
leaning over her—and the file In her
hand
He looked about in slow pain But
action must he quick for who could
tell when Interruption would come?
That japanned box! He took it from
e table and crouching by the fender
Daysey Ma y me and Her Folks
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
It resisted ... he went over to the
buffet and selected a steel knlfr . . .
He pried It slowly under the edge of the
box and the lock yielded . . . Then
he came hack to the table and spread
the pitiful story of the box’s contents
before him.
“Letters! Honorable George
Rowland! . . House of Representa
tives -lady’s hand. . . . Blackmail —
blackmail! Oh—all the poor little la
dies!”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
I r was just before Christmas, and
the Children’s (Congress had con
vened in session extraordinary.
The little fat chubby delegates were
in various and advanced stages of ante-
Christmas dilapidation: their clothes
were without buttons, there were holes
in their stockings, and had any one
been looking for a clean, germless spot
to kiss he couldn’t have found It in
front of their ears.
Mother, as President Chauncey De*
vere Appleton declared with the dignity
of his seven years, is too busy just
before Christmas to think about such
unreasonable subjects aa wash rags or
buttons.
“I have called you together,” he
thundered at his little unwashed au
dience, "to ask for suggestions for
helping Mother In this annual season
by trying to fool us, make Father mad,
and give her friends just what they
don’t want, Mother has so much to do
t am quite sure If the Lord had been
a woman He would have given her ten
pairs#of hands.”
Then, having rebuked the I/ord, as Is
customary with Great Thinkers, he sat
down.
"If fathers had to dress the dolls,”
piped a little girl of 3. “the fig leaf
fashion would see a glorious revival."
President Appleton frowned. This
spirit of sex antagonism always an
noyed him. It was not germane to
the subject, though he had found that
every meeting called to help the wom
en resulted in resolutions against the
men.
After much discussion, the following
resolutions were adopted:
To keep a school eraser handy. Moth
er wants one for rubbing the price mark
off what she has bought and the name I
of the donor on last year’s gift that she
is pacing on;
Ke* P the scissors In sight. The pic
ture of Mother going around with a big
package In her arms, and gnawing the
wrapping cord while looking for the
scissors is not one to treasure In Mem
ory Fond;
Never ask her a question about San
ta Claus when she is trying to make
a piece of wrapping paper 8 Inches
square go around a 3-foot box
Nevei show her a hole in one’s stock
ing. but become so imbued with the
Christmas spirit .that one cheerfully
mends holes with the Christmas stick
ers lying around. One sticker makes a
fine patch for a hole, and six If applied
with enough moisture will mend a
3-ineh rent.
Keep mother and father apart as
much as possible these days. Mother
Is finding it hard enough to address
forty postcards breathing peace and
good will and get them off on time,
without being asked if dinner is ready
And lastly;
If mother returns from her Christ
mas shopping looking as neat and
pretty as when she left horn® it la safe
to approach her, but if her hat is on one
ear. her hair down, and her dress torn,
the children should crawl under the
lounge when they see her coming, and
make room for father to crawl under
there, too.
Good At the Work.
He -You know if women get
the
women
vote they
Juries.
Rhe—Well suppose we did. I guess
it wouldn’t take us as long to dli-
agree as some of the men.
Better Kept Quite.
Lord Boots, who was famous for
his long and flowing beard, was dis
turbed one evening, when he thought
all the servants were in bed. by
shouts of laughter and much cheer
ing. Summoning his valet, he de
manded angTily what all the noise
was about.
“We were only having a little gam*
among ourselves, mv lord,” the man
answered, looking rather worried.
“What was the game?” demanded
the noble gentleman.
“I should prefer not to say, :ny
lord!”
"Kindly answer my question, Wil
son! I desire to know what con,Id
have caused much coarse laugh
ter.”
"Well, my lord. If you insist. I have
no choice. We had blindfolded the
cook and w’ere taking It in turns to
kiss her and she had to guess who it
whs each time. The under-housemaid
held up the mop to her face, and
this is what we were laughing at, mv
lord—cook called out. ‘Oh, how dare
you, your lordship!'”
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Advice to the
Lovelorn