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# © Don l Charge So Much lo Father, Fie Will Be Sorry Santa Claus Didn’t Bring Him a Neu) Wife @ ®
MA^AmiF /TftlcL
THE FAMILY
In the I
cb of a Woman's Smile ^ ^ '**”**■
BY NELL BRlfJKLEY
Advice to the
CUPBOARD
0 ^ v \
a J s \ / '
Lovelorn
4
By Owen Davie.
(■Novelized byl
Woman
U Interested end should
snow about the wonderful
Marvel Spray
Douche
* ft? “TJVirT
e. -^P for bonk
"“"“MiiaUl.UL ^
the Playhouse, New York, by
, „ x. Brady —Copyright. 1913. by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT
she will be all right. She would
- all right anywhere. Mary is strong
’ , flne and clean. The Nelsons never
did anything for her. She is no waster
_ lhe knows how to stick. I wish I
rouM see her again before 1 go. But
j I've no right. Say good-bye
to Mary for me, mtoher."
He turned toward the door.
..[kissed her that day. Perhraps I
m ,ar* It. after all. Tell her—tell her
j m p iad I knew her—and good-bye!"
‘ "Ken! Bear!"
"No!”
i;f;N ’ Her cry stopped him. In it
was all of a mother's agonized love.
••One minute, Ken.”
FTe turned reluctantly. “ \Vnat is It?”
-My business affairs. They are in a
dreadful staff!'*
••Pamton Is a good lawyer.”
■Tes—oh. yes—but after all ”
• Surely, you don’t want my advice!
.After the way I have muddled my own
affairs?”
•'Why not?”
Emlh Nelson stepped to her son’s
pide. She must dare all now—physical
fn r ,e. demonstration—even, if need be,
Phe must confess openly that she knew
where he was going.
Vou are my boy, my son—a man now!
A grown man. Who should help me if
not you, Ken? Come!”
Phe threw her arms around him.
• Ml of us have made mistakes. Ken,
dear all of us! Mine has been the
greatest -let’s forget them—All! Let’s
iry again! We. all of us, have skeletons
in our cupboards, dear. But as Sarah
Harding says, we can. at least, shut
<he door on them. Let’s do it—and for
get!”
“I can’t, you see.” said Ken, patiently.
He must explain. lie must make his
mother understand the grim Impossibil
ity of doing what she asked. ‘“I can’t
forget! 1 have only Just begun to re
member—to think; as he said I should.
1 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 ”
“I 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.”
Wa ! Implored Emily Nelson.
"No!”
Kenneth!” she caught at him, clutch
ing wildly for the physical assurance
of the mere feel of the texture of his
rough tweed sleeve.
can’t let you go, Ken! One minute.
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 pn 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 I want to ask you something. "
"Forgive me! I am sorry—and if—if
you ever see—him—father—tell him ”
The boy's voice broke. Here was an
emotion at last!
“Yes?" cried the mother’s heart ea
gerly.
"That * 1 know 1 am not worth another
chance! .Tust tell him that I love him—
na: s all just as 1 used to when I was
a'tle He will understand!”
the father be in time? Could
•> e save the boy, whose only living emo-
■ on seemed to be love for his father?
•nilly Nelson’s tortured brain could only
ponder—and pray.
1 he mother—frantic with fear and
hope—suspense and longing, seized the
,n h er clasp at last. With trem-
11 ! g arms she enfolded him and held
2 m close, close to her pulsing heart.
bet me go, mother! Please!”
Not yet, dear boy. Wait!”
1 must! Mother! I can’t stand it.
/ must!”
struggled frantically against the
less, pitiful soft clasp of those en-
^‘iing arms. Tighter, tighter, Emily
* rlson <>rew her boy. Could she hold
‘*n Or would he use his man’s
FlTp ngth and break from the soft fet
ters*?
l Iv ’ ,r Hear hoy! I am your mother
• lining you- my arms about you, Just
** Hiey were when you were a baby.”
Wr voire broke. “When he was a
• 11 the pitiful years between!
‘burning tears would no longer be
r '' r ^ en they flooded her eyes.
My boy! My Ken! I am holding you
«■ Vou can’t go! 1 was a good
jf er then - 1 never let you get hurt,
a m y strength could hold you. I
1 ed you, just as I am doing now.”
> Mired in her arms. Her voice—
igriotism—had held him for a
'• but lie must go now!
Ker! No! No! You can’t go!”
*° Continued To-morrow.
zr
1 KNOW a girl with a smile. From her crisp 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!”
ft's her smile! She is one of those women with a SMILE. All
the angels In Paradise get out their song-books and begin when she
does smile. The sullen little kid can’t hold out 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 her 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-pluoked string of a harp—as
tender as a California valley In blossom-time! Sometimes when I look
straight. Into the amazing marvel of her soft, soft smile the wnrid
grows dim and fades, and before the dearness of her face a weh grows
—a golden ralnbowed 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!
This lBn’t like It. I must “scratch for a living” aeons longer to be
able to put It on plain white Brlstol-board. If It teas like It valu'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 let It
come oftener. Everybody can’t entangle the world with the smiles
of their mouth—but they draw closer all human kind—smiles do.
—NELL BRINKIJZY.
% ® The Manicure Lady © ©
I| AT BA"
k/ A Thrilling Story of
I Society Blackmailers
Daysey Mayme and Her Folks
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
)
By FRANCES L. OARSEDE
“1
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 jiave 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 hia nails did
only it soothed him when he got
nervous. He said he got 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 be 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 1 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 Lady, “though I
didn’t have the heart to tell him that,
and besides I was afraid he would
change his mind ami do me out of a
job. so I just went along and pinked
up his little nails as if he was a load
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 h fellow in youi
chair saying that he had just drank
two fizzes before breakfast.
“He said his little times usually
cost him a lot of dough, and I 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 2,
chap like my brother Wilfred. Na
bodv ever heard of a harmless lit***
fellow like him getting stung by the
high-proof stuff, because that kino
of men seems to slide along through
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>
The origin of the saying “as clean as
a whittle” 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 w’aiter that more liquor
was required.
Perhaps the only word that is the
same in aTl languages is the “Hallo!”
in response to the telephone call.
Wherever there is a telephone line the
word is in use, and means Just what
It does in English.
The butchers to Berlin have a curi
ous wav of informing their customers
of the days on which fresh sausages are
made, by placing a chair, covered with a
iarge. clean apron, at the side of the
shop door.
A medical expert contends that out
of 1.000 girls studying the piano before
the age or twelve, about six hundred are
afflicted with nervous troubles m later
life
(Prom 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.
“ ’Elio—Is Docker Ell-yut? I’s Cat-
tain ’Olbrook, boy! Yis, sir. Cattain
’Olbrook is very seeck. You piles come
quick is life and dee-ath 1
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 silence on the part of
Bamadino—strange were the things he
was hearing from behind that door.
“Appendicitis!” shouted the Captain
with slow emphasis.
“Ben-sldls?” ventured Barney tlmld^
“Yes—appendicitis.”
“Yis, sir," sighed Barnadino—his not
to question why -and the malady that
drove the Captain to making pictures
at an hour when every good Christian,
or heathen for that matter, should be
abed, wore 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-sidis—yis, sir, Ben-sidls—
his room, sir—I don’t know, sir—maybe
one bah-tie Hypo—Etch-Y-P-AW. That
the sign on bah-tle. Yis. sir—Righte-
weh. Thank you, Docker Ell-yut*”
“Cattain,” he called past tTiat im
movable barrier of wood, “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
that expression in lookine behind each
an enemy that might rush out with the
bolo or kriss and cut beyond recogni
tion or hope of life. Because his an
cestors for long ages ha/d known the
fear of poison-tipped arrows—and had
narrowed their eyes that a modified
share of light might enter and far
horizons be qlear. Barnadino must look
like a sly and shifty creature to the
peoples of our Occidental world—but
Barnadino was the loyal slave of the
man who 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 ho was very grateful, in
deed, to the captain who had brought
him to the land of free women and
brave men, and A line’s 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, bolding In his hand the
plate that might send a woman to her
death as it pictured how a man had
gone to his doom.
The great Chinese lamp on his table
east its glow on the glass plate. Fear
grew' to certainty In Holbrook’s eves
And would certainty erase forever the
soft glow of love? Can a man still
love a woman when he knows tin*
worst? And Larry Holbrook was to
learn all—the worst here -to-night.
“Ah—there it Is . . ho 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, be quick- for who could
tell when Interruption would come*’
That japanned box! He took it from
the table - and crouching by the fender
tried vainly to open it with the poker.
It. resisted ... he went over to the
buffet and selected a steel knife
He pried it slowly under the edge of the
box and the lock yielded. . . . Then
be came back 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 F 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-
Chrigtmas 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 Da-*
vere Appleton declared wltjx the dignity
of his seven years, is too busy Just
before Christmas to think about such
unreasonable subjects as 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
I am quite sure If the I^ord had been
a woman He would have given her ten
pairs of hands.”
Then, having rebuked the Lord, as is
customary with Great Thinkers, he sat
down.
“If fathers had to dress the dolls,”
piped a little girl of 3, “the flg leaf
fashion would see a glorious revival.”
President Appleton frowned. This
spirit of sex antagonism alway» 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
of the donor on last year’s gift that she
is passing on;
Keep 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.
Never show her a hole in one’s stock
ing. but become «»» 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-inch rent.
Keep mother and father apart as
much as possible these days. Mother
is finding 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 home it is 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.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
ACT AS IF YOU DIDN’T CARE TO.
Dear Mies Fairfax:
I am 20. and though I know
several young men, have never
met a young man who setyns to
care enough to propose to me.
What shall I do in order to win
someone? SORROWFUL.
It 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 aa Joy when he does come.
NO SIGN HE DOESN'T.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I 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 r met him with a young
girl to whom he introduced me a*
his friend. Do you think he cares
for me? HEARTBROKEN.
He Is not engaged to you, and his
appearance with another gtrl is noth
ing to cause ydur heart to break.
Have a little more pride, my dear. J*et
him see you don’t care how many
girls he 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 mv senior.
He has gone away to college and
writes to me twice a week We
are not engaged, trut he tells me
how much he cares for me In
every letter. Now, I am unde
cided how to answer his letters.
A. C.
Re friendly, keeping a careful guard
on your pen Write nothing you
would be ashamed to see in pTint. 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.
MOST DECIDEDLY NOT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I have been keeping company
with a young gentleman for the
past year. lie Insulted me in
company, and w© had a quarrel,
and he has not apologized and
said he wouldn’t. Should T make
up with him or not? LOUISE.
Do you want to be insulted again?
i That Is what a reconciliation will
amount to. Have nothing more to
do with him.
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 angrily what all the noise
was about.
"We were only having a little game
among ourselves, mv lord,” the man
answered, looking rather worried.
“What was the game?” demanded
the noble gentleman.
“T should prefer not to say, my
lord!”
“Kindly answer my question, Wil
son! I desir© to know what could
have caused so much ooarse laugh
ter.”
“Well, my lord, if you insist, I ha vs
no choice. We had blindfolded the
cook and were taking it In turns to
kiss her and she had to guess who it
was each time. The under-housemaid
held up the mop to her face, and—
this is what we were laughing at my
lord—cook called out. ‘Oh, how dare
you, your lordsrhip!'’*
Good At the Work.
He—You know If women get the
vole they would have to |serv© on
Juries.
She—WelL suppose we did. J guess
it wouldn’t take us as long to dis
agree as some of the men.
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‘
„ , . . J