Newspaper Page Text
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Don't Charge So Much to Father, He Will Be Sorry Santa Claus Didn t Bring Him a New Wife
D/
Advice to the
THE FAMILY
/// the Web of a Woman's Smile ~ BY NELL BRINKLEY
CUPBOARD
s'" -
Lovelorn
By Owen Davis.
[Novelized byl
•What In It?"
They are In a
<Frnm Owpn Pavia' play now being pre
sented at the Playhouse, New York, by
Wiblam A Brady Copyright, 1913, by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY - S INSTALLMENT
"She will be all right She would
be all right anywhere Mary Ih strong
and fine and clean The Nelsons never
did anything for het She is no waster
she knows now to stick. 1 wish I
could see her again before I go. But
I can't I’ve no right Kay good bye
to Mary for me, mtoher."
He turned toward the door
"I kissed her that day Perhraps l
meant It. after all Tell her -tell her
I'm glad I knew her and good-bye!”
"Ken' Pear'"
"No"’
"KEN!” Her crv stopped him In It
was all of a mother's agonised love
“One minute, Ken
He turned re I ur tar.il>
"My business affairs
dreadful state'
"Damton 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?"
Emily Nelson stepped to her son s
side She must dare all now physical
force demonatration -even, If need he.
she must confess openly that she knew
where he was going
"You are my boy, my son a man now '
A grown mar: Who should help me If
not you, Ken? Come!"
Khe 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. aJl of us, have skeletons
In our cupboards, dear But as Karah
Harding says, we can, at least, shut
the door on them Let’s do It and for
get !"
"I can’t, you see,” said Ken, patiently
He must explain. He must make his
mother understand the grim impossibil
ity of doing what she asked “‘I can’t
forget' I have only |ust 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
"I don’t want you to think 1 am rude,
mother," said Kenneth, stepping away
from her with a pitiful show of grave
courtesy, "but I must go."
"Walt!’* implored Emily Nelson
"No"'
"Kenneth!" she caught at him. clutch
ing wildly tor the physical assurance
of the mere feel of the texture of his
rough tweed sleeve
"1 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 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
cokl Impatience
8he felt how helplesH she was to
bridge the gulf between and reach her
son. Kite could n<»t 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 ] know’ I am not worth another
chance! Just tell him that 1 love him
that’s all—Just as I used to when I was
little. He will understand!"
Would the father be In time? Could
he save the boy. whose only living emo
tion seemed to be love for his father?
Emily Nelson’s tortured brain could only
ponder and pra>
The mother frantic with fear and
hope suspense and longing, seized the
boy In Iter clasp at last. With trem
bling arms she enfolded him and held
him close, close to her pulsing heart.
"Let me go. mother! I*lease!”
"Not yet, dear bo> Wait!'’
"I must! Mother' I can t stand it.
i must!”
He struggled franticallx against the
pitiless, pitiful soft clasp of those en
folding arms. Tighter, tighter. Emily
Nelson drew her boy Could she hold
him? Or would he use his man’s
strength and break from the soft fet-
t ers ?
"Dear! IH.-ar boy! 1 am your mother
— holdUig you my arms about you. lust
as they were when you were a baby."
Her voice broke. "When he was a
baby " And the pitiful years between'
The burning tears would no longer be
forbidden—they flooded her eyes.
"My boy! My Ken! I am holding you
safe. You can’t go' I was a good
mother then. I never let you get hurt.
If all my strength could hold you I
guarded you, just as I am doing now."
\ He stirred in her arms Her voice—
Move's magnetism had held him for a
foment, but he must go now!
"No! Ken! No! No! You can’t go!"
To Be Continued To morrow.
I 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 vine chap confesses: "I don't know what it 1«, hut WHATEVER
IT 18, 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! 8he Is one of those Women with a SMILE. All
the angels In Paradise get out thrtr 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 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 baahfulest 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-piucked 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 world
grows dim and fades, and before the dearness of her face a web grows
—a golden rainbow r ed 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 Isn't like it. I must “scratch for a living” aeons longer to be
able to put it on plain white Bristol-board. If it was 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 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 BRINKLEY.
© e Tlie Manicure Lady
By WILLIAM F KIRK.
“I
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.
1 guess there ain't no ehd to them
Did you notice that follow that just
went out? He is about as near a
plain bug as was ever around with
out no keeper. lie told me that be
wouldn't never have his nails did
only It soothed him when he got
nervous. He said be got nervous
every time he felt the longing for a
spree stealing on him. and that when
felt as if he wanted to go out and
he
|5 and should
know about the wondartaJ
Marvel J^*****?™
Douche
tb. y awvfT'
pt pa other, but
■tamp for book
ISkilAiitSULI.
mop up all the spare drinks in our
beautiful city be always went instead
and had his nails did. If the old
gem had bis nails did every time be
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 fact*, and any time you show
me a man like that I will show you
a sincere drinker.”
"If 1 was nervous I wouldn't want
nobody fussing around my nails,"
said the Head Barber
"That Is what 1 was thinking.'
said the Manicure Lady, "though 1
didn't have the heart to tell him that,
and besides 1 was afraid he would
change his mind and do me out of a
job. so 1 just went along ami 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
had. 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 1 remember them, George, they was
ail regular fellows Now you take a
chap like my brother Wilfred No
body ever heard of i harmless littk*
fellow' like him getting stung by the
high-proof stuff, because that kind
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 he 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 he a kind of a blessing
in disguise, but it is just the other
way. and I wish the stuff hail never
been invented.”
"That is just what I was saying to
father up to the house the other
night," said the Manicure I sidy. “The
old gent agreed with mo for polite
ness. but it made him gulp kind of
hard, and 1 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
r
AT BAY
A Thrilling Story of
Society Blackmailers
(Novelized by>
acting
chap
like
that
fello
an that just
went «
nit.
It hi
s t u
rnod
him
int
o a
nut, bt
vause nol
>ody
exc
ept
a
nut
would
hav«
* his
nail
s die
1 to
soc
•the
him.
You
wait
till i
is \v«
amen
ha
s a
vote, ;
and
you
will
see
w he
re
the
demon
rum
gets
a a’
wful
k i e k
In
the
shins.
And
that
ain’
t the
only
gl
and
work us w i’
unen
is gr
dug t
o do
ut
the
polls *
‘itlioi
And that ti
me i:
>m -
ing. to
o. <;«■
orge.
Maybe." said the Head Barber, "hut
when that time comes you will he
too old to \ote and I will be too old
to care."
The origin of the saying "as clean as
m whistle" is ascribed to the "whistle-
tankard” of olden times, in which the
whistle came into play when the tan
kard was emptied. <>r "cleared out." to
announce to the waiter that more liquor
was required
Perhaps the only word that is the
same in all 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 way of informing their customers
of the days on which fresh sausages are
made, by placing a chair, covered with a
large, 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 of twelve, about six hundred are
afflicted with nervous troubles In later
life.
play by George Scar
borough. now being presented at the
Thirty-ninth Street Theater. New York.
Serial lights 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 pliss 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
hit and then knocked in a businesslike
manner.
"Don't open that." commanded the
t’aptain in a roar of emphasis.
"No. sir—please Fat tain—the docker
says what is your seeck trubble."
" Appendicitis."
An inquiring silence on the part of
Rarnadino strange were the things he
was hearing from behind that door.
“Appendicitis!" shouted the t’aptain
with slow emphasis.
"Ben sidis?" ventured Barney timidly.
"Yes -appendicitis."
"Yis. sir." sighed Rarnadino—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 Rcn-sidis yis, sir. Ben-sidis
his room, sir I don't know, sir maybe
one bah*tie Hypo—Etch-Y-F-AW. That
the sign on bah-tie. Yis, sir—Righte-
weh. Thank you. Docker Ell-yut."
"Cattain." he called past that im
movable loirrier of wood, “Docker he
say he come righteweh."
“Good."
Rarnadino 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 looking behind each
stone or twig for an ambuscade by
an enemy thus might rush out with the
bob) or kriss and cut beyond recogni
tion or hope of life. Because liis an
cestors for long ages had known the
fear of poison-tipped arrows—and had
narrowed their eyes that a modified
share of light might enter and far
horizons be clear. Barnadino must look
like a sly ami 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 ai work. Barney
did not know the high art of blackmail.
He guessed nothing of the civilized boJo
and kriss that can cut a reputation to
Pieces with words the victim had forged
into a weapon against himself.
Ard 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 captain who had brought
Him to the land of fret yomen—and
brave men. anti Aline s pin whs 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 as it pictured how a man had
gone to his doom.
The great Chinese x lan:p on his table
cast its glow on the glass plate. Fear
grew to certainty in Holbrook’s eyes.
And would certainty erase forever the
Boft glow of lave? Can a man still
love a woman when he knows the
worst? And l^arry 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 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 j
It resisted he went over to the
buffet and selected a steel knife. . . !
He pried it slowly under the edge of the j
box and the lock yielded. . . . Then
lie came hack to the table and spread J
the pitiful story of the box's contents j
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.
Daysey Mayme and Her Folks
By FRANCES L. OARS IDE.
I T 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 as wash rags or
buttons.
"1 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
1 am quite sure if the Lord 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 fig leaf
fashion would see a glorious revival."
President Appleton frow’ned. 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
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 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-inch 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 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.
Good At the Work.
He—You know if women get the
vote they would have to serve on
Juries.
She—Well, suppose we did. I guess
It wouldn’t take us as long to dis
agree as some of the men.
ACT AS IF YOU DIDN’T CARE TO.
i5ear Mis* Fairfax:
I am 20, and though I know
several young men, have never
met a young man who aeqms 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; find such
l.ui piness 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:
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 I met him with a young
girl to whom he introduced me as
his friend. Do you think he cares
for me? HEARTBROKEN.
He is not engaged to you, and his
appearance with another girl is noth
ing to cause your heart to break.
Have a little more pride, my dear. Let
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 my senior.
He 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.
MOST 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
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, my lord,” the man
answered, looking rather worried.
"What was the game?” demanded
the noble gentleman.
"I should prefer not to say. my
lord!"
"Kindly answer my question, Wil
son! I desire to know what could
have caused *o much coarse laugh
ter.”
"Well, my lord, if you insist. I have
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-housemaiJ
held up the mop to her face, and—
this is what we w'ere laughing at. my
lord—cook called out, ‘Oh, how dare
you. your lordship!’”
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