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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
.ip ted from the Bin Broadway Sueceas
By Owen Davis
Novelized toyl
In the Web of a Woman's Smile
Co|»r1fbt. 1*11, Interratiotial News rernes.
^ BY NELL BRINKLEY
• From Owen Davis' play nos being pre
sented at the Playhouse, New York, by
WlMa.ni A. Brady Copyright, 1913, by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT
“Sb© will be aJl right Fh© would
be all right anrwher© Mary la strong
and fine and clean The Nelson© never
did anything for her .She la no wneter
- eh© knows bow to stick. I wish I
cotfld ©e© her again before I go But
I can't—I’ve no right. Say good by©
to Mary for me, mtohor "
He turned toward the door
"1 kissed her that day Perhraps I
meant It, after all Tell her tell her
Tm glad T knew her -and good-bye!”
"Ken' Deer!"
W
“TCHJNT” Her cry mopped him In It
waa all of a mother's agonized love
“One minute, Ken ”
He turned reluctantly. "What Is It?"
"My business affairs They are In a
dreadful state!”
"Damton !• a good lawyer."
"Tea--oh. yea—but after all ”
“Purely, you don't want my advice!
After the way 1 have muddled my own'
affaire?”
“Why not?"
Emily Nelson stepped to her son's
side. 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?"
8he threw her arms around him
"All of ua 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. But as Sarah
Harding says, we ran. at least, shut
the door on them. I jet’s do It and for
get !"
I can’t, you see.” said Ken, patiently
I It must explain He must make his
mother understand the grim Imposslbll-
•; v of doing what she asked "*l can’t
forget’ I have only Juat 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 ”
”1 don’t want you to think 1 am rude,
mother,” said Kenneth, stepping away
from her wltl\ a pitiful show of grave
courtesy, "but 1 must go.”
"Wait!*' Implored Emily Nelson.
"No!"
"Kenneth!” she caught at hint, clutch
ing wildly for the physical assurance
of the mere feel of the texture of his
rough Iweed sleeve
"I can't let you go. Ken' One minute
Just one
Wild sobs were struggling In her
throatv Her eyes burned. The contest
was so pitifully uneven! She ^ad only
word*—worda—and agonized love that
could make no Impression on this tor
tured young mind to whom love was
only s snare—a vision—a mirage—a
Fata Morgana.
"TYhv one minute?*' asked Ken with
cold lmpatfenee.
Bhe 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
"1 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 I know I am not worth another
chance! Just tell him that I love him—
that’s a’l Jusf as 1 used to when I was
little Me will understand!”
Wpuld 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 pray.
The mother frantic with fear and
hope suspense and longing, seized the
boy in her clasp at last. With trem
bling arms she enfolded him and held
him close, close to her pulsing heart
"Let me go. mother! Please!”
"Not yet. dear boy. Walt!”
“I must! Mother! 1 can t stand It
I must!”
He struggled frantically 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
ters?
"Dear! Dear boy! I am your mother
holding you my arms about you. just
as they were when you were a baby.”
Her voice broke. "When he was a
baby ” And the pitiful years between!
The burring tears would no longer be
lorhMder. -they flooded her eves
“My boy! My Ken! I am holding you
safe. You can’t go! I was a good
mother then. 1 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—
love’s magnetism had held him for a
moment, but he must go now!
"No! Ken! No! No! Toil can’t go!”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
Woman
U interested and should
know about the wondertul
Marvel J*'**
Douche
Ask yourdragglet for
It if be caano*. gap-
ply the MARVEL.
arrep* no other, hvt
•end stamp for book.
I KNOW n girl with a *milr. From her eriap metallic hatr to the
straps of her slippers fhe Is what folks call “comely ” But It
isn't Hip crinkle in her hatr. nor the white column of her neck,
nor any of there 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
eves." offered one chap But there are miles of girls with blue bluer
eves! "Her hair Is so gold.” But the Rlrls with "Rolder" hair who
ire prettier than she would make a glittering girdle around the world!
Only one chap confesses: "1 don't know what It Is. but WHATEVER
IT IS. and whatever you ;ye 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 SMI1.E. All
the angels In Paradise get out their 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 neek. 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-plucked 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 ratnbowed 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 it* beauty!
Thin isn't like it. 1 must "scratch for a living" aeons longer to be
able to put it on plain white Bristol-board. If it teas 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.
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
ACT AS IF YOU DIDN'T CARE TO.
Dear Mis© Fairfax:
I am 20, and though I kn*w
several young men, have never
met a young man who *©<yne to
care enough to propose to me
What shall I do In order to win
someone? SORROWFUL.
If• yob let the men know you are on
a husband hunt they will carefully
avoid you.
Be a little Independent; find such
happiness in the soelety of women
the men will be interested la know
ing what you are happy about. And
don’t worry because no lover oomes
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 month* 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 yonng
girl to whom he introduced me aa
his friend. Do yon think he oares
for me? HEARTBROKEN.
He is not engaged to you, and his
appearance with ^mother 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:
I 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 tell* me
how much he cares for me in
every letter. Now, I am unde
cided how to ansrwer his letters,
JL C.
Be friendly, keeping a careful guard
on your pen. Write nothing you
would be ashamed to see in print. Tf
he still loves you when his school
days are erided, 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 ha/i 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 lmralted again?
That is what a reconciliation will
amount to. Have nothing more to
do with him.
© © The Manicure Lady @ §
By WILLIAM F MRK
“I
USED to think that I knew'
about all the different types
of men,” said the Manicure
Lady. T don’t think so no more,
George Honest to goodness, there is
some new form of a nut conies 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 his 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 ! was nervous 1 wouldn’t want
nobody fussing around my nails.”
said the Head Harbor.
"That is what I was thinking,”
said the Manicure Lady, “though l
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 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?
”1 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
(hap like my brother Wilfred. No
body ever heard of a harmless little
fellow like him getting stung by the
high-privf stuff, because that kind
of mu oeiub to elide along through
life without doing nothing hard
enough to hurt them.”
“Most of the hard drinkers I know
is men that would ly 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
ill 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 gem 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 Rarber. "but
when that time comes you will be
too old to vote and I will be too old
to care."
AT BAY
A Thrilling Story of
Society Blackmailers
(Novelized by>
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 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 fo Berlin have a curi
ous way of informing their customers
«>f the days on which fresh sausages are
made. b\ 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 or twelve, about six hundred are
a Moled w ith nervous troubles in later
life.
play by George Scar
borough, now being presented at the
Thirty-ninth Street Theater, New York.
Berlal rights held and copyrighted by
International News Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
” 'Ell©—Is Docker Ell-yut? I’s Cat-
tain 'Olbrook. boy! Yis, sir. ("attain
'Olhrook 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
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 vour seeck trubble ”
“Appendicitis ”
An inquiring silence on the part of
Barn ad i no--strange were the things he
was hearing from behind that door.
“Appendicitis!” shouted the Captain
with slow emphasis
"Ben-sidis?” ventured Barney timidly.
"Yes - appendicitis."
"Yis. sir,” sighed Barnadlno—his not
to question w’hy—and the malady that
drove the Captain to making pictures
at an hour w’hen 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? Cat tain
says is Ben-sidis*—yls. sir. Ben-aidie—
his room, sir-—I don’t know, sir maybe
one bah-tle Hypo—Etch-Y-l'-AW. That
the sign on bah-tle. Yis, sir—Righte-
weh. Thank you. Docker Ell-yut."
"Cattain,” he called past that Im
movable. barrier of wood. "Docker he
say he come righto web."
“Good.”
Barnadlno waited for further orders.
He gamed about the room with roving
and furtive eye. Still no orders.
"1 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 loyning behind each
stone or tw^g for an ambuscade by
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 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. Barnadlno must, look
like a sly and shifty creature to the
peoples of our Occidental world—but
Barnadlno w’as the loyal slave of the
man w^io 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 bolf*
and kriss that can cut a reputation to
pieces with words the victim had forged
into a w’eapon 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 captain who had brought
him to the land of free women- and
brave men. and Aline’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, 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 lamp on his table
cast Its glow on the glass plate Fear
grow’ to certainty In Holbrook’s eyes.
And would certainty erase forever the
soft glow’ of love? Can a man still
love a woman—when he 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 be quick—for who could
tell when Interruption would come 0
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
he came back to the table and spread
the pitiful story of the box’s contents
before him.
“loiters! . . Honorable George
Rowland! . . . House of Representa
tives lady’s hand. Blackmail—
blackmail! Oh—all the poor iittie la
dies!”
To Be Continued To-morrow,
Daysey May me and Her Folks
By FRANCES L. CARBIDE
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.
“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 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 6at
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
of the donor on la-st 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 »o imbued wiU^ v th#
Chrlstma* 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
8-Inch rent.
Keep mother and father a part 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.
Better Kept Quite.
Lord- Boots, who was fiamoue fur
his long and flowing beard, was dis
turbed one evening, when he thought
all the servants ware in bed. by
shouts of laughter and mack cheer
ing. Summoning his valet, he de
manded angrily what all the note*
was about.
“We were only hxvlng a little game
among ourselves, my lord,” the mar
answered, looking rather worried.
"What was the game?" demanded
the noble gentleman.
“T should prefer not to saqr, my
lord!”
“Kindly a newer my question, WIL
son! I desire to know what could
have caused so much coarse laugh
ter.”
“Well, my lord. If you 1n«l«t, I have
no choice. We had blindfolded the
cook and were taking it In tome to
kiss her and she had to gueee who ft
was each time. The under-houaexnai'
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 lordship! ’ "
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