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“The Marriage Game,” a Great Love Story, Will Begin on This Page Saturday. Be Sure to Read the Opening Installment
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[) A A / A Thrilling Story of
[j/V. I Society Blackmailers
(Novelized ky>
K
lav by George Foar-
• m th* nl
t i at the
Thl-t\-ninth Street Theater. New York.
S' ni r ghts held and Copyrighted by
lm**i national New* Service.)
TO-DAY’S INSTALLMENT.
She raised her eyes. struggling
• gainst the weight of tears on the
lftsi.es. She must look at her Judge
But it was her father’s kind eyes she
met, and it was her fathers kind
voice she heard say in*
"My girl—my little AMne—my
motherless baby.”
The voice broke down all her self-
control, though only its tone, and not
Its words, penetrated her conscious
ness
"Don't scold me," sobbed the girl.
"Scold you—-my motherless baby—
I am trying with all my poor might
to help you. My little Aline! 1 must
still question you—how did Klagg get
this?”
"I don’t know-—I must hare lost It.”
And now Gordon Graham spoke
with quiet satisfaction.
“I see no reason to call this affair a
mock marriage."
"You don’t!" cried AMne, in diazy
alarm.
"That is a lie many a scoundrel h«s
told when he wanted to desert a
trusting and innocent young wife,'
said Graham, so well satisfied at the
laying of this ghost that he scarcely
noticed Aline
The girl had risen and atood sway
ing in new horror.
"Wife! Oh. no. no. no- Daddy!”
The man turned on her in bewil
derment.
"Do you want to believe you
weren't properly married?"
“Yes. yes.” (fled the girl, eagerly.
“That the man fooled you? You
w a ni that to he true?"
I don’t want to think that I’m his
wife—that I'm married to him.”
The man answered her in horror.
“My God I do.’’
I . ouldn’t he his wife now—I
• ouldn’t be" the girl’s voice rose in
: e shrill crescendo of hysteria.
Well you probably are his wife."
i.sired her father. thanking his
Maker that the motherless bairn his
girl-wife had left him had been
saved this shame, at least.
In a wild abandon of tears and sobs
the gui filing herself across the room
and crouched trembling and shaken
among the cushions of the great
touch.
“Oh. why didn't. I die that summer
why didn’t I die —1 can’t bear It!"
she moaned in utter grief and terror.
“Quiet, Aline you must control
yourself—MacIntyre and Dempster
will hear you.”
“The whole world may hear me
nothing matters now why didn’t I
die while there was time -why didn't
1 die?”
Her hysteria was carrying her past
thought of self-control, and horror
al! bounds—she had given over all
unleashed was tearing at her mind.
•‘Aline! Aline*” cried her father.
“Don’t you think of yourself now.
Hide your grief from people who will
use it against you. Think of my
name—our proud name Re a wom
an. Mine
There was the clamor of an in
sistent knock at the door.
"Aline!” pleaded the man
On the Rack.
“I’ll try daddy.” She rolled her
wet handkerchief into a little damp
hall and clutched it for the grip on*
reality it gave. And then. with
'witching nostrils that kept back the
dying exhalations of her spent sobs.
Aline turned to face again Chief
Dempster and Inspector MacIntyre.
If the wily chief observed that
Aline was struggling as does a child
ihat has passed through a wild tem
pest of grief and as a woman who
faces a heritage of pain, he gave no
sign. He began with a challenge.
1 saw Holbrook in the hall. • • •
What does this mean'.’"
“I had Captain Holbrook sent here
in care of an officer,” answered Gor
don Graham •
Why?’’
"He asked to see me I think I
should tell you -and the inspector
that I have phoned th<* Attorney Gen
eral and have asked to be relieved
from the case all of it. If Captain
Holbrook is tried I may appear for
him his attorney
“That's rather surprising ’’ inter
rupted the inspector in a suspicious
tone
“Ah. let him come in!” cried Aline.
Her First Proposal .<*
Copyright, 1913. Internttior*! N>
By NELL BRINKLEY
"Why?’’ asked the three men in
varying tones of surprise
“He has such courage he gives it
to me I feel safer somehow—when
he is here." smiled the girl mistily
The chief and inspector looked at
one another with satisfaction This
admission meant something to them
Graham wondered how much Aline
had hurt the case.
“Keep them seoarate,” advised the
inspector.
“Why?" asked Graham
The chief smiled. “Lei him come
in. inspector.”
And so Holbrook was summoned
summoned to share with Aline her
supreme moments
“Captain, you phoned the paper last
night, telling their editor to suppress
a denial they had meant to make of
your engagement to this young lady.”
“Yes, chief.”
“Why telephone at that time—Just
after the murder?"
“WELL, CHIEF, I’M ASKIN’.
WHEN WOULD YOT’ RHONE A |
PAPER TF YOU WANTED TO
STOP AN ITEM AFTER IT WAS (
ON THE NEWS; TAND?”
“Why stop it?” snapped the jaws
of steel.
“What was th'* first thing I told
you about the lady and meself?”
“That she was your wife.”
“THEN WHAT A POOL I'D LOOK
DEN YIN’ WE WERE EVEN EN
GAGED!”
“Stalling ” muttered the chief to
the inspector— and then changed his
attention to Aline
“Miss Graham — when did you put
on the street dress you w r ore last
night to Captain Holbrook’s rooms?”
“When I decided to go to him,” re
plied the girl, simply enough.
“When was that?’’
“I can’t tell you the exact hour.
Chief Dempster.”
“Well, we ll let that go. Which door
were you at when you overheard my
report to your father?”
“The hall door.”
“How were you dressed at that
time?”
At this question. Captain Hol
brooks finger went quickly to his Up*
and he gave the childish little signal
for silence.
“Wait a minute. You sit over here
in this chair in the center of the room.
Captain Holbrook,’’ said Inspector
MacIntyre, with abrupt sternness.
The captain obeyed with a shrug
of protest that seemed to wonder
what all lhis fuss was about, any
way.
“Alino needn't answer that ques
tion." interposed Gordon Graham
“You fear it may incriminate her,
Counseolr?" asked Chief Dempster.
“I don’t think it’s relevant.”
There was n moment of silence
while the Chief framed h'.s question
anew.
“Until you put on your street dress,
what had you been wearing?”
“\n evening gown”
“The one you wore at dinner las:
night when your father and 1 and
Father Shannon were at table?”
"Yes, sir.”
“Did you go out of the house in
your evening gown?”
“I pul on a street dress to go out—
ns I’ve told you.”
"But your maid says you took off
your evening gown and prepared for
bed.”
“Well ?”
“Is that a fact?”
"Yes,” admitted Aline.
"Then after you got ready for bed,
something decided you to get up and
dress in your street suit. What was
that?”
“Your telephone message to father.”
“I phoned that Judson Flagg had
been* murdered and there w ere some
features about the case I wanted to
discuss, didn’t I?”
“About that.”
“And that decided you to dress
again ?”
“It did.”
“And, if necessary, to go to Cap
tain Holbrook’s room?”
“Don't answer that.” interposed
Gra ham.
“You object as her attornev ?”
“As my attorney, I hope,” broke in
Holbrook, overdoing the matter a bit
ir his manifest desire to shield the
girl. “Are you trying to manufacture
a PRINCIPAL case against, me? Why,
1 m only held as an h cessory AFTER
the fact, so far ”
Chief Dempster continued inexor
ably.
“You wore two roses at dinner,
Miss Gra hum WHAT BECAME OF
THOSE ROSES’’”
“I don’t know.” faltered Aline.
“Don’t know”” There was the sneer
Of unbelief in Chief Dempster's tone.
“I took them off -when 1 unclasped
this pin that held them,” she fal
tered
“Where did you put them"”
To Be Continued To-morrow.
j Daysey Mayme and Her Folks
T HOUGH Father's roof doesn't;
lealy Daysey Mayme Appleton,
like all girls who have read
the testimonials of love in romantic!
novels, would like to leave It for a
oof of her ow n Why she lingers so i
long on Father's hands she doesn't 1
jnderstand.
It remained for her brother, Chaun-
ey Pevere Appleton, the Child Sta- {
t'.sticlan, to discos er the cause. His
report, made in a paper read before
the Children’s Congress, is invaluable
as a vindication of the charms of
tny daughter left on Father’s hands.
“The price of coal,” began Presi
dent Chauncey Devere. wiping his
mansard brow, “has advanced 19 per
ent in the past ten year*, the stove
in which the coal is burned cost
twice as much as the stove before
wnich Father courted Mother, there
1* a finer carpet at a higher price,
and all tne special scenery for court-
*h p is 30 per cent, more costly than
It w as a generation ago .”
He paused to frown at the wlggly
children in h? audience who were
not Interested in the problem of hav
ing an older s.sier to marry off
The dress which Daysey Mayme
wears cost nine and one-half times
what a dress for a similar occasion
cost ten years back. The extra cost
of hair must be taken into consider
ation, an amount of which sufficient
to enthrrll a young man w 11 stagger
any father of moderate means.
“In brief, to put Daysey Mayme In
a pretty parlor, wearing good clothes
and with a smile on her lips from
which all thought of expense must
be banished, cost S84 per cent more
than it would have cost a generation
ago. M\ figures prove that the get
ting of a husband has gone up in
price faster and higher than the
price of bacon, and only the daugh
ters of millionaires can afford to
try.
“Not only,” he continued, and the
hopelessness of ever ridding his home
of the tyrant rule of an older sister
made his voice tremble, “has the price
of bait gone up 384 per cent, but the
banks are lined with a larger num
ber of girls who are fishing there
are fewer fish in the stream, and
these few fish are 3.IS* per cent more
wary than the fish of several years
ago
The picture of Dayse\ Mamie
spending the rest of her life with a
pole in the water overcame him and
h« burst into tea^s.
—FRANCES L. GARSIDE
Advice to the
Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
TRY LEAVING HIM.
J)EAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I have been keeping house for
my brother-in-law and his two sons
ever since his wife died fifteen
months ago. I have grown to love
him very dearly. I know' he goes
to see a young girl and takes her
home on Saturday night. She l%
very much younger than he. H«
tells me he is not going to he mar
ried. What would you advise me
to do to gain his love, for it will
kill me if I lose him?
HATTIE C.
H E will try to keep you i n his
household as long as he need)
you, and the needs of a widower with
two children are urgent. You hav«
made him comfortable, and with aa
result: try leaving him and making
Sim uncomfortable.
Almost Human.
There was only one possible « x .
planatlon. Either Bill, the butcher
boy, had not a nodding acquaintance
with the elementary lawn of horse
manship, or else the horse was a reg
ular brute.
With its ears well back, it would
trot along for a few yards and
stop dead; then, without any warning,
start off again, only to stop once
more a little further on. The wretohed
Bill, having had two solid hours of
this, was aJmost delirious.
“Hallo, my boy,” cried out an Inter
ested spectator. “What do you keep
pulling that horse up for? Are you
geared of ittf”
"Scared of it—pallin’ It up?” an-
iwered the almost tearful youth.
“Whatcher tadee me for?”
“Well, something’s wrong with the
horse,” persisted the stranger.
"You’re rig!ht there,” said Bill
heartily. “But I ain’t got nothin’ to
do with It. TJruth is, the beast is
so afraid that I shall say ‘Whoa!’ and
he won’t hear me and he keeps etop-
pin’ to listen! See?"
The Effect of Moonlight.
It was at th® seashore, and they
were sitting on the beach, beneath th,
moon.
I “What effect does full moon har,
j upon the tide?” she asked, looking
t sweetly up into his face. .
"None,” he replied, as he drew closer
to her; “but it has-considerable effect
upon the un-tled.”
H ER first it is, too. So you see, with that, it is entitled to come in the list of “ter
rible minutes!" It might bo that it will he their last, but when Youth is this
young two round-cheeked things with fraternity pins on their chests, his hair
with the convict cut. hers clinched at the nape of the neck with a black velvet bow that
butterflies out above her brows and rippling still down her back—when Youth is this
young it likely should he called the "first," for there w ill come others after.
Babette is the prettiest girl In school, and she wears her hair in puffs over her ears
and her ankles are slim little affairs sheathed in silk stockings. Billy is a blonde chap
with his vests cut extremely high, and his collars deeply pointed, and his coat pinched
in the smartest way across the shoulders, and he wears his pipe-like trousers turned
up short—so short that it gives him the look of a young heron gone a-wading.
Well, it's a terrible minute. There’s a miserable silence, and even her bird and her
dog square themselves around and looking him steadfastly In the eye seem to wonder
when he will begin. And he wonders if she has any notion of the thing that’s on hts
mind. If she has, she manages her face pretty well. "But girls are deep.” ruminates
Billiam. "You never can tell what's In their heads'"
THE MANICURE LADY
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
FEEL kind of languid this morn
ing,’’ said the Manicure Lady
“1 was out to on* of them old
fashioned country dances, and we had
so much fun that we didn't get home
until three o'clock in the A. M. 1 j
didn’t think when we started that we
was going to have any fun, but 1 was
doping it wrong. George. When l
wasn’t in the thick of it myself I
was enloying myself watching the
other folks having their fun. And you
may believe me, George, they sure
did eat that party right up. I never
seen a congregation of people that
congregated so Joyous.”
“I used to have a lot of fun at them
country dances when 1 was young."
said the Head Barber. “They didn’t
PVfr looked bored or have to pretend
that they were having a good tlme-
they had it."
“We wouldn't have went to this
dance if it hadn't been for brother
Wilfred.” explained the Manicure
Lady. “The poor fellow has took the
notion into his head lately that he
Is a sure enough playwright. T guess
that playwright gent that 1 was keep
ing company with told Wilfred that
he ought to write a play. Anyhow,
he has started on a rural drama and
has two acts nearly did. The name of
the drama is *ln Maple Syrup Time,
and Wilfred says that when he has it
all did it will be as sweet as its name
I hope it don’t turn out to be no such
disappointment as most of his poems
has; but, anyhow, he took thb notion
In his head that he wanted to a
little color for his play, so he dragged
us off ten miles across the hills to
this country dance, me and sister
Mayme and some lankhead friend of
Wilfred’s that is helping him put the
•arm scenes into the play. Mayme had
to turn him down cold when he pro
posed marriage to her on the way
home after the dance, but outside of
that everything passed off mighty
smooth.
"It was kind of funny to watch
Wilfred posing. He had a notion in
his head that them simple people
would feel embarrassed in his pres
ence. but there wasn’t one of them
there that knew whether he had ever
wrote a poem or not. and 1 guess that
even if they had have known the;,
wouldn't have cared. They was right
there tending to their knitting, doing
them square dances as if their lives
depended on them making every move
right and taking them healthy coun
try swings when they came back to
yieir partners.
I danced a few of the quadrilles
myself, but 1 guess them new dances
I have learned lately has threw out
of my head all the memories of the
old square dances. The new city
dances has been coming so thick and
fast that I have to keep busy learning
them. I have seven new dances like
the Tango to my discredit now.”
“Did your brother get his local
color?” asked the Head Barber.
’’Yes. I guess he did,” said the Man
icure Lady, “and a beautiful load on
besides. He tempted fate enough to
drink about a gallon of hard cider
and the hard cider went to his soft
head. He came near getting up and
making a speech to tell the simple
country people why he had came there,
but I coaxed him not to make so raw
a play, and we got him back into the
bhlgh and home without no unpleas
ant happening. Gee. I wish 1 could be
as happy as them country girls was
last night! There wasn't a gent there
that forgot he was a gent. Well, the
dream is over, George Here comes
one of my dear customers ”
Observant.
"Be observant, my son. said Willie’s
father. “Cultivate the habit of seeing
and > ou will be a successful man ”
“Yes.” added his uncle. "Don’t go
through the world blindly. Learn to
use your eyes.’’
'Little boys who are observing
know a great deal more then those
who are not,' his aunt put In.
Willie took this advice to heart.
Next day he informed his mother
that he had been observing things.
“Uncle's got a bottle of whiskey
hidden in his trunk,” he said; “Aunt
Jane's got an extra set of teeth in her
drawer, and father’s got a pack of
cards behind the books in his desk!”
"The little sneak' exclaimed the
members of the family indicated.
Some Reason.
The editor of the “heart-to-heart
talk” column of a daily newspaper re
ceived tha following letter from a
young man:
“Please tell me why it is that a girl
closes her eyes when a fellow kisses
her
To which th* editor, in a fiendish
moment, replied:
Send me your photograph and per
haps I can tell >
Tabloid Tales
A T what age. Mother, does a child
begin to detect its mother in a
falsehood?
Maternal reverence, Little One, for
bids an answer, but I have heard that
children of two years notice this: A
mother wjll remind a child it has on
its Best Dress and must keep it clean,
and five minutes laTer will say to a
neighbor in a deprecating way: ”Oh,
that is only an old rag. I am ashamed
to have the child seen in it.”
What. Mother, is meant by a “father's
strong hand?”
When a woman. Little One, is a wid
ow, the people say her children need
a “Father's strong hand.’’ but when
children have a father, this is all ”Fa-
ther’s strong hand” arnoutns to: When
they are bad he grumbles to tli-eir
mother, “Why don’t you make those
children behave?’’
What. Mother, is the important dif
ference between the sympathy of a
Mother and that of a Father?
Father, My Child, has to have had the
measles to be able to sympathize with
the children, and Mother doesn’t.
Is there any way. Mother Dear, for
a man to get his wife to notice that
there is a button off his coat without
calling her attention to it?
Certainly, Mv Child. If a man wants
his wife to notice that a button is off
his ioat, let him put a woman's hair
where the button ought to be
What. Mother Mine, is meant by pass
ing between Scylla and Charybdis?
It means. Little One, the experience
of every Mother whose children demand
more money of her, and whose hus
band tells her she must get along on
less.
What is the Daughter thinking about,
Mother Dear?
Every Daughter. Little One. is think
ing if she were Mother, she would make
Father stand around.
Heaven, 1 am sure. Mother Mine, will
be satisfactory to the women, but will
| it be satisfactory to man?
Not unless. My Child, he can occa-
! sionally be sent somewhere as a dele*
I gate.
What. Mother Mine, is the proof of
an old-fashioned woman?
! There are many. Little One, from
i skirt pockets to heavy hose, but the
I ultimate proof is her jelly cake. No
woman can claim to be old-fashioned
j if her jelly t ake has less than nine
layers.
I What. Mother, is Imagination?
it is man's favorite name for any
thing that ails a woman.
What is meant by the expression '.se
cret sorrow?”
It is a secret every one is ready to
give away if sympathetically encour
aged.
What. Mother. is meant by the words
“Ac Home'' on wedding announcements?
It is the date. My Child, until which
every one is expected to keep away to
give the bride a chance to get her pic
tures hung.
—FRANCIS L. GARSIDE,
THE TEARFUL WEDDING GUEST
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX.
S O she doesn't want to go to the
theater with you unless you can
buy the very best seats 1n the
house, and after the theater, when you
took her out for some ice cream at
the little candy store, she sniffed and
began telling you about the fine sup
pers some other man gives her when
he takes her out.
What shall you do about it?
I know what I'd do about it if I
were in your place. I would stop
caring the snau of my finger for what
such a goose of a girl says or hints—
or even thinks.
What does she think you are—
millionaire—and what is she. pray till
-—a princess of the blood royal?
What sort of a home has she—does
she live in a palace or in a castle, and
how many times does she expect her
friends and acquaintances to knvk
their heads on the floor before they
dare to come into her august pres
ence?
What claim has she to such royal
tastes?
Is she such a gorgeous beauty that
no man can look at her without a
dreadful fluttering of the heart?
Is she an intellectual giantess,
whose every word sparkles with the
incrusted wisdom of the ages"
Or is she just some little pug-nosed,
Where No Money Is Used
The Island of Ascension, in the At
lantic Ocean, is of volcanic forma
tion, and has a population of only
450. It was uninhabited until the
confinement of Napoleon ^.t St. Hel
ena. when it was occupied by a small
British force.
Ascension is governed by a captain
appointed by the British Admiralty.
There is no private property in land,
no rents, no taxes and no use for
money. The flocks and herds are
public property and the meat is is
sued as rations. So are the vegeta
bles grown on the farms. When an
island fisherman makes a catch he
brings it to the guardroom, where it
is issued by the sergeant major.
Practically the entire population are
sailors, and they work at most of the
common trades. The muleteer is a
Jack Tar; so is the gardener: so are
the shepherds, the stockmen, the
grooms, carpenters and plumbers
The climate is almost perfect and
anything can be grown.
round-eyed girl who would never be
missed If she stepped right out of the
world this very minute*
I neveT saw a really beautiful or
really fine woman in my life who
cared a cent about having people
“spend money on her,” Ju 1 to show
how much they thought of her.
What sort of a wife would a girl
like that make an honest, hard
working man?
Why, she’d make you live on one
meal a day, and that a meager one,
just so that she had fine feathers to
show her friends to prove how* much
you loved her.
Make a home for you—never in thq
wide, wide world.
She’d rather have a two-room flat
without a window in the second room
and sleep on something that pretend
ed to be a bookcase or a. writing desk,
or anything except a good, sensible
bed, and eat on some kind of a shelf
rigged up to hide the gas plate, than
to live in the prettiest, most comfort
able little house in the world.
What she wants is show—display.
She’d rather have a hallboy in but
tons at the front door of the flat than
a delivery boy with a good porter
house steak and some green vegeta
bles at he back.
She isn’t a real woman at all, this
girl of yours, young man. She’s just
a poor, little, pasteboard imitation —
like the beautiful ladies who hold up
baskets of flowers in the garden
scene at the theater.
Turn your eyes away from her,
young man; she isn’t even worth
looking at.
DID IT WORK?
The Kodak you got Christmas? Bring
the films to JOHN L. MOORE & SONS
for expert finishing. They will also
make clear any point you don’t under
stand. Kodak Headquarters. 42 North
Broad street.—Advt.
Typewriters rented 4 mos.,
$5 up. Am. Wtg. Mch. Co.
Wilton Jellico Coal
$5.00
PER TON
The Jellico Coal Ci.
82 PEACHTREE ST.
Atlanta Phone 3668
Bell Phone Ivy 1585
Up=to-Date Jokes
Mr. J. L. Toole had algreat antipathy
to street music of airy kind. About
this there is a story told of him. Th«
waits, one Christmas evening, played
under his windows, greatly to his an
noyance, and on Boxfeng Day they
paid him a visit.
"We played under yotzr window laat
night,” said the spokesman of the
party, when they were shown into his
presence.
“Well, and what do yon want 7"
quoth the comedian.
“We’ve come for our little gratuity ”
“Come for a gratuity, have you?*’
exclaimed Mr. Toole. “Bless me! I
thought you had come to apologia*!"
• • •
While travelling on a. steamboat, •
notorious card-sharper, who wished to
get into the good graces of a clergy
man who was on board, said to th«
reverend gentleman:
**I should very much Ilk* to hear
one of your sermons, «ir.’*
“Well,” replied the clergyman, ”y*u
could have heard me last Sunday it
you had been where you should bav«
been.”
“Where was that then?”
“In the county jail,” was the an
swer.
• • •
A gentleman, rushing from his dln-
jp jjj 1 pooin into the hall and * niff in g
disgustedly, demanded of Jeames, th*
footman, whence arose the outrageous
odor that was pervading the whol*
house. To which Jeames replied:
“You see, sir, to-day's a saint’s dar
and the butler, ’e’g ’igh church, and
is burning hlncense, and the cook,
she’s low church, and is burning
brown paper to hobviate the hln-
cense.”
This is Guaranteed to Stop
Your Cough
Make This Family Supply of Cough
Syrup at Home and
Save $2.
This plan makes a pint of better
cough syrup than you could buy
ready made for $2.50. A few’ doses
usually conquer an ordinary cough
—relieves even whooping cough
quickly. Simple as it is. no better
remedy can be had at any price.
Mix 1 pint of granulated sugar
with Vz pint of warm water, and mi:
for two minutes. Put 2V® ounces/ 1
Pinex (50 cents’ worth) in a pint
bottle: then add the Sugar Syrup.
It has a pleasant taste and lasts a
family a long time. Take a ' <'■
spoonful every one, two or three
hours.
You can feel this take hold of a
cough in a way that means bus:
ness.
Has a good tonic effect, braces up
the appetite, and is slightly laxative,
too, which is helpful. A handy rem
edy for hoarseness, spasmodic croup-
bronchitis. bronchial asthma ana
whooping cough.
The effect of pine on th° mem
branes is well know n Pinex is a
most valuable, concentrated com
pound of Norwegian white pine er
tract, and is rich in guaiacoi and
other natural healing pine elements
Other preparations will not work in
this combination. _
This Pinex and Sugar Syrup Rem
edy has often been imitated, thougn
never successfully. It is now useo
in more homes than any other cougn
remedy.
A guaranty of absolute s3t1 *7~T
tion, or money promptly refunded
goes with this preparat.on.
druggist has Pinex. or will get n tor
you. If not. send to The Pinex
Company, Fort Wayne. Ind.