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I I “The Marriage Game,” a Great Love Story, Will Begin on This Page Saturday. Be Sure to Read the Opening Installment !ai N [) 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.