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By CONSTANCE CLARKE.
4 4^X11, do you think It can no,
l) *lbly be in there, Peggy?”
•Well, what if it is, Kate,
' *njwer«d, a trifle impatiently,
you’re not afraid, are you?'*
">fo. of course not; I’m cams for a
Rood time, and we re together any- ,
way,” In a reassuring manner. I was
glad 11 was reassuring, anyway, be
cause I was beginning to feel rather
worried. Dad always says I'll be '
sorry some day for all the risks I '
take. But mother promised faith
fully, even If I were brought home
with both legs cut completely ofT
never to say, ’’I told you so!" And
Kate la a real boon companion—she j
1. always willing to follow me Into ;
all my scrapes. Just as I cheerfully !
follow her Into all of hers. So we I
mounted the three flights of narrow i
fllngy atalra and knocked at the dooi I
at the end of a long dark hall on
the top floor.
“Come in,” said a voice, end we
turned the knob and went in. The j
room was small and poorly furnished
and a dim gas light flickered over lit
one corner. A shade flapped weirdly
against the window, and we looked
around curiously for the owner of j
the voice, but there wag no one in
the room. 1 looked at Kate and w
both smiled. “Let’s sit down on that
seat, ’ l whispered, “and whatever i
happens don't leave me.”
"7 have to leave you she won’t let '
us go in together.”
' Ves, she will,” I protested. “We ll I
insist. and” but the rest of my
speech was lost, for a. screen at on'*
end of the room was suddenly pushed i
n«ide and an extraordinary figure
came toward us. She was not a bit
like the ordinary fortune teller, but
was very tall and very white and ,
wore a long black robe.
"Which of you young ladies wishes,
me to raise for her the veil conceal
ing the future?” she said in a sepul
chral voice.
SHU IS BIUVK.
"T do.” I paid stoutly. Kate did
not say anything, but the woman was
ne t looking at her. She had her
glued upon me, and she said sud
denly. "Come with me, child; ahead
th >se ot the future world clamor at
your door. 'You are a favorite of the
pods.”
I made a face behind her back a.-
I meekly followed her Into the next
room. 1 wasn't a bft afraid now.
the unknown is the only thing that
frightens me. anyway
"Sit here, child,” said the woman,
drawing out a chair from a table in
the centre of the room. On the table
were a pack of cards and a larg<
crystal ball She seated her seif op
posite me and .iaid, in her creep/,
faraway voice: "Crystal gazing o:
cards?”
"Crystal gazing"’ 1 said eagerly,
Hnd she leaned across the tabic and
took my hand. Her fingers felt warn,
and human anyway; but her face
kept getting whiter and whiter. and
in the funny dim light of the room
the crystal bail seemed to be taking
on a warm glow. Of course it was
all nonsense, but 1 had cold shiveis
down my back, exactly the way 1 do
when I see a detective play. Then
suddenly she began to talk.
'I see men—many men; some you
have met and some you have not, but
he that is for you you have not de
cided on He is here; he has come
into your life, but you do not know it.
Here is one that you play with, and
another—and another.”
I thought of Dick and smiled wick
edly, and then of Dr. Hammond. Why,
1 wasn't playing with him. I thought
indignantly.
The woman’s fingers tightened on
mine. "You do not believe what I
say; but 1 am right, child. There is
no harm in what you do, for you are
young; but be careful. You must
choose the right one—remember!”
I ceased being indignant, and she
went on. Now it is cloudy again,
but here is a wo n m’s face ">i<* ; . s
a new friend, but she means min u
to you You admire her"
' On, yes,” I said impulsive].'.. Why.
it was my wonderful lady of dreams,
the one 1 bad wanted to know more
thin anyone in the world. The one
who wai fond of tigers, and who
told ms the day I met her that she
w ould stand for hour* watching them
in their cage*
THE CHARM BROKE'S
“Tes. please go on," but her voice
trailed off agatn. "It is cloudy
• gain,” she breathed, ‘but, child, you
have great influence over people—
you must exert that influence; you,
you”
I looked up; the woman was deathly
white. “Are you 111?” I cried, jump
ing up and rushing around to her.
But a* 1 jerked my hand away she
opened her eyes and said In that
same dull tone: “I am all right,
child, but you have broken the charm
now and I cannot tell you anything
more to-day."
I was vaguely disappointed, but l
slipped a dollar Into her hand hastily
and hurried out into the other room.
Kate was still sitting on the seat
playing with a black cat that had
evidently made friends with her. But
she Jumped up when she saw me and
the next minute we were down the
three flights of stairs and out in the
bright sunshine.
"Was she any good?” Kate inquired
nonchalantly.
"Just wonderful," I said, eagerly
i elating my experiences.
Kate smiled. "She didn’t tell you
very much after all, did she? And
sn’t that just about what they all
say? I’m glad I didn’t go in.”
"But why didn’t you?’ I said, sud
denly waking up to the fact for the
first time
"Well. 1 wanted to spend that
dollar on a perfectly Btunnlng silver
picture frame 1 saw in one of the
windows as we came along. And, be
sides. 1 don't think she was any
good.”
I thought she was wonderful, but
Kate isn’t temperamentai* so 1 kept
my idea* to myself.
OM tells the Gold Witcfc he has loved her from the first, and asks her to marry him. She
adrrfits that she, too, has learned to care, but tells him he must get his father’s permis
sion. As she speaks her guardian appears. He is greatly angered at the turn of affairs,
and tells the Gold AVitch it was her father’s wish for her to learn to win her way in the world.
When Tom protests he threatens to disinherit him if he marries her.
Kather than cause a breach between Tom and his father, she determines to go away, bate
that night, while everyone sleeps, she gathers together a few things and leaves the house. She
does not have the remotest idea where she is going, but only wants to get away from the place
where every one proved so false—every one except Tom. As she flees through the dark, strange
noises frighten her. Even the trees take on hobgoblin shapes.
Tabloid ales
nil; '. Mother. Is the result when a , keep his face fixed to hide what he Is]
really thinking on the inside of him.
What, Mother, is the difference be
tween a chef and a cook?
The former gets higher wages, and
Is more daring in what he puts in and
leaves out.
AT BAY A Thrilling Story of Society Blackmailers
man tella his troubles?
The result, My Dear, :s that his lis- I
tc-ner's sympathies are given to the!
other man, who is not bothering him. :
What. Mother, Is Faith?
If !s that on which a man has to
r-.\: his mince pie. If he has faith :
In the cook, ho eat* without doubt.
If he hasn't, he can imagine every
thing in the mincemeat from carpet
rags to spiders.
What, Mother, 1* a salad*
It is the waste basket, Little Ons,
of the pantry. There 1* always. My
Child, & variation In the salad, be
cause no woman ever on two oeoa-
lions ha* the same scraps te work
with. v
What. Mother. 1* a diplomat?
It is any one, My Child, who can
(Novelized by)
What, Mother, is Gratitude?
It is a sentiment. Daughter, which i
it takes ages bo develop. Young people
complain because they can’t dance
but old people are grateful If they
can keep walking.
What, Mother, Is Tact?
It is that virtue which a woman
possess** when she can propose mar
riage to a man and make him believe
that he did it himself. All women
have more or less of It
What, Mother, is gossip?
It is something more entertaining
than statistics, and just about as re
liable.
—FRANCES L. GARS IDE.
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
THERE'S TIME FOR THAT.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
1 am a young girl of 17. J am
acquainted with a young man
with whom I have gone out once
or twice. How may I know him
better? TROUBLED.
If he cares for you he will see that
the acquaintance progresses. Don’t
bo so hasty. A friendship that grows
.slowly is all the more sincere, and
you are too young to let delays trou
ble you.
THAT DEPENDS.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I have been keeping company
> ith a young man for about eight
months. He is a soldier and is
anxious for me to marry him. I
am 21. He is 26. PERPLEXED.
There is nothing objectionable so
l'ar as age is concerned. If the young
man is of bad habits, or not able to
make a home for a wife on account <rf
his calling, that is for vou to know
i ter than I. You must And this out
for yourself.
YOU ARE TOO YOUNG.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am 15 and meet a boy of my
own age. He seems to be a very
nice boy. He has told friends
that he loved me, but 1 often meet
him and he hardly ever speaks to
me. flow can 1 became better
acquainted with him, as he is so
bashful? ANXIOUS.
A girl of 15 is too young to play
with anything so dangerous as love.
Please try to forget him and to think
of no boy twice until you are at least
three years older.
SEE MORE OF HER.
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I love a girl and she loves me.
1 have gone out with her but once
What advice would you give to
get more fully acquainted ? 1 am
20 years old and she is 19.
M. H.
I hope that the fact that you love
her means you know her very well
now.
In order to get better acquainted,
take her out more. Study her when
with hgr. There us na ether way.
(From the play by George Scar
borough. n- u being presented at the
Thirly-nintii Street Theater, New York.
Serial right;- lifclcf and copyrighted by
International News Service.)
TO DAY'S INSTALLMENT.
"Why, you gave Father Shannon
permission to tell them yourself,” ex
plained Holbrook quietly.
"Come, Miss Aline," said the chief
impatiently.
"I 'can’t go, father; don’t let them
lake me. I’ll tell everything ’’
“You h&ve told everything, my dar
ling. Take heart, an arre*t is noth
ing. I’m in the same jail. Time will
FLY with us,” said the captain with
tender quizzicalness.
JAIL! It had come to this then!
Aline fell back senseless into her
father’s arms.
"Stand back, gentlemen! Let’s have
air,” said the captain. He rushed to
the window and as he went the phone
rang long and insistently.
"Hello; what is it? He’s busy; hold
the wire."
And th* phone was cast aside in
easy contempt for all but the girl
who had fainted.
And just then Dr. Francis Elliott
came in like the saving guardian of
the unconscious girl.
"Ah, Doctor, take care of the lady!”
cried her lover. And. indeed, it was
just for this the Doctor had cotne.
"She’s coming ’round," said the Doc
tor at last as his ministrations began
to help the girl.
“Ah, but, Doctor, she is in no flt
state to be moved to a Jail. Forbid
it! Forbid it!’’ The voice of Captain
Holbrook was tense with hope that
somehow the great surgeon could
save Aline.
"Jail!" repealed the Doctor.
"Jail!” moaned the girl, awaken
ing to her horror.
"Why jail?” asked the Doctor.
"They say she killed Flaggy an
swered Holbrook, with fine impa
tience.
•NOBODY KILLED FLAGG,” said
Doctor Elliott.
"Not dead? Thank Clod! Thank
God!’’ The cry winged its w’ay past
rips from which all color had recede*,
but the words of hope had power to
bring back the red of life.
"Dead? Yes,” said the Doctor.
Hope destroyed Ju.*t when it had
been most fair. Aline moaned in the
stillness.
"I’ve just left tiie autopsy. THE
MAN DIED OF CARDIAC WEAK
NESS — A RUPTURE OF THE
AORTIC VALVE. HE PAID FOR
YEARS OF DISSIPATION.”
"BUT THE STAB WITH A PA
PER FILE?" asked the Chief, skep
tically.
"ONLY A G-LANCLNG AND SU
PERFICIAL WOUND. THE DEATH
WAS EXCITEMENT. RUPTURE OF
THE HEART!”
"ALINE! ALINE!” cried her fa
ther. And his voice held the dawn
of life and hope and new day.
“Aline-—do you hear—HEART
FAILURE! That’s Dr. Francis El
liott, the greatest surgeon you ever
heard of.” The Irishman's happy na
ture fairly bubbled in words now—the
care-free joy of a boy was in his
voice.
The phone jangled again.
"Oh. that’s for you, Inspector. I
forgot,” remarked the Captain casu
ally.
And the call was from the Coro
ner’s office—an official announcement
that Judson Flagg’s old a d outworn
heart had been ruptured when Nature
took her toll for his evil living.
And then Aline was left alone with
the three men who loved her best—
her father, her lover and the gentle
priest who had be»*n her friend in her
supreme hour of need.
"How quick can < ne get a divorce
in Washington—under this adminis
tration?” asked Holbrook in a light
tone that masked deep feeling.
"Are we sure she was ever mar
ried to Woolworth?” began Graham.
"WHO?”
"Woolworth.”
"Not—Tom Woolworth?”
"And that is what my bad hand-*
writing got us all into! It was Wool-
worth written on those papers I gave
you, Father Shannon. He’s dead—
dead as a mackerel—dead as a door
nail these six years!” Our Captain'?
voice was a paean of praise to the
circumstance that had brought him
to Port Arthur in time to make this
hour possible.”
“How do you know that?” ask'.-J
Graham.
“I held his hand when he died—oh,
she’s weak again—some water—and
don’t you think it'll fake two of you
to get it here without spllltn’?—we’re
all that excited!”
At least two took a hint! And so
they were alone Harbor after a
storm. Aline raised li.er eyes—happy
eyes at last—eyes of love that dared
look forth in unabashed Joy.
"Tom Woolworth dead,' said th*»
girl- and looked down the long vista
of golden days that opened for her
and her Captain.
"Yes, dear lady—I buried him four
feet under ground at Port Arthur."
“Aline?”
That word asked end demanded
and gave all that may be between
man and the woman who 1» his heart's
desire.
"You are the most wonderful man,"
said the girt, looking up at him with
all her tender answer In great atarry
eye*.
"Let’s change the subject, dear!”
10c up
From
any Slant
you can’t beat Velva fdlr
quality, economy or fine
flavor—and it has great
food value, besides. The
sooner you buy and try
VeIva
the sooner you’ll be back for
more. You won't find ae much
for your money nor as fine a
flavor in any other syrup as
you’ll get in Velva. In red or
green cans at your grocer’s.
Send for free booklet of cooking
and candy recipes.
PENICK & FORD, J.td.
New Orleans
By WILLIAM F. KIRK.
T IIARE we* a man ealm up te
house the other nlte that had
rr.sde a study of words all his
life. He used to go to college rl.n
Pa Sc Pa met him on the street A
isked him to cam up to the house to
spend the eevnlng beefoe.r he went
hack West.
The naim of the man was Mister
Street. Pa sed after he hed went
hoam that he newer knew a street
ud grow so dlffernt, A he sed that
wen the two wag boye together Mister
Street we* a fine fellow to have for a
chum. But we dident any of ua like
him laet nlte, he knew toe much A be
knew he knew too mueb.
My Httel man, he sed to m« wen he
got sat in a chair A was smo&kfng
one of Pa’s cigars, ray llttal man.
how many words of our wunderful
Jangwldge do you know?
I know quite a lot of wards. I told
him. enuff to tell what I want to say
I dare say you do not know on#
tenth of the worde that you ought to
know, he sed to roe- Do you know
that there are nearly three hundred
thousand words In the newest dick
■hunariee? A do you reolise that you
are now talking to the man that
know* neerly all of them words?
I alnt talking te yon, I e*4- Yon
are talking to me, A I doaot oare bow
many words yon know. You axe like
the man my Pa toald about, I eed, the
man who oud speak seven difernt
langwidges perfeckly A dldnt know
how to order a drink in any lang-
widge.
Bobble, Bobble, eed Ms* jrew mootnt
talk back to Mister BtregL Than
mad* me apoliglee to Mlotor Btreet.
but I dldnt mean It wen I sod I was
sorry A I was laying for a gooti
chanse to git ®«ven with him for
malklng out that 1 was a kind of a
dU p* m trl.<! t. talk » Mlat.r Stre.i
about there school days, but Mister
Street used so many big words that
Ma A me got kind of tired listening
to him, so we beegan to talk to each
other A use the wrong words on pur-
pose. _ _ _
Bobble, eed Me. I will bo so glad
wen we go on our trip down around
the equinox. I always wanted to see
the torpid eons. Ma eed.
Pardon me. madam, sed Mister
Btreet, I suppose yon moan ymre trip
down around the equator * you shud
have sed torrid son# lnated of torpid
zone.
Pardon me. sir, sod Ma, won I am
talking to my eon I do not with to
be intersected. It Is very uneoncert-
Ing. Ma sed. to be spoke to In a harsh
manner wen one Is talking confident
ly to one's own child. I wish you
wud kindly define yureaelf to my hue
band and let us continue our conver
sion, Ma eed.
You have no Idee, sed Mlater Street,
how yure wrong choice of words
grates on my ears It Is ^rribul for
& educated man te be thrown In. con-
tack with Illiterate peepul Sc not be
abel to set them right without hurt
ing thare feelings
If you know so many words, I eed
to Mister Street, do you know the
meenlng of the word dewdad, wich
curns from the Greek? \
Certlngly I do. sed Mister Btre** '
How can you ask such a foot*
question?
I Jett wanted to see If you wud tel.
the truth, I sed to Mister Street. You
doant know thp meaning of the word
dewdad beekaus thare alnt no such
neord.
The nicest worde Mister Btreet said
was Good Nlte.
The reformer who has nothing
of consequence to reform Is some
thing of a nuisance.
And tvith a smile of benediction in
his eyes, Lawrence Holbrook to< ; the
woman he loved in arms that were ns
tender to cherish as they had be n
strong to guard, and then ;it last he J
set his lips on hers in love’s most sa
cred kiss.
THE END.
In the Wrong House
Visitor (at the National Gallery):
"Why, them's the very pictures I saw
here the day before, yesterday. ’
Attendant (dryly) "Quite likely.”
Visitor: "Then the landlord whore
I’m staying is wrong. He told me
that the pictures was - hanged daily
in all the leadin’ picture hous ”
Women’s
Confidence in
the efficacy of this thoroughly tried
home remedy is never misplaced. In
every way—in health, strength, spir
its and in looks—women find them
selves better after timely use of
BEECHAMS
PILLS
SoU ««n>kan. la kia, 10a.. Ua
“THE MARRIAGE
GAME”
A GREAT LOVE STORY
Will Begin on This Page
To -morrow
x
n
*
BE SURE THAT YOU READ
THE OPENING INSTALLMENT
^ A Devoted Father Is One Who Tal^es Care of the Children When He Doesn't Have To
YWjT A A ^T7 YTY\ TTYr-^ A l
Seeking a Hus
band
«*& The Gold Witch
tc* u
Being the Adventures of a Golden-Haired Heiress ST ELLA F LORES
No. 8—Her Love Blighted. She Leaves Home
Little Bobbie's
. Pa