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¢ A Lesson Worth the While---Speak Little and Well if ‘You Care To' Be Esteemed as a Real Man of Merit $
+Thlt GEORGIANS MAGAZINE PAGE—
Romance! Thrill! Action in
The Heart of
... Wetona :-
Tony Wells Asks if the Young Wife Is Certain 'of Har
din’s Non-Appearance.
Novelized from the PFroa%;nan-Be
lasco production of George Scarbor
ough’s play, now running at the Ly
ceum rheater, New York. Copyright,
1916, International News Service,
By ANNE LISLE.
“NAUMU! Nauma! Nauma!
Look! See! He come! He
come!” she cried suddenly,
for even an Indian maid feels the need
of someone In whom to confide her joy.
And a second later Nauma was recelv
ing the littie kitten (an unnecessary
third In Wetona's love fluet) and was
etriding away joyfully decked out in
a 4 string of vivid beads Tony had
brought as a present to her.
Mr. Wells never undervalued the
importance of having a friend a court,
And Nauma, though ugly and old and
stoop-shouldered, was to be propl
tiated after the manner of all women
~-either by being told she was beau
tiful or by being presented with the
wherewithal to make herself beautiful
in her own-eyes! “Now! Oh, 1 am
%0 glad to see you, Tony' Mr. John
Say vyou come soon'”
A Complacent Smile,
They were alone—they wefe to have
ten minutes together. .Wetona had
never looked sweeter or more alluring
than she did now, in her simple house
gPwn of blue—but a sudden apprehen
#ion selzed Tony. “He said | would?
He doesn’t know that I'm the oL"
In that moment it almost occurred
to Mr. Wells to suspect Mr, Hardin
and suspect him of diabolical clever«
ness. But Wetona set him right abgut
that directly by explaining that when
she had told the man who had married
her of her confidence that her own
man would come soon he had sald she
was right. ~ . .
. Tony smiled complacently, There
‘was no doubt of it. He had Hardin's
measure. “Didn’t think he was string
ng & a ‘while ago-——"' }
talked to him? “You tell him
it ¥oul” cried the girl, eagerly,
him nothing—but we had a
nice ittle talk—> | l
. "He say make yourself at home.”
Welona smiled sbyly. |
. Tony smiled and held out his arm.
“Thanks, come dver here and I will.” {
~ » Some Jittle instinct of finesse made
. Wetona feel a pecullar embarrass
ment. I doan’ think he mean that
ey ‘
Touy was ready with the rough
masterfuiness which had always
- served him well, and he caught Weto.
- ha in his arms g@d Kissed' her soft
“xfi 1 oughit not to kiss you at all
~but when I'sée you thgre just now |
- Kis you before I think—l doan’ be
fleve | kiss you ‘nother time. llobbo}
it not right for Wetona to kiss you
~ heréi~in his house.” ‘
~ The girl made an effort to expialn,
1o analyze herself. She was not in
the habit of doing that: she was too
. simple—too primitve. But something
_ had forced her to think—to question,
&s she had never before questioned.
- And she was trying desperately to ex
plain herself to Tony,
~ He wanted neither philosophy ner
. moralizing Jfrom Wetona—what he
. wanted was very different and he
nt 1o have jt=~ 8o now he brushed
’:mupl- aside lightly.
~ "Oh, well, if you feel that way about
~ R—step out In the yagd in the moon-
Nght. It'U be like old times” *
~ Wetona evaded him. She was far
~ tow loving to criticise his lack of sym
~ pathy or of understanding with her
~ attitude. She loved him, and if he
would not accept her viewpoint she
Kept Spreadi;;.fl So Bad Could Not
SleepatNight. Itchedand Burned.
Ashamed to Go Anywhere,’
HEALED BY CUTICURA
SOAPAND OINTMENT
“Ringworm first began o 0 my face and
spread to my neck and It got almost all
over my face. 1t first came out in one little
bump and kept spreading,
4 and it got w 0 Wed | could pot
3 Sleep At wght. Theoring
?"‘? Bot By ol
wus ] 0 dis wes rod eod o
e famed. They ltehed an d
burned and the ftebing was
¢ + " bad that 1 irritated my
3 S face by seratching. | was
fshamed 1o go an)where
"A Mead ssked wme to try Cuotleurs
Soap and Olntment. “By the time ope box
of Olntment and one cake of Soap wers
fone. | wae Bealed © (Nigned) Mre Sallle
Harwood, Brensville, Tonn , July.J6, 1915
Sample Each Free by Mail
With 330 Skin Book en request. Ad
S postonrd “Cationrs, Dopt. T, Bas.
r." Rold Ahreughout the warid
was very likely Lo accept his. The
girl was a strange mixture of sim
plicity and native coquetry and deep
emotion. Tony Wells had waked the
“slesping princess,” and so inevitably
she turned to him: “No. I no come
in yard. 1 blow you kizs! There!
Wetona look at you, ‘That joy enough
for her!”
Not Enough for Him"
It was decidedly not joy enough for
the man, however. The sound of
music was wafted through the open
window. Over at Fort Sill there was
dancing and gayety and the strain of
a waltz was beating on the air. But
Tony heard it only subconsciously.
He was afraid that John Hardin
might not be such an utter idiot as he
seemed. Destiny may have no mes
sengers—but premonitions come toall
of us at times, apd Tony was vaguely
uneasy, though he hardly knew why,
“You're certain Hardin doesn't sus
pect me?” he asked at last.
“We doan’ talk about it,” replied
Wetona earnestly. ,“Oh, Tony, I so
}nnxloul—q so afraid something hap
pen to you—that people know-~why
you not write me a letter or coms he«
fore?”
’ “Conldn’t take any chances with a
man like Hardin" replied Tony,
gravely. “That ' dance at the Post
gave me an excuse for coming to
town today-=why, they're dancing
now. We ought to be there.”
He came closer, The music, an?
the air, and the delicate perfume of
the girl's presence were beginning to
have their way with him. “It's a
wonderful night for music and danc
ing and love,” said he.
Wetona, too, heard the waltz. They
had played it the night she first met
Tony WeMs. She wondered if he re
membered. Wetona did not know that
the very dagger .a man like Tony
Wells has for women, is that he does
remember. Men who have a big in
terest in life forget—but the profes
sional love-maker, the man who lives
by the light he kindles in loving eyes
~he remembers: that is his business,
My, but you're a little beautys’
sall Tony suddenly, leaning toward
her,
But Wetona's very nalvets made her
safe for the moment. “Yes, Wetona
very pretty when she happy.”
In real simplicity a strong man
finds always a certain wistful quality/
which makes hint want to protect’ a
woman even from himself,
He Thinks He Means It.
“You're perfection,” cried Tony
Wells. “Listen! You remember that
waltz? They played it the night we
met at the Post”
He did remember! He loved her
as much as she loved him. Suddenly
everything was right with Wetona's
world. No longer any question for
her—just Tony and love. She rose,
and swaying to the music darted to
| ward him. He caught her in his arms
[Qud went on with the wooing whieh
set every note !n Wetona's nature vi
;
“Ah, dear, the very instant I saw
you, even before I knew whether vou
Were an Indian princess or a Spanish
senorita. 1 turned every other girl's
picture to the wall. Yes, and when
my arms went around you a' little
later In that first waltz 1 knew that
the Great Spirit had written our
names togetier in the Big Book be
yvond the stars. 1 love you-—there's
nobody else in the world——*
And with Wetona there close In his
arms, warm and sweet and trembling
at his embrace, Tony thought he
meant it
“If you love some other woman 1
think I sealp you, * * ¢ Apnt g
only play.” For Tony was holding
her very close and memory stirred
Within ‘her—memory to hold her to
him even as his arms were pressing
her asainst his heart now. She could
hear its rapid puleing beat. She was
happy and her voice thrilled softly in
response to the demand he was mak
ing her: “Ah-—it's sweet to listen to
my man's love words again.”
(Te Be Continued Tomorrow.)
M'
. $
| Do You Know— |
A I
In Asia tvory tusks are only possessed
by male m::.. .
The youngest genera! in the British
army s thirty-nine.
. - -
The human body is subject to sume
2,400 disorders.
i el s eiiber
; Seelang Perfection.
A famous lady violinist is & firm be-
Hever In constant practice, no maiter
Where she happens 1o be located. She
was ohce saying in the summer at &
ctountry place. Every morning she went
ihrough her customary sxercises. Every
morning a boy employed about the pince
Parsed her open window and heard her
Working away st something which, in
F-uy' . Wt Be Bid ber o
s o, oy i 5, weed
a\o passed the open window he shout-
MY Can't ye play i 1 sitr
Shells as Things of Beauty
Some of the Uses to Which They Have Been Put.
Part of a Shell Basket Made by the [ndians of Lower California.
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K Ko L Rt R eBBS 800 0 e wste oms oo e
By GARRETT P. SERVISS.
EAUTIFUL shells were among
B the first objects of- adornment
for his person and his dwelling
that were used by man, and their
forms and colors furnished some of
his earliest lessons in esthefle educa
tion,
Shalls were also one of the first
Kinds of mnnefi For the American
indians wampum beads made from
shells took the place of gold. Thé
Jornamental uses of shells, as Mr. L.
P. Gratacap shows in the American
Museum Journal, are as curious as
they are numerous. The most strik
ing in appearance are the Imitations
of flowers, although this appeals to a
wery primitive taste, It is the in
genuity of the combinations and the
surprise felt that two such essentially
different natural objects can be made
to resemb'e each other, that afford the
pleasure given by the sight of a bas
ket, or garland, of shell-flowers,
Petals, stamens, pistils, Jeaves,
stems, are all imitated in shell forms,
while in color tints and blendings it
is questionable whether some shells
are not superior to flowers. In the
property of iridescence the finer shells
certainly possess an advantage over
any vegetable substance. Pearls are
a kind of shel!, formed within shells,
and they have always been regarded
as the mos} queenly of gems,
The Central American Indians have
Ifng been famous for their sxill in
making she'l flowers, and some ex
quisite specimens of their work are to
be séen In the museum in Central
Park West. Basket§ and flowers are
Facts About the Famous
LFRED CAPPER in his “Remi-
A niscences” tells the following
about Mr. Knight-Bruce, Bish
op of Mashonaland. He had been
preaching on the famous text which
bids us (o turn the other cheek to
him who has smitten us.
“During the following week he met
a bullying Boer farmer, who grossly
insulted him, and then smacked n!m
on the face. ‘Now,' cried he to the
Bishop, ‘turn the other cheek and 1M
smack that, too.” The Buhoz meeily
did as he was told, and the Boer
caught him an awful crack on that
side of his face alsg. Then he turned
to go away. . .
“‘Wait a minute quietly remarked
the little Bishop, taking off his coat
Fi»ction]egs. Fable
FIERE was once a man whose
T boast was, “l want what | want
when | want it."
He was always very sure of what
he wanted-—and equally sure that in
the changipg course of human nature
he might not want it long and so had
best go after it while it meant some
thing to him
When he arrived at the age of 32
his lite was marked by a series of
milestones that meant little desires
accomplished and little points gained,
But there had been so many little sat
isfactions in his life that he had had
no time for big ones. &
He had never gone hungry at the
lunch hour and then sat down to din
ner with added mest of starved hours
to whet his appetite.
Suddenly when he was 32 life
brought before him two things he
wanted. One was the love of & beau
tiful young girl and the other one a
position of great importagce. To
have both these things at once was
almost Impossible. At last the man
was faced by the need of making a
cholce,
The girl he loved had an endless
array of suitors, and (o win her meant
the need of conquering them. The
position he craved had a long list of
applicants and 0 win it meant ab
sorption in hard work,
The man sat down for 24 hours and
: '%f‘t %
e gt T Zlh . : s
v“ . .‘/ A :::
-5, B
el 3 ;
.. .@ :
.«7 s T ""-:':,‘-,v" i) tafl‘;,“ :4
(LA vy “& ~
i .
Py ¥
s -
Shell basket, made by the
Indians of Central America,
formed of small white oval
shells; flowers are made of
thin and shallow, white and
rose-tinted shells, and both
basket and flowers are con
structed with fine wire. In
the American Museum.
alike composed of white and delicate
ly tinted shells, held {n shape by fine
wires. Flower Laskets made of shells
by the Indians of Lower Californ
although very striking in appunng:
are ranked belcw the Central Ameri
can products, because glue instead of
invisible wiring is employed to hold
the work together.
A truly magnificent object is a pair
of bonbon dishes, belonging to Mrs.
F. A. Constaple, and loaned to the
museum, which are formed of abalone
as he spoke and hanging it up on the
bough of a neighboring tree. ‘There,
now, that's the Bishop, he's done his
duty; here's Knight-Bruce in his shirt
sleeves; come on.’
Half an hour later they took the
Boer home on l.wlled.burrov.
J. Pierpont Morgan, the milllonaire,
tells a good story about his father, the
founder of the family’'s gigantic for
tune. The late financier was one day
showing a friend his magnificent dog
kennels, when suddenly the visitor
stupped to admire a particularly fine
pointer,
“That's a beautiful dog!” he exe
clatmed. “What do you call ’lm?"
considered the matter so earnestly
that he entirely neglected to eat or
sleep. Here was the girl he loved so
well that he felt sure he would go on
loving her through long years of hap-
Py marriage If only he dared take
time to win Ter,
Here, un the other hand, was the
position that would crown his career
with success. He looked back over
his life and saw how he had filled It
full of trifles. He had had a few suc
cesses In businesg and so was not
either a fallure or an ualupo}um
beginner,
:h had had a few merry little imi
tation love affairs, and so his life was
not empty of brightness and color.
He had always had what he wanted
and he had never wanted anything
big before.
At last he decided that love was the
thing to crown his life. So he went
to geek his sweetheart and found that
she had eloped with his partner the
day before o
Then he decided to console himself
by starting to work for the position he
craved. But when he went to make
application he rnn‘ that his partner
had gotten it and was to sesume
charge on his return from a week's
honeymoon o
MORAL-~Some people get what
t want—unti 1t y
hey - hey really want
shells supported by seahorses, the lat
ter and the outside of the shells being
coated with silver. “The nacreous
splendor of the inner side of the ab
alone shells, forming the interior of
the dishes, is remarkably attractive.
But it Is when shells are employed
not to imitate something else in na
ture, but for the sake of their own
beauty, that the most admirable or
namental effects are obtained with
them. This princivle does not forpid
thelr use in -the form of head
dresses, belts, pendants, etc.
Thus at the museum there may be
seen a life-size figure of a Tahitian
““fire-walker,” with his head encircled
with a garland of shells which have
‘not beem disguised in the form of im-
Aitation flowers. Primitive man in this
respect has really shown better taste
‘than civilized man, for among savage
tribes shells were not used imitative
}ly. although they were often employed
as symbols,
~ The Fijian chiefs wore the orange
cowry as a badge of office, and shells,
usel simply as shells because they
were in themselves beautiful, MHave
been found among the personal
‘adornments of early man in all parts
‘ot the world.
} Another use of shells more truly
‘esthetic than their employment to
‘m‘ke imitation flowers is the adop
‘tion of their forms and their combi
‘nations of color as suggestions in the
arts. Mr. Ruskin thought that he
‘could trace such suggestions, derived
from the cockle shell, in some of the
ornamental features of European ar
chitecture. A fine abalone shell might
}Aflord to any artist fregh ideas in the
combination of color tints., °
“Lord Rothschild,” answered Mr,
Morgan, i
“Why on earth do you ecall him
that?” asked his friend, in surprise.
“That's easily explgined,” replied
the millionaire. “It's boenua‘ he never
loses a (s) cent!". 2
Queen Mary, lin writing to her per
sonal friends, uses a small sheet of
note paper with Buckingham Palace
stamped In dark blue letters. Queen
Alexandra uses a much larger sheet,
addressed from Marlborough House,
But neither of their majesties has a
crown stamped on their private note
paper, as have almost all other Euro.
pean royalties. A
§ .
- Weather by Signs |
MMMMW
N these days of uncertaln weather
I' the old signs relled upon by our
futhers are worth remembering.
Experience has shown them t¢ be
fairly reliable, and some of them can
be explained on a sclentific basis ;
Moonlight nights have the heaviest
frosts.
The higner the clouds the finer the
weather.
The farther the sight the neacer the
rain,
Dew is an Indication of fine weatii
er.
When stars flicker in a dark back
ground rain og snow follows soon,
Expect a strong wind with stormy
weather when smoke from chimneys
hangs near the ground.
Here are a few in verse
Clear moon, |, :
Frost soon.
Year of snow,
Frat will grow
Rain. before seve:r.
Fine before sleven.
if the sun sets in gray
The next will be a rainy day.
When the wind's In the south
The rain's in its mouth.
The wind in the west .
Bults everycne best.
{L;:u see grans In January, - -
your n your granary,
Evening m morning gray,
Help the tu‘br on his way:
Evenine gray and morning jred
Bring down rain upon his head °
When the clouds appear like rocks
and towers
The earth's refreshed by {requent
showers. &
Their Martried Life
(Copyright, 1916, International New-1
| Service.) |
|“ HAT do you think about
‘ W Apne’s marriage to Jack?”
Helen asked Frances as
the two sat in the tiny apartment
having tea together,
L think it 1s just as well,” said
Frances, easily. From her manner no
one would have supposed that she
cared anything for Anne, but Helen
knew better, ¢
“You like Anne pretty well,] she
said, shrewdly.
“Now, whatever ade vou think
that?” said Frances, snipping a thread
and smiling one of her brilliant
smiles. »
“Well, to tell you the truth, because
you and she have managed to live so
amicably together.” f
Frances looked up in surprise.
“Why, Helen, did you really think it
would be too much of an experi
ment?”
“I really dia,” spid Helen, laughink:
“You see, I know you so well, dear,
and I knew that Anne was quite op
posite from you in-temperament, even
though she won't believe me.”
“I should say she is,” said Frances
quickly. “She’s a million times nicer.”
“Oh, no, she isn't,” denied Helen,
“but she &an’t quite so selfish.” .
Frances only laughed. “Of course,
she isn’t as selfish as ¥ am. She's a
real dear, and, of course, I shall miss
her terribly. But I think it's better
for her to marry® Jack. They are so
well suited, and she loves him much
more than she really believes,”
“Then if you are going to miss her
€0 much, why did you say that about
it being just as well?” sald Helen
curiously.
“Well, T do think it will be better
for her. Besides, I am beginning to
chafe under the domestic routine of
this establishment. T know that it's
sweet and homy, and quite as artistic
Iu it is necessary to have it, but }
just long for the old days sometimes
when I am in a particularly wild
mood. I long for the roominess of
the studio and my solitary loneliness,
and everything connacted with th.o old
life.”
“Then why did you ever plan‘to live
with Anne?”
An Unselfish Idea.
“Because,” said Frances dryly, *1
am genuinely fond of her. 4 didn't
like the idea of having her llve just
anywhere while she was in New York
with no one to look after her, and I
conceived the brilliant idea of making
a home for her.” ’
“Do you mean to say, Frances
Knowles,” said Helen in amazement,
“that you have taken this apartment
for no other reason than to make a
l home for Anne?"
“It is hard to convince you, isn't
1t?” said Frances quietly.
Helen sat still in perfect silence.
After the talk that she had had with
Anne and her motherly advice about
not living with Frances Knowles. No
wonder the child adored her.
“No wonder Anne loves you as she
does,” Helen said aloud.
“Does she love me?” queried Fran
ces, the soft material in her lap show
ing for a moment the tenseness of her
- slim fingers,
| “Does she? Why, she simply idol-.
Izes you. She has you on a pedestal
a mile high.” ‘
“The dear,” said Frances softly. |
And then, with a return to her own
light manner, “Well, it's nice to]
have some one care.” |
“Frances Knowles,” said Helen se-
Ivenly, “you carry a pose about with
you conlinunlly. Why don't you let
peopie love you?” »
“Bechuse I don't want people to love
me. Most people bore me to tears
I want the love and friendship of a
few people, but as ‘for wholesale af
fection from the uninteresting prole
tariat, I don't want it, never have and
never shall.” p
“You would make an interesting
person in adebate with a soclaiist,
svouldn't you? said Helen, laughing.
“Can’t help it; that's the way l‘
feel” |
“But, seriously, Frances” said
The Coming Baby!
Hooray! Hooray!
3 nug " aAn s ompletely endear
. the present the future as the
-~ expectad arrival of »
' baby. But in the mean
j time the comfort of
. the mother is of vast
) importance. There s n
tplendid external rem
edy known as “Moth
er's Friend” which ex.
erts & wonderfu! infly
ence upon the expand.
ing muscles. They bo
come more pliant,
stretch without undae
paln, make the period
one of r‘emnt antie
fpation lustead of an
prehension in & series of splendid letters
from a Yor the oountry mothers toll of the
great help Mother's Priend was to then
Even grandmothers tell the wonderfu! story
to their own daughters about 19 enter the
state of motherbood. Get & bottls of Math
r's Friend' ' today' of your searest drug |
gist. Use this splendid Selp with vour e |
nd guided v W mind For s free
‘.‘.‘ " 3v-l r.-‘r! mportases ." ot
s write 10 Bradfield Regulster ¢ dow
Lamar Bide., Atlants. Gs. It rolates the |
persons SAperioncesy f many happy woth |
ere £ telils ma Rings that » .4,“.41
shanid Ny . " . with ’ s & »
gvide sod an inspiration Write for \
,A Narrative of Everyday Affairs
Helen after a moment’s lull in the
conversation, “hasn’t this apartment
interfered seriously with your work?
I remember now that you never could
work with people about.” ¢
“Sometimes it has, and then I have
gone for a walk until I could properly
control my temper to the extent of
playing amicably, as you say, with
Anne and her friends. But Arme has
been dear and considerate always,
only so many people love her and that
means company -at any time of the
day “r night. Anne has the faculty
of making frtends wherever she goes.”
“I know it. It's because as her ready
sympathy.”
Frances Is Well Pleased.
“Exactly. But as things are now
it's just as well for us to separate.
My mission is finished. Anne doesn't
need me any longer,”and I have the
knowledge that for once in my life
I have put another person's Inter
ests before my own.”
“What are you going to do after
Anne is married ?"
“Well, Anne is going home to Kan
sas this summer. She has invited me
out, and I think I shall go for a littie
while. We are going to give the apart
ment up as soon as she is ready to
leave, and I am going to scout around
for a place of my own, as near like
the old one as possible, and more con
-venient. I can afford to pay more
now. Then I am going to buckle down
to real work.”
i Frances was beginning to be very
The Struggles of
8 a Wife o
By Virginia Terhune’Van De
- Water,
CHAPTER XXIV.
(Copyright, 1916, Star Company.)
S Horace Webb saw his wife's
A face In the restaurant window
above him, he started violently
and hesitated. Then, at a word from
the girl who was with him, he stood to
one side to let her pass out and fol
lowed her, the door slamming behind
him,
“When will you have it ready?”
The question was Perry Martin's
and Myra was aware that he was
watching her with a perplexed ex
pression. Evidently he had spoken
lbetoro and she had not heeded him.
"I—l—beg your pardon!” he ex
claimed in econfusicn, her cheeks
‘bumfiu as she appreciated that he
‘had caught her off her guard. “I was
—I was—looking at some people down
there"—with a nod toward the street
“It is a>fually all that some of them
can«do to walk against the wind. But
I rust have seemed very inattentive
{to what you were saying. Pray ex
cuse me! What did you ask me?”
Her confused manner did not es
cape her companion. What could have
caused it? he wondered,
“My question,” he said gravely, “was
as to when you think you can let us
bave that story?”
“Within a week or ten days,” she
replied.
“You will not offer it to anyone else
first, will you?” he demanded bluntly.
“Of course, I won't!” she exclaimed.
Did he fancy that she could be ca
padle of such double dzunt? He
had behaved as if he understood that
she belonged to his class—and yet he
could ask her a question that seemed
almost a reflection upon her sense of
honor,
And all at once she remembered
that although this man and she had
been chatting here together at a
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e E o
Helen Finds a New Light in the
bt T IR O
Character of Her Friend Frances.
well known through her work in Tha
Scroll. She had written two serlals .
‘and her short stories were in de. ‘|
mand. There was a quality about her
work that was distinetly differen:
from the general run of fiction. Healen
had envied Her ability more than onca
and the money that she made o
easi’ Frances\still retained her po
sition with th‘ newspaper, but was
thinking seriously of giving it up.
“You see, Helen,X she sald in re
ply to a question, “T am busier thax
ever.this year, I am going to writy
a book.” ;
“Are you really, Frances?”
“Yes, why not? Avery Atwood tal4
me long ago that it would be but a
matter of time before T would be a:
tempting somethln\g of the kind. And
rnow I am anxious to begin. Ever:
day I wait seelms a lost opportunity '
“And you can't begin till you hava
the proper surroundings?” ’4
Frances nodded. “Yes, I'm walting
Foolish, isn't 1t?” __
Again Helen marveled. She was
being shown an entirely different sids
of the girl’s character. Frances was
not always selfish. Even the crepa
de chine in her lap was something for
Anne’s trousseau. Again Helen won
dered if Frances was entirely happy,
If her feeling for Avery Atwood would
always be a closed chapter. '
(Watch for the next incident in this
unique series; it will appear here
soon.)
luncheon at which lh& was his gues:,
they had met for but one purpose--
that of business.
Myra Webb the woman was noth
ing to him;. Myra Webb the writer
was worth his attention until he had
made sure that she would serve his
purpose.
She glanced at her watch and rosa.
“It is getting late,” she remarked. 1
must be going.”
“I thought,” Perry Martin was sav
ing, still in a practical, businessliks
way, “that you might be hesitating to
promise us the story until you wers
quite sure about the price we wou 1
pay. We will, of course, give what
we gave fol ‘Bitter Waters'—i{f that /s
entirely satisfactory.”
“We can ‘settle that later, can':
we?” she ventured. *I do not know
yet how long the story may be: vou
do not know whether it will sult you
or not.”
He helped her put om her coat ard
escorted her as far as the foot of the
uptown elevated raflroad steps.
Here he raised his hat and bade her
good afternson.
Seated In the uptown trailn, Myvra
tried to fix her thoughts on what had
happened. She strove to bring back
the thrill that she had felt when Mar
tin ad praised the plot of her story
“If you write it as you have told i’
—she whispered the words to herse!’
'lmt the emotion they had aroused 4!4
not return. She did not even recal
how the speaker had looked when he
uttered them.
For uppermost In her mind was the
recollection of the expression of sur
prise in her hghbaml'- eyes as thev
met hers and ® presence of the
slender figure at his side.
(To Be Continued.)
Up to the Lender.
“Lend me $57"
“Here you are”
“How can 1 repay you?
“That's for you te figure out.”