Newspaper Page Text
:fl%fli GEORGIANS MAGAZINE, PAGE—
“BEATRICE FAIRFAX”™
The Stars in Episode No. 7
19
“A Name for a Baby
Jimmy Barton— Argerterfortne XY Harry Fox
Beatrice Fairfax— ©f "¢ i& T Fverine Grace Darling
This splendid series of exciting human interest stories is’
produced in motion pictures by Wharton Inc. Studios for the
International Film Service, Inc.
See the motion pictures at youg favorite theater nextweek
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX,
(Novelized From the Scenario of S. Basil Dickey.)
(Copyright, 1916, International News Service.)
“WELL, granny, if you think
it’s all right, I suppose it
is. But it doesn't seem ex
actly ethical to me for Beatrice Fair
fax, of The Journal, to do evil that
good may come,” said I
Granny smile with the patient wis
dom of her 70 years. “Don’'t be a
Puritan, Beatrice. One of the best
laws of morality T have ever heard is,
‘Play the game!’ 1 don’t like most of
vour modern slang, but I do approve
of that little saying. Everybody has
to play the game—Jimmy Barton
seems to know how, and I advise my
girl to follow his lead.”
“Do you actually think it's justi
fiable, granny, dear?”
“Justifiable!” Granny’'s keen blue
eyes flashed behind the gold-bowed
gpectacles she had adjusted in order
to examine the tulle which was
draped across the back of my eve
ning gown. “That girl Mary never
does hook you up just right. Here,
come to your granny while I straight
en things out, and don't fuss any
more. You look very nice, and I'm
sure the wedding will be a great suc
cess. I like you in blue,” concluded
granny, irrelevantly,
As far as she was concerned, the
conversation was concluded. When
granny chooses to dismiss a subject,
woe betide a persistent person who
attempts to continue discussing it.
Well, later events have proven that
granny was right. And after all, the
PUT UP AT AUCTION
(¢ HIS is the third time I have
T asked you to marry me, Miss
Townsend, and——"
“Please don't ask me again, Mr.
Bteele,” interrupted the delicately pret
ty young girl, looking distressedly at
the elderly man. *‘l thank you sincere
ly for the honor you do me, but I can
never marry you. I don’t love you, and
—and—well, it can never be, and these
occaslons only give both of us pain.” :
“l know what you would say,” re
plied the man, raspingly, a sneering
smile curving his thin lips. “You mean
you are practically engaged to Jack
Forester. Well, I have made up my |
mind, so you had better understand that. |
I can't allow that young man to mu-r-‘
sere with my plans. You are going to!
marry me. If not willingly, then—-"
“Mr. Steele. how dare you!” flamed
Hilda Townsend, starting to her feet.
"How dare you speak in such a man
ner?”
As she hesitated a moment, at a loss
for words, Steele looked at her in open.
admiration, for she made a beautiful |
picture as she stood panting with anger, i
her face flushed, with flashing gray
eyes, framed in golden brown hair.
Then controlling her anger, she moved
toward the door, saying icily: t
“l will send the maid to show you
out.” '
“Your father will syffer if you dery:
me,"” came the curt response, in cyni- |
cay, unemotional tones. }
“What do you mean?” demanded the;
girl, haughtily, but with a clutch of fear
at her heart, as she stopped and turned
toward him, |
“I mean that I can rutn your fathpr.i
and unless you are ~easonable 1 shall
uUse my power without hesitation.”
A look of dread came into Hilda's!
Wh.t
Y Sk'
With The Delightful
New Preparation—
Sweet Mari
Skin Bal
It isnot only guaranteed to
brighten the skin, but it is also
unsurpassed as a complexion
€ream, being delicatelyscented
and having all the pleasant
qualities of a perfect cold
Cream,
Don't be dark complected
and coarse skinned —get a box
' of Sweet Marie Skin Balm from
your druggist. If he won't
supoly you, we will, if you will
send us 26¢ in stamps or coin.
The Laxaret Co.,
4 P. O, Box 409
Atlanta, Ga,
Agents Wanted
éfiiof,tfle Seventh Episode of “BEATRICE FAIRFA)},” New F ith;::Serial, He;m f;;c-zl;
end does justify the means—if you ean
be sure of the end.
Jimmy and I had been sent special
invitations to the “Conley-Payne”
wedding. So for the evening we
doffed our workaday clothes and made
ourselves fine and splendid in keeping
with the limousine society with which
we were going to mingle.
Men seem to be divided into two
classes—those who can wear full dress
clothes and those who can’'t. Jimmy
could. Grandmother's glance rested |
j upon him with affectionate approval.'
He had a look of grooming and breed
ling and indifference to his own at
tractiveness which only added to it. .
in a Limousine.
And we went to that wedding in a
limousine which had quite as long a
wheel base and an engine of just as
| numerous horsepower as those of Miss
Margaret Payne’s more exclusive inti
mates.
The Payne drawing room represent
ed the very best in the interior deco
rator's art, plus a florist’'s work un
trammeled by thought of expense.
When we entered it and I beheld the
floral altar of marvelous roses banked
across one end of the room, my heart
gave a sudden contraction, haif fear
and half pity. You see, I was re
membering the tumbledown cabin in
the woods and the sullen-faced de
generate who wanted Madge Minturn
for his own.
And then Richard Conley entered
eyes, for she knew that her father was |
heavily in debt to this man. Sinklng:
on to a chair at the table, she remained l
silent, thinking desperately what to do
or say,
Steele waited, caim and confident.
Then with sudden determination she
spoke.
“Mr. Steele, will you please explain
vourself quite fully? This is a matter
that must be settled now--once for all.’" |
“That is all I ask. I am a wealthyl
man, and can offer you infinitely more
than young Forester will ever be ab!e|
to. He is pottering away his life among |
musty old relics, and is——"" |
“I won't allow you to speak disparag
ingly of Mr. Forester,” interrupted Hil
da, indignantly. “As for his prospects,
although young, he is already con-‘
sidered an expert judge of antiques.” |
~ ‘“Very well, we will leave him out.
of the question,” replied Steele, with
Jdrritating calmness. “Then it simply |
‘amounts to this. Your father owes me
'some SIO,OOO for which I hold a mort
gage on his house and furniture, and
iunless you marry me i ghall foreclose.
That's putting it bluntly, perhaps, but
you drive me to it.”
“Bluntly! It's brutal!"’
| A Time Limit,
“Well, well, as you like, but we shall
ll}ot make things better by quarreling.
Three weeks today I shall expect a
ldefinlte answer from you, and as I dis
|er such scenes as this, I shall not
|trouble you again until then. That is
'all 1 have to say, but because I have
]sald it quietly, don't imagine thta it's
not meant. I am in deadly earnest.”
For some moments Hilda remained
silent, then she rose and stood proud
ly before the man who threatened her.
“1 must give you credit for being can
did, Mr. Steele, and I will be equally
'ao." she replied. *“1 would rather mar
‘ry Mr. Forester as a beggar than you
'as a milionaire. Now we understand,
| each other. For the presnt, then, mat
iters remain as they are. For the fu
ture—we shall see."
‘ She left him without waiting for a
|reply, but she caught the sound of a
cold, contemptuous laughter that sent
a chill of fear through her,
Although Steele admired Hilda, he was
not in love; he was too selfish to love
any one but himself. He had set his
mind on her because she fulfilleq his
idea of what his wife should be, beau
tiful and well connected, and being ac
customed to having his own way in all
things her persistent refusal made him
the more determined that she should
marry him,
- - .
The public gardens of the small town
where Hilda lived were almost deserted
as she walked slowly along a shady
path between the pines, where a sweet
scented sea breeze tempered the heat of
the sun,
Walking with head bent, apparently
lost in thought, she did not notice the
figure of a well set-up young man ap
proaching rapidly from the opposite di
rection.
When within a few feet he stopped,
barring the way, and Hilda looked up
suddenly.
“Jack! How von startled me."”
"y ; ” e .
bflclb':'e:fl:? R wehed et e et
f{"m'w“*"W?‘EWWWWW"”»‘%\W3 R TN T T
B . &
ESE oooemone G ey P 1 3 . [g OB . »r e y . Do
Zon ST [EEOE T¢T3 § 3 % i g P R P ny i R - 011 R g S el O
1\ SR B B T QR R s B LA Tkt oy L e
L L R T S e e Y
) T RN SN gt R T GR R R R i A S pAg RE T Ei Pohß sW 2
o SRR Lol 0 ‘b-i“ Pt Gl a 5 | | Rl SR Y %,Q % :
FE L (IR 21 P, bTR BTk, 5 MRS, R. G e IR - S RES RRR SR Tl 3 SRR X LR S X e
FEn TRE S S o Lo b 8 RSARES . GBS ¢ SRR A 95, AR 13 B e;) 3 A B e B e 5
R PRI A AR S hh 33 A P s § b PR R R i Y 1 AR i
g ?‘*’” is, . U b e GT G i L F B
Pi R ] b B Qe : OV oo PR e MR MTR 8 P© i
gEE o ek N bSI LR | i AEE T e R b o R L : Y. SREE M T
o e o R B e o Ny . L L .
B G ¥ T N WS PR ov &Nt SRE o BRI BICER e b ¥ 3 .PR o g 4
Br oA aal e e \Pu TT R AR AL R e, : -SR eteogtibes R
Ll ey - bR - 3 % § s Lo : W
B LOBRy e s Vit % i LRS R i i ; ’ e
22 e Wk o : i i . . N & M e, W
B li:,..'.;’("vfffl‘-'i-'i':?’?:'"-'?:-,-::.f.f".: 3 5 IR R }Sk, Le 3 fiiiEe : : e
gb’X s e P 3 22K S BT A g % F A:'r"?r e
L .ifvzi;si,i i* i 4 g R . B ¢ Fok L e B
S LARERNE K ¥ A e Poossag, SV i %o P b o e
ol R ASR . e s L A meaaE b 4R e Bey
h: w 0 '{‘ - S 24 5 ; S e _::}:f‘..: 53 , i '3; i s ‘E:: o \ R “a)} \ ,*;,?;
B B ORREe T 8 o £ee TR e Y 4 e i G B
g g Y Vel e R LR SR i TEMERY T g i R T R R R
Beobog SR To SV R e =y £ 3 o 4 e e R
BRG RRL R W :v’%;.w arngnt Lt T Y g R% B AT i i R 3 $ 3 % L s RS
b COEE WSI S . ; Wl e e o l e
LLY sl Gy ooy Ot By S 3 3 o 8 s s
% BAT [ x 2 ) FER 8 g 3 §9B 4 s e 3
e AR A WX & RN T 5 R $L R : % 3 DRSO SO ¢ BERE 3
zE R B }'.l. R B i o (ISR §idi i e eDR |RS
g o &}' SRR ,{ e B : z 3 L R R .
P HEe@ sale -G ; RO > B o o : f. 0 N
P R AR o PR AN Ny O g siel B o e
iße3g e e e e
i R T S R L B Pz i ks L o e
B £ ML i e DI e SRR b B §od i ev bl
e oo % R 35 LA 5 R f i $ "; " % S 3 &
s 3 o % e . 8 PR 5 R 3 2R % et 3 3 R R ]
o RERRE G g ; oy Boasing i e §oa g s : R h:"t”‘” B
B oVI i S B FRam eO 1 MORSECRY % S 2 DIGRIIN S ¢W T i
SRR % 5 v R N BT b e SERCITAN e SR i N BB 3
i SRR T R TR e figadin 3 i B SR, R 3
g Slied iR T R ;_'s;_,'s').?; RS RO S g, R R g 3 s b » \Kz %
T[ D i gy A AL RSRI e T R it i 2 R R o S
P e ¢ o SR SR e | st B G e Y
BT oi A ;:,_;;;: L 8 i RERANE eTF oe R -.3 ® ; ‘ 4 4@:&6"‘ eTR
e o’3},A¥ &,i ' 3 % EeS B " ‘ \ i g 5 F ¥ ; 3 i ..M¢®%6 g - {_, Shk : L i
e R St A W i { : ARI 1 AR s 5 3 g ) 3 iR | R e
P RELU BAR Lt a o 3 RRO SR S S IR 3 ! AR 3 G
i L ‘f:;y:‘ 4 & \,a" ! g ; A 5 PRGRRIS \MSR LO S z 3 R bm! S R T 3
LLI :e S : AR ; / A é"’uét" §“~» % _:*;‘k{-:;5;_5,,-};,‘3.‘.__ ; s R »m‘agi ; v W
A ‘ o B R BE i A T ’ LS R 3 3 BRI i R $ R, e
e { g b SROEAE T PR NSO PR Bt (S SRR T RERE oS 3 ¥ 3 No - % s oz A e e
Pk e f:” e f 2 TI A T R Ihe (57 . g PEEteS 4 5 BTy, e iMR e T
7o BSR ST L o e SR R Ge R T : R v S Aol O VR G e
BT R R e e G Ele A o N\
LRe ot &VR BT R R L e eQi Y j&;:;“é T e .&
RO RL e e T, e Wee e T RN B
eel s TBy SRR s S eyt b TRe o o
- f R e eo e AL T S S T g 4 3“?2&“.\}
i Tl AR _fl. e .&é SR S[e ol AR, - : . sTRBA NN ) G
E B 2 S e i Y ¥ e B PRGNS | 5 R~ 4 w 3 o < 7 i - B e Jdls. B ¥k ooeas oot R a 8
g K "’fi.%fi-:«'“.?sy.ffi_\;f;;;(.fs IR Sy eTo LT £ et b SRR 0 - " eR R TR
L Py Rl Sl R L Re e R R R W I
T seeisis . . s - o 4
R B R RN N B sDsy v eo)
Young Conley discovers he has married Madge after all. Beatrice Fairfax (Grace Darling} and Jimmy Barton
(Harry Fox) look on.
the room and crossed to the floral
altar back of which stood the sur
pliced minister. His face was chalk
white—set into a mold of repression
and not looking at all like that of an
expectant bridegroom.
In the front row of spectators stood
Richard’'s father-—dominant, arrogant,
evidently the master figure in the sit-
you wouldn’'t notice my wavings. How
glad I am that we met, though. I've
great news, and thought I'd have to
keep it until tonight.”
“I hope it's good news, Jack, for I'm
feeling very despondent. I had a letter
from Mr. Steele this morning. He has
told his lawyers to foreclose unless they
receive the money by the 27th, and he
ends up by telling mie that I know the
oniy alternative. It would kill dear old
dad, in his state of health, yet I can
sea no way out.” |
~ “The blackguard!"” exclaimed Jack,
hotly. “But never mind, dear, don't
worry any more. I've a plan to outwit
him, which I must explain hurriedly
‘inow, as I'm on my way to an appointe
ment. We can talk it over tonight.”
Jack Has a Plan.
Jack went on to say that, when look
ing at some goods that were to be sold
by auction, he hag come across a very
valuable vase that apparently no one
knew its value because it was lumped
in with two other common ornaments
as one lot. Jack valued it at about $lO,-
000, and his plan was to secure it, reseil,
and pay off the money owing to Steele.
“Obh, Jack, are you sure?” asked
Hilda, breathless with excitement. 1
“Yes, absolutely certain, and if I can
get it for a small sum, we'll pay that
scoundrel, Steele, and then I'll give him
a thrashing.”
- Jack looked well able to carry out the
‘threat, and Hllda felt a comforting
‘luense of protection as she glanced at
his stern face and strong figure.
’ “But suppose some one else dllcovern‘
‘ns value and bids against you?” she
sald, doubtfully. |
“There’'s not much risk of that.
There are no antiques in the sale to at
tract those who would know. I tried to
buy it privately to make certain, but
the goods must be sold by auction, so
we will have to take our chance. But,
at any rate, | have managed to arrange
a temporary loan. Yes, dear, in few
days you'll be free from worry."”
“It geems too good to be true, Jack,
but 1 hope-—oh, how 1 do hope it will be
as you say!"
“Never fear, Hilda, love, and now .
really must hurry on again. I'll come in
;euly tonight,
“By the way,” he called back, pausing
after a few steps, “it's Lot Thirteen;
the number won't prove unlucky for us,
anyway."”
“No, indeed,” she responded, laugh
ingly, as she waved adieu, “we'll make
it our lucky number.”
The sound of thelr footsteps died
away, and for a few moments there was
silence. Then, with a faint rustling,
there rose above the low hedge, by
which the lovers had been standing, the
head and shoulders of Matthew Steele
“Not unlucky!” he snarled, looking In
the direction Jack had taken. “I will
see to it that the traditional bad luck
;holdl good In your case, my friend,
You shall bitterly regret having tried to
outwit me.”
He sank down again upon the rustic
‘leat to which he came almost every day
for a rest in the open air,
“What luck,” he mussed, "“that they
should have met within my hearing.
They would have beaten me otherwise,
but now-—"
28 ¥
i The auction room of the little market
town was well filled, and the day being
uation which he had created for his
son.
There was a stir among the guests.
An organ hidden somewhere in the
house pealed forth “The Voice That
Breathed O’er Eden,” and then swung
into the refrain of Lohengrin's “Wed
ding March.”
Winchester Payne, banker and
hot and close, the buyers were listless,
so that, despite the efforts of a very
energetic auctioneer, bidding was slow.
Jack was well to the front, and close
by, in a quiet corner, sat Hilda, look
ing rather anxious.
- The room, with its plain benches and
desks, its walls that were bare except
for a few placards, and its grimy, un
shaded windows, appealed to Hilda as a
commonplace, matter-of-fact setting for
'the momentous event about to take
place in her life,
The sale commenced, and by the time
Lot Eleven was disposed of the bidding
had almost ceased.
Lot Twelve was not bid for at all.
“Come, gentlemen,” cried the auc
tioneer in desperation, “you are missing
some splendid chances. Now, if you
don't want furniture here's something
smaller. Lot Thirteen. A pair of hand
some vases, and an odd one thrown in.
What offers for Lot Thirteen? They
are—""
“Ten dollars,” came a bid.
“The odd one alone is worth more
than that. What advance on ten? 1
ron't take— -’
l “Fifteen.’
“Twenty-five.”
-ty
Bids came at first from various parts
of the room, but at thirty only Jack
and another man were bidding.”
“What advance on s3¢ for Lot Thir
teen? The vases are worth more than
that, gentlemen. Lot Thirteen going
for S3O. Any advance?”
““One hundred dollars.”
The words, snapped out by a sour
visaged, e!derly man at the back of the
crowd, sent a thrill of excitement
through the room. Every one turned
and looked curiously at the bidder, a
grim-looking figure, standing there in
silence.
Jack g'anced at his new opponent,
and mei the vindictive eyes of Matthew
Steele!
Face to Face.
A look of cynical amusement crossed
Steele’'s face as he saw Jack and Hilda
exchange glaces, in which he could read
doubt and apprehension.
The auctioneer's businesslike voice
broke sharply through the buzz of ex~
citement.
Up and up went the price, bids fol
lowing each other rapidly., Alternately
came Jack's clear volce and Steele's
harsh note, running each other up until
the bid was $4,500,
Jack began to show signs of emo
tion, his bids coming hesitatingly, but
each time the harsh volce instantly bid
higher, and there was no sign of emo
tion on the grim face.
The excitement became intense, peo
ple standing on benches and chairs to
obtain a view of the two bidders, Hilda
wae now standing by Jack, and they
would exchange a few words and anx
fous looks before Jack made his ad
vances.
Steele’'s last bid was $4,600, and Jack
had not replied.
“Going at -
85,000 " hesitatingly.
"‘Afi’,‘M'd mmeml}krll flash,
“Lot 13 going for SB.OOO~ ¢ "t Jack
Down came the hammer, and Lot 13
became the gropofly of Steele,
Pushing Is wav unconcernedly
diplomat, entered his drawing room,
and on his arm leaned the veiled fig
ure of the bride.
And then the ceremony began—the
ceremony which gave Margaret to
Richard as wife. .
Presently it was finished and the
minister pronounced the benediction.
Then the groom leaned forward and
A Clever Story of a Ruse
el
Whereby a Young Man Won His Sweetheart
e 8 B .oo BN 'S it e
e T N R W B N P
through the excited crowd, he ostenta
tiously paid the auctioneer's clerk in
bank notes, saying he would take the
vases away with him.
Hilda and Jack were close by, but be
yond a glance of triumph as he pule
he ignored them. v
They appeared to be greatly agitated,
and his mean soul felt a sense of grati
fication at the thought of their distress.
- - -
After securing the vases Steele mtdel
no further move. There was still near
ly a week left to Miss Townend before
she must give him a definite reply, and,
although he knew what that reply must
be, the idea of keeping the young cou
ple in suspense pleased him.
Feeling that he had them completely
in his power, he would sit at home, or
in his office, gloating over the visions
he conjured up. He pictured their dis
tress at their own helplessness ang half.
expected them to make an effort to come |
to terms. That would give him just the
opportunity he waited for. I
He would listen to thelr pleadings and
pretend to waver, so as to raise théir
hopes. Then, when his time limit to
Hilda had expired, he would immediate
ly take drastic steps against her father,
letting the girl know that he would
not stop them until she was actually
his wife.
He was musing thus one afternoon
in his handsomely furnished office when
Jack and Hilda were announced.
With a thrill of exultant satisfaction
he told his clerk to show them in, and
prepared to play the part. ‘
They entered, and, rather to Steele's
surprise, were looking very happy. When
they were seated, Jack turned to Mr,
Steele,
“We came to ask,” he sald, “if you |
would care to part with the small vuo|
you secured at the auctioh. We're not
interested in the other two, but that one
we would like as a memento.”
Steele was somewhat taken back.
He had not anticipated this move, and
was sllent a while, wondering what it
meant. Suddenly he understood Jack
hoped to secure it even at a high price
angd still sell at a profit,
“Well,"” he replied, with an assump
tion of interest, “at a price I would.
What will you offer?”
“l doubt If you know its real value.
Still, I'Nl give you $5, although It's not
really worth it."” ‘
Although irritated at what he consid
ered Jack's childish attempt at bluff,
Steele outwardly kept his temper. |
His Expert Opinion,
“l suppose you would,” he replied,
unable to keep a sneer from his tone,
“1 understand It's worth nearly double
what I gave for the three. It happens
that I knew what I was buying. 1 act
ed on the opinion of an expert—a friend
of Miss Townsend."
He watched thelr faces to see the ef
fect of this thrust, but to his chagrin
they showed no sign.
“Then you have been misled,” sald
Jack coolly. "1 have some knowledge of
such things, and I value it at about $5.
But if you won't accept my offer there's
nothing more to be sald. 8o we'll be
going."
At this unexpected attitude Hteele lost
his temper,
“You lie!"” he shouted. "I bfir‘)yw
Novelized from the Great Film Play
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
threw back the bride's veil. I clutched
Jimmy's arm and watched the guests
who waited for the €entimental mo
ment when the newly-made husband
kisses his bride for all men to see.
A stir went through the assemblage
of guests. Richard Conley, Sr., leaped
forward with a shout of rage.
For when the bride’s veil was
RNNNNN NI ISP
myself; you said 1t was worth——"' ‘
“We know all about that,” interrupted
Jack, imperturbably. *“You heard Miss
Townsend and me talking about it in
the gardens, but we knew you were
there.
““We were aware of your habit of rest
ing there each day, and we arranged the
meeting accordingly, We tricked you
into buying a valueless vase for a large
sum. You drove us to it.”
‘ Steele went livid with passion, and as
‘he spoke he crashed his fist on the desk
in front of him.
“You fool!"” he cried, hoarsely. Sup
posing that's true, what good will it do
you? What is $6,000 to me? And now
I'll show no mercy—none whatever.
That's all you shall gain by your trick
ory.” |
He turned furiously to Hilda, com
pletely losing control of himself.
The Debt Paid. |
l “l demand your answer now. Prom
‘iae to marry me or I will take instant
proceedings against your father. Come!
your promise at once. You won't have
another chance. I'll—-"
Jack started to his feet, flushing an
grily, but Hilda signed to him to keep
silent, then turned and spoke calmly
to the enraged man.
“I will tell you something, Mr, Steele,
that will itself be sufficient answer to
your cowardly attempt to blackmail me,
We have just come from your lawyer,
to whom we have paid the debt in
full!”
! Steele fell back in his chair, his face
distorted with impotent rage.
Frustrated! And by this young cou
ple. But, no, it was Impossible.
“You—you—it can't be,” he stuttered,
| “You—l don’t belleve it. You had no
lmoney»neuher of you. Don't try to
fool me. It's another confounded trick
et
“I will allow no mora of this,” inter
rupted Jack, suddenly springing up and
striding threateningly toward Steele,
who rose nervously to his feet. *“‘An
other discourteous word to Miss Town
send and I'll knock you down, you
blackguard! It's only because my flancee
wishes to avold publicity that you es
cape the thrashing you deserve, but |
Warn you not to try me further.”
Still angry, but thoroughly cowed,
Bteele made no reply. He stood there
|ll|em and sullen, knowing he was
beaten,
| “Come, Jack,” sald Hilda, breaking
the silence. “I'll tell him what we real.
ly came to say, and then we had better
80."” Then, turning to Mr. Steele:
“l pald the debt with money [ re
cently became possessed of, and as you
helped me indirectly, I suppose | ought
to thank you."”
“l helped you? 1--1 don't under
stand.”
“Well, you see,” replied Hilda, mer
rily, as they went from the room. ‘Lot
Thirteen was mine!”
Hopeful.
Mrs. Sibley—Has my new perambula
tor come? Shopkeeper—No, madam; I'm
sorry to say it has not, but it won't
olce has arrived,
;‘r.‘l“g&lg.:-(:":,‘ l':’l‘:'l,o "l’:‘ that so
p‘noln{ueom! Domuwa
thrown back the face framed in the
folds of white tulle was not that of
Margaret Payne, but of a starry-eyed,
tremulous-lipped girl whom Jimmy
and I had substituted for the bride,
“It isn’t legal. I'll have it annulled,”
shrieked Conley, senior.
Silent and wondering, Conley,
junior, faced his bride.
I wondered what thoughts. were
rushing into his conscience as he
faced the girl who had dared so much
for love of him. I wondered what
‘tnoughts would claim him when he
knew how near Madge Minturn had
come to what was worse than death
for the sake of the little son whose
father had denied him even a name.
But Richard Conley said nothing.
A little muscle across his jaw was
twitching and his eyes had grown
very dark and were shining with a
clear steadiness. Some purpose‘
seemed to be setting his weak mouth
into a mold—was it stubbornness or
strength?
“Oh, I guess it's legal, all right,”
said Jimmy, stepping forward and
holding out a paper—the signed con
fession of Wilkins. “You see, this is
a license making it legal. Mrs. Rich
ard Conley, Jr, got it today.”
Still Richard Conley said nothing—
still that look of ugly stubbornness—
or was it strength?—held his face in
a mask of immobility.
And then another actor came upon
the scene. In the doorway stood the
butler leading Harry Wilkins—the
evil man of Blue Cove. Jimmy point
ed to him and spoke in a low voice to
Richard.
“If it isn't legal, you will make it
S 0 or go to the penitentiary.”
. The Baby Appears.
Madge trembled with fear at the
words. “On, I thought I only wanted
a name for my baby—but it's more
Shells
FNTFNINTNINTNONTNNT IO NE NN OO
HEY sat at the end of a break-
T water, staring out at the tar-l
away tide. All about them the!
sand stretched damp and goiden
brown—a glant east coast chrysan
themum-—speckled here and there
with long trails of seaweed, like the
discarded strands of some mermaid
en's hair, Shells, too, there were in
plenty, quite ordinary shells, the usual
treasure trove of the sea, but none
'the less pretty for all that. Pink and
;brown. and amber and gray-mauve,
frilled and rounded and curly, and
tucked away in each polished head a
ifttle, monotonous, hammerlike whis
per of the sea whence it came,
The lap of the girl's white dress was
full of these little, crinkly, rubbishy
‘thlngs. and presently, when the glare
of the water stretching ahead became
too sown with the sun's diamonds for
the human eye to contemplate com-!
fortably, It was at the shells In herl
lap she looked rather than at the man
at her side, i
It was as if the sense of coming
separation had woven a swift veil of
shyness between her and this brand
new husband of hers so that she
dared no longer look at him. But the
man at least had no mind to waste
{ time,
i “C"lara, look at me,” he said imperi
ously, as the silence and aloofness
endured. *“Don’t give all your atten
tion to those rotten shells. You'll
have plenty of time to admire that
rubbish later.”
I But still the girl avoided the too
ardent look of his dark eyes.
“They are so pretty,” she murmured
gelf-excusingly. “See this little pink
one"—she held up a tiny pink shell,
exquisite as an uncurled roseleaf.
“And this”-—she held out a bigger
shell, ribbed and brown, and curved
like a boat. “I wonder to what en
chanted isle this traveled in its day
and what became of the little fairy
Jason who sailed within her?”
But the man, ignoring the pretty
fancy, stared instead at the hand that
held the shell,
“The nails of your hand are prettier
than any shell,” he told her, with all a
lover's rhapsody. “Let's talk about
ourselves while we can.” He edged
cloger to the hem of her white troFk.
“My train leaves in an hour, and only
Heaven and a bullet knows whether |
shall ever see you again.”
She melted at that, and her shyness
dropped from her as she clung to him,
“Oh, my dear—my dear! 1 was
trying to forget,” she sobbed. “It is
g 0 hard to let you go. 1 could have
borne it better a week ago. But love
makes one weak,
That was true at least. Strong man
though he was, he remembered how‘
his blood had turned to water when‘
for the first time in that quiet hotel;
room he had called her wife, A little
afraid of the tempest he had raised, he
tried to calm her.
“Little goose, 1 was only teasing
you, Of course I shall come back,” he
promised. “See,” his hand closed upon
something In her lap. “I shall take
your little pink shell with me as a
mascot, If that does not keep me
from harm"-—he ,was laughing
The tears still wet upon her cheek,
but a new interest in her eyes, she
watched him place It inside his pock
‘ etbook. i i - f ¢
“Take this brown _one, te sey
A > P ng, an ‘
than that. I love Richard. I don’t
want him to go to prison,” she whis
pered to me.
‘We stood alone, a little group ma
rooned in the midst of the frightened
| guests who had withdrawn to the
ltarther side of the room, leaving us
to work out our drama upchecked by
them.
At Jimmy's words, Richard Con
ley’s lips twisted into a snarl. “Go
to the penitentiary on the word of
the village idiot!” sald he. “Well, I
guess not—how dare you folks inter
fere? What do you mean by playing
providence like this? Have you
thought of the other girl—of Marga
ret?”
But before we could answer Mar
garet Payne appeared in the doorway
of her home. In her arms was the
little, nameless. blue-eyed baby
which looked so much like the father
who had never owned it. And then a
sudden change came across Richard
Conley's face. There is an instinct
of fatherhood, too. He walked over
to the side of the girl he had meant
to marry and from her arms he took
his baby.
“Come, Madge—we'll go home,”
said he. Perhaps there was not love
and longing in his voice—but I think
there was tenderness even then.
‘ The baby was christened last week
—Margaret Payne and I were the god
mothers and the godfathers were two
very distinguished gentlemen—Jim
my Barton, of The Journal, and Win
chester Payne, banker and diplomat.
Really, granny should have had
some honor at that christening—for
if she had persuaded me to forget
ethics and remember humanity there
might not have been 4 name for
Madge Minturn’s baby.
(Watch for the next episode, It
will start in Monday’s magazine
page.) ;
By Louise Heilgers
o o e T T L e e wraanTrraTNy
pleaded, “the one like a boat, with my
heart inside it for Jason.”
Hé shook his head. “One is enough,”
he told her lightly, “No excess bag
gage allowed, you know, in the way
of hearts. I've got all I want, the
shell that reminds me”—he crushed
her to him with sudden passion—*of
your little pink hands and your little
pink ears, and the pink color in your
cheeks when I kiss you like this.”
“I shall be jealous of the shell,” she
whispered. “It goes with you while [
stay here.” :
“The best part of me stays hera,
t0o,” he whispered baek upon her hair.
“My faith, my hope, my dreams—it
is just the empty ah.uma me I take
away. You have the rest.”
It might be so, but ‘%fl‘ht that
night she would uoom*hu hopes
and faith and dremg;m. to
France, so long as what he had called
the empty shell remained with it. It
is the outward things of love that
appeal most to women—the look, the
kiss, the clasping hand. 'im
can grow roses on m ;:"‘i
¢ ¢+ ¢ & N
~ Three short weeks aft fl she
went to France, too, summao | there
;by a telegram that gave Mtth 4'
~ What little she had managed to
conserve vanished when she | neeled
‘beside the narrow bed in the long
‘ward and saw what she might have
taken for just a heap of band \ges, ex
cept that out of the bandages his eyes
llooked at her—beyond he . seelr
her. &
“He was terribly hurt by a shell,”
she heard the nurse say, “but in epi
of that he is always asking “. ,
him one and put it in his hand—
pink shell he insists it must be.*
nurse sighed. “I suspect he is 3
it up with all the blood, pocr fel
low.” *5.,,“ :
The bandaged man on “f e
stared unseeingly at the fair-ha :’
woman at his side, *
“The shell—where the deuce is hat
shell?” he murmured. e
“There, you see,” whispered
nurse, : ;
But the wife understood. The shell
that had meant so little to him on t 0
beach had now come to mean all | 5
him, s Ty
“Where are his things?” she *
as she stood up. 0
He smiled like a child when fi!
ently the little pink shell, found quite !
uninjured in his pocketbook, was put
into his hand. It was in his hand
when he died without a word or mi!
for the woman who only a few weeks
ago had meant more to him than any
thing else in this world, To him all
that remained of life had become
'merged in that small pink shell. Of
the shell that had torn blood and life
from him, of the wife he had wor.
shiped, he remembered nothing. Seo
‘do the lesser things in life always
cast out the greater,
I wish 1 could spin you a pretty
ending to this tale, and tell you how
one war bride, at least, remalned
forever a recluse, nursing a heart that
had turned from a flower into an
empty pink shell. But as this hap
pens to be a true story—well, last
time 1 saw her she wore mauve
was dining with a sapper. She n&
never have heard of a pink to
fook at her. Sometimes I think
if her husband had died with h A
in his instead of clasping
shell she might have e
\As ki i