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This charmingly simple dress is of blue
gerge with colored wool embroidery. The
buttons are black bone, the collar white
gatin, sleeves blue satin. :
b 9% Novelized from the Great
I F F Film Play
by BEATRICE FATRFAX.
~ Episode 12, Installment 2.
‘“‘CURIOSITY."”
(Novelized from the scenario of
Basil Dickey and produced in motion
'.'hturn by Wharton, Inc, Studios
{ the International Film Service.)
i o
By Beatrice Fairfax.
{Copyright, 1916, International News
Service.)
,“ WOULD forgive my husband for
i Iwhal he did before we met—
; but how can I endure it If he
goés back to the crimnial world from
which he has risen?” cried Ruth
Hanson.
© “Have you a right to think he is
returning to the underworld?”" I ask
‘:’-_,;’d.vseverely.
~ And then the unhappy woman told
‘me of her fears.
_ On the previous morning, when her
‘husband had sent her out of the way
fn urder that he might discuss mat
te of grave import with the man
‘whom he called Doyle, the eavesdrop- |
3‘? ing young vise had controlled her
‘self and her horrer of what she had
overheard ani had gone off quietly
‘fo face the situation.
~ For years she had been reading
#Advice to the Lovelorn” without ex
pecting to need the help and judg
iment of a stranger—but now she
knew that it was only to scmeone
‘outside the situation, looking at it in
serene perspective, that she could go.
And so she had written to me.
. On the very morning when I came
‘to her, her husband bad again or
jered her to leave him while he con
iinued his mysterious business with
‘hi tal looking wvisitor of the
‘moraing before. Again curiosity had
driven the wise to eavesdropping. First
‘there was a mumble of conversation
ln rough, uncouth tones—and her
@mazement was great when she real-
: .
' Superfluous Hair
Miraek
The o&nd liguld mnever ga.r
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£ JE™™_ Complexion Beautiful
Soft and velvety. Money back if not en
. % Yraly pleased, Nadine is pure and barm
| less. Adheres until washed off, Prev.nts
" ] sunburn and return of discélorations.
- | A million delighted vsers prove its value.
] Tints: Flesh, Pink, Brunette, White.
By Toilet Counters or Mail, 50c.
Toilet Cempany, Paris, Tenn.
This beautifu! soft frock in navy blue or
Java brown charmeuse has beaded embroid
ery for trimming and a vest of white
Georgette crepe.
ized that one of the rasping volces
she heard belonged to her husband.
The Mystery of Mill Creek.
Hanson seemed attempting to per
suade Doyle to take a certain course,
and when Doyle finally acquiesced it
was in the triumphant tone of one
who has accomplished something
marvelous. The man’'s volce rose into
a tone of braggadocio, and this ia
what Mrs, Hanson heard:
“The chief will see you. He's over
back o' Mill Creek.”
The Young wife had hardly been
able to endure her curlosity as to
‘what all of this might mean.
‘ “And just when I thought I'd go
crazy from uncertainty and trying to
figure it all out, you came,” sald she.
“And so your husband has gone
with that man over to a place calied
Mill Creek. Can you direct me
there?” 1 asked.
Mrs. Hanson said she could, and so
we started on a journey fraugnt
with danger more terrible than we
were able to guess. We wandered
about the lonely neighborhood for a
while, and then at last Mrs. Hanson
turned into a heavily wooded road,
whose cool dampness was almost un
penetrated by any light. There a
strange sight met eyes which were
not intended to see It.
A jroup of men were hiding In the
oushes, watching an exchange being
made bétween two wagons which
were backed up &gainst each other
with an alr of great secrecy. What
it was they were handling we could
not see—we were five minutes too
late for that!
If Mrs. Hansen had composed her
self more quickly and had set about
telling her story with a little more
promptness, the mystery of the Mill
Creek woods need have been no mys
tery to me—everything might have
been different—much might have
been saved.
The Undertaker's Wagon.
As it was, we were just in time to
see a grim-looking wagon back deep
er into the woods while a sable un
dertaker’'s wagon drove out.
There was something menacing
about the mere appearance of the un
dertaker's cart. There, in the cool
darkness of the woods, the very sight
of it chilled my blood. All about us,
hiding in the bushes, were men with
a look of'ugly and intent purpose on
thelr faces,
Then through the shrubbery there
peered a man whom I recognized at
once as the one who had seemed so
interested l% my questions as te
where Mrs. Hanson lived. He looked
startled, and withdrew again in
stantly.
“That's he! That's my George!™
gasped Mrs. Hanson.
And now from the underbrush there
advanced upon us the man [ had seen
accompanying Hanson.. He was
threatenigg us with a heavy cudgel,
and we waited in amazement for
Hanson to come to the rescue. When
he did not, retreat seemed to be the
order of the day. There was nothing
to be gained by facing the brutal
looking man with his uplifted stick.
And as we hurried away Mrs. Han
son whispered to me: “That's Loyle.”
Back to the cottage we hurried, with
a common desire to get out of those
gloomy woods and look at the situ
ation sanely by daylight. Mrs. Han
son spoke no word until we reached
the house, and then she turned on me
with an impassioned determination to
know just what I thought of the mat
ter.
“Now you see why I'm breaking
my heart about George, don't you?
He's gone back to the old life, there's
no doubt about that. I think those
men were robbers and they were
smuggling something away in that
undertaker's wagon. What shall I
do?"
“He knows you say him,” sald I
“Now, you must demand an explana
tion. It is true that they look like
criminals, but I want you to promise
me that you will give him a chance to
explain. He may be able to.”
“Explain!” laughed Ruth Hanson,
almost hysetrically.
But a second later the beginning
of a series of circumstances which
was to serve as George Hanson's ex
planation was set in motion. The door
opened, and in came Doyle, accompa
nied by an even more brutal and un
principled-looking man than himself.
Beatrice Is Threatened.
Both the men pulled guns, and
Doyle sidled over to me and, pointing
his revolver full at the place where I
judged my beating heart to be, he re
marked:
“You'll come with Mr., Brown and
me, and smile all the way, or we'll
- Evils That Never Arrive
Most of our ills we have cured,
And the sharpest we still have sur
vived;
But what tortures of pain we en
dured
From the eviia which never arrived.
HY must we march through
W life carrying with us delib
erately and of our own choice
a collection of things about which to
worry? This is a form of “prepared
ness” which is highly prevalent—and
utterly absurd.
Most of our troubles don't arrive,
and all the trouble we have in con
nection with them is walting for them
to come. The things about which
we worry and agitate ourselves either
never happen or aren't particularly
bad when they do happen. And we
wear ourselves out in idle anticipa
tion.
Isn't tnis ineficient? The point Is
that while one worries about a cer
tain dire possibility and uses up en
ergy on it, something ¢uite unex
pected turns up, and one has to read-.
just one's self to bearing that. |
There are plenty of troubles in.thls;
world without looking for them. |
The man or woman who is always
prepared for difficulty makes a nul
sance of himself by his very fore
handedness. {
Many of the things about which we
Sophisticated enough for the girl of twenty,
yet simple enough for her younger sister, is
this smart blue serge suit, lined with peau
de cygne and interlined with flannel.
.
glve you something as an excuse for
not smiling.
At once my momentary fright left
me. The man's bluster angered me. I
had not yet learned what a horrible
thing fear might be,
Now Brown shoved his revolver into
his pocket and probed Mrs. Hanson
with the muzzle in a way to indicate
that he would shoot through the cloth
if her manner on the street indicated
that anything was wrong. She made
a hysterical attempt to achieve calm
ness. But I decided that I had been
sufficiently bullied.
“Come, my men, this won't do.
We're not going anywhere with you,
You just pocket your guns and your
threats and get out of here,” said I.
" Doyle cocked his gun and an
nounced that he would count three,
and then he'd shoot me right through
the heart.
“One—two—" he counted, slowly
and grimly. I was not in the least
frightened. There seemed nothing at
all terrifying about the prospects of
being shot. I felt an intense calm
ness that surprises me now when I
think about it.
Suddenly Brown turned Mrs. Han
son over to Doyle with the announce-!
ment that I was pretty game, but that
he'd give me something that I wouldl
be afraid of—he knew how to man
age women! ‘
1 smiled very calmly—l had not yet
learned what a horrible thing fear
may be.
- (To Pe Continued Tomorrow.)
By ANN LISLE.
worry could be kept out of our path
if we just set about attending to them
instead of fearing them!
All of us remember the fairy tale
about the wedding feast from which
first the bride, then her parents, then
Rher brothers and then guest ailter
guest disappeared. The bride had
gone to the cellar to draw some wine.
land one after another the rest of thL2
'wedding party had followed to see
why she did not come back.
At last the bridegroom was left
}slone. and he went in search of the
‘missing family. Behold them all
weeping over a dire inspiration of the
bride’s! There was a pickaxe fast
ened to the ceiling-—suppose soine
day she had children and they came
down to draw wine and the pickaxe
fell and killed them!
~ Most of us have laughed with ap
preciation of this folly of human na
ture which the Brothers Grimm so
¢leverly pictured for us. But most of
us den't stop to realize that the lit
tie picture is perfectly applicable to
us, too!
Think it over—don't you spend a
lot of energy looking for troubles that
probably never will arrive? Don’t you
use up so much forethought grieving
over difficulties approaching from the
future that when they arrive at the
present you are {oo worn out to cope
with them? |
“He Loves Me Not!”
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?g S ( — P e : 777
. Wives I Might Have Been .-,
By JANE McLEAN.
OMETIMES 1 actually regret not
S marrying Terray Walsh. He was
so dear, and so big, and so sin
cere, and, most of all, so Irish. His
face was serious but when he smiled
little wrinkles appeared at his eyes,
and then, besides, he loved me. Some
how there is a fascination about be
ing really adored.
I don’t mean just having a man like
a girl well enough to take her around. |
Any girl who is stunning looking and |
makes a good appearance can have
suitors of that kind. I mean the kind
of a man who follows a girl around
with his eyes, a man who would sac
rifice anything to buy little things
to_give a girl, and who would take
no pains to hide his adoration be
cause it just bubbled up and choked
him so that he couldn’t. |
My first meeting with Terry Walsh
was when I was rather young, and
it was my first romance. I thought
there was nobody like him, but that
was in the days when I was too young
to be married, and I could flirt with
anvone I liked without appearing too
serious. |
A very young girl ‘ever stops to}
think that a man who is older than
she is has different ideas on the sub
ject, and Terry did not want to let me
go without making him a promise.
Of course I didn't actually promise.
I was just a little bit frightened when‘
I saw how serious he was. I didnt
see him again for three years. ‘
When Terry came into my life the
second time I was tired of the men
one meets in the city. All the end
less round of frivolous amusement
sickened me, and I was glad to turn
back to a man who was solid and had
something to him. l
But when 1 began to be serious
myself there were other things to
Warning to the love-forlorn: Don’t be superstitious.
consider. I have never cared any
thing at all about Terry’s grand
mother, nor his mother, nor his sis
ter; they were not at all like Terry,
in fact, I always thought they took
advanta>e of his goodness, but, of
course, he could never look at it that
way.
1 was almost ready to throw over
evervthing for Terry, and I should
have done it, too, if I might have
had a tiny apartment with him all
alone. I cocld have laughed over
doing my own work, and even mak
ing my ewn clothes, and I would have
loved Terry more cvery day, for he
deserved it. But I just couldn’t have
part of the family to live with me.
“7d be willing to give them so
much a week to live elsewhere,” 1
sald almost tearfully, when TerryE
and I talkel it over. 1
But Terry said that his mother
had no other place to go, and hls‘
sister was taking care of her now,
but that he had promised to share
the burden as soon as he was able.
Besides that, Terry’'s younger broth
er was at college, and of course he
would want to spend his vacations
with us in the city. Terry almost
admitted this fact, and in my mind’s
eye I could see his sisters and Q‘Ae!r
commonplace husbands making us
frequent visits, and perhaps arriv
ing just as I was about to enter
tain a little bit myself.
Anyway, it's all over now, and it
I ever do regret it at all, I regret
giving up Terry. I don't think I
loved him too selfishiy either. I think
it was just a case of being able to
read the future. I loved Terry well
enough to marry him, but I knew as
sure as fate that as soon as it meant
stretching my love to the extent of
Copyright, 1916. Intermational News Service.
having his entire family precipitated
upon me, I should grow to hate my
life and incidentally be sorry that I
had married Terry at all.
Terry loved me more than I loved
him even, but he simply sacrificed
me to his family, because he thought
his duty lay that way. Perhaps it
did, and for their sakes I am glad
he held out. I'm sure I don’t know
hew many girls there are in this
By NELL BRINKLEY
There is a Real Difference
Cream of tartar, derived from grapes,
is used in Royal Baking Powder because
it is the best and most healthful ingredient
known for the purpose.
Phosphate and alum, which are de
rived from mineral sources, are used in
some baking powders, instead of cream of
tartar, because they are cheaper,
If you have been induced to use baking
powders made from alum or phosphate,
use Royal Baking Powder instead. You
will be pleased with the results and the
difference in the quality of the food.
ROYAL BAKING POWDER CO.
New York
world who are huppily settled with
mother-in-laws, hut I do know this
—no two young people should ever
expect to live with a third party in
the house. I have seen this disturbing
element break up love and trust, and
do more harm than it ever could ben
efit.
The next article in this series will be
called “The Wife of an Actor.”