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L 7l s Y
!When 8 Girt Marries '™ wea
Anne Takes Luncheon With Carlotta Sturges, Learns Her Ideas About Pat Dalton and
Flees From Tom Mason.
| By Ann Lisle.
CHAPTER XCIX,
N the morning after Virginia's
O dinner 1 woke to a world about
& a 8 savorless ad a cold rice pud
rcllnl without raising In it er cream
10 gO with it
~ Virginia and | were at swords
points over an unexplained friendship
with Pat Dalton. And Phoebe and |
swwhere were Phoebe and 17 The
child had turned bitter and morose
wver the nipping of her love affair
With Neal. In this I dared not inter
fore—partly because 1 couldn't risk
#till more misunderstanding with Vir.
ginia, partly because 1 was afrald to
play Providence to the affalrs of my
fickle young brother and the child
who had almost confessed It was
Joneliness and lack of other young
companions that had swept her into
Neal's arms.
~ Onme thing I didn’t believe —and that
‘was Phoebe’s story that she's been
_ealling Longley, the foirst, when the
maid reported that long distance sald
forty-something didn't answer Long
:’{:u.“ might sound a bit like Long-
Jey the florist—but the florist's num
ber was 8820-and that couidn't be
m for forty-something, while
M Starling, where Neal was train
é“” oould easily be so twisted.
1 longed to heip Phoebe—but what
could 1 do? As Jim had sald, I'd bet
ter keep my hands off his sister's as-
Aulrs until 'd proved mymelf capable
“of handiing my own.
. And to what pass had I brought
my own affairs? Less than six months
m 1 was already shut out from
‘the citadel of my husband’s heart
his “pal” now, instead of bis wweet-
It was perfectly true that the
first wild love, the longing that had
gwayed me, the desire to be in Jim's
arms that had once been stronger
thian anything else in my world, had
lost its first vividness of color and its
immensity of feeling, !
. But that didn't mean that I'd
topped caring, Jim wasn't the per
fect hero | had once thought him-—
but he was still my man. However,
i failed me, however he humllmedi
e or disappointed me, Jim was my
an. He had my heart and my faith
ind my first loyalty along with my
st dveams. 1 hadn’t taken them
way. He had just handed them back
me very politely, saying as he did
¢ “You let me go my way-—and I'll let
_you go yours. We'll cut out a bit of
b lovey-dovey stuff and aet like
good pals”
. There was no getting away from it
=l wasn't ready for this. 1 felt hu
-7;,; lllated, lonely, lost —repudiated. Not
i wife qny longer,
.1 got through the first long hours of
the morning somehow. But when the
‘phone rang I hurried to answer its
» ons with joy and relief at any
_break I the black-lined chain of my
. "Mrs. Harrison™ asked a voice
_rloh in every note—*This in Cuarlotta
Bturges. I've just had a note from
- ~ e’ telling me to report at the
antesn with our wunit tomorrow
« at 8. 1 don't need you to
Ain, T ean read between the lines.
Ih, Mrs, Harrimon, please don't make
me say it all over the phone. Won't
OV fi me at the Clinsarge for
I want to see you"
love to—but 1 don't belleve I
oan——" 1 began.
. "Oh, please, please! If you've an
| Rousewives Who Dared |
AT O, It wasn't exactly that she
needed the money. Neverthe
&" ~ less she needed work. For
hen a great sorrow comes and seems
) stay and crush the spirit and break
6 heart, the best remedy Is work.
fork, even if it isn't laborious or
Meult, is the thing. And when Mrs,
All t SkefMngton lost her hus
ind on the fleld of battle she felt
jat work she must, lest she die of a
Foken heart,
Before her marriage Mrs. Skeffing-
R had beon a child's nurse. Tn fact,
@ wWas nurse for several years in
ngland. How well she remembered
b 6 years of saving and self-denial
oth she and Albert had lived to get
Llogether the little home that should
their very own. Finally he came
I America, and after a whole year of
'. Ing the letter to come hrought
v lcent to our shores,
(For a whole year Albert and Milli
Bt wore happy. How wonderful it
u |to dust a mahogany table table
‘ohe's very own! What greater de.
than to set that show-off, com
Ay table with that fine Belgian lin
Bt And then England, in her dark
ealled to her sons evervwhere,
e answered. Mo did not return,
" Millicent looked at her little home,
e could not bear to part with it.
b P 8 never again could she ac
S Bumulate sufMicient to have such a
CANeme. In the apartment house in
. Which she lived there were mothers
h: th ehildren- not many ehildren
e, two, perhaps three. Mrs. Skef
£ Bnkion loved children She regretteo
S Bhe Lad none of her own
8 Bt when & woman loves her home
B Wanits it with all her heart. what
4* :h- Aot do te try to keep that
fx}flu\ of her living room she made a
MPRery. She sent little cards to the
Marine Fxpert Discusses the Mystery of the Missing ‘Cuclops’ in Tomorrow’s Sunday American
BORGIANS
NN DA AL
other engagement, won't you postpone
it? 1 must see you. You've done so
much for me. Please don't fall me
now. Won't you come?”
| There was a note of pleading in that
warm, luseious voice of hers-—a noto‘
that brooked no denial ,
“I'll come,” 1 sald, and we bade
each other good-bye and elicked up
our receivers after arranging to meet
at the Clinsarge at 1. |
8o an hour later 1 found myself
again entering the tiny foyer of thl
Ittle chintz-hung restaurant where
I'd met Pat Dalton for tea a fort
night before, |
“Have you ever been here M"mfl"i
asked Carlotta, who was walting
when I arrived and who swept me
promptly to a little window table she
had evidently reserved.
“Only once.” 1 replied. “But I like
It—l must come more often,”
“Who brought you--not Virginia
Dalton—your sister-in-law?" asked
the girl with an eager abruptness she
didn’t seem to recognize as rude.
“No,” 1 mald quietly, ealeulating
my effect, because I felt the need of
How About That Legacy? |
WHAT ARE YOU LEAVING YOUR CHILDREN? 3
By Beatrice Fairfax. 1‘
HAT are you going to leave
W your children? Not to be able
to leave money to one's chil-|
dren has embittered the last days of
many a poor man, And lam not go
ing to appear to despise wealth to the
extent of saying such bequests are
unimportant
There is no more consoling thought
than that we are leaving those near
and dear to us beyond the reach of
want, dependence or public charity. ‘
But there are some bequests that
are within the grasp of all purenu,‘
something that the poorest mother
and father may leave, something that
the immigrant to these shorts often
grasps more readily than our native
born American. 1 mean the edueation
that will enable a boy or girl to reach
for better things. This does not mean
golng to school only; it means teach
ing your children to have some re
sources within themselves,
The treasures of the world are to
be had for the taking, but the average
parents’ idea of generosity is to let
the child go to a trashy movie, or
give him a nickel to invest in an “all
day sucker.” Now, | would be the
last to deny to childhood these two
soverelgn remedies against “the slings
and arrows of outrageous fortune;”
but do not imagine when you have
eonferred these benefits that you have
done your whole duty as a liberal
parent, |
Are you training your ehild to have
a 4 brain or heart, or are you letting.
him grow up to be a creature of the
senses? Are you helping your chil
dren to read intelligently, to know
good music and plotures? Are they
growing up to keep step through life
to ragtime?
Perhaps you will say you do not
understand these things yourself;
that you have never had an opportu
nity to acquire a taste for good liter
ature, music, pictures. To which 1
)
| superintendent of several apartment,
houses in the neighborhood with the
| request that the cards be posted ln‘
the elevator. She dld not forget to
send a box of cigars—good ones
with the little cards. They read
something ke this:
“Mrs. Milljcent Skeffington, former-
Iy nurse to the children of Lady Can.
fleld, will care for your baby while
you shop, travel, attend the theater
or work, Terms reasonable. Best of
reference furnished,
“No. 9 Main street, apartment b.*
The nelgaborhood was composed of
Ppeople of the middle class. Younger
couples with a ohild or two who
could not afford a child's nurse giladly
paid 50 cents to have each child
properly ecared for while they attend
ed the theater. This included the]
child's breakfast if it remained in the
nursery until morning. She charged
80 cents for each half day's care and
gave the child suitable food,
She replaced her living room rug
with linoleum. She invested In a
ginc-lined sand table such as kin
dergartens have. Its fine white sand
sand her kindly methods seemed to
hold the attention of even naughty
Kiddies for many a happy hour, while
mother shopped or visited or just
went out for a good time with father,
For the older kiddies ther were
story books and building blocks and
tiny rocking chairs
Mrs. Skeffington had a little Income
l from the Government her late husband
had served. In fuct, she could have got
along on It But she realized tha if
she were (o live, if she were to try to
forget, It whe were to really attempt
1o keen her home she had to get
some kind of work
i She sometimes curned S3O in a
llmmth and sometimes she made as
much ns 858
knowing the reason for her lebl"fle”.;
“No, not Virginia, but Pat.”
Cariotta’s high-colored face went
pale,
R she sajd—"Pgat! * *+ »
Shall we order? A cold egg first and
then some chicken Clinsarge with
rouffle potatoes and artichoke hol
landaisze. Does that please you?”
“That sounds deliclous,” 1 agreed.
“I don’t know much about the cuisine
‘here, Pat and I came to tea."”
I surmised it was cruel to drag
Fat Dalton’s name back into the con
versation, but | felt that for the hap
piness of Virginia and Pat and per
haps even of this too vivid, too alive,
too generous girl-—1 had best be cruel
and gain the knowledge that might
some duy help them all. ‘
“What a good sort you are, Mrs.
Harrison, to get me back Into our
Heutenant’'s good graces! Why, 1
shouldn’t be surprised if you were to
get good old Pat back into the arms
«~-of his—melted iceberg,” murmured
Carlotta, looking at me searchingly,
Then I realized that | was dealing
with a clever girl—a girl as anxious
to get Information from me as 1 das
to “interview"” her, |
(To Be Continued.) l
am going to reply that parents who
have not had yvour advantages and
who have not been in this country
long enough te be naturalized see to
it that their children acquire these
things.
One day last summer T happened to
be in Chicago, over a national holi
day, and I paid a visit to the art
museum. There were several partles,
consisting of father, mother and chil
dren, viewing the pictures, but none
of them spoke English. There was
an energetic Italian explaining some
landscapes to his two small sons, And
it was unbelievable the vital thing
that art meant to this shabby group
The man’s comments were so intel
ligent, and the boys grasped what he
sald so readily, that I could not help
speaking to them. [ learned that he
Wwius a barber's assistant, a Venetian,
and he had loved art all his life. It
was his dream that some day his
boys could paint, and so he took them
to see good pictures on holidays, i
Out of curiosity go some day, after
school hours, to a public library and
study the faces of the children who
are borrowing good books, Four
times out of five you will find them to
be young Hebrews, the children of
poor immigrants who have brought to
this country an appreciation of art. A
knowledge of art makes for human
power, and human power is not a
thing of the market to be bought or
sold. It Is not a product to be man
ufactured by any mechanical process.
It is & growth—and it is within the
grasp of all.
Indifference of the Prosperous.
But the prosperous and the near
prosperous do not always realize this,
It is a truth grasped more readily by
repressed people, and it accounts for
their quick fiowering, once they have
taken root in the rich soil of this hos
pitable land.
There are plenty of comfortable
American homes in which no books
are ever read but the trashiest and
most sensational, no music is ever
heard but the rattle and bang of rag
time, no pictures—worthy the name—
adorn the walls; nothing but the
cheap or Insipid, day after day, im.
press false standards on the fluid
minds of children,
Are you teaching your childen to
love nature and the woods, flelds,
birds and the ways of shy forest
things? Or are you letting your boy‘
grow up to think a bird is some
thing only to be shot, and your girl
that the country is a place which u\
death to high heels and mml
leather,
Who are the men who have mdo}
world history in the great war Just.
closed? They are not the sons of rich
men, for only a few of them were
born with the traditional silver spoon.
First, there is our own President, the
son of a poor clergyman. Anynm‘
who is familiar with the early history
of Woodrow Wilson may read between
the lines the valiant effort of his fam
iy to educate its gifted son—a strug
kle ably seconded Ly his wise and
üble mother,
And there is Lloyd George, the
Welsh orphan boy, who began life as
a cobbler's apprentice and found in
spiration in his Bible. He rose to be
Prime Minister of England and its
gulding spirit through the great cone
flict.
And there is Lord Northoliffe, whose
clarion call to arms roused the Bng
lish people to & world peril, He be
gan life ag a clerk on a few shillings
a week. Our own General Pershing
Is a gels-made man, Clemenceau, the
srand old man of France, once taught
French in a girl's boarding school in
Stamford, Conn, and fell in love with
hig prettiest pupil, and married her,
100,
Down went Hohenzollerns, Haps.
burgs, Wittelsbuchs before these sol
ons of poor families-it sounds like a
fairy tale. doesn't it: & tale that is
told te point & moral. And here ix the
motal: Every poor boy has his chance
«if he will only tike it
The Newest Pointsin Spring Styles
Republished by Special Permission Good House
keeping, The Nation’s Greatest lHlome Magazine
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Taffeta is going to be the smartest silk ma
terial of the new season, and that means puffy
bows like those shown on this gown. Points
of smartness also are the bit of white collar and
long-waisted effect at the back.
: A Home on Nothing
2 NOT A WORTH-WHILE EXPERIMENT
B was eating peas. After stab-
H bing himself for the third time
with the knife with which he was
conveying sald peas to his mouth, he
paused in reminiscence. ‘
“Just had twenty-eight dollars when
I got married,” old Shanty Coogan was
saying. “Makes me sick when I hear
you young folks afraid to take a
chance.” s
The conversation was addressed te
the grandson who had brought his
“young lady" to Sunday dinner at the
Coogan home.
“Grandad,” sald Harold, kindly, “some
of the boys and girls of today have a
keener sense of honor and pride than
those of your day. When I get a neat
little sum saved up Mary and 1 will
marry, but not before.”
Somehow one could not but help like
Harold Coogan. And eager to find out
what effect service in France had upon
this boy's viewpoint, we put several
questions to him at the table. But it
wasn't untll we were seated in the liv-
Ing room after “Grandad” had retired
that he expressed himself to those of
us who knew him so Intimately,
“It almost makes my blood boil,” said
Harold, *“to hear Grandfather boast
about how little he had when he mar
ried. Because he, after 50 years, owns
this little home, does not begin to tell
what suffering his daring caused. There
was my futher's mother, for ‘nstance,
She was Grandad's wife. When she
died, folks tell me at 40 she looked 90.",
“When she and Grandad married on
this twenty-eight dollars he brags
about, they took up house on a few dis
earded pleces of their parents’ furniture.
They lived in the slums in a deplorable
tenement. Things went along fairly
well for two months and then Grand
mother became (Il Twenty-elght dol
lars caplat]l does not last long when
there s sickness, evea in the slums,
Finally her own pecple had to take her
home and care for her and him too"
“A yoar later they started over,
Grandma had to take in washing at the
age of 19 to help out. Then he lost his
Job and my father was born in 4 pub
le hospital. There were three other
children later. Before they were able to
cross the streets alone, almost, they
were put to work. Father had none of
the advantages of education. iMis little
blood-squeesed wages as well as those
of the other children, were saved up
by grandad to buy a lttle home, This
is the home, And he dares to sit here
and boast that he married with but
twenty-eight dollars!”
“Why in the world do seemingly sane
people marry without any idea of what
they are golng to do when a financial
enmergency arises? Some of the mos!
pitiful letters | have ever read have
come (o me from housewives who “took
This is the smart serge dress for the s;;ring,
to be well recommnded both in quality and
style; square neck with becoming collar, satin
vest, silvery stitchery ; black or navy blue.
a chance,” hoping for the best, and
married on practically nothing, And
now that they have had one, two, three
or more years struggling with the high
cost of living, war prices in general, the
reconstruction period and the expense
of the recent epidemic they assure me
that marriage is a failure. They com
pare their single existence with $lO or
§l2 of sure money each week tc the
hopelessness of marriage and home
making,
There i nothing, whatsover, the mat
ter with the institution of marriage.
In all these cases It is the lack of fore
thought on the part of the contracting
parties and their lack of financial train
ing. They gamble desperately without
even taking the ordinary precautions
that the professional gambler has
learned to be the part of wisdom.
Until both young men and young
women look upon marriage, homemak
! ing and home-keeping very seriously and
make proper preparation before mayy
riage these “hardluck™ stories will con
tinue to be written.
For the past two years I have been
Interested In a little woman whose
friends ridiculed her because she had
kept for four years before her marriage
a hope chest,
“You will be a laughing stock,” ad
vised a friend, “if you don't get married
and get home to use these things in.”
She married at the age of 22 One could
not but help admire the stand she took
while she was being teased, Her man
ner was kindly and she only smiled, Yet
when fever entered the home of one of
the girls who ridiculed her for saving
before marriage, 1 noticed it wus my
little friend who was able to loan a
sheet for an ice pack. And it was she
who was able to go to the “hope box"
and bring out the little treasures with
which to decorate the table on special
oceastons,
Home-making is a noble undertaking.
It is a noble occupation, just as in the
wonderful accomplishments of our
American Red Cross. But, pray, how far
could the Red Cross extend its good
work if it were not for the Hnancial
support it receives?
Too Obliging.
It lso't exactly a common ecourrence
to find & man standing In & public high
way holding & ram by the horns, and the
passer-by was Interested.
“Will ye please hold on fto this beast
while 1 climb the fence and open that
¥nteZ” asked the man politely
“Certainly.” replied the stranger. And
he did se ‘
“Thanks!™ said the man from the other
side of the fence. "“The hrute attacked
e an hour ago and we've been struggling
ever sinee But so long ax ye hold his
horns he can’'t hurt ye And | wish ye
Lhu‘ same luck in metting away as I've
e
Economical
| Recipes |
CORN AND TOMATO CHOWDER,
Two cupfuls ecanned corn, 1 cupful
canned or ripe tematoes, 2 euflul. diced
celery, 2 tablespoonfuls margarin, 1 \‘M
cold water, 1 cupful milk, b cu{?fu[ chop
ped pimentos, 3 tablespoofuls flour, salt,
37!])?6!‘.
Place corn, tomatoes, diced celery and
one teaspoonful of salt in a kettle and
cover with the cold water. Boil one-half
hour, Melt margarin, add flour graduai-
Iy. Then add the cold milk, stirring con
stantly. Add the ve{etnblo mixture to
the white sugar, a little at a time, and
Season to taste. Add to the chowder the
Imtsd cheese and the pimentos eho.r.p.d
ine. Stir until the cheese is melted. Serve
r!pml hot. A cream soup le be made
f desired, by straining out the vegeta
bles before adding the white sauce.
BAKED ONIONS STUFFED WITH SAU
SAGE,
Twelve to 16 small white onions, !3
pound sausage meat, % cupful dry breas
crumbs, 1 cupful milk, 2 tablespoonfuls
margarin, 2 tablespoonfuls flour, salt and
pepper, paprika.
Peel the onions snd scoop out the cen.
(ters with an apple corer, reserving the
. Chesuil e doie other dish or for
' creaming. Place sausage meat in the cave
ftios mpgl rook in & steamer until almost
| tender. Then remove to a well-greased
| baking dish. Place between the onions
, Luv sausage meat left from filling
the cavities. Pour over all a white sauce
made by cooking the margarin and flour
togetHer till bubbling and adding the milk
slowly; cook until thickened, Season with
ealt, pepper and parika to taste. Cover
with bread erumbs and bake till tender
and brown in a hot oven.
FINNAN-HADDIE WITH (CHEESE
SALCE.
One finnan-haddie, 1 cupful macaroni,
2 cupfuls milk, 4 tablespoonfuls flour, 3
tahlespoonfuls margarin, % cn‘ulul grated
* A 4 teaspoonful pepper, teaspoon
ful salt,
‘ vy cover the fish with eold wnter
and bake until tender. Cook the macae
roni, preferably one of the smaller varie
ties. In boiling, salted’ water until tender,
drain and pour cold water through it
Make o white sauce, melt the margarin
add flour and ecook till huhb!lnf. Add
milk gradually, stiering constantly ; cook
Ul thickened, Add scasonings and cheose
Remove the flakes of fish from the skin
and bones, arrange on a platter, surround
with the macaroni and pour the sauce
over all.
CORNMEAL VEAL
One pound veal, one pint canned toma~
toes, one onion chopped fine, one clove
garltie chopoed fine, about 2 cupfuls corn
meal, 24 green olives chopped, 1 tablee
spoonful Chile bowder o | long Cilie
pepper chopped, 3 teaspoonfuls salt, 3%
teaspoonful nopxlor. fi‘ u.ln-‘roonful parika,
801 l the veal until t er, chop Cine,
then return to the liquor, of which thers
should be about five cupfuls; add the bal
ance of the lunxunu. Qll‘n‘l( the meal;
simmer until tender, and add gradually
enough cornmenl moistensd with cold wa
ter to thicken, Ad% seasonings and pour
into w well-greased Yous pan. Let it get
cold, slice, roll In flour and fry as soraps
ple. This may be baked in a casserole.
PECAN SALAD,
One tablcspoonful granulated gelatine,
2 tablespoonfuls cold water, | cuplul boil
l\s{ water, % cupful grapefruit juice, 4
tablespoonfuls mgtr. 12 whole peoan
meats, \‘ cupful diced celery, 13 stuffed
oltves, lettuce, mayonnaise.
Honk ‘folnun in cold water for five min
utés and disosive it with the sugar in the
boiling water AdA the ,rnpevnnt Julee:
il individual molds half full; place on
top & luyer as sliesd olives with a whele
peoan meat in the center Let stand until
firm Over this pour more of the Jeily
mixture which has begun 1o wset. and
sprinkle the celery om top. Let harden
Nights 7ith Uncle Remus
Sister Jane—(Continued). \
E purred loudly, making a nolse
H like a small flutter-mill, such as
the children play with; he rubbed
his sides against the baby; he rubbed
his chin on the
baby's arm; and
€ven wien he lried 2
ta staad stii his E
forefeel were mov- L S 8
ing up and down as f M‘ s i
a soldies would 44 T WU
mark time, No. F§ L i
content with this, §i S EERES
he Jjumped from gi""""‘ GoW
sister Jane's dap, §RT SRS
and went to the § ¢ e |
baby's mother, He 3 S H
was so well satis- § o @
fled with her that sy
he jumped in her &
lap and went L
through the same i i
performance. At the end of it, he
| stretched himself out on her knee,
placed his muzzle on his forepaws, and
closed his eyes contentedly. Neither
sister Jane nor myself had ever seen
Tommy Tinking in a stranger’s lap be
fore, and both expressed astonishment.
“l 1 reckon Mandy's got catnip on her
clothes,” said Mrs, Beshears, by way of
explanation.
“No,”” replied Mandy, “I hain't seen
no catnip—not sence I was a little bit
of a gal.”
“William,”” remarked sister Jane in
the tone she always employed when her
mind was made up, “I'll thank you to
light the fire in the next room.”
“If you're lightin' it for me, Jane,
don’t do it,” said Mrs. Beshears. “I'd
stay if I could, but I'm ableedge to go
home. I've got to go if I have to fly.”
“No, Sally; there's another room. if
you make up your mind to stay,” re
plied sister Jane. “Light the fire, Wil
liam,”” »
As [ went from the room, I heard her
talking all sorts of foolish talk to the
baby, as womeh will, while the baby
WAS cooing a pretty reply. The
hearth was fixed ready for an emergen
cy. Pine splinters of the required ““fat
ness'' were stuck here and there between
the seasoned hickory logs, and it was
no trouble at all to make the fire. The
draft 4n the chimney flue, responsive to
the wind outside, was very strong, and
a warm and cheerful blaze was soon
roaring on the hearth. )
Standing before it a moment, I noticed
that the fury of the tempest outside
had abated somewhat, though the wind
was still blowing stiffly. I heard, too,
a suspicious tinkling sound on the panes
of the window that had no blinds: Draw -
ing aside the curtain, I saw that the
ground was covered with snow, and
that it was still snowing briskly, This
was S 0 rare a spectale in our part of the
country that not many children in the
village under ten vears of age had seen
it, and I caught myself wondering what
impression it would make on them. Then
I heard the clock striking twelve, and
before the sound had died away there
came & knocking at the outer door.
Wondering what this might mean, I has
tened to respond, and foung on the out
| side a tall negro man.
“Who are you, and what under the
canopy of heaven do you want at this
time of night?" I asked, with some show
of firritation.
“'Tain’t nobody but Mose, suh, 1
fotch de buggy atter Miss Sally, es she's
here, en es she ain’t here, de Lord knows
whar she is, kaze she ain’'t at home,
ner nowhars nigh dar.™
Of course I knew Moses. Mrs. Besh
ears had selected him to be the fore
man on her place, because he was a
little bit less lazy than the rest of the
negroes. 8o 1 made Moses come in,
and carried him to my own room, where
a fire was still burning, He wipefl his
feet over and over again, shook the
snow from his clothes and struck his
hat against the wall several times be
fore he accepted the invitation to come
in and warm himself while Mrs. Besh
ears was getting ready to go. There
was no light in the room except the dim
one that came from the red glow of the
hearth, and as Moses stood in front of
' Shaking Hands
By Brice Belden, M. D.
ANITARIANS are beginning to
S warn us against a very common
| social practice, 'the grave dan
igers of which we have not hitherto
fully apprehended.
We mean handshaking. <
Nothing is better known to bacte
riologists than the fact that the hands
harbor myriads of germs. Scrupulous
cleanliness keeps the number of these
germs reduced to a minimum, but
there are so many sources of contam
ination in the course of a day that the
hands can not long remain germ-free,
The handling of money, transfer
tickets and the like provides much
hand infection. -
Then one may bestow upon his own
hands germs derived from his own
nose in the course of influenza, or of
a cold, or any nasal Infection. One
may sneeze or cough into his hand,
thereby contaminating it, Or one may
use & handkerchief, replace it in a
pocket, and handle the contaminated
handkerchief again and again, or at
any rate insert the hand into '{:o
germ-infested pocket. Then If ohe
shakes hands with his friends he con
fers upon them infectious organisms
which they may not have possessed
before. |
It is certain that we are very busy
exchanging germs with one another
through the medium of the hands.
It is not expedient to serub the
handg before shaking hands with
friends, but the custom could be mod.
ified in accordance with Chinese cer
emonial. The Chinese shake hands
with thamuseives when they meet their
e UL S |
R AN,
it, changing his hat from ome hand to
the other as he warmed each by turns,
his stalwart figure cast an imposing
silhouette on the wall and ceiling.
“I'm name Moses,” he said, as ff
talking to himself, ‘e‘'n es dish yer fire
ain’t de prommus law’, I ain’t never seed
no prommus lan’.”
“Is the weather very cold?™ 1 asked
as I fastened the door,
“Hit gittin® wuss en wuss, sah” he
replied. “De fros’ done got in de sap
er de trees, suh, en ez I wuz drivie®
‘long thoo de grove out yam’ 1 hear
one un um pop. Yes, suh, I hear de
tree pop, en she pop so loud, ’twus
much ez I could do ter hol' dat ole hoss
out dar. Little mo' en he’d a run’ded
away-—dat ole hoss would.”
I left Moses enjoying the warmth of
the fire, and went to inform Mrs. Begh~
ears that she had been sent for. I
walked along the hallway, opened the
door, and was about to speak to hes
when I heard Sister Jane's “sh-sh-hi*
and saw her raise her hand in warning.
In some alarm I inquired in a whisper
what the trouble was. A gesture of
her hand told me that the baby was
asleep, and I was glad to find that it
was nothing worse, for the events of
the night had prepared me to fear that
some new complications had taken shape
during my absence from the room,
Breathing a sigh of relief, I told Mrs,
Beshears in a tone not calculated to
disturb the baby, that Moses had come
for her. She tiptoed to Sister Jane's
chair, peeped at the sleeping baby and
said good night. Then she tiptoed to
Mandy Satterlee and shook hands with
her. This done, a new trouble arose.
How was she to arouse the little ne
gro boy, who was one of the seven
sleepers? At my suggestion, made In
pantomime, she took him by one arm,
while I seized him by the other, In
this wav, we lifted him bodily from the
room into the hallway, shut the door
and dragged him along the best we
could in the dark to my room, where,
after a shake or two from Mrs. Beshears
‘and a word from Mose, the boy was
able to stand on his feet without as
sistance.
“1 reckon we can talk like folks out
here,” exclaimed Mrs, Beshears. “You
hear me say it, Willilam, if Jane Wor
num ain't gone daft over that young
‘un, I'd like to know the reason. Why
the minnit it shet its eyeleds, nobody
could say a word. If you spoke to Jane
she'd shake her head and p'int to the
baby. At her time of life, too! I de
clare, it beats all. Is that you, Moses?
Well, why n't yvou wait till mornin’ to
come after me?*
| “Kaze, Mistiss, I knowed mighty well
you'd wanter come fo' morning’,” re
plied Moses, ignoring the sarcasm,
“Well, I'd 'a’ waited till after sun-up,
anyway, if I'd 'a’ been you,” remarked
Mrs. Beshears. “Did you fetch the
wheel-barrer or the ox-cart?®’
“I foteh ol Sam en de buggy, ma’am/™
answered Moses,
“Well, good Lord! are you going to
walk and lead old Sam, or shall I have
to walk and lead him? He ean’t haul
us all"
‘He mighty gaily ter-night, ma‘'am.
Much ez I kin do ter hol'’ him whence
we 'uz comin’ 'long des now, Better
wrop yo'se'f up good, Mistiss, kaze dish
yer wedded is de kind what'll ereep
under de kiver, I don’t keer how much
you may pile on.”™
But Mrs. Beshears was fortified
this respect. When she was ready to
go she bade me good-night, Moses bow
¢d as I held the door open, and in &
moment I heard the horse's feet cruch
ing through the snow, which had ale
ready formed an outer erust. Then I
went back to Sister Jane’s voom to see
if T could be of any service before go
ing to bed. Mandy Satterlee was still
holding the cat in her lap, gazing into
the depths of the fireplace.
coIToRTERE sl 133 00, 1 b,
Harris; 1911 by Esther Laßose Harria
ok, S Aemive el
pw.imfl;'l'ou.hton. Mifflin Company.)
To Be Continued Monday.
friends. No donbt they consider us
unacocuntably unclean, for all ouw
boasted hygiene.
When one considers the origin off
handshaking it is easy 10 become reo
onciled to a change in the custom in
accordance with modern knowledges
In ancient times men approached each
other with the right hand stretched
out as a token that there was no inw
tent to draw the sword. Surely we ean
devise some mgthod of displaying
good will without dissemis
among our fellows the germs of
disease, influenza, tuberculosis, pnew«
monia and & number of others no lesy
objectionable. »
e e et
Quite In Order,
A certain unmarried lady s & most s
table housekeeper and the = fmunaculute
neatness and order pervading every room
evidently made a deep improssion upon hew
small niece.
Une day the lttle girl returned frem
\u:ill to her auntie’s and, in an awed toos,
sald:
“Mother, 1 saw a m auntie's and,
in an awed tone, md:n'
“Mother, 1 saw a fly in auntie's u=
but”—after a second's thoughte—""4t
washing itsels.” g
Seizing His Chance.
“Have you heard, dear,” sald the sfl
tho vlu:n-t?olor:d velour, “that the !‘.
wicks are giving a grand coming-out
for their daughter, Gertie, next 10-%
Hhe In the yellow twenen coat looksd
."‘ml:p:m'n:'nly dariing,” she excl
‘Bu Ll » A "
;‘“fllll‘_}'ln. oul four years ago, a
t five?
“Yes, but the old man made a
nwu-:y Ilately, and now they're .M
wot.
Taking Out Stains.
To remove cocon staing from tabhe e,
wushi in cold water first and then boMing
Witer whould be poured through untd the
lust vestige of the stain is gome. Por
#pots made by cofee or ten. bovitag wolo
bouied through will alse prove oo Ly