Newspaper Page Text
P Q ‘;{ ‘,-U-\ |
*lw Efi. " ?&i‘ -'
\ SN SRI
The Revelations of a Wife
A New Story of Married Life. |
By Adele Garrison.
MY FIRST PARTY IS ARRANGED,
HEN 1 had recovered from my as-
Waonunmntnmn‘- unCeremo
nious departure I again started
to write to Mrs, Halen Bratnerd Smith,
secretary of the Lotus Study Chub,
It was now Saturday evening and 1
had received her courteous letter ank -
ing me to consider eonducting the hiw
tory etss of her chib Wednesday morn
ing.
lvemtomym.dmmmdal
the electric droplight over my desk, an
old-fashioned solid affair, which had
been my mother's and whieh I valued
beyond price, and returned to get my
pen, whieh Dicky had used to write
his check. |
As 1 picked up the pen my eyes foll
upon Dicky's checkbook, from which he
had hastily filled out the check for the
old artist, It lay open at the page
from which he had taken the check, and
1 could not help seeing the figures on
the stub--35150. 1 bent closer to see the
pame. If 1 were to take over the fi
nances of the family, I told myself, 1
had a right to see where the money was
going. Yes, the name on the stub was |
Maxon, Horace Maxon. }
One hundred and fifty doflars! T re
peated to myself as 1 went back to my
room to write my note. 1 hope 1 am
not parsimonious, and 1 always have
tried to do my share of social service.|
Out of my salary T always contributed
a ocertain proportion to the societics
which have charge of the charitable
work of the 'en,v, and in addition 1 gave
some Of my time to help the regular
workers in my district in times of emer
gency. Bui this loan to a man whom
1 had learned was a constant borrower
seemed eriminal n its recklessness. At’
the riek of more upleasantness, 1 re
solved to speak to Dicky about ft when
he came back. He would ruin himself
if he persisted in doing things like this,
In the meantime I would write my
note. 1 thought it over for a few min
utes, my invariable practice in writing
a Jetter, and then wrote:
46 Kast Twenty-ninth Street,
(Apartment 4.)
My Dear Mrs, Smith: I shall be glad
to consider taking up the work of which
you spoke in your note of last Tues
day, the 12th, I can meet you at any
time to make the necessary Aarrange
ments. 1 should be glad to have you
come to my home, or if it be more con
venient for you 1 can meet you else
where. 1f you will telephone me a few
hours beforehand, we probably can ar
range a meeting place which will be
convenient for both of us. My tele
phone mumber is Madison Square 2468.
Thanking you for your thought of me, I
@ yours very truly,
_ MARGARET SPENCER GRAHAM.
Mrs. Helen Brainerd Smith,
Secretary Lotus Study Club,
215 West Washington Avenue.
I read the matter over, noting that in
its contexts three out of its five een
tences began with the letter “L” The
third sentence I changed into two, read
ing, “Can you come to my home? If
that is not convenient for you, how
ever, 1 can meet you elsewhere.” Then
1 copled the letter over, addressed the
envelop, blotted it, put the letter In
'A‘;ldo. sealed the envelope and stamped
t. As 1 was debfting whether to call
:Kluo to post the letter or to go myoall"y
‘she appeared at my door. |
*Wot vou tink, Misses Graham.,” ehe
.maid excitedly, “we all forget everything
_today. Nothing for tomorrow dinner.
Plenty for breakfast. Ham here, eggs,
grape fruit, everyting, and 1 make cream
“ple for dessert tomorrow, but no meat,
“no salad, no veg-e-table. I take my
hasket, go queeck before market closes.
Vot you want?” >
+ “Why! Katie, aren't you afraid of
* the man with the black beard who
frightened you the other night?* 1
asked slyly. 1 kney that she had in
vented the man so that [ would allow
““hér to sleep in the apartment instead
‘"6f going to the miserable tenement on
the East Side, where her cousins Hved,
'but she was so transparent, 1 really
. pould not resist asking the question
<. golaly to see how she would answer it
« . "l tink he no dere, now,” Katie de
clared unblushingly. “He no see me
_last night, he tink I move away, he
° no come tonight."”
“% wyery well, Katie, if you are not
£ afrald you may go. Please post this
‘jetter on the way."”
85 @AI pight.” Katie put it cavefully
into the pocket of her jacket. ““Now
“you tell me vot you want for dinner."”
“" “can you open oysters, Katie?”
“' “Me? 1 can do every ting.”
“Then stop at the fish market and
.get a dozen oysters. Mr. Graham is
very fond of them on the half shell
Then get a small leg of lamb, the
smallest nice one you can find; a can
of peas, a bunch of fresh mint, or a
package of dried mint, and all the
rm\hings for a combination salad, a head
.»0f lettuce, two tomatoes, a cucumber,
- two green peppers, two bunches of rad
. tshes—we will have a dish of those sep
~#mrate from the salad—and a bunch of
those little scallions which look so green
‘ and fresh. Are you sure you can re
_member all those things?"
© “Me? 1 never forget notting.” de
clared Katie proudly, if ungrammati
cally, as she started for the door.
The telephone rang before she had
» lapened theé door. ‘*‘Wait until 1 answer
““this, Katie,” I said, as I took down
;.‘y'me receiver.
s Lillian Gale's voice sounded in my
~RAY.
“] don’t suppose vou ever want to
i\ “hear of us again,” she began gavly, and
1 reflected grimly that as far as my own
‘“ feelings went she was speaking the
", truth. But of course ordinary courtesy
. made me interrupt her
. “You ought to kngw better than
~that,” 1 assured her, and hated myself
for the evasion.
“] am so glad,” she said. “You cer
" tainly had good reasons for a grouch,
and it's awfully sweet of vou not to
cultivate one. But I called you up to
see if you would forgive us and come
to play with us tomorrow night. We'll
promise to behave, just go out to a
THFEGEORGIAN S @ MAGCAZINEPAGHE
Nitle shaock somewhers, and get ao
quainted. ™ .
1 did some rapid thinking as 1 Nsten
ed to her words and came to a sudden
dectsion. 1 knew I would have to spend
an evening with these people soon. |
resotved to have the meeting tn my own
home whers, to a certaln extent, I
could control the situation.
“1 bave & better plan than that™ 1
sald, and ] put as much enthusiasm in
my wvolce as 1 possibly could muster.
“Suppose you and Mr. Underwood come
over hers tomorrow night. Dicky lsn't
here Just now, but when he comes in
Nl ask him if there aren't two or three
more of his friends who would add o
the gayety of nations, and we'll get
acquainted over my new chafing dish,
It basm’'t been christened yet.'"
1 had not heard the door open, and
[ gave a little start as Dicky took the
receiver from my hand, smiling mis
chievously at me as he did so.
“I am surprised at you, 11L"” he be
gan. “How dare you call up my in
nocent bride after inviting me to your
orgy last night and getting me -—well--
let us say a trifie mixed. [ warn you
that if you come tomorrow night, you'll
get nothing but tea and toast and fam
{ly prayers. I'm & reformed man, |
am."”
Evidently Lillian made him some wit
ty reply, for he laughed uproariously
before he sald: *“‘Sure, I'll let you talk
to Madge, although it's a privilege, 1 can
tell you. By the way, what do you
think about the Stanleys, Paul Atwood
and Bess Marsden for the rest of the
crowd tomorrow night? What? Stan-
Jdey out of town? Well, who then? The
lesters H'm, yes, 1 muppose =o. All
right. See you tomorrow night,” and
he handed the receiver to me.
“This s awfully good of you, Mrs.
Graham,” said Mrs. Underwood cor
dially, “and we'll be mighty glad to
come. Those other people whom Dicky
has suggested are bully secouts, too. 1
hope you'll like us all, good-bye’ |
“Good-bye, 1 sald mechanically, and
hung up the receiver. 1 had a quoer‘
little hurt feeling inside me. 1 had
invited the Underwoods to plun{
Dicky, anfl he had taken the thing out
of my hands, and consulted Lillian
Gale about the other guests as If | did
not exist,
(Continued In tomorrow's Sunday
American,)
2 Curvature of gl
$ .
~ the Spine |
By Brice Belden, M. D.
HE various forms of spinal
T curvature are not encountered
in well-developed, active and
sturdy children,
Spinal curvature is not merely a
question of faulty posture in sitting,
walking, lying, ete. No amount of
discipline directed toward the cor
rection of faulty posture will accom
plish much if a child is not healthy
and wvigorous, and very often such
discipline becomes cruelty, however
well meant it may be, |
In other words, we must look first
to digestion, circulation, nutrition and
ventilation. We must have a healthy
body before we can expect to have a
straight back. If we look well to our
children’s health, there will not be
many cases of curvature,
If a child is well fed, not kept for
long periods in stuffy rooms, is given
opportunity for open-air exercise, and
has any defect of the eyes properly
corrected by glasses, he will not be at
all apt to assume faulty postures. If
he does so, It is a sign that there is
something the matter with his health,
Round shoulders are of course part
and parcel of spinal curvature, and
the prevention of the one is the pre
vention of the other,
The desk and seat of a pupil should
fit him, else he is likely to “hump
over” in spite of himself.
When writing, a pupil should have
the paper written upon directly in
front of the right shoulder, and it
must be held aslant upon the desk,
but laid straight. Then he will not
have to tilt the head sidewise (to the
left) in order to permit his right eye
as well as his left eve to see the pen
or pencil point. Most people are
right-eyed as well as right-handed,
g 0 that one has to tilt the head to one
side, as writing is ordinarily done, to
allow the right eye to see the pen
l clearly.
Head-tilting has a great deal to do
with spinal curvature, and proper
methods of writing would obviate this,
though writing teachers in general
seem not to be posted upon the prin
ciples which we have just pointed out,
and which were formulated by Dr.
George M. Gould, the distinguished
expert upon vision, long ago.
Too Premature,
In order te induce a certain devil-may
care young man to emigrate his friends
premised him plenty of testimonials and
got up a farewell dinner for him. Tpf'y
sang his praises in unrestrained terms,
spoke of his geniality, of his good address
and exceptional capability, and all the
other desirable virtues When the young
man read the testimoniala he turned to his
father and exclaimed “Well, I'm hanged!
I had no idea people thought so much eof
me. And now ! know how much they like
me, I'm blowed if I'll go away at all.”
Looking Ahead.
Nora, aged B§, to LEdith, aged 10: “What!
A big girl like you playing with a Teddy
bear?"” Edith: “Yes, haven't you got one?”
Nora: “Mine i 8 locked up in the cupboard,
where it shall stop until 1 am married,
when ¥ may bring it out for my children
to play with.” Edith: “What if you don't
have anyg children?’”” Nora: "“Well, then,
(«;‘r:."xut:::t case it will do for my grandchii-
Articles on Health, Beauty and the Home Will Hold Your Close Attention. See Sunday American,
Her Ole Vinter Hat
TRy .
| 4| \ \ 4 \ .
! jJ‘% \, § A V"" ~ g
}{ % s 3 R — b
L[\ A —
Y se® w e
‘.jg%\ i fl O @ » i
8| s A N 1
||7 o B ALALS AL <|A
RI7Z€ %3" Zy. SN\
1/ ufi‘xlf"‘\%"\i’if AN TN G /K 73
eWLA TR & o%R el e %\_flbn @ AlFg
Gis3 %ANNS M S Bms PP : ,Q.' = '// o
st 011 9 LIRS RL, - ) (i AS| H
e7T fi.Ԥs~< oy e T = I\ e
gBl A SRR, S ersa NS T A iT N
2 t‘/{'” ' ,‘l:\ ».'l‘ ..-”:—’ /// // & —AB ? wl‘) N\ 3
2 “f‘fl?Tfi FRANG fNt s av«' Le e
.”‘5-3)':;_.‘ i) 11 3.{;; --<// //"'4 s/- 7 ”! ‘?r";" Aih &
: »“;i',fi;/f’ il ‘v” . "‘\-‘\\. = 7 '\*2'*- 27 4 Pk 'Q“T-‘T“" R \I: .o+ .c‘,, =
{;l\ )5 . “///:'/ £G e ’)/v £/ e v‘,;.;\-)\’.\w m;\; N2l 7 :;,
& L (Al 26l ’ \\‘n_\\;:*_:':;; ’:g:\i“ Y/ .'7}?{‘ /P ~‘;’;;;l',' : '/";\ “'\é R T 4 2
sitßl NS o jfi‘t’*\"a" WY (R N § &l 111 i 1 BH
3cw) il .ey > ‘/,,g_b.v_sf‘ fl, 1 ,_‘.«,"m £ e.Vs P
APR AT (Alvemr. A 3
;f‘* iy f«fie_gfig 2le CN %‘) : "’\-f" ) ilf (35
vl 2As 8 G bit (4 1L B
el eAN A y\‘r‘ e
&ol | I &8 s osotil w e AAL 2B
i‘[ ‘- fiR e ';?{s'/;}&4 e :,.. * :(&,\@ T T ¥ }?é ~g"‘
e|||2 3] { v A AN\ L o8L) 4R ’ )..‘ P " 4 14 ot B
=IUMyIR e, A |e B
=y o] |i/S e v ‘g} TB NP A= g 6 L 4 =
ol 8 by A TN K, Li [0
BSOR X 5 LINTERS SN 74 WMt ME
oI 51 fWi e K3} | e somr W\ ’ e e
|s|E7 e, W L ML) et 8] / 5 162 B
krj‘r {:7 ' )U'r ] ’f/ fl“‘. "‘{f / / "";\ [ N l"f’ o -—Z:;l (\‘ | \;a"#
il g 83/ AN foN R N AL
3| SV PR 7L 2» 2 i s R '= ! \ el 2 s
RN TN N N.\ AB\
7:"::/5 1l Iw%el = " 22l A a . 2% N\ ',;efif , ;:! _Ng%‘
o Zho 7N\ el
| 2817 VA Uy Dl "(4 DN 3\ A %il /2
.fig!; y / 5¥ 1 {\\L \\ \ “-‘T '. I“,\‘ df\w"(" i ‘!'?“ \\ &\\ E ///«"’.!' |O3
21 A bAL Vi) ™il(b (0 \ . |A\ W L
L b LN\ =T\ §
2z | <572/v Y ‘ ."""v A\ N7NoAAL AV A '~\‘\\‘ =2
&}? e’ g, v/ 0N TR .\ =i\ s v QNS Q =
w 3 AR 4 »///5/ b\ = W SN = B
a 2, TR ‘-/E ,Wf : > N . |l2
m S \§; % o }
’ "~‘ ”; /OR G L ~,‘ =) T "\‘V ! ,‘—“fl = b
s MXA S \‘} ‘\s.‘ E'gfi
::, g T ww.umml‘mwm,t..lu. e v h '\\\‘.,. \\J’é ‘” 538 e o \G:i_%fl
= PO, DTe T R LTURN O el 11
2= “\- LN \& (};‘7}l’?‘ - - 41(':!?‘_ @(‘ N \ & . J(Rle{{,
—_;:s -/ . [K/b Ley eg‘b . ALy ~.:' —‘\ )el \\m\-:_..‘\m\\\ T ‘t_:;._ ===
ke, ¢ - C(-( @(* Ler A Y Qfif T =
Sagdin (‘;jé fi\) C?' &ffij}qu \\ 6,_ %«(\c \‘\§\_')' F“:—'? :\\\E\é
: o - : - 3oe~ ==
Sk AN s ;7‘“"\—. 5G O U =
o oe AT DR\ | pa.'~' q&=
s T /é"' —
e
S S t
TROLLING down the avenue on a grateful “loaf,” after some pretty
S strenuous seasons wherein she forgot, as completely as the white
and-red coifed Red Cross girl ever did, that there existed such a
delicious thing as a regular feminine hat, comes lovely Columbia. Her
dark blue satin peace bonnet, dusted with glistening stars, and curled over
in a peak of a ram's horn, and caught there with another bright planet,
has lain where she tossed it many months ago when she reached for
Mars' great war-helm and fitted it down over her cold, sword-bright eyes.
And she passes hundreds of darling little girls of hers, trotting by.
She thinks dazedly. “Not one without a spring hat, with poppies and
morning-glories and blue ribbons. Not one left in her ole winter hat.”
Caught, then, in the web of beauty of a bonnet shop window, all lav
ender and rose and citron green, her roving, enravished eyes, feeding on
straw brims and posies as pink as a young girl’s finger tips and toes,
alight on the darling of them all and cling there, embracing it, warm
~ls This You, Dad? |
{ LOOK OVER THIS ARTICLE AND SEE =~ |
By Dr. Wm. A. McKeever,
One of the Nation's Best Known So
ciological Writers.
LARGE group of mothers was
A asked to check upon a long
list of qualities*the ten chief
points which characterize a reason
ably good father. It was not the idea
to attempt to set up anything like a
perfect model, but rather to describe
by outline the ordinary, most worthy
type. The lvn\poims receiving the
highest number of check marks were
the following:
1. Spends all oxcept perhaps one
evening per week with his family,
2/ Tries to do his full part in the
carve and direction of the children. |
3. Earns and conserves his income
chiefly in thought of theé well being
of his entire household. ‘
/4. Seeks to understand his children
and to “grow up” with them rather
than merely scold and order them
about. |
5. Takes his family with him, rath-|
er frequently, whenever he goes to th9l
picture show or other place of enter
tainment §
6. is anxious about the education
of his children and tries to teach
them to co-operate with him in his
persistent purpose to see them fimish
the highest possible course.
7. Tries to keep abreast of the times
and to readjust his life and habits so
as to avoid being regarded by his
children as an “old fogy.”
8. Is ready to help with the house
work when the mother or one of the
children is ill and frequently does
this shift in the kitchen when his‘
helpmate is overworked. L |
P. Is always active in his auppor!{
of any community project intended
to promote the educational advan
tages and general well-being of the
children ana young people. 3
10, Is a fair example of moral and
spiritual integrity: aiming as a rule
to aveid habtts which he is not will
ing for his boy to imitate; manfest
ing a desire to have his children prac
tice clean thinking, clean speaking
and to assume as active membership
in some kind of religious organiza
tion,
1f 1 rightly understand these mark
ings and the consensus of opinion of
the many wives and mothers con
cerned, it is that the father should
always strive to keep himself in close
and sympathetic touch with the
members of his family and not to
stand somewhat aloof from it as is
the attitude of some men.
They object to father's playing the
“good fellow"” with his children, while
mother bears alone the heavy respofi
sibility of correcting their faults.
They object {o the idea that the head
of the family has the first right to the
use of the family income simply be
cause it happens to come to him in
the form of wages.
They object to the father’s making
himself a martyr to his family
through overwork, mneglect of his
health, self-denial as to his share of
the goods and the pleasures which
the others are privileged to enjoy.
In short, the typical good mother
seems to desire merely that the father
shall maintain the attitude and man
ner of a happy, helpful, cheerful, for
ward-looking menmiber of the family
and of the community to which he
belongs. 1 believe that the ordinary
father will do well to ponder over
these significant characterizations.
i T e
The Real Secret of Art. |
A painter of the “impressionist” schoel,
now resident in & lunatic asylum, says to“
all his visitors: “Look here, this is my
latest masterpiece.” ‘
They look, and seeing nothing but an
expanse of bare canvas, they ask: “What
does that represent?*
“That represents the passage of the
Jews through the Red Sea.™ ‘
“RBut where is the sea? 1
“It has been driven back.”
“And where are the Jews?" ‘
“They have crossed over.' 1
“And the Egyptians?" |
“They will be here directly. That's the
sort of painting I like—simple, suggestive
and unpretentious.™ ‘
The Only Girl
Left in It
with desire! A shimmering, cloth-of-silver headpiece, glistening like a
field of snow, curled over enticingly, just to fit Columbia’s brows, and
folded about it, creeping, triumphant, the gold and silver leaves of the
WREATH OF VICTORY!
Columbia scowls and fingers her battered, grey, dull trench hat,
buckled under her chin. 1t is heavy and dark; there are no flowers
springing gay over it. She says: “An’ me still in my ole steel hat. I'm
the only girl left in the U. S. in my winter lid! But wait—two weeks,
they say!”
* * * * L * * *
But finger the grey hat tenderly, Lady of Our Land, for there be
beauties to it more lovely even than a spring flower. “And the wreath
of gold and silver leaves that cries of VICTORY, that decks the bonnet
you will wear on your golden hair in a little while, was bought and paid
for by the grey trench hat!"—Nell Brinkley.
Voile Frocks for Children
} A SEASON FOR USING COTTON :
By Rita Stuyvesant.
O walk through the shops at this
I delightful season, with their
display tables piled high with
bright, fresh materials for spring and
summer, gives one inspiration for
new frocks, The lovely ginghams,
the smart challis and dainty woiles
lend themselves gracefully for pretty
frocks and may be purchased for a
surprisingly modest sum. And what
delightful little dresses can be made
for the small daughter of the family
that important little person of six
summers who wants to look her bhest
when daddy or big brother is “‘wel
comed home.”
One of our exclusive baby shops is
showing an adorable littie voile model
for a child of 6, that is really irre
sistible. It is shown'in lettuce green,
pale apricot, beige, ciel blue, sheil
pink, lemon, rose and French BHlue,
and there is a color to suit every
type of juvenile beauty. |
The frock is made on a yoke about
six inches deep and the lower partl
is laid in box plaits, two at the front
and two in the back, and gathered in
between. The daintiness of this sim-‘
ple dress is in the round collar, split
open both front and back and made
from the finest organdie bordered
with narrow hand-crocheted edging.
The tiny set-in sleeves also show a
cuff of the organdie. And last, but
not least, there is a cunning sash of
self-material tied about the waist and
finished with half-inch frills of voile.
Cross-bar voile also made adorable
frocks for kiddies and comes in a
background of creamy white double
crossed by rose, blue, tan or green.
Plain white or colored organdie
makes a delightful trimming and
gives a fresh, crisp appearance to
the frock. When wrinkled, it may |
easily be pressed out, thus saving the
trouble of laundering the entire gar-]
ment, or the collar and cuffs may be
detachable.
This is indeed to be a “cotton sea
By NELL BRINKLEY
(Copyright 1919 by International Feature
Bervice, Inc.)
son” for children, if ore is to judge
‘by the smart gingham gowns that
| are being shown for playtime hours.
| Short lengths of plaid gingham may
be combined pleasingly with plain
colors, and this offers a splendid sug
gestion for utilizing leftover pieces of
material from last summer’s frocks. |
Plaids lend themselvese admirably
to pleats, and box pleats are the
order of the day for juvenile skirts.
‘Whether there are only a few pleats
or many, the short skirts are fin
ished with deep hem (for growing
voungsters) and a broad belt. The
belt buttons itself on tg a cunning
blouse of linen, with trimmings of
white pique. Sometimes there is a
quaint guimpe of white bastiste or
dotted organdie.
Long-waisted French frocks are al
ways charming for children, and we
see quite a few of them this spring.
The bodice is cut to the hips and
iengthened with a deep-pleated or
gathered flounce. But the dress is
belted at the normal waistline withl
‘a white glazed kid belt and is egual
1y attractive made of gingham. linen
or the new voiles.
Speed of Animals.
It i 8 believed that no animal has ever
excerded the speed which can be attained
by the horse. Instantaneous photographs
of the famous specimen showed the full
length of a complete stride to be about 28
feet. The hare has not in reality the
speed of the dog. The dog, on the other
hand, does not attain the speed of the
horse. The giraffe is said to run at the
rate of 15 yards per second under the most
faverable conditions. The elephant, going
at the rate of two vards per second, car
ries a weight approximating to that car
ried by six heorses.
Neighborly Compliments.
“] was afraid, Mrs. Willington,” said
Mrs. Semerby, ‘‘that you wouldn't be able
to get aover to mry house this afternoon,
for it isnPt so easy to get away when vou
have to ‘o wyour own housework.” “‘Oh.
I wouldn't ‘have missed coming for any
thing!” said Mrs. Willington. as she
glanced around at .the assembled guests.
“] wanted to see how all my silver amd
glass looked on your tablagy”
When a Girl Marries
By Ann Lisle.
Copyright, 1919. King Features Syn
dicate, Inc,
LMOST as soon as I asked my
A question, I knew the answer
| to it. The man who had
‘lonned Jim the money for his flyer
in “Salt Water Oil” was on his way
to our apartment now. It was Tom
Mason,
Tom Mason! In spite of my fear
of him, my dislike of him even—
in spite of the ugly seene with him
in our own apartment only a fort
night before, Jim had borrowed
money from him. My husband had
borrowed $5,000 from the man I
feared and disliked, the man from
whom I had begged to he protected.
It was inconceivable. Yet it had
happened. Something seemed to die
in my heart at the knowledge. But
I stood stiff and straight and spoke
to him through cold lips:
“Jim—l'm going into the other
room and shut the door. I will not
see Mr. Mason.
“Don’'t be an idiot, Annie. Stay
here. What'll 1 tell Tom?"” protest
ed Jim.
“Tell him anything you like!” I re
plied curtly. “I will not see him. Say
I'm out. Say I'm sick. I don't care
what you say-—but remember that
I will not—will not—see him.”
Then I marched into the bedroom
and slammed the door as Jim had
been known to do on occasions.
Once alone I busied myself fever
ishly with dressing. I slipped out of
my cotton crepe housedress and into
a kimono. With the most elaborate
care I arranged my hair, washed and
fell to buffing my finger nails. But
at last came the time I dreaded. T
was all hooked inte my best mulberry
satin dinner dress—and had nothing
to do but to sit and think-—and think.
A Whirling of Events.
1 dared not consider my own prob
lem, so I forced my mind to go back
to the disappearance of our Betty.
It seemed weeks since it had hap
pened, and yet it was only last night
that Terry had come to the canteen
for me—only last night that Betty
had waiked out of our lives and our
knowledge. In a few hours Terry
would be in Washington. By morn
ing we could expect news from him.
Betty, Tom, Doris West, Terry, our
new fortune, Anthony Norreys—my
mind whirled with the ingrained con
fusion and the whirl of just mere
living.
Again I feel the need to act—to
do something—everything. So 1 got
up and rearranged the silver on my
bureau. When that was finished I
fetched out a discarded hat and fell
to ripping it apart—and just as I
had my bed littered with silk and rib
bon and canvas, Jim walked in.
“Over the sulks?” he asked.
“Is he gone?”’ 1 parried, giving my
absorbed attention to pulling threads
from a piece of blue taffeta.
“No—he has not!” % replied Jim.
“He's waiting to arrange with me
about our dinner to celebrate. We'll
Good Night Stories
| GIANTS OF THE DESERT.
ETTY sighed as she sat on the
B porch steps swinging her feet
aimlessly.
~ *“Oh, dear, I wish T had something
to do!” she mused.
. Then the grasses moving down by the
'walk caught her eye, and Squeedee, the
lelfin from Joyland, hopped upon the
'steps beside Betty.
" “It's very bad business, this sitting
‘armmd wishing for something to do,”
‘he laughed. ‘‘ldle hands make one un
ihap[)y. Suppose you come along with
S T e T e o i,-y’.‘,f(, 1
SRRt S
A L S it o
J: ’-‘}_, .(_ Y P LA ]
vzy ~~’{L 3 '
“": '(!‘ 3 i" J
2 E /, y "
\\ i l&" TR
N 0 é
> ;‘q ¥. 8 * e Ah
0 "fi.-‘fif";, v ‘sk".
; pet? b e “,,‘ N
:‘. v © i ”%
4o o =
\ J'o—--"Lkaluf &, _! :
\ .
| Away They Sped.
me. for I'm going out to call on the
griant of the desert.’
“Giant of the desert?’ exclaimed
Betty. “Who ever heard of a” giant
linving in a desert? All giants I ever
read about lived in the mountains in
great- big caves.” ‘
“That may be s 0,”” laughed Squeedee.
“But the fellow I'm speaking about
lives out on the desert, and the natives |
call him the giant of the desert, aII‘
right.” :
Of course, Betty loved her adventures
with Squeedee, so taking the little elfinl
by the hand, away they sailed through |
the air until they came to the great
sandy plains that stretched as far as
they could see.
A queer looking creature c=
ning down toward them. ii
skinny beck reaching up into the
looked like that of a camel. The strange |
‘cleature was about eight feet tall, and
" " - RAIRAR L v
Vewwargy I ![ A J v
T | W
| i! ! e :
! '1) \ | ¥
{1 98452, ! o -
[l o 7
'3 N A A N ;
B ; . i &
(o ‘.".::‘,:‘.’:’Tf‘.‘..“‘.,‘.?‘,E?..‘.f?%‘.‘..‘..’,fi.‘...?‘. AL,
make it a bang-up affair and ask
Jeanie and Phoebe and Sheldon. The
only drawback is—not having Terry
and Betty."”
“How can you give a dinner with
Betty—Betty may be lying nw
where—" 1 began.
Jim interrupted angrily.
“Can the morbid whimpering,
Anne! DPBetty is all right. You
needn’t try to hide behind her and
pretend she's the reason for your not
wanting to celebrate when it's really
your insane hatred of good old Tom.”
“Good old Tom!” I mimicked an
grily. “When you know perfectly
well that he came here drunk and an
noyed me.”
A Friend in Need.
“What I know perfectly well is
that a ‘friend in need's a friend in
deed,”” cried Jim, whirling on me
with flashing eyes and hard, brusque
voice., *“Who gave me a home at‘}
rent I could manage When 1 was
down and out? Who warned me
off when the rest of my friends were
|going to let me get mixed up winh
that crook, Shedden? Tom=-good old
Tom. And when 1 asked him for
this five thousand, did he argue or
ask questions? No—he came right
across.”
“But Jim!” I cried, struggling to
keep my voice whole when it wanted
to erumple up along the edges and
cave in. “How could you—how could
you in decency and self-respect get
deeper in debt to Tom Mason? How
could you? It seems to me I can
never forgive you for this. First
you let a little stenographer tip you
to 4 big deal. Then you let Tom Ma
son finance you. Oh, Jim, I'm so dis
appointed in you! The disillusion
ment of it!” .
1 knew when I spoke that I was
inviting Jim’s fury—Kkindling h‘.
ready temper to wrath. But his re
ply surprised me. It was colfi and
self-constrained—as if suddenly I
hadn’t power to anger him.
“You don’t get this right, Anne.
In good time you'll be ready to beg
my pardon for your unjust suspi
cions. In good time you'll get the
facts. I haven't time to bother with
them now. But for the present—
listen to this. I let Tom Mason in
on this deal, too. He has cleared up
twice what T have. That cancels all
lthe indebtedness to him that you
;were worrying about so the other
night. Now please come out and
ltoll Mason that you're sorry it took
you so long,to dress, and that you’r’j.
mighty pleased with the whole thing.
Come on.”
“And that’s your answer!” I replied
helplessly. »
Then, because there was no t"
out of it, I followed Jim into the
other room. And as I went up and
gave my hand to Tom Mason his
eyes met mine with a swift chal
lenging look, and he murmureN under
his breath:
“Didn’t I tell you to coifnt on me
when you needed a friend?”
To Be Continued.
Betty thought it would weigh at least
300 popnds. 4#
“How do you do, Mrs. Ostrich?”
laughed Squeedee, shaking Mrs. Os
trich’s funny foot that seemed as large
!:\s a horse’'s leg to Betty—only instead
jot‘ a hoof Mrs. Ostrich had two toes,
one twice as long as the other. v
I “I'm very glad to see you and your
| friend, Squeedee,” laughed Mrg. Os
ytrich, “But I'm in a terrible hurry.
f’Y‘hny're expecting me to sit on the eggs
awhile.”
“Mrs. Ostrich and her friends lay
their eggs all in the same nest, then
they take turns setting on them.” whis
pered Squeedee,
Betty thought this very strange. So
Mrs. Ostrich said if she’d like she’d h,_
glad to take her along with her. Betty
and Squeedee hopped upon Mrs. Os
trich's back and away she sped over the
sands, her beautiful tail feathers trail
ing in the air, and her great widd
wings outspread like fluffy sails. 14
Mrs. Ostrich soon reached her nest,
It was hollowed out in the sand, and
was about four feet in diameter. The
nest was filled with eggs, each one
about twenty-five times larger than a
hen's eggs, and weighing from two ta
|three pounds. apiece, so Squeedee told
} Betty.
y “We find it much easier taking
{turns,” sald Mrs. Ostrich, “for it taked
Six weeks of hatching. Sometimes our
husbands relieve us and sit on them,
then during the hottest part of the
day we just leave them to the sun,
and until the young are nearly grownm
we all take care of them together, our
husbands sharing in the task.”
| “But what do vou eat out on the
|desert like this?" asked Betty, for ad
ifar as she could see there was nothini"
but sand.
I “Oh, we feast on reptiles, rats, birds
’and stones,’”” replied: Mrs. Ostrich. Seed
ing a stone about the size of a hen’s
!egg that pleased her fancy, she quickly
|swallgwed it, much to Betty's amuse
jment, “I just wish I had ail day ta
‘chat, but I must get to work. But if
you're ever out this way again I hopq
’you will call and see our babies. '
{ Without more words Mrs. Ostrich
isquatted on the nest. and Betty ¢ad
|Sqre ey
. 1 o puits
»
' e
B i t 5 3
| But when Betty turged aréund i
found that Squeedee had disappeared.’