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About The frontier. (O'Neill City, Holt County, Neb.) 1880-1965 | View Entire Issue (Dec. 28, 1911)
CL. LL!L_LL L!L-"™_LLL_“ . Free with Mother’s Oats| Description: This beautiful spoon . is triple silver plat ■ ed and is guar anteed for 20 years. The handle is the latest French gray finish. The bowl is hand bur nished. This advertise men: is good warn lor 10 coupons and send to us wK with only 2 more \Sssj coupons taken m from two packages II of Mother’s Oats (H and we will send this beautiful 20-ycar guaranteed spoon free. Only one adver tisement accepted from each customer as 10 tmepons. Buy a package ojf Mother's Oats today and sen'] a postal for complete premium hook. Address Mother’s Oats, Chicago .. "Ll .. . EXPLANATION. I" \ The Kid—Honest, Mr. Blackbird, I j ain’t after eggs! I'm lookin’ fer up- j plos -p--p— pineapples! BURNING ITCH * WAS CURED “I deem It my duly to tell about a eut'o Ihdt the Cuticura Soap and Oint ment. have made on myself. My trou ble began In splotches breaking out right In tho edge of my hair on ths lorehcad, and spread over the front |art of the top of my head from ear to nr, and over my ears which caused n lost fearful burning Itch, or eczema. "For three years I had this terrible Jreaklng out on my forehead and •calp. I tried our family doctor and he fuiled to cure it. Then I tried the Outlcura Soap and Ointment and used them for two mouths with the result of a complete cure. Cuticura Soap and Ointment should have the credit due, and l havo advised a let of peo ple to use them." (Signed) C. D. Tharriugton, Creek, N. C., Jan. 26,1911. Itching Scalp—Hair Fell Out. "I will say that I havo been suffer ing with an itching on my scaty for the past few years. My hair fell out In spots all over my head. My scalp itarted to trouble mo with sores, then lt>e sores healed up, and crusts (armed on the top. Then the hair fell >*t and left me three bald spots the )hnpe of a half dollar. I went to more lhan one doctor, but could not get any relief, so 1 started to use the Cuticura Remedies. I tried one bar of Cuticura Boap and some Cuticura Ointment, and felt relieved right away. Mow tho bald spots have disappeared, and my hair has grown, thanks to the Cuti cura Soap and Ointment. I highly recommend the Cuticura Remedies to all that are suffering with scalp trou ble." (Signed) Samuel Stern, 236 Tloyd St., Brooklyn, N. V., Feb. 7, 1911. Although Cuticura Soap and Ointment are sold by druggists and dealers everywhere, a sample of eacb, With 32-page book, will be mailed free on application to "Cuticura,” Dept. 9 K, Boston. Justly Punished. “Why, have you discharged Rich ardst Do you think because he has reached the age of forty-five that he 14 no longer useful?” i "No. that Isn't It. When 1 was com In* Into the City on my car the other morning he got In front of It at a grossing and was so slow that In or Aar to avoid running him down 1 had to lose nearly half a minute RUN, BOYS, RUN! FOR LEAP YEAR’S COMING! Within a Few Days the Time Will Come When Maidens May Propose. "Of all the action* of man’s life, his I marriage does least concern other people: yet of all actions of our life It Is jnost meddled with by other people.”—Seldcn. From the Sioux City Tribune. What's the big event of the coming year, 19127 Ask tho shaggy haired, freckle-faced vouth and ho will answer {hat tho opening of another baseball dc&son Is tho one big evfcnt on tap. Question the high school student and he will answer In classical terms that commencement week and with it his graduation speech, filled with advice and counsel to the anxious world, Is tho one event worth heeding. Interview tho portly politlglan and ho will wrinkle hjs spacious forehead and put you wise to the fact that the greatest presiden tial campaign In the history of this great universe Is at hand. Interrogate any mere man, the knave or tho wise one, and he will designate some puny topic uppermost In his mind. But, pshaw I Let the membership of any girls’ club have the floor for a minute. Call upon the beautiful Betties of the While an Hour club, the Meet Today society, the Dp Drop In club, the Ever Hopeful club or any of the dozen or more clubs vyhose roster Is conspicuous because it lacks tho prefix "Mrs.,” and they will not hesltafe a minute with an answer —provided they regard you as worthy or a little confidence. Now, altogether girls, why are you so joyous ns January 1, A. D., 1912, approaches? Chorus. "Because It’s leap year!" Order, girls, order; remember there are gentlemen present. The wealthy man, the bashful man, the handsome man and the elusive man ape In for the greatest marathon of their respective lives. For 386 full and cbmplete days the bachelors must watch all exits and entrances, carefully scrutinize every Invitation, guard care fully tho wording of their letters and ^atgh In every conceivable way for the least token of feminine admiration—for to misread the handwriting on tho wall might spell everlasting defeat In the tamo of hearts. Cupid Is about to make his usual desertion of the masculine ranks und for an entire year will do all In his mighty power to see that all eligible maidens lCarn tho windings of | the path to the altar. "Wo bachelors must organize if wo i are to preserve our single and Indlvid | uai rights," said one of them. "We’re I last if we uttempt to fight the buttle Individually. I "Why do we fear marriage? Listen. Aesop tells us that tho frogs laid a grout likeness for water, but they would not leap into a well because they could not get out again. Old Aesop may have been some comedian und windjammer, but I do not claim to have him beaten on this wisdom and marriage game. Marriage is a des perate tiling." It was a shame to break the news to tho perfectly nice young man, who had Just purchased ft solitaire ami lias promised to place It on the fatal third finger of Ids lair love on Christmas eve. "Pshaw! I never thought of that,” he said as lie fixed Ids back hair. "It 1* leap year. Isn’t it? And l m expect ing to get married next spring. Now all tiie fellows will say that she pro posed to me and 1 just know she did not have the least Idea I was going to propose. Why she was surprised and remarked about It being so sudden. Bui I can’t postpone It until 1913. Oh. holly hocks! I’m In an awful predicament." Old Maids Forever. Great us the prospects for the yeai may be. the girls are making no loui bpasts of their plans. In fact many o| them claim they had not thought of 1| and do not expect to make use of tin privilege. They're going right on li their usual way enjoying life and noi even thinking or getting married. "Why, the Idea.” said the leader of i club whose chief purpose is pleasure and not the consideration or discussios of great national and historical events "What does leap year mean to usj Nothing, absolutely nothing. Tot must think we are anxious to get mar ried and haven't had any chances. Whj do you know that during the last yeai I've turned down "—but that would bi telling secret and personal affairs. Others Insist that they will remalt old maids forever, or ns long as the) live, before they will take tho lead it affairs of the heart. Their clubs an organized for purely social reasons ant man's name never is mentioned at thi meetings unless, of course, he is a lieu comer. Wj tho city, or has an automo bile, or Is good looking, or dances well or said something nleo about somo gin they all dislike or telephoned tho pres!, dent of the club and offered to see liei home after the meeting. Aside from these, and a few other trivial reasons, the discussions are confined to feminlnt topics. So naturally tho advent of q leap year moans absolutely nothing to the girls. "Of course.” said one member," if ono of us happens to accept a proposal made during this leap year, It Is no sign that she took advantage of thu situation." Uut, in any case, the men arc sus picious and intend to keep a watchful eye during the year. They propose to take no unnecessary chances, If one may believe their statements. I.ensi of all will they perform any rash deeds on February 29. which is the one odd day in the calendar that makes 1912 a leap year. It comes only once 111 fout years and marks the period when tradi tion grants woman the opportunity oi leaping at a chance to enter the mar ried state. The bachelors are making tho accusa tions and the maidens claim they wll let the chance go by default. A Remarkable Family of Actors. In 1752 John Ward, an Englisl theatrical manager, opposed a mute! between Ills daughter and a membe: of ills company, not wishing her t< marry an actor. He finally gave con sent, however, consoling himself will the thought that the young man wa not much of an actor. In this he wa mistaken, for the young man, whoa ! name was Roger Kemble, not only sue eecded well in his profession, but bo came the founder of a family that i remarkable In the annals of the Eng lish stage. Twelve children were bor to the couple, of whom eight reache maturity; ami every one of the elgli made some effort on tho stage. Th eldest child. Sarah, became the re nowned Mts. Siddons. The oldest soi Jofin Philip, was probably the greater uctor of Ills day, and was known a "the great Kemble." Tho elevent 1 child, Charles, was a renowns i comedian, while his daughter, Fnnn Kemble, was probaMy the best know tq tho public of all the family. Ht slit-jr. Adelaide, attained considerate : popularity as a public singer. Her sc ( married the daughter of General Gran Ella Wheeler Wilcox says tho mother I OfiMOCRACY AND MANNERS. Apropos of an Inquiry Into Trachings in tho Public Schools. Dr. Charles IV. Eliot in the Century. Dr. Eliot says: "Manners affect for good or ill the dally happiness of every human bring and the fortune and destiny of every tribe or nation. Their influence on human existence is profound and In cessant. Good manners are founded on reason or common sense and good will. They put people at ease in social in tercourse, welcome graciously the stranger and tho friend, dismiss pleas antly the lingering visitor who does not know how to withdraw, express alert sympathy with others, and prompt to helpful co-operation with others. They enable people to dwell together in peace and concord; win te as had manners cause friction, strife and discord. "The often-mentioned difference be tween good manners and good breeding, namely, that the latter involves a long education and tho acquisition of much knowledge, and skill whereas the former do not, Ih quite as important in demo cratic society as In aristocratic. Peas ants, barbarians,'and illiterate persons often exhibit some of the best ele ments of good manners, but their ex perience of life lias not given them access to good breeding. “Selfishness, ignorance, stupidity and habitual inattention to the desires and claims of others are the chief cause of had manners; and since these qualities are rather common among rpankTnd and some admixture of them often exists in meritorious characters, bad manners are not uncommon. “The street railway companies in American cities maintain active schools of bad manners wherever they fail to Ufovlde ?i rPiniber Of vehicle's adequate to carry in a decent manor Urn thrQpgs that arc compelled to use th?m. AiTv eYrwil which is in a hurry is apt to afford practice in bad man ners. "There can be no doubt that the great majority of American public schools arc actively contributing today to the diffusion and development of good manners among the people, and hence to the improvement of social conduct. Whoever learns to observe S'.nd respect, through manners firmly based on ethics, the lesser rights of others Is likely to acquire Increased respect for the larger rights of the neighbor and the citizen. “Since the safe conduct of demo cratic society on its bold voyage of philanthropic discovery depends on an Unprecedented development of mutual good will, manifested kindliness and Ik avly co-operation, the function of the common schools in teaching manners rial morals Is plainly one of the most Important parts of public education, and the main reliance of democratic optimism.” Why Women Prefer Evening. In tli<‘ American Magazine, Edna 1 erber, writing another of her Emma MoChesney stories, says that no wo men hut girls of 16 and confirmed old maids and traveling men’s wives "ant to go to a matinee in preference to an evening performance. Special stress Is laid on the traveling man’s wife, who has to go to matinee rather than an evening performance because of her husband's absence. She goes on to say; 'i)i you think any woman goes to matinees by preference? Matinee! Say, would you ever hesitate to chooso helWoon ail all-day train and a sleeper? if the same Idea. What a woman calls going to the theater is something very different. It means taking a nap In the afternoon, so her eyes nil bo bright at nlglrt, and then starting at about 5 o'clock to dress, and lay her husband’s clean things out on the bed. so. loves it. She even enjoys getting bis bath towels ready, and putting Ida shaving things where ho can lay his hands on ’em, and tolling the girl to have dinner* ready promptly at 6:30 It means getting out her good dress that hangs In the closet with a cretonne bag covering It, and her black satin coat, and her hat with the paradise aigrettes that she bought with what she saved out of the house keeping money, ft means her best silk stockings, and her diamond sunburst that he’s going to have made over into a La Valliero Just as soon as business is bettor. She loves it all, and her cheeks get pinker and pinker, so that She really doesn't need the little dash of rouge that slio puts on ‘because every body does it, don’t you know?’ She gets ready, ul but her dress, and then she puts on a kimona and slips out to tho kitchen to make the gravy for the chicken because the girl never can get it as smooth as he likes it. That’s part of what she calls going to thea ter, and having a husband. And if there are children—and for her sake I hope there will be—she’s father and mother to them. She brings them up. single-banded, while he's on the road. And tne worst she can do Is to say to them, ‘Just wait until your father gets home. He'll hear of this.’ But shucks! When he comes home he can't whip the kids for what hey did seven weeks before and that they’ve forgotten all about, and for what he never saw, and can't Imagine. Besides, ho wants his comfort when he gets home. He says he wants a little rest and peace, | and he's darned if lie's going to run , around evenings. Not much, he isn't. But he doesn't object to her making a special effort to cook all those little things that he's been longing for on the road. Oh, there'll bo a seat In heaven for every traveling man's wife—though at that, I’ll bet most of 'em will find themselves stuck behind a post.-” Getting Out a Patent Kind of Cop. From the New York World. The examiners In the patent office In Washington are not always walking encyclopedias of all trades, consequent ly once In awhile one of them makes an amusing mistake through not know ing a technical term that Is a common place of somo trade. For example. In spinning mills a "cop” la the lonical roll of thread formed on toe spindle of a spinning machine. An examiner who was not an export on spinning received an application for a patent (since Is sued) In which the applicant described one of his illustrations as "the repre sentation of a cop.” The examiner WTOte, quite seriously, a letter In which he suld: "The attention of the examiner being called to this case, he regards It as in no condition for official Judgment on the merits. Applicant shows a device which the examiner would be Inclined to regard as tho representation of a ball of twine. Applicant says, however, it Is 'the representation of a cop ' 11 does not look like a policeman, which, to the examiner's mind Is the popular signification of the word cop, and con sequently the word requires some limi tations." [j Government. u A government is an organization the , can ijuild warships, but not peace ship1 i That can distribute mail, but not ex , press matter. , run navy yards, but lio | build canals but not rai. ways, a firaf can give away valuable right >,ut never get them i aok. - Tttfct can make profits for others. '. not tor lUelt. MANY OF THREATENED FADS HAVE FAILED Perhaps That Is What Will Happen to Proposed Knee Breeches for Men. From the Philadelphia North American. Out In Los Angeles the other day a brave person, by name Louis Borque; occupation, gentleman of leisure; na tionality, French; expert In matters sartorial and a few other things, gave to the world the opinion that mankind | of the future was destined to knee breeches and silk hose. Maybe ho was right. Modern pre cedent. though, is against him. There is really no reason, of course, why mankind should forever bedeck itself in garments of the a la mode architecture. But there is every reason to believe that mankind, in matters of dress. Is becoming more conservative, and that any changes will be matters of evolution and not the result of hasty, ill-considered mandates, without re course to the due process of fashion's laws. AJI the tendencies of men’s fashions In the last few years have been to ward simplicity. MUny modes that tended toward the extreme have been introduced, but they didn’t take. Fads, fbr the present, are out of fashion. "How much better It would be to see a man wearing a fine silk shirt, pretti ly trimmed in old lace, and the silk hose and shoes with buckles would be much more pleasant than our loosely tied and slovenly appearing string shoes, or botton Shoes with half tho buttons off. it is certain that clothing changes radically every century, both for men and women, and we Irave had ^jfentury of men's clothing in tne pres ent Styles," “Oh, you century!" A hundred years of ugly styles, the only merit of which is their concealment, not only of the beauties but, far more important, of Qie deficiencies of tho meh of fash lonl Much better Indeed would be the mode of Uin colonial period than that of the ugly and prpsalc pre^nt for those few men who live the active and heaTfhy lives of qOr honored ancestors. She trim calves that went so well wiFh >e ‘’knickers," tho small clothes, the frffled fronts, the lace stocks of bygone days, are not always to be found among tho males of our own age. Fhrts, town houses and apartment Ho tels are not conducive to shapely limbs oh straight-front ‘tummies.” The man of today Is more Inclined to cprpulency than to picturesqueness. Often he Id all right In clothes cut to hide tho evi dences of refined civilization. But ar ray him In the close-cut garments of fine material that graced the martial figures of flia colonial men and hq would surfly be a fright. It may be that fashion will have he» way, and that the men who still rldq horses and do other outdoor stunts i (hat tend to keep their figures within hounds will swing the pendulum clear back to the knee breeches and the frilled fronts. But so far there is no evidence of any such reaction. On the other hand, all tendencies toward the pic turesque have been sternly repressed, For Instance, there was the Kaiser Wilhelm hunting tint. Introduced Jus( about tho time that the ultra dresseri had taken to green headgear, its dash ing cockade threatened to break into the ranks of the conservatives. Noth ing of tlio sort happened. A few men whose social status was in no danger were equal to appearing in public iu it, but they got themselves into the newspapers with such eclat that they speedily took to less radical headgear, The green hats themselves, though they were not extremely radical, wera too much on the "rah-rah" order to achieve lasting popularity. For on« season they had a brief career of 1 pseudo-popularity. Then they went Into a decline. Many a brave man who 1 had coyly ventured on the public thor- 1 oughfares In his Alpine toppiece was 1 glad enough to let it follow his other I follies. Coming down a bit, there were the stocks. They seemed sensible, and . those gentlemen with short and tender i necks, who for. untold years have been groaning against the tyranny of stiff collars, appeared to have their Innings. There, at least, was one breakaway In the direction backward toward the lace stocks and frilled fronts of the coloni als. But It was too good to bo true The vaudeville persons, the brash Broadway boys who are always in the forefront of the advance styles grabbed to the stocks with enthusiasm. After that no one else wanted them, except the horseback fraternity, who 1 have never quit using them since tha old hunting days. As to ties, tho tendency has been all toward simplicity rather than the giddy lace things of our ancestors. Those knitted and crocheted strings that are good till they are all frayed out, that are easy to handle and look neat qnd trim, have been supplanting all the more ornate styles, and appear to have the call for some time to come. Again, tho giddy waist coats had , their day. For a short space man bios- I somed out as a bird of paradise, a gold en breasted pheasant, a robin red- I breast nnd a few other proud and , haughty males of the bird families. But there came a chilling frost, and when the birds went south the gaudy waist coats fell from grace. Even the evening clothes caught the fever, and there were some veritable confections worn with dinner coats and occasionally with swallow-tails. Most of these have gone by the board. The latest decrees of the tailofs are that it's well to leave out the pink spots and other evidences of color, with full dress coats, unless one wishes to be considered radical. Soft bosom shirts, or those with pleats and the like, with dinner Jack ets, and figured or finely pleated things with full dress, have likewise gone In to the radical class. Nothing but tho candy kids are now supposed to ap pear in anything but simple and con servative shirts. And not only Is fashion preventing the evening rig from resembling Joseph’s coat of many colors, but It la cutting out a lot of promiscuous col lars. Tnose velvet things and the queer rolls and turns and curves are now supposed to belong solely to tho well dressed comedians. As for white evening clothes, not even the late lamented Mark Twain or the financially powerful Frank A. v'anderllp has been able to make them ‘go." For day wear, this fall's mandates are for simplicity. As heretofore, a well-fitted sack suit for ordinary oc casions, with a frock get-up for pink teas and such, will carry a trfan throu h a winter In the biggest of our lilies. The English walking coat that promised to work its passage across tho ocean was a mere stowaway. A few of them reached this side, but they . have never appeared In any consider- 1 able numbers. So It has been with the “pegtop” trousers, the coats that were all hips, the flamboyant shoes and the flaming, flaring sock*. All the radicals havit had to go, • "May I have the pleasure of a dance?” The girl addressed turned sharplj away from the ghound of black coated youths amongst whom she had been endeavoring to divide her favors im partially. "Mx. Maxwell!” she exclaimed, the color leaving her cheeks. The man smiled. "You had not forgotten me, then?" Ije said, tak(h£ her much defaced pro gram. "Whiph may I have, there are not many left to choose from.” "The tenth, thirteenth and fifteenth aye still unappropriated; you may have any of Giem.” "Or aft would be better still. It Is a long time sines I have seen you, and rftany things must have happened since. Be generous, and for the sake of did times let me have all three.” It is against rny principles, but still —as you say—-it is a long time since we mej, so—if you really wish ft, you may have them.' •'Thank you,” he said, and scribbled his Initials against u»g dances. • • • • • » • * The strains of a dreamy waltz were filling the big ball room when Guy Maxwell came to claim his partner. It was the beginning of the winter season in southern California, and the Hotel del Coronadao was filled to overflow ing With guests escaping from the cold eastern winter. The dance was merely the ordinary Saturday evening one, but the huge ball room, with its brilliant lights and floral decorations, had the appearance of some large function. Handsome women with gorgeous New York and Paris gowns strolled through ♦ he beautiTul rooms. Belles from Wash ington and Baltimore vied with Calt Sgnjli gills from the sleepy line town across the bay, while otrtslde the deep, thunderous boom of the Pacific, whose Waves rolled up almost to the paneled walls of the ball room, mingled with the Wail of the % lolins. Neither Maxwell nor his partner ipolte, and before the muslp ceased he topped rather abruptly and saying, •sndn tve go outside?” led her through he door on to the glass veranda which ■Ons the whole length of the hotel on he side fronting the sea. They strolled to the end and then flopped. He thi'ew UP one of the large vlndows and they stood side by side, ind In silence which neither seemed to :are to be the first one to break, gazed it the wonderful scene bafore them. And in truth it was a scene to have nade the most thoughtless pause and hlnk. The waves rolled up and broke i few feet below them. A full moon >hed Its brilliant, pure, cold light on he broad expanse of the mighty ocean; 0 the right the dark outline of Point Anna showed up faintly, and to the left is far as the eye could see a continuous ine of white breakers formed a semi drcle to th cliffs of Mexico. The thoughts of botli the watchers vere busy with the past. Two years lefore Sybil Delaunay, then in the :enlth of her youth, and tasting the list draughts of success in the art of iculptur<\ to which she determined to levote her life, refused to marry the nan who stood beside her, and sent lim away, vowing that no man should iver find part in her life nor Interfere xetween her and the work she loved. Disappointed and heartsick Maxwell lad thrown up his profession in vhich lu- was already being spoken of is a rising surgeon, and disappeared 'roin Miss Delaunay's world. From hat day to this she had never heard mythlng of him until he appeared to ils ht at this hotel in the Far West to vhich she had come for the winter vlth a party of friends. She had’ learn ed much of herself since the time when ;e had left her and had begun to realize hat art alone cannot fill the heart of 1 woman, nor that a successful career vns all that was required to make her lappy. To the man who- watched her she teemed in the moonlight almost un tarthly in her beauty Not the faint tst breeze stirred the rtpptes of her {olden hiar. Every sequin on her black jown caught the reflection of the moon, intit her slight form seemed to be •heathed in silver. A sudden shudder on his part broke die spell that held them, and she turned sudderrty towards him. "it is strange that we should meet like this.” he said, striving to keep the passionate longing out of his voice. •When we last danced together—do you remember?” "I remember everything,” she an swered softly, ' ll is two years ago now, isn't it?” "Two years," he retreated, "and to me it seems a lifetime." Then, in a different tone; “Are you staying here long?” "AH the winter, I think. They say I must not stay in New York; that I need sunshine.” "You are not tli?" he said, sharply. She smiled. “No. not ill, but I might be if I stayed longer iq a cold climate.” “And your work, will you keep that up here? You will not give that up. of course?” he asked, a trace of bitterness creeping into the question. "For the present, yes, but I hope to go back agpdn to it. It is all I have to live fQr new. I am quite alone since my father died, and you know I never cared for society.” "I think it Is all you ever lived for,” be said roughly; “tbs ruin of a man's life meant nothing to you while you could demote yourself to your art.” She shrank a little from him and her face tv^vy jjtill whiter In the inqqr.-. light, "I suppose you have a right to say tnat—I do not know—perhaps I wa» selfish in those dftys—but I was very young and Success when It first come* Is sweet to everyone—and ho\V was 1 to know that you cared any more for me than any other friend. I did not realize where you were drifting, and so, I suppose, you grew to hope for what X had never thought of—then.” "How was I to know that you were so different from all the rest of your sex.” he said bitterly; "the rest of tho world knew if you did not, and women are not generally so blind in those matters. Wljat dpes a man usually mean when he folows a woman like a lapdog? You let me wait on you, send you flowers, escort you every where—allowed me to go on in a fool's paradise, and, then, when you had grown infb my life and wound your self round my heart until life with out you seenjed impossible, till your face haunted me day and night and my work was dedicated to you and you only, you told me in your calm sweet way that you did not care for me except as a friend, that you Intended to devote your flffe to art, and that no • man would ever take Its place. God I what are you women made of,” he con tinued, passion getting the mastery of him at last; "you have no more feel ing than one of the statues you thought , so much of, no frrtrre idea of tlife pur gatory you send a man to than those same blocks of. marble to which you devote yourself!”. Sybil Delaunay shivered a little and her figure lost its haughty alerthess. “I-—I hoped you had forgotten,” she said tremulously. He laughed bitterly. ‘Did you come out here, then?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "I heard you had left New York, but nq one seemed to know where you had gone.” j "Yes. I left New York, gave up my I profession and came here, as far away as I could get, my one desire being tt escape from anything and everything that reminded me of you." “You live here then?” "Near here—in the mountains—I havt a ranah. Again a dead silence. He gazed al the segue before him not trusting t« look at her face. Sho did not knoxl that his hands were clenched until th» nails cut into the flesh to keep him self from seizing her in his arms and holding her forever. He did not set that her eyes were full of tears or notice the trembling of her slight figure, "You are happy now—you have for gotten,” she almost whispered. "I thought so until tonight. But when I saw you I knew that It was hopeless, that all the flight, the striving to keep back the memories and put you out of my life were in vain. You are and al ways will be the one woman In the world for me. I am a fool to tell you, I suppose, but what does It matter? X was a fool all through, a blind fool, and l have no one but myself to blame. Don’t let It worry you. I have managed to go on, and X have not shot myself, nor taken to drink, nor any of the hun dred and one things that a man uan do to try to help himseif to forget. "Don't you think,” she said, a new tone in her voice, and speaking very slowly and softly, "that—if you had waited a little—had not been in such a hurry to get away—It might have been better*—women do not always know their own minds, you know." Her voice was so low that he had to bend down to hear, and then he saw her face and a new light flashed Into* his own. He put his hands on her shoulders and turning her around, forced her to meet his eyes. "Do you mean it—Sybil—oh, my dfir ling, don’t mislead me again; don’t say tt out of pity—or”—— For answer she leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead. Stilt he held her away from him and continued In the same eager, passion ate voicC: “You know what you are doing—you will come to- me. live as a rancher's wife in the mountains, give up society and your work that was so much to you?" He watted breathlessly for her an swer. She raised! her head and through her tears she whispered: "For better or for worse, for richer, for poorer. In sickness and In health un til”— She got no further, for his arms were round her and her face was hidden on his shoulder. The hand still played and th^ dancers whirled as they had done half an hour ago. Miss Delaunay's discarded part tiers searched anxiously for her, and finally and very wisely gave up the search and consoled themselves with less evasive attractions; the rpoon still shone brightly as Aver and the waves rolled up and broke with their steady, monotonous sound, hut for two people standing at the window the world had changed. Let Well Enough Alone. Bobuppe—It's a shame the way he, treated you. but you should heap coals of fire on his head. Flareuppe—What! With coal at the. present price? Say, I'm not that fond of reverge. _ f You Can’t Leave Them. She—Poor Jones, I understand, left a widow. He—He did! Weil, he must hav* sneaked off when she wasn't looking. I tell you a widow A a pretty hard. IWhf to get away from,