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Sometimes. “Do you believe it pays to get next to the soil?” “It did me when I went out pros meeting and struck pay dirt.” AT THE FIRST SIGNS Of 'Falling Hair Get Cuticura. 'It Works Wonders. Trial Firee. Touch spots of dandruff and Itching with Cuticura Ointment, and follow next morning with a hot shampoo of Cuticura Soap. This at once arrests falling hair and promotes hair growth. You may rely on these supercreamy emollients for all skin troubles. Sample each free by mail with Book. Address postcard, Cuticura, Dept. XX, .Boston. Sold everywhere.—Adv. Girls shoold beware of young men who pose as candy kids; as husbands they are apt to develop into lemon drops. rots own kki/Ooiht mu rail rot Try Mirrtae Ere Bemedr xor Bad, Weii. Waters •res *«d Drummed Eyelids: No Smartine |nt Ere comfort. Write for Book of ike Kjw t>7 ueU Free. Martae Mja Kernedj Co.. Ctnnpo Because one is not leading the pro cession it is no sign that he is down and out. Housework h a Burden It’s hard enough to keep house if in perfect health, but a woman who is weak, tired and suffering from an aching back has a heavy burden. Any woman in this condition has good cause to suspect kidney trouble, especial ly if the kidney action eeemo disordered. | Doan’s Kidney Pills hare cured thou sands of suffering women. It’s the best recommended special kidney remedy. An Iowa Case Mrs. M. Clinker, N. State St. Tama. Juwa, says: “For two years I was afflicted with dull pains In the small of rny back and In my shoulders. If I sat long I could hardly get up and mornings my back was extremely lame. On a friend’s advice I used Doan's Kidney Pills and they fixed me up in good shape. I am now in good health.” Get Dean** a* A*y Stars, BOe a Box DOAN'S kp«dJLY FQSTEJLM1LBURN CO, BUFFALO. N. Y. SIOUX CITY PTC. CO, NO. 25-1915. mi mi nn MARY MIDTHORNE 1) BY GEORGE BARR McCUTCHEON. Author of "Graustark,” “Truxton King,” etc. I Copyright, 1911. By Dodd. Mead A Co. Jy mi Illl III! CHAPTER XI— (Continued). He undressed in the dark, leaped into bed and although the night was very warm, pulled the coverlet over his shivering frame, and closed his eyes so tightly that they hurt, in the ef fort to go to sleep instantly whether his brain willed it or no. Many minutes passed and sleep came not because he courted it so zealously. He heard the muffled strokes of the ancient clock in the hallway below. He remembered that it was out of repair—it had been ever since he could recall—and was as likely to strike 15 as it was one; it never struck the correct number. The hour was 3, he knew, but he foii&d himself wondering Tiow faT out of the way the futile timepeace would prove to be. He counted 11. Then the silence was more deathlike than before. The Incongruous thought flashed through his mind that his uncle, being a me thodical person, was singularly remiss In allowing the clock to go on such a prolonged tantrum as this. Suddenly he remembered that he had not said his prayers. He never had missed saying them before. Mr. Presbrey had been particularly Imper ative about the prayers. Formerly he had knelt at the rail of the bed to say them, but of late he had been mum bling them in bed, asserting an inde pendence that rather pleased him, al though he was careful not to apprise Mr. Presbrey of the departure. Im pelled by a strange power which would not be resisted, he slipped out of bed and knelt once more in the old, ac cepted way. Before he knew what had happened, in the course of the set prayer which the minister had pre pared for him, he mumbled the sen tence, “bless Uncle Horace and Aunt Rena and Cousin Chetwynd and bless my dear sister—” But there he stopped. Chetwynd! The name seemed to strike back at his lips. The prayer was ended. As he started to rise, a long, quaver ing cry came from Mary’s room. He sprang to his feet, electrified, his whole body rigid from the shock to his overwrought nerves. With bated breath and glaring eyes, he waited for a repe tition of the sound. It came a mo ment later, this time louder and with a note of terror. "Eric!” It was Mary's voice after all. A wave ef relief surged over him. In two bounds he was at her door. "What is it? What is the matter. 18 Mary sat bolt upright and cried oui In alarm. "What are you saving. Eric? Glad? Why—why are you glad?” He caught his breath. The thrill ol exultation passed in a flash; his tur bulent thoughts crowded into a narrow channel that led him back to safety. For tlie first time since the events of the afternoon, lie found himself In full pos session of Iris wits. A wonderful cun ning took lodgment where despair and remorse had been. God had punished. It was God, after all. Adam had said so. Mary had hoped It would be so. God had punished, through him—the one best qualified jo be His agent. It was as it should be. His fcraln worked quickly. "I’m glad we know Just the kind of a scoundrel he Is, There won't be any row between us, Mary, but I'm going to tell him In the morning that he's got to let you alone. Thats' all. I can settle his case by telling what I know about the girl he’s keeping In New York.” Then, to ease his own mind, he brief ly told her of that single phase in the unsavory life of their cousin, carefully refraining from any mention of his peculations, leaving that to the devel opments of another day. Mary was ap palled by the disclosure. "What would Aunt Rena say if she knew?’’ she whispered, in awe. He plied her with questions, eager to obtain further justification for himself, and succeeded in getting a rather tear ful statement of facts. Chetwynd had made vile proposals to this 16 year old girl, and had threatened her in no vague terms. The hateful encounter took place at the noon hour, Just before she started out for her drive with Joan. "Won't It be fine if they will let me go to Miss Sinnox's with Joan,” she cried in the end. "It only to get away from Chetwynd. I—I don't believe I could stay here next winter, Eric, with you away at college. I am so afraid of him. Why—why. I placed a chair against my door tonight. I was afraid he might try to come in before you got home.” He started. “Before I got home?” "I looked into your room at 10 o'clock and you were not there." He turned very cold. "It was so hot In there that I went outside for a little while,” he explained dully. “I listened nearly all night for him. He was out, too. Go and listen at his door. Eric. See if he is in there.” “Nonsense. I can't go snooping around like that. He's in. of course. He won't dare come In here. You’re foolish, dear. Go to sleep.” “Heave your door wide open, please,” she begged. He was silent for a moment. “I'll tell you what I'll do. You’re nervous, and I don't blame you. I’ll get a blan ket and a pillow and lie here on the floor by your window.” She was satisfied. In 10 minutes she was sound asleep, secure in his pros ence. He lay very still and tense undei the window ledge, staring wide eyec up into the darkness, the soft nighl wind blowing across his face. At last his hands unclenched them selves and his whole body relaxed lr surrender to the new despair as lie la> there thinking it all out. He could not go on being the sweet heart of Joan Bright! avi <11 y : "Come here, Eric,” she cried plain tively. "Oh, I've had such a terrible dream. Please light the gas, Just for a minute. It was so real. I wonder if it could have been true. Did you hear any one go out of my door?” “No,” he replied, stopping In the middle of the room, conscious of a strange premonition. "You wrere dream ing. No one has been here.” “Light the gas. I am so nervous. I thought Chetwynd was in the room, standing at the side of my bed, with his hands reaching out to grab hold of me. He had the most awful look In his face. He was saying something to me. I couldn’t catch all of the words, I was so frightened, and his voice was so thick and hoarse. But I did under stand part of it. It was had, oh, so vile. I don’t know why I should dream such things. Won’t you light the gas, Eric, please?" But he stood there as If turned to stone—the blood in his veins congealed. She heard strange, mumbled words on his lips. “Oh, God, I wonder if he was here. Can he be here now, in this room?” “No, no, you ninny,’’ cried she, with a shrill little laugh. "Of course, it was a dream. I’m wide awake now. I’m sorry I disturbed you, Eric. But— please stay with me for a little while. It was so real, and I’m such a cow ard. You know how frightened I am of him, anyway. Sit down on the bed, Eric.” "I shan't light the gas.” he said res olutely. He would not leit her see his face. That was out of the question. He sat down on the edge of the bed. In the darkness her eager little hand sought his, and found it as cold as Ice. "How cold your hand is.’’ she cried. “Is It?” he asked mechanically. •'Listen, Eric, and I’ll tell you why I had the dream. They say there is no explanation for one's dreams, but 1 don’t believe it. I think. If one can only go back Into one's mind, in Borne little forgotten corner of it, he will be Bure to find an Impression, or a thought, or a memory, that will furnish the cause for every single dream. Sometimes we may have to go back of our present ex istence, into the one before this, or maybe we project ourselves into a fu ture incarnation, but we—” "Don’t talk nonsense, Mary,” he in terrupted gruffly. "It isn’t nonsense," she cried. "Joan and I were talking about reincarnation today. She believes in It. Just as I do. "She thinks when we die our souls pass on to another body, and the good in us grows while the bad decreases.” "Tell me: what caused this dream of yours?” Her hand began to tremble. "I ought not to tell you,” she said nervously. "You will quarrel with Chetwynd. You —you—Oil. Eric, you might do some thing dreadful.” "■What, for instance?” he asked de liberately. At 10 o’clock Adam Carr presented himself at the bank and Inquired foi President Blagden. He was informed that Mr. Blagden had not vet oome down. He had not been late before In the memory of the oldest employe. ’’OverBlep, I dare say,” remarked Ad am laconically. "He never does that, sir,” replied the ancient person who served as janitor and day watchman. “I’ll wait," said Adam. “By the way, is his son here?” “No, sir. That’s what makes me think there's something wrong up at the house.” “Have you telephoned?" “Mr. Gray did, a moment ago. No one is ever late here. sir. That 's among the employes. It’s Mr. Blagden’s rule. Sickness is the only excuse. Or a death in the family.” “Umph!" said Mr. Carr. Horaoe came in at 10:30. His first glanue was in the direction of the teller’s cage occupied by his son. Adam noticed a slight contraction of his eye brows, and a no uncertain pursing of the lower lip. He intercepted Mr. Blagden before lie reached the door leading to his private office. “Just a word. Mr. Blagden—” he be gan. “Not at present, If you please,” In terrupted Horace, so Irritably that ths listening clerks forgot themselves and looked up. Mr. Blagden was never any thing but suave. “I can’t wait,” announced Adam shortly. Horace paused. His austerity seemed to crumble before the very eyes of the furtive watchers. Indeed, they were permitted to witness an amazing met amorphosis. He had turned sharply at Adam's curt remark. For a second or two his haughty stare held. Then his lips parted and his hand went up with a spasmodic jerk as if to reclaim phy sical control of his features, but no power of his own could conquer the sudden feeling of dread and appre hension that rushed up from within to reveal Itself in his eyes. Intuitively he knew- that calamity was upon him. A blow was about to be struck. "Come Into my room,” he said harsh ly. It would never do for those fel lows behind the counters to see the blow fall, and to go forth with the story of how he shrivelled beneath It. Adam followed him into the private office. "Well,” said Horace, turning upon him as soon as the dor was closed. "I have discovered the thief,” said Adam quietly. For a full minute the two men faced each other. “How much do you ask? What is your price, Adam?” asked Horace, a deathly pallor In his cheek. He put out his hand to steady himself against the table. "Price?” demanded Adam, w7ith a frown. “What do you mean? I ask for nothing but the private reward you of - fered In the name of the bank.” “It—It Isn’t young Payson?” "No, It isn't. If I were you, Horace, I’d put that fellow back in his job here. He’s honest.” "Speak out, man. Tell me the truth. Have done with it." cried Horace, sud denly losing control of his nerves. He was shaking like a leaf. “You were bent on punishing the hlef. Horace. You said you’d give $1,000 to see him put where all thieves ought to be. In all the history of the bank, there had not been a thief among its employes. Tills thief was the only thief. You were determined to make i lasting example of him. You were go ing to punish biui it It took years to i *T'Ou must promise me first that you won't—fight him. Oh, I am so afraid. Brie, that you will let your temper get the bitter of you." "What has he said to you—what has he done?” demanded her brother, his hatred for his cousin lifting itself above all other sensations. Oddly, he Pit a sudden, fierce desire to fall upon and destroy a living Chetwynd.” “Premise me.” "All right. I—I shan't do anything.” he groaned, and she mistook the tone for one of bitter resignation. "Weil, he insulted me today. I_I can't tell you what he said to me, Eric. It was too vile. I could have killed him myself. He—■*’ “What did he say?” demanded Eric. She was struck by the sudden, exultant note in his voice. It was as if he were glad that she had been subjected to the affront. "I can't tell you. He Is the vilest thing In all this world. Oh, I hope God will punish him—I know' he will. When I cried and told him never to speak to me again, he said—Oh, Eric, dear, I can’t tell you." “Go on, go on!" "He said I wasn't any better than mother was. and for me to stop whin ing. He scared me by threatening to tell people that I—I had already been bad—like the girls at French Fannie's —and if I didn’t—” Fric stood up and lifted his clenched hands to heaven, a great sob of Joy bursting from his throat. “Oh. nov it's all right! It's all right! I’m glad! Curse him, I’m glad!” find the necessary proof. Well, I’ve got the proof, all of It. There's enough of it to put him comfortably where nil thieves ought to be.” Horace made a great effort to pud himself together. "Will you be more specific. Carr?” ho said, but his voice shook. Adam looked at him in wonder, and with a trace of pity in his eyes. “It’s going to be pretty hard, Horace. I hope you'll take it like a man.” Horace straightened up; his gaze tried to meet that of the detective without quailing. "I have asked you to be quite specific, Carr." he repeated. "Where is your son?” demanded Adam abrutly. Horace seemed to draw his shoul ders in as if his body wus undergoing a tightening process. "My son? He—See here, Carr, wh.it do you know of him? Where is he? Don't waste words. For—for God's sake, out with it.” “Do you mean to say that you don't know where he is?” demanded Ad im loudly. "Isn’t ho at home?” "Sh! Not so loud, please! No, he is not at home. I will be quite frank with you, he did not come home last night. He's—Re’s gone.” "Are you speaking the truth?” “Sir!” "I understand, Horace. It is natural for a father to shield his son. He con fessed to vou. You* are going to Btand h>' MOlwhJlSr-" T‘Cafr, lis God is my witness. I lid not suspect my son until I looked In to your eyes out there In the bank a few minutes ago. Then, something seemed to tell me what it was you had come to say—and to do. Now, Adam, I am asking you how much you want. What Is your price?” Adam Carr drew back his arm as if to strffee. A savage light leaped into his eyes. "That's the second time you’ve asked me that auestion. I'll answer it this time.” He stuck his hands into his coat pockets and faced Mr. Blagdon squarely. ”1 have a price and you’ll have to pay it. You'll be a long time doing it, Horace, but it’s got to be paid. Once you accused me of being a thief. You drove me out of this town, dis graced. You—'' "I was a boy then, Adam. We are men now. I ask you to overlook that—" Adam held up his hand. "You have never publicly admitted your error, even though you knew you were wrong. All these years you have allowed Co rinth to believe that you are still un convinced. I want to say to you now that I wouldn't sell the knowledge I have of your son’s rottenness for all the money in this bank. You can’t pay my price in money, Horace. You can only pav it with suffering. You are i good man. Good men suffer harder than bad men. You had no mercy on your sister. You are pleased to say that she’s In hell; that’s enough for you. Your children? You—well, we won't speak of them. I suppose you can’t help being what you are.” "I am an nonest, God fearing man— a Christian whose—” hi < i i .. *1 _i _ man, you have a prodigal son. Will you have the courage to kill a fatted calf when he returns to you, blackened with shame, or will you publicly con sign him to the devil as you did your sister because she was not good enough to come In for your passover?” “My boy can be saved. The cases arc not the same.” "How about the Widow Payson’s boy?” "Have you done with this! What do you mean to do?” “I am going to put my proofs—and they are unassailable—before the peo ple of Corinth.” Horace eyed him quite calmly. He was master of himself once more, so far as outward appearances are con cerned. "This Institution will not prefer charges against the son of Its presi dent. I shall restore all of the money that is missing. That will be the end of It.” "Not exactly.” said Adam, with a smile. "You forget me. I am going to hunt this world over until I find the thief. Then I shall bring him back to you. It rests with the bank, of course, whether he shall be sent to prison But I shall do my part, never fear. You can't keep me from hunting him down, and you can't keep me from giving the story to the world. Sit down, Horace. I want to tell you Just what I know of your son’s actions.” Half an hour later. Adam Carr left the bank. Before 5 o'clock In the af ternoon. representatives of New York and Boston papers were In Corinth In vestigating the report that the son of Horace was a defaulter, and that he had fled. The whole blighting story of Chet wynd's crime was to find Its way Into the great newspapers. Corinth was appalled! Once more Todville rejoiced, and along the water front the denizens spoke without fear or restraint. The smug little city was shaken as by a monster convulsion. A Blagden had gone wrong! A malo Blagden! A son of The Blagden at that! (Continued next week.) Paris Tries Hard to Be Herself Again By Edith Wharton, In Scribner's. It is a good sign to see the crowds pour ing into the shops again, even though the sight is less Interesting than that of the other crowds streaming dally—and on Sundays In Immensely augmented num bers—across the Pont Alexander III to the great court of the Invalldes where the German trophies are displayed. Here the heart of France beats with a richer blood, and something of Its glow passes Into for eign veins as one watches the perpetually renewed throngs face to face with the long triple row of German guns. There are few In those throngs to whom one of the deadly pack has not dealt a blow; there are personal losses, lacerating mem ories, bound up with the sight of all those evil engines. But personal sorrow Is the sentiment least visible In the look of Paris. It Is not fanciful to say that the Parisian face, after six months of trial, has ac quired a new character. The change seems to have affected the very stuff It Is mould ed of, as though the long ordeal had hard ened the poor human clay Into some dense commemorative substahCe. I often pags In the street women whose faces took like memorial medals—Idealized Images of what they were In the flesh. And the masks of some of the men—those queer tormented Gallic masks, crushed-in and squat and a little Batyr-like—look like the bronzes of the Naples museum, burnt and twisted from their baptism of Are. But none of these faces reveals a personal pre-occupation; they are looking, one and all, at France erect on her borders. Even the women who are comparing different widths of Valenciennes at the lace counter all have something of that vision In their eyes—or else one does not see the ones who haven’t. It Is still true of Paris that she has not the air of a capital In arms. There are as few troops to be seen as ever, and but for the coming and going of the orderlies at tached to the war office and the military government, and the sprinkling of uni forms about the doors of barracks, there would be no sign of war in the streets—no sign, that Is, except the presence of the wounded. Lusitania Is the ancient Latin name for a country whose borders were al most Identical with those of modern Portugal. Several hundred women in Flrwood. Pa., have started a crusade to place under the ban every store, theater and other business that uses bill boards as an advertising medium. I Canada is CallingYbn to her RichWheat Lands ""She extends to Americans a hearty in vitation to settle on her FREE Home stead lands of 160 acres each or secure some of the low priced lands in Mani toba, Saskatchewan and Alberta. This year wheat is higher but Canadian land just as cheap, so the opportunity is more attractive than ever. Canada wants you to help to feed the world by tilling some of her soil—land similar to that which during many years has averaged 20 to 45 bushels of wheat to the acre. Think what you can make with wheat around $1 a bushel and land so easy to get Wonderful yields also of Oats, Barley and Flax. Mixed farming is fully as profitable an industry as grain growing. The Government this year is asking farmers to put increased acreage into • grain. Military service la not com pulsory in Canada. There is no conscription and no war tax on lands. The climate is healthful and agreeable, railway facilities excellent, good schools and churches convenient Write for literature and particulars as to reduced railway rates to Superintendent Immigration, Ottawa, Canada, or to 1 g MacLacblan, Drawer 197, Watertown, S. 0.; V. V. Bennett, 220-17tti St., Room 4, Bee Bldg, Omen*, ' Ret, and R. k Barrett, 311 Jackson St, St. raid, Minn. Canadian Government A sente. SAW NO REASON FOR SPEED Some Food for Thought in Epigram Made by Moroccan Statesman About the Lusitania. ■ -L The sinking of the Lusitania recalls an epigram about this ship which the sultan of Morocco's grand vizier made to Jules Huret. The grand vizier, a very old man, received M. Huret. who is a French journalist, in Fez. M. Huret described the wonders of modern science and in vention to his host. He told him about the Lusitania, then just completed, which could do her 27 knots an hour. "Tiiink of it!” said M. Huret, en thusiastically. “Think of it! A great ship that goes 27 knots an hour!” But the vizier yawned and said: “Why do you Christians always want to go so fast, when all roads alike lead to the grave?” Two Kinds of Water. It was a training school for navy re cruits and the young ensign had been detailed to teach the “rookies” the ru diments of learning. “Name the various bodies of water,” wrote he on the blackboard, “and state how many there are.” It was a simple Question to big John Henry. “Two kinds of water,” wrote be, "earm and rouf.” Aggrieved. "Did you say that my production Is a thoughtful, educational and moral entertainment which couldn’t offend the most refined sensibilities?” aBked the manager. “Yes,” replied the playgoer. “Isn’t it true?” “Maybe it is. But I don't see why you should want to knock business by talking about it” A Test. “At last," said the young woman, “I am sure that I have made my com mencement essay properly profound and dignified.” “How do you know?” "I read it to father and he didn't understand a word of 1L” A man is too credulous when his only reason for believing a thing is that his grandfather said it was so. It Depends. He—W-w-wlll you k-k-kiss m-m-mel She (shyly)—How long will the reel thing take? ALLEN'S FOOT-EASE for the THOOFS Over 100,000 packages of Allen’s Foot-Ease, tbs antiseptic powder to shake Into your shoes, art being used by the Qerman and Allied troops al ths Front because it rests the feet, gives In stant relief to Corns and Bunions, hot, swollen, aching, tender feet, and makes walking easy, Sold everywhere, S5c. Try It TODAY. ZV» 1 >, .