gg- ■ .-.— ' - '.
I THE GLOVED HAND |j
^ T>etec1ix)e Story
(By BURTON E. STEVENSON
Author of "The Hoiladay Case,” "The Marathon Mystery,” "The
Mystery of the Boulo Cabinet,” etc.
> - --—-^
CHAPTER H—(Continued.)
“It Is absurd.” I assented, “and yet
(t Isn't much more absurd than to sup
pose that two men would go out on the
roof every night to watch a Roman
candle, as you call it, come down. Un
lass, of course, they’re lunatics.”
"No,” said Godfrey, "I don’t believe
they’re lunatics—at least, not both of
them. I have a sort of theory about
ft: but it’s a pretty thin one. and I
want you to do a little Investigating on
your own account before I tell you
What It Is. It’s time »ve went to bed.
Don’t get up In the morning till you’re
ready to. Probably I’ll not see you till
flight; I have some work to do that
t»iU take me off early, liut Mrs. Har
E» will make you comfortable, and I’ll
■ back In time to Join you in another
ok at the Roman candle!”
He uttered the last words Jestingly,
but I could see that the jest was a sur
face one, and that, at heart, he was
deeply serious. Evidently, the stVange
•tar had impressed him even more than
It had me—though, perhaps, in a dif
ferent manner.
1 found that It had impressed me
(Jeeply enough, for I dreamed about It
(hat night—dreamed and awoke, only to
fall asleep and dream and wake again,
t d<> not remember that 1 saw uny more
1n the dream than I had seen with my
Waking eyes, but each time I awoke
trembling with apprehension and
bathed in perspiration. As 1 lay there
the second time, staring up into the
tSarknoss ami telling myself I was a
Cool, there came a sudden rush of
wind among the trees outside; then
a vivid flash of lightning and an
instant rending crash of thunder,
and then a steady downpour of rain,
f could guess how the gasping city
Welcomed it, and I lay for a long
time listening to it, as it dripped from
the. leaves and beat agulnst the
louse. A delightful coolness filled tho
room, an odor fresh and clean; and
fvhen. at last, with nerves quieted, I
(ell asleep again, it was not to awaken
t-ntil the sun was bright agulnst my
(jrtalns.
CHAPTER III. \
THE DRAMA IN THE GARDEN.
I glanced at my watch, as soon as I
Anas out of bed. and saw that it was
After 10 o'clock. All the sleep I had
font during the hot nights of the pre-.
Vlous week had been crowded into the
last nine hours: I felt like a new man,
*nd when, half an hour later. I ran
townstalrs, it was with such an ap
petite for breakfast as 1 had not known
for a 'ong time.
There was no one in the hall, and I
Hepped out through the open door to
the porch beyond, and stood looking
about me. The house was built in the
taldst of a grove of beautiful old trees,
some distance back from tho road, of
Which I could catch only a glimpse. It
was a small house, a story and a half
|n height, evidently designed only as
k summer residence.
"Good morning, sir.” said a voice be
hind me. and I turned to find a plens
tnt faced grav haired woman standing
i the doorway.
"Good morning." I responded. "I
•oppose you are Mrs. Hargis?"
"Yes. sir; and your breakfast’s
♦eady.”
"Has Mr. Godfrey gone?"
“Yes. sir; he left about an hour ago.
tie was afraid his machine would
Waken you."
“It didn’t,” I sold, as I followed her
back along the hall. “Nothing short
of an earthquake would hava wakened
me. Ah. this Is fine!"
She had shown me into a pleasant
loom, where a little table was set near
in open window. It made quite a pic
ture. with its white cloth and shining
dishes and plate of yellow butter, and
bowl of crimson berries, and—but I
didn't linger to admire it. I don't know
when I have enjoyed breakfast so
much. Mrs. Hargis, after bringing in
the eggs and bacon and setting a lit
tle pot of steaming coffee at my el
bow, sensibly left me alone tc the en
joyment of It. Kver since that morn
ing, I have realized that, to start the
d»y exactly right, a man should break
fast by himself, amid just such sur
roundings, leisurely and without dis
traction. A copy of the morning's Rec
ord was lying on the table, but I did
mot even open it. I did not care what
Wad happened in the world the day
before!
At last, ineffahly content. I stepped
but upon the driveway at the side of
«he house, and strolled away among the
trees. At the end of a few minutes,
I came to tho high stone wait which
bounded the estate of the myterlous
Worthington Vaughan, and suddenly
the wish came to me to see what lay
behind it. Without much difficulty, I
found the tree with the ladder against
It. which wc had mounted the night be
fore. It was a long ladder, even in the
daytime, but at last I reached the top
and settled myself on tho limb against
which it rested. Assuring mysdf that
the leaves hid me from any chance
observer. I looked down into the
grounds beyond the wall.
There was not much to see. The
grounds were extensive and hud evi
dently been laid out with cure, hut
there was an air of neglect about them,
as though the attention they received
was careless and inadequate. The
sbrubberv was too dense, grass was
invading the walks, hero and there a
tree showed a dead limb or a broken
* no Near the house was a wide lawn.
I.CBignod. perhaps, as a tennis court or
eroquet ground, with rustic seats un
der the trees lit the edge.
About the house itself was a screen
■vt magnificent elms, which doubtless
•gave the place Us name, and which
•but the house in completely. All 1
could see of it was one corner of the
ioof. This, however, stood out clear
kgninst the sky, and it was here, evi
dently. that the mysterious midnight
Sgures had been stationed. As 1 looked
It it. I realized the truth of
Godfreys remark that prob
ably from no c'lher point of vantage
♦ at just ti ls would be visible.
It dhl no, take me many minutes to
•xhaust the Interest of this empty pros
<e» t, more 'specially since my perch
«vas anythin.? but comfortable, and I
was abou* to descend, when two white
robed '’.gurus appeared at tho edge of
the t-pen space near the house and
walked slowly across It. 1 settle back
Sato my place with a tightening of in
terest which made me forget Its dis
comfort. for that these were the two
I tar worshipers I did not doubt.
The distance was so great that their
isxx-s were the merest blurs; but I
mid see that one leaned heavily upon
te arm of the ether, as much, or so
seemed to me, for moral as for phys
<■»! eoptort. I could see. too. that tha
2
hair of the feebler man was white,
while that of his companion was Jet
black. The younger man's face ap
peared bo dark that I suspected he wore
a beard, and his figure was erect and
vigorous, in the prime of life, virile and
full of power.
He certainly dominated the older
man. I watched them attentively, as
they paced back and forth, and the de
pendence of tho one upon the other
was very manifest. Both heads were
bent as though In earnest talk and. for
perhaps half an hour, they walked Blow- .
ly up and down. Then, at a sign of
fatigue from the older figure, the other
led him to a garden bench, where both ,
sat down.
The elder man, I told myself, was no
doubt Worthington Vaughan. Small
wonder he was considered queer if ho
dressed habitually In a white robe and
worshiped tho stars at midnight! Thero
was something monkish about tho hab
its which ho and his companion wore,
and the thought flashed Into my mind ,
that perhaps they were members of
some religious order, or some Oriental :
cult or priesthood. And both of them. j
I udded to myself, must be a little ,
mad!
As I watched, tho discussion gradu- j
ally grew more animated, nnd the ,
younger man, springing to his feet, j
paced excitedly up and down, touching ,
his forehead with his fingers from time ,
to time, and raising his hands to hear- ,
en. as though calling It as a witness to
his words. At last tho other made a
sign of assent, got to his feet, bent his ]
heud reverently as to a spiritual supe- ,
rlor and walked slowly away toward
the house. The younger man stood gaz- .
lng after him until he passed from ,
sight, then resumed his rapid pacing
up and down, evidently deeply moved.
At last, from the direction of tho ,
house, came the flutter of a white robe.
For a moment, I thought It was the old .
man returning; then, as it emerged ful- 1
ly from the trees, I saw that it was a
woman—a young woman, I guessed,
from her slimness, and from the mass
of dark hair which framed her face. ,
And then I remembered that Godfrey j
had told mo that Worthington Vaughan
had a daughter.
The man was at her side In an In
stant. held out his hand, and said
something, which caused her to shrink ,
away. She half turned, as though to
flee, but the other laid his hand upon
her arm, speaking earnestly, and, after .
a moment. Hhe permitted him to lead ;
her to a seat. He remained standing ,
before her, sometimes raising his hands .
to heaven, sometimes pointing toward ,
the house, sometimes bending close
above her, and from time to time, mak- j
lng that peculiar gesture of touching 1
his fingers to Ills forehead, whose ,
meaning I could not guess. But I could ;
guess at tho torrent of passionate words !
which pourea from his Ups. and at the ,
eager light whl^h was in his eyes!
The woman ‘ sat quite still, with ]
bowed head, listening, but making no
sign either of consent or refusal. Grad- ,
ually, the man grew more confident, ,
and at Inst stooped to tnko her hand,
but she drew It quickly away, and, rals- (
lng her head, said something slowly ]
and with emphasis. He shook his head ,
savagely, then, after a rapid turn up j
and down, seemed to agree, bowed low j
to her. nnd went rnpidly away townrd ‘
the house. Tho woman sat for seme ,
time where he had left her, her face ,
In her hands: then, with a. gesture of (
weariness and discouragement, crossed (
tho lawn and disappeared among the f
trees.
For a long time T sat there motion- t
less, my eyes on the spot where she ,
had disappeared, trying to understand, j
What was the meaning of the scene? (
What was It the 'younger man had »
urged so passionately upon her. but j
at which she had rebelled? What was ,
It for which he had pled so earnestly? t
The obvious answer was that he pled
for her love, that he had urged her to t
become Ills wife: but the answer did r
not satisfy me. His attitude had been s
passionate enough, but It had scarcely
been lover like. It had more of ad- \
monition, of warning, even of threat, f
than of entreaty in it. It was not the i
attitude of a lover to his mistress, i
but of a master to his pupil. c
And what had been the answer,
wrung from her finally by his Insist- J
once—the answer to which he had at 1
tirst violently dissented, and then re- '
luctantly agreed ? 1
No doubt, if these people had been 1
garbed in the clothes of every day, 1
l should have felt at the outset that 1
.all this was none of my business, and !J
have crept down the ladder and gone 1
away. But their strange dross
gave to the scene an air at
once unreal and theatrical, and not for
an instant had I felt myself an Intru
der. It was as though 1 were looking at
the rehearsal of a drama designed for ,
the public gaze and enacted upon a
stage: or, more properly, a pantomime, i
dim and figurative, but most impres- <
sive. Might it not, indeed, be a re- J
hear sal of some sort—private theatri- J
cals—make believe? But that scene at
midnight—that could not be make be- J
lieve! No. nor was this) scene in the ‘
garden. It was in earnest—in dead- ‘
best earnest: there was about it some- 1
thing sinister and threatening; and it c
was the realization of this—the real- J
ization that there wus something here .
not right, something demanding acru- c
tiny—which kept me chained to my f
uncomfortable perch, minute aftor ,
minute.
But nothing further happened, and I *
realized, at last, that if I was to escape '
an agonizing cramp in the leg, I must *
get down. I put my feet on the ladder, (
and then paused for a last look about j
the grounds. My eye was caught by *
a flutter of white among the trees.
Someone was walking along one of the f
paths; in a moment, straining for- •
ward, l saw it was the woman, and •
that she was approaching the wall. <
And then, as she came nearer, 1 saw <
tli,it she was not a woman at all, but a *
girl—a girl of 18 or 20. to whom the !
flowing robee gave, at a distance, the !
effect of age. I caught only a glimpse 1
of her face before it was hidden by u i
clump of shrubbery, but that glimpse <
told me that it was a face to set the !
pulses leaping. I strained still farther 1
forward, waiting until she should come 1
into sight again. . .
Along the path she came, with the
sunlight about her kissing her hair, ’
her ltpa, her cheeks—and the next in
stant her eyes were staring upwaids
Into none.
1 could not move. I could only stare
down at her. I saw the hot color sweep <
across her face: I saw her hand go to
her bosom; I saw her turn to flee.
Then, to my amazement, she stopped,
I as though arrested by a sudden
I thought, turned toward me again, and
| raised her eyes deliberately to mine.
| For fully a minute she stood there, 4
rer gaze searching ana intent, as
though she would read my soul; then
her face hardened with sudden reso
lution. Again she put her hand to her
bosom, turned hastily toward the wail,
and disappeared behind it.
The next instant, something white
came flying over it, and fell on the
grass beneath my tree. Staring down
at it, I saw it was a letter.
CHAPTER IV.
ENTER FREDDIE SWAIN.
I fell, rather than climbed, down the
ladder, snatched the white missile from
the grass, and saw that it was, indeed
a sealed and addressed envelope. I had
somehow expected that address to in
clude either Godfrey’s name or mine;
but it did neither. The envelope bore
these words:
MU. FREDERIC SWAIN,
1010 Fifth Avenue.
New York C.ity.
If not at this address,
please try the Calumet club.
I sat down on the lowest rung of the
ladder, whistling softly to myself. For
Freddie Swain’s address was no longer
1010 Fifth avenue, nor was he to be
found in the luxurious rooms of the
rialumet club. In fact, it was nearly
x year since he had entered .either
place. For some eight hours of every
iveek day, he labored in the law of
’iccs of Royce <fc Lester; ho slept in
i little room on the top floor of the
Vlarathon; three hours of every eve
ilng, Saturday, Sundays and holidays
accepted, were spent at the law school
if the University of New York; and
he remaining hours of the 24 in haunts
nuch less conspicuous and expensive
han the Calumet club.
For Freddie Swain had taken one of
hose toboggan Blides down the hill of
'ortune which sometimes happen to
;he most deserving. Hie father, old
Jen. Orlando Swain, had, all his life,
nit up a pompous front and was sup
>osed to have inherited a fortune from
lomewhere; but, when he died, this
edifice was found to be all facade and
10 foundation, and Freddie inherited
lothing but debts. He had been ex
jensively educated for a career as an
irnument of society, but he found that
•areer cut short, for society suddenly
:eaeed to find him ornamental. I sup
>ose there were too many marriageable
laughters about!
I am bound to say that he took the
ilow well. Instead of attempting to
ling to the skirts of society as a ven
ler of champagne or an organizer of
otps champetres. he—to use his own
vords—decided to cut the whole show.
Our firm had been named as the
idmlnistrators of the Bwain estate, and
vhen the storm was over and we wero
itting among the ruins, Freddie ex
ircssed the intention of going to work.
“What will you do?" Mr. Royce in
luired. "Ever had any training in
linking money?"
"No, only in spending it," retorted
•"reddle, easily. "But I can learn. I wras
hlnking of studying law. That’s a
rood trade, isn’t it?"
"Splendid!” assented Mr. Royce,
varmly. "And there are always so
nany openings. You see, nobody studies
aw—lawyers are as scarce as hen's
"Just the same, I think I'll have a
try at it," said Freddie, sturdily. “There's
always room at the top, you know,”
he added, with a grin. “I can go to
the night school at the university, and
I ought to be able to earn enough to
live on, as a clerk or something. I
know how to read and ■write."
"That will help, of course,” agreed
Mr. Royce. “But I’m afraid that, right
at first, anyway, you can scarcely hope
to live in the style to which you have
been accustomed."
Freddie turned on him with fire in
his eyes.
“Look here,” he said, “suppose you
give me a job. I’ll do my work and
earn my wages—try me and see.’’
There was something in his face that
touched me, and I glanced at Mr.
Royce. I saw that Ills gruffness was
merely a mantle to cloak his real feel
ings; and the result %vas that Freddie
Swain was set to work as a copying
clerk at a salary of $15 a week. He
applied himself to his work with an1
energy that surprised me, and I learned
that he was taking the night course at
the university, as he had planned. Fin
ally, one night, I met him as I was
turning in to my rooms at the Mara
thon, and found that he had rented
a cubby-hole on the top floor of the
building. After that, I saw him oc
casionally, and when six months had
passed, was forced to acknowledge that
ho was thoroughly in earnest. I hap
pened to remark to Mr. Royce one day
that Swain seemed to be making good.
“Yes,” my partner agreed; "I didn’t
think ho had it in him. Ho had a rude
awakening from his dream of affluence,
and it seems to have done him good.”
But. somehow, I had fancied that it
was from more than a dream of af
fluence he had been awakened; and
now. as I sat staring at this letter, i
began to understand dimly what the
other dream had been.
The first thing was to get the letter
into his hands, for I was certain that
It was a cry for help. I glanced at my
watch and 3a\v that it was nearly half
past 12. Swain, I knew, would be at
lunch, and was not due at the office
until 1 o’clock. Slipping the letter into
my pocket, I turned back to the house,
and found Mrs. Hargis standing on the
front porch.
(Continued next week.)
Paris Safa But Sober.
From Century Magazine.
"Paris is safe now, and, like an in
valid Just out of danger, is able to
sit up and see a few friends. The
Folies Bergeres! IIow like old times!
Surely you won’t be able to help
laughing there! In that slim and
preoccupied audience there is a dry
laugh or two occasionally, but mostly
they dream at the ceiling. Comedy
scenes go for pathos, and pathos—
men rise, yawn, and walk out. Is this
a dress rehearsal, college boys’ the
atricals, or what? The house drifts
further and further away until sud
denly—’La Marseillaise!’ and the
crowd is on its feet, electrified. Join
ing in the chorus, shouting 'Vive la
France!’ With the waving tricolor
for a spur the show picks up for a
while until a shouddor runs through
the spectators—oh, that fancy bay
onet drill by the chorus! And now
the women leave; their faces are a
little white.
“No. the city has little appetite for
gaiety; it is gripping realities. A
myriad poignant needs keep Paris
busy. And as the trained nurse in the
operating room does not laugh or ask
questions, but silently passes the in
struments, so anxious, obedient Paris
is straining every nerve to assist the
surgeon, and has no thought for any
thing but war. And, stimulated by its
great peril, that thought has been so
concentrated by suffering, by sacri
fice, and service, that Paris has been
lifted into a new order of being. It
has gone on, it lias gone up."
The Interborough Association of
Female School Teachers in New York
has a membership of over 15,000.
The latest thing in jewelry for wom
en is the nose diamond, which is al
ready becoming popular in San Fran
cisco.
Mrs. William Bishop, aged 37, of
Wlnsted. Conn., has just given birth to
her 17th child.
Princess Margaret, of Denmark, it is
said, will become the bride of the
prince of Wales at the conclusion of
the war.
\ ONE ON THE OLD SQUIRE
Child’s Misconstruction that Must
Have Been in a Slight Degree
Disconcerting.
Tlie kindly old squire was giving a
little treat to the village school chil
dren. After supper he stepped on to
the platform and announced, with a
beaming smile:
"Now, I am going to perform cer
tain actions, and you must guess what
proverb they represent. The boy or
girl who succeeds first will receive
a quarter.”
That did it. Instantly every eye
was fixed on him.
First of all the old gentleman lay
down on the platform. Then one man
came forward and tried in vain to lift
him. Two others came to his aid,
and between them they raised the
squire, who was rather portly.
The actions were meant to repre
sent the motto, "Union is strength.”
When they had finished, the squire
stepped forward and asked if any child
had solved the puzzle.
At once a grubby hand shot up and
an eager voice squeaked:
“Let sleeping dogs lie.”
Some merchants need larger quar
ters and some need more quarters.
----
Write Plnrlne Kjre ltemedy Co.,r<ilcago
for illustrated Book of the Eye Free.
Some women are happy because
they know iiow to think they are.
Dr. Pierce’s Pellets are best for liver,
bowels and Btomaeh. One little Pellet for
a laxative—three for a cathartic.—Adv.
How He Saw the Louvre.
A French literary man fell in with
one of the new order of American
commercial men the other night and
asked him if he had seen the sights
of Paris.
‘■‘Yes,” he said, “but I find that the
police have closed most of the sights.”
“Oh, no,” said his literary friend,
"the real sights of Paris, the monu
ments, are always open—the Pan
theon, Notre Dame, the Invalides, the
Madeleine and the Louvre.”
“Ah, yes. 1 have seen the Louvre
thoroughly.”
"Thoroughly?” said the French
liomme de lettres in surprise, recall
ing the labyrinthian vastness of the
Louvre collection, “and how long did
it take you?"
“Fully an hour," was the reply
which has left the Frenchman puz
zled ever since.
Only Once.
“Do you see the man?"
“Yes. I see the man."
“What is he doing?”
“He is blowing his fingers, jumping
up and down and acting in such a way j
that his wife looks at him in aston- ,
ishment and fear. There, he lias
kicked over two chairs, torn down ;
the lace curtains and made a rush for |
the kitchen.”
“But has the man gone crazy all of ;
a sudden?”
“Oh, no; he was hunting for a col- !
lar button and picked up his wife's |
red-hot curling tongs in an absent \
way. Lots of husbands -do that — ;
once. He won't speak to her for the I
next three days, but he will not die
of his injuries, and the experience
may do him good.”
Scheme Didn’t Work.
“I tipped every waiter in the (lining
room." said the man at the summer
hotel.
"And thereby secured the best of
attention?"
“No. The head waiter asserted his
authority and called a boycott. He
was indignant because I didn't hold
out on the other boys and give all
the money to him."
DEMAND FOR PURE ENGLISH
New York Publication Criticizes the
Style in Which Street Car No
tices Are Worded.
“Public notices ought to be exam
ples of the best writing. They should
be written by masters of style. Take,
for example, the notice in the street
cars:
“Passengers requiring transfers
must request same from conductors
at the time of depositing fares in
box.”
Of course, that is understandable.
It is about as good English as one
would expect in a judge’s opinion. But
it is not good enough for a notice that
hundreds of thousands of people are
to read every day. Here is New York
spending forty millions a year for lit
erary and other instruction for chil
dren who, when they ride in the street
cars, are exposed to managers’ Eng
lish and taught, as to transfers, to "re
quest same irom conductors.”
Shocking! Of course the notice
ought to read:
"Passengers who want transfers
must ask for them when they put
their fares in the box.”—Life.
RECOGNIZED DEBT TO MICE
Mr. Growcher Grateful That He Didn’t
Have to Partake of the
Welch Rabbit.
"Yep,” said Mr. Growcher. "nothing
was made in vain. Everything that
earth produces may serve some useful
purpose, if you can only find out what
it is. There is a whole lot to think
about in that story of the mouse
who gnawed the net for the captured
lion.”
“Mebbe there is,” replied his wife.
“But I’m willing to bet that was the
only kind and considerate mouse
known to the animal kingdom.”
“You are wrong. Have you forgot
ten that Welsh rabbit party we at- ,
tended last night?”
“Yes. But there wasn’t any Welsh
rabbit?"
"And as a result we are all comfort
able and happy today instead of be
ing miserable and dyspeptic. And we
owe it all to the fact that a few kind
hearted mice sneaked around during
the afternoon and ate up the cheese.”
Appropriate Prescription.
The following is from New Zealand,
where, apparently, “accidents happen
in the best regulated’’ military camps.
An officer attached to one of the re
enforcement drafts was making his
rounds, and asked if there were any
complaints. An Aucklander stepped
forward and declared that he had been
supplied with a ginger-ale bottle that
contained not gingerale but benzine,
and that he had drunk half the. ben
zine unwittingly.
'All right." replied the officer, “you
had better not smoke for a few days."
Sad Pleasure.
A minister who had resigned from
his church was making his farewell
calls. He called at the home of one
of his parishioners who sent her lit
tle girl down to the parlor to en
tertain the minister for a few min
utes, the mother not being dressed to
receive him. After a lew of the cus
tomary remarks about the weather the
little girl said to the minister:
‘.’1 hear that we are to have the
sad pleasure of losing you.”
Not Particular.
“Jones says he's for peace at any
price."
“Oh, Jones would be for anything
at any price.”
There’s nothing like being ready
when opportunity knocks.
HAVE YOU o.,
A CHILD?
Many women long for children, but because ol
Some curable physical derangement are deprived
of this greatest of all happiness.
The women whose names follow were restored
to normal health by Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegeta
ble Compound. Write and ask them about it.
“I took your Com
pound and have a fine,
strong baby.” — Mrs.
John Mitchell, Mas
sena, N. Y.
“Lydia E. Pinkham’s
Vegetable Compound is a
wonderful medicine for
expectant mothers. ’ ’ —
Mrs. A. M. Myers, Gor
donville, Mo.
“I highly recommend
Lydia E. Pinkham’s Veg
etable Compound before
child-birth, It has done so
much for me.”—Mrs. E.
M. Doerr, R. R. 1, Con
shohocken, Pa.
“ I took Lydia E. Pink
ham’s Vegetable Com
pound to build up my
system and have the
dearest baby girl in the
world.”—Mrs. Mose
Blakeley, Coalport, Pa.
“I praise the Com
pound whenever I have
a chance. It did so much
for me before my little
girl was bom.”—Mrs.
E. W. Sanders, Rowles
burg, W. Va.
“I took your Com
pound before baby was
born and feel I owe mv
life to it."—Mrs. Winn/*
Tillis, Winter Haven*'
Florida. ”
Insulted the “Copper.”
Through the busy streets a stal
wart policeman led a little child by
the hand.
A motherly looking woman paused
before them for a moment. Then, in
i sudden burst of sympathy, she bent
over the child and kissed her.
“Poor lamb!” she breathed sadly.
"She looks so cold and etarvedlike,
and she hasn't been washed for a
week. Some folks cannot be trusted
with children, wicked, cruel things
they are. Where did you find the child,
policeman?" ^
"Find the child, woman?” snarled
the policeman angrily, “i didn’t And
tier at all. She's my own kid!"
His Lavish Linguipotence.
"Those sonorous sentences that the
Hon. Bray Louder rolls forth with
meh an impressive wealth of masto
iontic pomposity and overpowering
orotundity—”
“Yeah! Sounds like the. water com
ing down at Lodore in MeGcffev's old
l'hird Leader, doesn’t it? The hon
arable keeps a large collection of port
y platitudes preserved in glass jar#
:or the obfuscation of the unthink
ing."—Kansas City Star.
It Surely Is.
“Pa, what is affectation?"
'Affectation, my son, is carrying
hree extra tires on an automobile
hat never gets more than tour blocks
iway from a garage."—Detroit Free
Press. J
The Exception.
“All tile world loves a lover."
"Except the boss who is expected
o raise his salary on the wedding
lay.” __
The Breakfast
Shapes the Day
Load the stomach up with a breakfast
of rich, greasy food, and you clog both
digestion and mind.
For real work—real efficiency—try a il
breakfast of T.
Grape-Nuts
and Cream
Some fruit, an egg, toast, and a cup of
hot Postum.
Then tackle the work ahead with vigor
and a keen mind. There’s joy in it
Grape-Nuts is a food for winners.
“There’s a Reason”
1
Sold by Grocers everywhere.
