——————
SYNOPSIS
Victoria Herrendeen, a vivacious little
girl, had been too young to feel the
shock that came when her father, Keith
Herrendeen. lost his fortune. A gentle,
unobtrusive soul, he is now employed
as an obscure chemist in San Francisco,
at a meager salary. His wife, Magda,
cannot adjust herself to the change. She
is a beautiful woman, fond of pleasure
and a magnet for men's attention.
Magda and Victoria have been down at
a summer resort and Keith joins them
for the week-end. Magda leaves for a
bridge party, excusing herself for be
ing such a "runaway.” The Herrendeens
return to their small San Francisco
apartment. Keith does not approve of
Magda's mad social life and they quar
rell frequently. Magda receives flowers
from a wealth" man from Argentina
whom she had met less than a week
before. Manners arrives a few hours
later. Magda takes Victoria to Nevada to
visit a woman friend who has a daughter
named Catherine. There she tells her
she is going to get a divorce. Victoria
soon is in boarding school with her
friend Catherine. Magda marries Man
ners and they spend two years in Argen
tina. Victoria has studied in Europe
and at eighteen she visits her mother
when Ferdy rents a beautiful home.
Magda is unhappy over Ferdy’s drink
ing and attentions to other women. Vic
dislikes him. When her mother and step
father return to South America, Victoria
refuses to go with them because of Fer
dy's unwelcome attentions to her.
Magda returns and tells Vic she and
Ferdy have separated. Meanwhile Keith
has remarried. Victoria is now a stu
dent nurse. Magda has fallen in love
with Lucius Farmer, a married artist.
While she and Vic prepare for a trip
to Europe, Ferdy takes a suite in
their hotel. The night before Magda
and Vic are to sail, Magda elopes with
Lucius Farmer. While nursing the chil
dren of Dr. and Mrs. Keats, Vic meets
Dr. Quentin Hardisty, a brilliant physi
cian, much sought after by women,
who is a widower with a crippled daugh
ter. In a tete-a-tete at the Keats home,
he kisses Vic. Several days later he
Invites her with other guests to spend a
week-end at his cabin.
CHAPTER V—Continued
Five o’clock came. Six o’clock
came.
“Nervous, huh?” Quentin Har
disty asked, looking up.
“Not very,” the girl smiled, flush
ing.
“Why at all?”
“Well, then, not nervous at all!”
Vic said, laughing. “But there is
something fundamentally—disturb
ing about being shut up in a lone
mountain cabin with a handsome
and fascinating man,” she re
minded him.
“Listen, why do you rub in that
fascinating, handsome stuff? That’s
the third time.”
“The second, I think.”
“I’ve seen you,” the man insist
ed, “when you were nothing short
of—well, there’s only one word for
it, beautiful.”
“Thank you. Seriously, there
aren’t many real beauties, and the
few I’ve known have had a vile
time!”
“Well, coming back to first prin
ciples,” Dr. Hardisty said, “don’t
worry about the Uphams; they’ll get
here. And if they didn’t, I assure
you that you’d be as safe as my
own sister.”
The girl looked across at him,
handsome and brown, and quite se
rious, in the soft fire and lamplight,
and her heart gave an odd twist, a
physical plunge of emotion. Her
throat thickened suddenly, and she
felt silly and confused. But she
gave no sign of it, and before either
she or her host spoke again the Up
hams arrived, in a gay flurry of
apologies, and after that everything
was smooth sailing.
The two women were relegated
to the south alcove, drew their cur
tain, and proceeded with their un
packing and changing to a lively
exchange of gossip. Dora was go
ing to have a baby in six months;
nobody knew it but Chase, but they
were tremendously excited. Vic
was all sympathetic enthusiasm
here. There might be some ques
tion in her heart and mind as to
wifehood, but motherhood was all
joy.
“Oh, Dora, I envy you!”
"I’m terribly happy about it.”
“Isn’t this fun, being over here
together, and just ourselves!”
“I adore this shack. We had our
honeymoon here. And isn’t he a
darling? Vic — listen — ” Dora
paused.
“Oh, shut up!” Vic said, deny
ing the impeachment before it was
voiced.
“No, but listen, don’t you think
he’s darling?”
“Dr. Hardisty? Yes, I do.”
“If he liked you?”
“There isn’t the slightest chance
of it, even if you continue to broad
cast your romantic suspicions all
over Mill Valley!” Vic began. Dora
sank her voice to a whisper.
“Just the same—They can't hear,
their shower’s going,” Dora said.
“Just the same you’d be an awful
fool not to marry him if you could,
Vic.”
“I’ll never marry anyone,” Vic
said, putting on a blue apron, “un
til I’m foaming at the mouth about
him. And I’ll never foam at the
mouth about anyone, for before I
reach that point, I’ll take my little
throat indoors and cut it. So don’t
worry about me!”
Trimly equipped, they went out
to the kitchen, where the younger
doctor was mixing something liq
uid in a small pail, and the older
one busy with a salad.
They all worked together, getting
in each other’s way, getting more
and more hungry as the clock’s
hands slipped from half-past six to
seven, from seven to eight. The
boy carried the steaks into the shed,
where they were to broil on a char
coal fire. Victoria sampled the salad
on a bit of crackef.
“That,” she said firmly, “is the
most delicious salad I ever tasted!”
It was a long and delightful meal.
Presently they carried their cups
to the fire, and Mock Suey cleared
away the table, and still nobody
made a move to go to bed, and the
logs burned on, and the level
branches of the redwoods swept
across the low roof in the restless
wind of the spring night.
“You girls going to freeze?”
“Believe me, we have our hot
water bottles,” Dora said firmly.
Victoria, raising her eyes with a
sleepy smile, met Quentin Hardis
ty’s steady look, and was disturbed
to feel herself flushing. But when
she and Dora finally did drag them
selves off to the raised platform
where their beds were, and had
drawn the canvas curtain against
the warm sitting room and the fire,
she was conscious of a sort of
dancing excitement in her veins.
This was all such fun!
There was a rattle at the curtain
rings. Victoria put her head through
them and found Quentin Hardisty
standing close to her at the other
side.'
Victoria’s hair had been gathered
to the top of her head in a mass of
careless, tawny curls; her young
face was rosy from heroic washing
with scented soap, her eyes danced.
“Here are two extra—things,” the
doctor said a little confusedly.
“They’re stone hot-water bottles;
some people like ’em. Anyway,
they’ll keep hot until morning.”
“Oh, God bless you, mister!” Vic
toria said, the curtains parting as
she put out her arms to show her
slim body in square, blue-striped
pajamas open at the soft young
throat.
“You look like a doll!” the man
said in a whisper.
Victoria stood still, her throat sud
denly thick. She smiled at him
confusedly.
“You’re lovely!” Quentin said. He
laid his hand on her arm. “Good
night!” he said, and somehow the
lAMM
*** /*
‘‘And Isn't He a Darling?”
familiar little word was not a fare
well. It was everything quivering,
thrilling, amazing, breath-taking.
Hardly knowing what she did, car
ried away from her moorings by an
impulse thousands of years older
than she was, Victoria stooped a
little from her higher position,
rested her face against his for one
second of madness and vertigo, and
breathed an answering “Good
night!”
But in the morning she forgot
everything except that a new deli
cious day had dawned and had
brought complete happiness with it.
Everyone was in wild spirits on
this singing spring morning.
“How about a walk?” Quentin
said then. The Uphams declined.
Chase was sleepy, and Dora tired.
But Victoria, in an old, short skirt,
a white cap, an enveloping borrowed
sweater of Quentin’s, was all ready
for it. She and her host went oil
together for one of life’s happy
hours.
They climbed straight up the
great shoulder of the mountain;
stopped, panting and flushed, to get
their breath and to look down on
the sparkling world; went on again.
The sun was hot on the singing
blue February morning, but the
ground under their feet, especially
when the trail went into the woods,
was soaked and slippery from re
cent rains. Quentin gave her his
hand; she slid against him; they
both laughed.
Reaching the summit of the spur
with the dark blue rise of Tamalpais
high above them, they sat upon a
sun-warmed rock for a while, look
ing down, breathing in the aromatic
sweetness of the still, clear air, list
ening to the cries of larks all about
and the occasional scream of a jay
or chatter of a chipmunk in the
chaparral.
When they started to slip and
slide down, the going was infinitely
easier, especially with the tree
smothered brown goal of the cabin
roof right ahead. Vicky and Quen
tin came back to the cabin at one j
o’clock, breathless, ravenous and
weary.
Once again the quartette that
gathered about the table was in
gala mood. More than once again
Victoria told herself that this was
one of the good days, this was one
of the satisfying times!
But just after the leisurely meal
there was an interruption. A car
came up the circuitous bit of road
way to the porch with the speed of
familiarity. Quentin’s expressian of
horrified expectation, at which Vic
toria had been laughing, changed to
one of odd embarrassment, of some
thing like faint annoyance—like
gratification.
“It’s Marian, it’s Mrs. Pool,” he |
had time to say under his breath
before he went out to welcome her.
“Oh, help!” Dora commented,
disgustedly. Victoria said nothing.
But the glory, the content of the day
instantly were destroyed. It was
with a sense of dullness, a vague
feeling of hurt that she entered upon
the requisite moving of chairs and
shifting of places to make room for
the newcomer. Marian Pool, lovely
in the smartest of sportwear, came
into the room with a rush and stood
with her head tipped a little on one
side, apologetically smiling at them
all.
“Oh, you’re having a party! Oh,
how shameless of me!” she said.
“But why on earth are you eating
at half-past four o'clock? Sit down,
everyone—do sit down, Dr. Upham
—here, everyone sit down!”
They all sat down, and Victoria
saw the expression on Quentin Har
disty’s face. He saw nothing but
Marian.
“We’re all driving up for supper
at Maud’s,” the newcomer said.
“I’ve dropped Sally and George in
the village to see the Cushings. It
occurred to me that Quentin here
had entirely forgotten that he prom
ised to be at Maud’s, and I told
them I’d come up and get him. It’s
.the golf thing, Quentin, and after
ward a big supper at Pete’s.”
“Sure; I hadn’t forgotten ” Quen
tin said, in a lazy, smiling voice.
His eyes caressed her.
“You did tell me you had a house
party!”
“We didn’t know it ranked as a
house party, did we, Dora?”
“I beg pardon?” Dora stam
mered, starting.
“You don’t remember me, Mrs.
Pool?” Victoria said, in the dread
ful moment of silence when every
one stirred and smiled, but no one
had anything to say. “Victoria Her
rendeen—down at the lodge, years
ago?”
“Oh, frightful, don’t remind me
of those ghastly days,” Mrs. Pool
said lightly, her eyes on Quentin.
“That was before, all blushes and
confusion, I got my divorce! I cried
all day, when I was first married,
and danced all night when I got
my divorce. I mean I really did,
Quen.”
The dullness, the wearisome stu
pidness of it all deepened. Vic,
from the moment her eyes had first
fallen upon the visitor, had known
that it would.
“She is beautiful—perfectly beau
tiful,” Victoria said to Dora, when
they were gathering brushes and
jars in the bathroom.
“I don’t see it,” Dora answered
stubbornly, and Victoria laughed
without much mirth. To deny Mar
ian’s flawless and amazing beauty
would be to deny the mystery of the
stars, the glory of an apple orchard
in the spring. It worked upon men
like an irresistible anesthetic.
Vicky and the Uphams were swift
and brief in their farewells. The
girl admitted she was tired; the
day’s happiness, cooking, tramping,
making fires had not tired her, but
there was no shred of the felicity
left, and she felt jaded and weary.
The Mill Valley visit had ended in
hurt and failure.
The drive home was dull and flat,
and the atmosphere of the Keats
nursery, when Victoria entered it,
somehow jarred on her nerves.
“Violet,” she said, some days lat
er, when she and Mrs. Keats were
lunching together, “did Dr. Keats
talk to you about my going to Hono
lulu?”
“You mean Miss Reynolds’ rec
ommending you for it?”
“It’s definite now. I’ve a letter
here from Dr. Bert about it.”
A cloud came over the older wom
an's face.
“Vicky, I’d be so sorry to see you
go!”
“Why would you, Vi?”
“Well, for the obvious reasons, of
course,” the cultured English voice
said. “Because Mother depends so
on you, and we all do! But it isn’t
*
only that. I’m thinking of you.
Girls do get so entirely out of touch
in those places. I know it. My fa
ther was at Barbados when I was a
girl; it’s much the same thing. The
life gets one; it’s easy, insular, un
ambitious. After a bit you’re tell
ing visitors that you’ve been there
ten years, fifteen years. In a few
years there's no out.”
“Vi, I’m going away on account
of Quentin Hardisty," Victoria said.
Mrs. Keats was standing beside
her at the window; they did not
look at each other; there was a
silence.
'Tve got to get away before I
make a complete fool of myself—
before he knows,” Victoria pres
ently added.
"You mean you—you like him?”
Violet Keats said in a stunned voice.
"I guess that about expresses it,”
Victoria said, with r brief laugh.
The thing happened quite simply
about ten days later. Victoria had
taken Kate down to Dr. Hardisty’s
offices to have one of the younger ;
men there look at a small sprained
elbow. He stood looking thought- !
fully at Vic and the child for a
U.1TJ
“You Mean Without Loving
Me?” Victoria Asked.
long minute, finally asked her. in
almost an absent voice, if she would
see him in his own office before she
went away.
Vic found her way to this guarded
and inaccessible sanctum made
strangely easy. Kate had a wrapped
molasses peppermint to console her
for recent indignities, and Vic sat
earnest and pretty in her new spring
clothes, looking in puzzled expec
tancy at the doctor.
“I want to talk for a few minutes,
and then you talk,” Quentin began.
He drew four firm parallel lines in
pencil on a scrap of paper, looking
at them, crumpled the paper and
threw it aside.
“I thought you said the other night
that you were lonesome, that you
were thinking of going to Honolulu
because you were lonesome?”
“I said it to Vi,” Vic admitted,
after a moment. Her heart
thumped.
“Why do you say that you said it
to Vi in that funny way?”
“I didn’t know I said it in a funny
way. I suppose I meant that I
didn’t say it to you.”
There was a pause, after which
the man recommenced:
“The thing is—” He hesitated.
“The thing is that I want a home,”
he said. “I want my little girl
with me. I told Violet about it and
asked her if she thought you'd take
the job. She said—did she tell you
this?”
“She didn’t tell me anything."
“Well, she said, ‘D’you mean as
a nurse and housekeeper, or as a
wife?’ I said, ‘Well, if you put it
that way, as a wife!’ D’you get what
I mean?” he finished. “I had been
saying ‘housekeeper,’ but maybe
what I meant all along was wife.”
He sat back.
“I see,” Victoria mused, not mov
ing her eyes from his. Color came
into her face and receded again and
they both laughed nervously.
“And—and, thank you!” she said
then, a little confusedly.
“I need a wife, badly,” the man
presently added. “Everyone knows
j that—Violet and John, everyone.
You’re the kind of woman I want
to marry, I admire you tremendous
ly. I—I like you very much.”
| “You mean without loving me?”
Victoria asked.
! “I thought—I thought that was
how you wanted it to be,” the man
said, simply.
Victoria looked at him thoughtful
ly, her breath uneven, her face
scarlet.
“Here’s the thing,” Quentin said,
as she did not speak. “I’d be aw
fully proud if you’d do it, really I
would. If you won’t I’m going to
get out for a while—I’ll go to Ger
many. But I d much rather not
get out, on account of Gwen, and my
hospital work—everything. What do
you say?”
(TO HE CONTINUED)
Had No Doors
Persons who like to let the entire
household know of their anger by
slamming a door or banging down
a window would have had to resort
to some other means in the early
days. For in the place of the door,
most early Ohio pioneers had only
a blanket or animal skin hanging in
the opening, while in the place of
windows with panes of glass they
used greased paper or an old gar
ment.
UNCOMMON
AMERICANS
•-•-•
By Elmo © Western
C „ ip' * Newspaper
Scott H atson Union
Man With Branded Hand
IN EVERGREEN cemetery in
Muskegon, Mich., stands a monu
ment which bears the inscription
"Capt. Walker's Branded Hand”
and below it a bas-relief of an open
hand with the letters "S. S.” on
the heel of the thumb. This monu
ment recalls one of the stirring in
cidents of pre-Civil war days and
marks the grave of a man who
played a part in bringing on that
conflict.
Capt. Jonathan Walker was
a Massachusetts sea captain and in
1844 was engaged in coastwise
trade. Hating negro slavery, Walk
er tried to help seven blacks, who
had fled from a Florida plantation,
escape to the Bahamas. He was
arrested, brought to Pensacola,
tried as a thief in federal court
and found guilty. He was sentenced
to be branded on the right hand
with the letters "S. S." (slave steal
er), to stand in the pillory one hour,
be imprisoned fifteen days and pay
a fine of !*150.
After the first part of the sentence
had been carried out, he was led
again into the courthouse. Or
dered to put his hand on the post of
the railing in front of the judge's
bench, Walker protested when the
marshal bound it fast to the post.
He declared that he could hold it
firm during the ordeal, but his pro
test was ignored and the branding
took place.
After his release from prison,
Walker went back to his home in
Massachusetts to find himself a hero
and a martyr. John Greenleaf Whit
tier wrote a poem in which he be
sought Walker to hold his branded
right hand aloft for all the world
to see. Abolitionist leaders recog
nized in the incident a potent ar
gument for their cause. Accompa
nied by a fugitive slave he traveled
through the North and lectured on
the evils of slavery.
The "Man with the Branded
Hand” became a famous figure and
he did much to arouse the North
and put it in a receptive frame of
mind for Harriet Beecher Stowe’s
"Uncle Tom’s Cabin” as a faithful
picture of the horrors of slavery.
In the '50’s Walker and his family
moved to Wisconsin and a few years
later bought a small fruit farm in
Michigan. There he lived during the
remainder of his days and there
he died in 1878, an almost forgotten
figure who had played no little part
in bringing on the greatest civil war
in history.
Cap’n Streeter, Squatter King
FIFTY years ago it was only a
sandbar on the shore of Lake
Michigan opposite Chicago’s famous
“Gold Coast.” Today towering sky
scrapers, huge office buildings, a
famous hotel and a great university
stand on land valued at half a bil
lion dollars. But Chicagoans still call
it “Streeterville,” thereby honor
ing the memory of Cap’n George
Wellington Streeter, who battled val
iantly against “them dern capital
ists” and held out for 30 years be
fore they finally dethroned this fa
mous “squatter king” from his
“Deestrict of Lake Michigan.”
Streeter was a Civil war vet
eran who became a boatman on the
Great Lakes. In 1884 ie built a 100
ton ship in which he started for
Honduras to take part in a revolu
tion then in progress. But his ship
went aground on a sandbar and
the skipper found himself marooned
several hundred yards out in Lake
Michigan from the Chicago shore
line. So he decided he might as well
stay right there. Out of the timbers
of his ship he and his wife, Maria,
built a little shack on their sandy
island and settled down.
But the rich owners of property
in that part of Chicago were extend
ing their riparian rights out into the
lake. As the little peninsulas of
filled-in land reached out toward the
captain's island, which had been en
larged by drifting sand, they decided
that his shack was an eyesore and
should be removed. They called on
the law to evict these squatters and
five husky constables started out to
do it. Cap’n Streeter put on his fight
ing costume—a nigh silk hat and
a frock coat—he and Maria took
muskets in hand ar.d the con
stables retreated hastily.
Streeter found an old map of the
city on which the boundary of Lake
Michigan was plainly marked. He
contended that the “made land”
was outside that boundary, there
fore it was under federal jurisdic
tion and he claimed it by right of
discovery. But the courts refused
to recognize his claim to this “Dees
trict of Lake Michigan.” He and
Maria were evicted time and again
but they always came back. So the
struggle went on year after year, in
court and out of court.
“Cap’n” Streeter died in 1921. But
his second wife, “Ma” Streeter, true
to her promise to him, carried it on
for several years more. Finally she
| had to give up the fight and Chica
go’s “Thirty Years' war” with the
“squatter king” came to end when
she died last year.
Talk About Smart Frocks
ia33
" % 1284
“ A UNT ALMA, there’s just one
** thing I don’t like about my
new dress—it’s so attractive I’m
afraid Sis over there will appro
priate it when I’m not looking.
Outside of that I'm crazy about it,
and I think yStire swell to make
it for me. Why—”
“What’s this, what’s this? If
that isn’t a laugh. Aunt Alma!
Imagine me wanting anybody’s
dress. Why since you’ve taught
me to sew-my-own I never want
anything. I just make it and that’s
that. This sport dress, for in
stance, took me only one after
noon.’
Praise From Auntie
“I think you do wonder&dly well
with your sewing, my deaiv You’ll
be making my clothes the first
thing I know. I feel especially
pleased with my new spring dress
and I have both of you to thank
for suggesting this style. It does
right well by my hips, and it’s so
comfortable through the shoul
ders. I guess I should diet but in
this dress I feel nice and slender.
Don’t you see, girls, how impor
tant it is to choose a style that’s
particularly becoming? It’s abid
ing by this theory that gives some
women such enviable chic.”
The Patterns.
Pattern 1280 is designed in sizes
12-20 (30 to 40). Size 14 requires
3% yards of 39 inch material.
Pattern 1233 is designed in sizes
34-52. Size 36 requires 5% yards
of 30 inch material. The collar
in contrast requires five-eighths of
a yard.
Pattern 1284 is designed in sizes
14-20 (32 to 44). Size 16 requires 3%
yards of 35 inch material.
New Pattern Book.
Send for the Barbara Bell
Spring and Summer Pattern Book.
Make yourself attractive, practi
cal and becoming clothes, select
ing designs from the Barbara Bell
well-planned, easy-to-make pat
terns. Interesting and exclusive
miles
Oui, Monsieur
“Consomme, bouillon, hors
d’oeuvres, fricassee poulet, pom
mes de terre au gratin, demitasse
des glaces, and tell that mug in
the corner to keep his lamps offa
me moll, see?”—Masonic Crafts
man.
Quite a Difference
Abie—Vill you please explain to
me the difference between shill
ings and pence?
Ikey—You can valk down de
street vidout shillings.
Advance Information
Commuter—Good-by, Dear. If I
can’t get home for dinner tonight
I’ll send you a wire.
Wife—Don’t bother, Milburn.
I’ve read it already—found it in
your coat pocket.
| THE CHEERFUL CHERUB
*
I like to dine in ^r^nd
hotels
Uith folks of wealth
or ^re^t renown ,
A.nd every now w\d
then I do
When our rick
uncle comes
to town.
HW**i
fashions for little children and the
difficult junior age; slenderizing,
well-cut patterns for the mature
figure; afternoon dresses for the
most particular young women and
matrons and other patterns for
special occasions are all to be
found in the Barbara Bell Pattern
Book. Send 15 cents today for your
copy.
Send your order to The Sewing
Circle Pattern Dept., Room 1020,
211 W. Wacker Dr., Chicago, 111.
Price of patterns, 15 cents (in
coins) each.
© Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
Gas, Gas All
theTime, Can’t
Eat or Sleep
“The gas on my stomach was so bad
I could not eat or sleep. Even my
heart seemed to hurt. A friend sug
gested Adlerika. The first dose I took
brought me relief. Now I eat as I
wish, sleep fine and never felt better.”
—Mrs. Jas. Filler.
Adlerika acts on BOTH upper and
lower bowels while ordinary laxatives
act on the lower bowel only. Adlerika
gives your system a thorough cleans
ing, bringing out old, poisonous matter
that you would not believe was in your
system and that has been causing ga%
pains, sour stomach, nervousness and
headaches for months.
Or. If. L Shout), Sir ip York, reportet
"In addition to inl«llnal cleansing, Adlerika
greatly reduces bacteria and colon bacilli.”
Give your bowels a REAL, cleansing
with Adlerika and see how good you
feel. Just one spoonful relieves GAS
and constipation. At all Leading
Druggists.
Silent Lies
The crudest lies are often told
in silence.—Stevenson.
Ants are hard to kill, but Peterman’s Ant
Food is rude especially to get them and get
them fast. Destroys red ants, black ants,
others—kills young and eggs, too. Sprinida
along windows, doors, any place where ants
come and go. Safe. Effective 24 hours a day.
25^, 35^ and 60I at your druggist’s.
Unwanted Things
What you do not want is dear at
a farthing.—Cato.
CHANGE OF LIFE
Mrs. Bridget Welsh of
1528 Northside Are., Lin
coln, Nebr., said: “Dr.
Pierce’s Favorite Pre
scription brought me
through the ‘change’ in
Excellent health. I worked
quite hard all during
that time too. Whenever
X felt tired and wornout
I would use the ‘Prescription’ as a tonic
-and I soon felt fine again. It increased my
appetite. The 'Prescription' was recommended
to me by a physician and for that reason I
had the utmost confidence In it.” Buy now!
WNU—U 18—3?
The Hardened
Justice must tame whom mercy
cannot win.—Savilie.
Help Them Cleanse the Blood
of Harmful Body Waste
Your kidney* are constantly Altering
waste matter from the blood stream. But
kidney* sometime* lag in their work—do
not act aa Nature intended—fail to re
move impurities that, if retained, may
Kison the system *nd upset the whole
dy machinery.
Symptoms may be nagging backache,
persistent headache, attacks of dizziness,
getting up nights, swelling, puffins**
under the eyee—a feeling of nervous
anxiety and loss of pep and strength.
Other sign* of kidney or bladder dis
order may be burning, scanty or too
frequent urination.
There should be no doubt that prompt
treatment is wiser than neglect. Use
Doan'n Pill). Dean’s have been winning
new friends for more than forty years.
They have a nation-wide reputation.
Are recommended by grateful people tho
country over. Ask you r neighbor I