CHAPTER X—Continued
—-12—
Weak misery blotted out all other
emotions and she turned desperate
ly toward the duty of the minute,
toward the wrapping and tying of
presents, the heaping of bundles,
the fastening of trimmings on the
tree that stood in lone cold state in
the downstairs drawing room.
It was cold in the drawing room;
Victoria worked in a sweater; left
half the trimming undone. There
was no heart in it today. Christ
mas had always been a wildly fest
ive time in the Hardisty family—
even the dreadful first Christmas
when Quentin and Vicky and Gwen
had all been ill. it would be no
such holiday tomorrow. It would
never seem Christmas again.
“Oh, my God!” Vicky said, stand
ing still in the middle of the room,
putting her hands that were sore
from wires and string and tinsel,
that were cold and dirty, tightly
over her eyes. “My God, what shall
I do!”
Well, and what had to be done
now? With the rest of the tree’s
trimming Nurse must help; it was
too much to do alone in this cold
room. Victoria went out to the
kitchen and asked Claus, the old
German gardener, who was brewing
himself some coffee on the laundry
stove, to look at the drawing-room
radiators. Company tomorrow.
Then upstairs again to find beds
made, and the children dressed and
circulating about with their usual
uproarious activity. Bricks, cray
ons, railway trains, and blackboards
were all in evidence. The question
of stockings arose; when were they
going to hang the stockings?
“The holes of the nails we had
last year are all here!” Susan said
excitedly, in interested investigation
at the hearth.
“Mother,” the gentle twin said,
at her knee, “if we hanged them
now might they be filled by sup
per?”
"Oh, no, darling, because Christ
mas isn’t until tomorrow!”
The nursery door opened; Gita
shyly insinuated herself into the
room, closed the door again.
“Amah’s sick, and M’ma said I
could come over,” she said.
Victoria’s face paled, but there
was no one to see.
“Come in, Gita. Better close it,
dear, because Madeleine’s getting all
ready for her bath—aren’t you, my
sweetheart?” She rubbed her face
gently against Madeleine’s little fluf
fy head and felt the tears, hot and
hurtful, in her eyes again and the
agony of despair in her heart.
At noon Quentin telephoned.
“That you, Vicky? Vic, will you
look in the pocket of my coat—the
gray coat—and see if there’s a lit
tle black book there? I’ll send down
lor it if you find it—”
“Just a minute, Quentin.” It was
the doctor’s wife talking; it was no
longer only Victoria Hardisty. In
a moment she was back. “It’s here.
Want Claus to bring it in?”
“Well, but won’t that mean that
you’ve no car?”
“I don’t need it. I’m not going
out. I was downtown this morn
ing.”
“Everything all right?”
A pause. Then Vicky said heavi
ly:
“I guess so.”
“Well, don’t get too tired. I’ll be
home early.”
Vicky put down the telephone,
stood up, and somehow moved
blindly toward her bed. In another
moment she was flung upon it, in a
passion of tears. To have to end
all this—to have to end the happy
years when she had felt so sure
that she and the children were
enough—to have next Christmas day
dawn on a nursery to which Daddy
was a stranger . . .
“What’s the matter, Vicky?”
Magda asked,«late in the afternoon,
when Vicky, from sheer inability to
do anything more was lying idle
on the couch near the fire in the
upstairs sitting room.
“Matter?” Vicky responded
brightly. “Too much Christmas!”
“Yes, but it isn’t that,” she said,
after a pause. “You were crying
this morning. What’s the matter?”
Vicky turned raised eyebrows to
ward her in innocent surprise;
broke, and looked at the fire, biting
her lip.
“What is it?” persisted Magda.
“It’s nothing—really.”
A silence. The older woman
shrugged.
“All right,” Magda said then.
“It’s nothing.”
“It's only,” Vicky began deliber
ately, in a thick voice that cleared
as she went on—“it’s only that I
think Quentin and I are going to be
divorced.”
Their eyes met fully; both wom
en looked back at the fire.
“Feel that way about it?” Magda
said mildly. Victoria looked up
quickly.
“You know why?” she demanded
in surprise.
“I suppose so,” Magda said re
luctantly and uncomfortably. She
jerked her head in the general di
rection of the Morrison house.
“Don’t take it so seriously, Vic!"
her mother urged, after a silence
in which she had obviously been
casting about for something to say.
“Seriously!” Vicky blew her nose,
wiped her eyes, spoke in a calmer
and quite determined voice. “I’m
not going to make any fuss,” she
said. “But if that’s what Quentin
wants, I won’t stand in his way.”
“Oh, but you can’t ever be sure.
Quentin doesn't seem to me like a
man who’d go very far in anything
like that. Look at the lovely way
he is with the children,” Magda
argued.
“I know.” Vic’s eyes watered.
“That’s what makes it so ghastly,”
she said in a whisper. “What have
you seen, Mother?” she asked, after
a pause.
“Oh, well, that he liked her,”
Magda answered somewhat cau
tiously. “And certainly that she was
after him!” she added with more
confidence.
“Well, she’s got him!" Vicky said
grimly.
“Vicky,” her mother presently
began placatingly, in real uneasi
ness, “you wouldn’t break up a
home like this just because Quentin
happened to look at another wom
an?”
“What else can a woman do when
everything she’s ever loved and
trusted—” Vicky stopped abruptly,
choked by the tears that rose in
her throat. “After all, one has some
pride!” she added, in a lower tone.
"Oh, it’s all so horrible,” she said
bitterly, half aloud. “It’s all such
a nightmare!”
“She’d marry him, like a shot,”
Magda predicted. “She’d get a di
vorce and a big settlement from
Spencer Morrison, and then she’d
marry Quentin.”
“She can,” Vicky said, trembling.
“She knows Quentin is going to
be the biggest of them all,” Magda
went on. “How old is he, Vic?”
“Forty-five—nearly forty-five.”
“Ah, well,” Magda said, “that’s
the time they get them!”
Victoria did not question this
cryptic comment; she was not lis
tening.
“It’s like a death.” Vicky said.
“It’s worse than a death!”
“Oh, Lord, no, it isn’t, Vic. It
happens all the time.”
“But it never seemed as if it
would happen to me.” Vicky fell
into brooding thought. “It ends ev
erything—everything that I ever
built into my life,” she said. “And
perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps men
like the sort of women who go right
on in marriage and have their own
affairs! Perhaps a home and chil
dren and a woman who loves him
aren’t enough.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that!” Magda
said soothingly. But something in
her completely false tone made
Vicky laugh suddenly.
“But you think that, don’t you,
Mother?” she asked, looking up, her
haggard cheeks suddenly scarlet.
“Well, yes—and no,” Magda said,
pondering. “I think most men would
like a mother-wife and a—a show
off wife,” she formulated it slowly.
“They love home first, and to find
a big steak ready, and a fire, and
kids all washed and fresh and ready
to be shushed off to bed, and some
one to love them in a quiet sort of
way. And then they like another
woman to flatter them, and meet
them places, and be admired.”
Vicky considered this, a faint
scowl between her heavy brows.
“And what would a man think of
a wife who felt that way?”
“Oh, well, you can’t go by that,
Vicky!” Magda assured her hastily.
“No, you can’t go by anything,”
Vicky lifelessly agreed.
“In the old days, you see, it was
harder for ’em!” Magda presently
observed, as if .hinking aloud.
“Harder for wives?"
“No, harder for the other worn
MM ”
en.
“How d’you mean harder?”
“Well, before there was so much
divorce," Magda offered simply. "A
woman had to be a man’s mistress
then, and that wasn’t so good. Oth
er women wouldn't speak to her,
and the man himself got pretty sick
of it after a while. Then he came
back to his wife.”
“If she was a spineless fool,” sup
plied Vicky.
"She didn’t have much choice.
That’s the way things were.”
“That isn’t the way things are
now! Women have changed all that,
at least. God knows it's not fair,
even now, that men can do what
they do, and get away with it! But
at least a woman doesn’t have to
make a doormat of herself!”
“In the old days she forgave him,
and in a few weeks he forgot all
about it,” Magda said.
"I haven't any doubt he did.”
"But now his wife gets a divorce,
and then he has to marry the other
woman, and she’s Mrs. Joe Jones,
or whatever it is, and she's won
out.”
"Not always,” Vicky said. “The
man is apt to And that he didn’t
want her quite as much as he
thought he did.”
"Oh, the man usually is stung,
then,” Magda agreed. ”1 know one
fellow in New York—terribly nice
chap,” she further expanded it,
"who’s paying three alimonies. It
keeps him broke, poor kid. He wants
to marry a dear friend of mine.
Pearl Ashbumley ...”
Victoria was not listening.
"Quentin may wreck my life,”
she said. "But I wonder how he’ll
feel when he discovers that he’s
wrecked his own, lost his children,
made himself ridiculous—” She
paused.
"As far as the children go, if
a man is successful and makes
money,” Magda said, "they pretty
soon find good reasons for getting
back to him. He takes one to Eu
rope, or he gives another a car—
they don’t take sides. You never
resented anything I did, poor kid!”
"Y^, but that was my mother!”
"I know. But I was the one who
got out—I threw Keith Herrendeen
over. You know. Vic, it’s an awful
mistake to bring children into a
quarrel, because they don’t under
stand and it just scares them.”
"I certainly wouldn’t bring them
into this!” Victoria protested almost
indignantly.
"Well, I didn’t suppose you would.
All you tell ’em is that Daddy is
going to be away for a while, and
that you feel happy about it.”
“Oh, my God,” Victoria prayed,
in an agonized whisper, as the full
sense of her own helplessness and
of the desperate nature of the situ
ation strengthened in her heart.
Daddy going to be away for a while
—no Quentin to come into her room
from the dressing room in the early
morning, when spring light was
widening over the wet garden, and
“But Mind You, I’m Not Advis
ing You.’’
a wood fire was snapping! No tired
doctor for whom to call at the office
so proudly, so lovingly, in the late
afternoons, and drive home to
warmth and fire and heartening din
ner. No picnic on the scimitar
shore of Half Moon Bay, with
Quentin’s big figure recumbent and
asleep on the sand, and small
forms, barelegged to the hip, dig
ging and running in the level warm
rush of waves!
“‘Feel happy about it!’” she
echoed bitterly. And in despair she
added: “I shall never feel happy
again! There’s nothing I can do.
Whatever I do is wrong!”
“People get over divorce,” Mag
da siad.
“I never will.”
“Funny thing,” Magda mused, as
her daughter’s bitter laugh died
away into silence and the room was
still. “If a woman—I mean the wife,
now—could only keep her mouth
shut and wait, she’d win out every
time.”
“You mean kiss a man, and be
kind to him, and keep his house
comfortable, and let him go off
to the other woman whenever h e
likes?” Victoria asked, in a proud,
quick voice.
“Yep. About that.”
“You mean knowing that he was
unfaithful, knowing that he despised
her and wanted to get away from
her, knowing that another woman
was reveling in his compliments
and presents—in the love that be
longed to her, to keep it up for
weeks—” The indignant summary
halted; Victoria, her cheeks scar
let, was looking a challenge at her
mother.
“Weeks!” Magda echoed.
“Months, anyway. Years, maybe.”
“Years!” Vicky echoed. And with
a brief and mirthless laugh she
plunged her head into her hands
and rumpled her hair. “You make
me laugh,” she muttered scornfully.
“You see, she wants something
that you’ve got,” Magda offered
mildly.
“Well, she can have it!”
“So that it’s a sort of compliment,
in a way. You have to look at it
like that, Vic. You’ve got to—well,
face the facts. Quentin is a ter
ribly attractive fellow. Women like
him, and he’s always going to be
around them—that's part of being
a doctor. Don’t be a fool about it
and run your head into the sand like
a giraffe or whatever it is. A strange
woman will always have something
for a man that his wife hasn't got
M
"Yes, and a strange man some
thing for a woman!” Vicky put in
hotly, triumphantly.
"So that if I wanted to run around
with—well, say Dr. Bledsoe, Quen
tin would presumably wait for me,
and bear everything, and then for
get it as if it had never been?”
"But you’re not that sort," Magda
reminded her.
"I should hope I’m not!” Vic
toria exclaimed, again with an air
of scoring in the argument. But
strangely enough, against this moth
er of hers who had known so many
worthless men in so many dis
creditable ways, and who so rarely
argued, or indeed said anything con
siderable at all, she could not seem
to score today.
“You don’t think. Mother,” Vic
asked quietly, “that any woman
who had borne a man children,
spent years of care and love on his
own child, nursed him when he was
ill, worried over his bills and his
diet for seven years—you don’t
think that that woman can calmly
put up with his setting up a—a
mistress, and shaming her and
wronging her, and wronging his own
children, too? And then when he's
tired,” Victoria rushed on, warming
to her subject, "and comes home
calmly, she is to forgive him, and
make a fuss over him again! Well,
perhaps there are women who
could do it, but I’m not one of
them!”
"No, I didn’t say that there were
women who could do it,” Magda ob
served mildly, in the pause, a3
Vicky sat back defiantly and sipped
her tea, bridling, breathing hard,
faintly shaking her head. "I just
said that if a woman could do it she
always won out."
"Won the other woman’s leavings,
you mean!”
"Well, in a way, I suppose. And
as I say, Vicky, it may go on for
years. Three years, four years—
but then the break comes. Her
husband—and he’s just as good, or
as kind, or whatever he was, as
ever—comes back. Unless she’s said
something he can’t forget, or done
something radical, he comes back.
Then it’s the other woman’s turn
to worry—the wife is holding thir
teen trumps. She's got his chil
dren, his home, she's gentle and
kind and respectable, just as she
always was.”
“I’d nevi ’ respect myself again
if I countenanced—encouraged that
sort of thing!” Vicky exclaimed.
"Ugh!”
"Oh, men don’t care whether you
encourage them or not, so long as
you don’t cry and fuss,” Magda
observed, with her irritating power
of making a point while not try
ing to do anything of the sort. "The
minute a man leaves you, what you
think doesn’t matter to him any
more. They can walk right out on
things, Vic, Women can’t, quite. If
you make all this easy for Quen
tin, he’ll think you’re a good little
sport, but he won’t care whether
you do it by divorce or by just being
decent.”
Stupefied by this philosophy, and
by the blankness and darkness ol
her thoughts, Victoria was still star
ing at her mother dully, her brow
knitted, when Anna came in to an
nounce a caller. Magda had time
only for one more word:
“I’ve al./ays thought—and I’ve
been thinking it especially lately,”
she said, "that of all the girls I ever
knew you were the one to try the
long way—I mean stick to your
guns, and not let what anyone does
make yoy anything but what you
are. But mind you, I’m not advis
ing you. You were smarter when
you were oorn than I'll ever be.”
Vicky dragged her eyes, eyes into
whose mutinous light a new look
suddenly had come, from her moth
er’s face to the maid’s face. But
her thoughts were still upon what
Magda had said, and she had to
have the message repeated.
“Did you say someone was here?”
"Mrs. Morrison, madam. She
says she just wants to say ’Merry
Christmas!’ ”
Vicky’s color, under the glow of
the fire, faded a little. She turned
toward her mother. Magda
shrugged.
“Say you're not at home,” Magda
said, in an undertone.
But an odd determined light had
come into Vicky’s eyes, and after a
hesitant moment she told Anna
simply to ask Mrs. Morrison to
come upstairs. A few seconds later
Serena came in.
(TO BE CONTINUED)
Easy, Easier, Easily
Records do not show how old the
adage, “Easier said than done,”
may be, but as far back as 1564
occurs the sentence, “This thyng is
easyer saide of you, then prouved.”
Proverbs, like idioms, have a way
of confuting the grammarians.
Easy, easier, and easiest have been
used as adverbs since early times.
A number of such usages are to be
found in Shakespeare alone; for in
stance: “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (act
v, sc. 1, 1. 45): “Thou art easier
swallowed than a flap-dragon”;
“Merchant of Venice” (act i, sc. 2,
1. 17): “I can easier teach twenty
what were good to be done”; "Mac
beth” (act ii, sc. 4, 1. 38): "Lest our
old robes sit easier than our new.”
Among other adverbial users are:
Spenser, Tucker, Byron, Smiles,
Steele, Keats, and Mrs. Stowe. Some
grammarians now condemn the use
of easy as an adverb. One wonders
why when our literature is so full
of such usages; but despite their;
dicta, the adage, “Easier said than
done,” is still correct, and may just
ly be used as well as, “More easily
said than done.”—Literary Digest
I—---|
Queerness in
All of Us
By
DR. JAMES W. BARTON
© Bell Syndicate.—WNU Service.
A PSYCHOLOGIST sent a
list of questions to be an
swered to a certain number
of men requesting them to
tell all the “queer” things
about their wives. He got
practically all his lists back
with the questions fully an
swered.
He sent to the same number of
wives a list of questions regarding
the queer things
about their hus
bands. The replies
from the wives were
‘‘profuse and enthu
siastic.”
He then sent a list
to the husbands ask
ing them to write
down the queer
things about them
selves, and received
practically no re
Dr. Barton Pllos- the list sent
to the wives asking
them to put down the queer things
about themselves was likewise prac
tically unanswered.
You and I know, as did the psy
chologist also, that we really mag
nify the ‘‘queernesses” or the faults
in others, and belittle or even fail
to see the queernesses or faults in
ourselves.
Look at Ourselves^.
Now for most of us it does us
good to take a look at ourselves
physically. Are we getting too
heavy? Are we sitting, standing or
walking in the erect position? Are
we getting enough sleep? Are we
working too hard? Are we playing
enough or too much? Are we put
ting into life and taking out of it all
we should if we have good health
and a good average mind? Do we
get along well with other people?
I believe this little look at and
into ourselves—introspection—look
ing at our very thoughts and why
we think and do things, will make
us better men and women, better
neighbors, and better citizens.
However to the individual who is
already looking at and into himself
practically all the time, his thoughts
should be directed away from him
self, to the outside world, to the
great life of which we all form a
part.
Thus the individual whose thoughts
are busy all day long and much of
the night — thinking, worrying —
should remember that his body and
brain are like the battery in his car.
The battery before it gets complete
ly run down is removed from the
car at times and recharged. This
recharging brings it up again. Simi
larly the brain—in a sense— should
be removed from the body by sleep
or rest, so that the brain itself and
all the body processes it directs can
get renewed or recharged.
• * •
Long Fast May Be Dangerous.
There isn’t any question but that
a fast day—doing without food for
an entire 24 hours—would be help
ful to a great many individuals
whether or not they are overweight.
If you are in good health and wish
to try a day of fasting, at regular
or irregular intervals, drinking a lit
tle water to prevent too much loss
of water from the tissues and tak
ing a little baking soda—a half tea
spoonful a couple of times during
the day—or the juice of an orange,
either of which will help prevent
acidosis, the fast day should do you
no harm; in fact, may be helpful.
And for the overweight a fast day
once a week or three times in two
weeks should be one simple way
of getting rid of some surplus fat,
because if no food is eaten the body
must have a definite amount of food
to keep itself going and so uses
some of the surplus fat on the body
for this purpose.
Dr. Thomas Addis, L. J. Poo, and
W. Lew, in the Journal of Biologi
cal Chemistry, tell of their experi
ments on two large groups of albino
rats, of similar age, sex, and body
weight; one group was used imme
diately as a “control” (normal con
dition, not fasting) and the second
group was analyzed after a fast of
seven days, during which only wa
ter was given.
The total protein of the entire
body and most of the organs showed
a decrease after this week of fast
ing. The liver lost 40 per cent of its
protein, the stomach and intestines
28 per cent, the kidneys, heart and
blood each about 20 per cent, the
muscle, skin and skeleton together
8 per cent, and the brain 5 per cent.
This striking loss of protein from
the liver due to fasting shows that
during fasting, in addition to giv
ing up any sugar and fat stored up
within it, the liver gives up a great
amount of the material from which
it is built or constructed.
The point then for those who are
in good health and normal weight
is thpt a fast of a day or two once
in a while can do no harm. But a
longer period than one or two days
may be harmful because of the
amount of “structural” material—
the material holding the liver to
gether—that is given up by the liver
just to keep the body processes go
ing.
Clothes That Look the Part
XTOW, Milady, that you’ve
^ seen all three, which I J j
will you choose, the lovely I /J
dance frock, an easy-to-sew | |y
runabout model, or a slick
all around the clock dress to flat
ter your every move and moment?
It’s a personal question but one
you’ll surely want to toy with
since Sew-Your-Own makes the
answer so easy.
Any Time After 8:30.
The romantic fashion at the left
will make memorable occasions
of your summer parties as only a
lovely appearance can. Its two
pieces are young, cool and
streamlined. For the Miss whose
interest centers about matinee go
ings-on, there’s a dashing shorter
style—it differs only in length, and
either will be picturesque in mar
quisette, dimity, or organdie.
A Tip for Tea Time.
When you’re keeping up with
the Joneses, wear this stylish all
occasion dress. It will do great
things for you socially, and, fig
uratively speaking, it will cut
inches from those high spots and
make you feel pounds lighter.
Think of what that means to chic
and comfort when things get hot
out your way. Dark sheer crepe
is the material that lends top
charm to this creation.
Fore and Aft.
Easy to sew and always ready
to go is this new spectator frock
for young women and those who
want to turn back the clock. With
this number handy there’s no need
to pause for reflection about what
to wear. And that holds good
whether you’re bound for sports,
business, or society. It is becom
ing as a sun tan, as simple to sew
as a dress can be, and a cinch
Boiling Sirup—If the saucepan
is well buttered around the top
sirup that is being boiled in it will
not boil over the top of the pan.
• * •
Brightening Piano Keys—Dis
colored piano keys can be bright
ened by rubbing with a soft cloth
dampened with alcohol.
• * •
Keeping Flowers Fresh—A cou
ple tablespoons of sulfurous (not
sulphuric) acid added to each pint
of water encourages buds of cut
flowers to continue growing and
leaves and stems remain greener.
* * *
Custard Sauce—One and one
half cups scalded milk, one-oighth
teaspoon salt, one-quarter cup su
gar, one-half teaspoon vanilla,
yolks of two eggs. Beat eggs
slightly, add sugar and salt; stir
constantly while adding gradually
the hot milk. Cook in double boil
er till mixture thickens, chill and
flavor.
* * *
Cleaning Rubber Rollers—The
rubber wringers on washing ma
chines can be kept clean by wash
ing with kerosene.
* * *
Tinting Milk—When small chil
dren refuse to drink their daily
milk requirements, try tinting the
milk with vegetable coloring.
• • •
Cooking Rhubarb—Rhubarb is
disliked by some people because
of its acidity. But this can be
considerably reduced if the fruit
is covered with cold water,
brought to the boil and then
strained before being stewed in
the ordinary way. This method
is only xecommended to anybody
who dislikes ordinary stewed rhu
barb, as the healthful salts are
lost when the fruit is cooked twice.
* * *
For Blacking Stoves—An old
shoe polish dauber is an excellent
tool for blacking stoves.
• • *
Storing Tea and Coffee—Home
supplies of tea and coffee will
keep their flavor longer if stored
in stone jars.
WNU Service.
to launder. Why not make a car
bon copy for the morning after?
Remember summer chic depends
upon the company your wardrobe
keeps. Be sure it’s amply sup
plied with cool convenient Sew
Your-Owns!
The Patterns.
Pattern 1291 is designed in sizes
12 to 20 (30 to 38 bust). Size 14
requires 6 yards of 35 or 39 inch
material. Size 14, walking length,
requires 5Vi yards.
Pattern 1847 is designed in sizes
30 to 52. Size 38 requires 4%
yards of 39 inch material.
Pattern 1279 is designed in sizes
32 to 46. Size 34 requires AVa
yards of 35 inch material. Ribbon
for belt requires 1 yard.
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.
*
! Jus ouM^ll/GROCCRS
He Senses Need
Your dearest friend asks you if
you are in need before you can
tell him.
Ants are hard to kill, but Peterman’s Ant
Food is made especially to get them and get
them fast. Destroys red ants, black ants,
others—kills young and eggs, too. Sprinkle
along windows, doors, any place where ante
come and go. Safe. Effective 24 hours a day.
25^, 35/ and 60/ at your druggist's.
Literature
Style in literature consists of
proper words in proper places.
nfTP-BUCK LEAF 40"
VVf Keeps Dogs Away from
,0,t (I ■■Evergreens, Shrubs etc.
vour 11 ”** Use lVi Teaspoonful
DealerCallon
BYERS BROS & CO.
A Real Live Stock Com. Firm
At the Omaha Market
Counteracting Fear
Knowledge is the antidote to
fear.—Emerson.
WNU—U24—37
Don’t Neglect Them I
Nature designed the kidneys to do •
marvelous job. Their lasi ia to keep the
flowing blood stream fre^of an excess of
toxic impurities. The act of living—lift
itself—ia constantly producing waste
(natter the kidneys must remove from
the blood it good health is to endure.
When the kidneys fail to function as
Nature intended, there is retention of
waste that may cause body-wide dis
tress. One may suffer nagging backache,
persistent headache, attacks of dizziness,
getting up nights, swelling, puffinesa
under the eyes—feel tired, nervous, all
worn out.
Frequent, scanty or burning passages
may be further evidence of Kidney or
bladder disturbance.
The recognized and proper treatment
i Is a diuretic medicine to help the kidneys
«et rid of excess poisonous body waste.
ise Doan's Pills. They have had more
than forty \ears of public approval. Ars
endorsed the country over. Insist on
Doan's. Sold at all drug stores.
I