BOB to JPTON ,
•f PLACER
By gAMtALl PARRISH AUTHOR OBJ
'Hism/tMiffl. ~
SYNOPSIS.
A detachment of the Eighteenth in
fantry from I-'ort Bethutns trapped bv
Indians in a narrow ''.-rgc A mong them
is a stranger w* introduces himself by
the name o£ flampton. also Gillis the
post tr-,i _,rr, and his daughter. Gillis and
“ •TijCrity 0f tJie soldiers are killed dur
ing a three days' s ege. Hampton and
the girl only escape from the Indians.
They fall exhausted on the plains. A
■ -ompany of the Seventh cavalir, Lieut.
Brent in command, flpd .Tampion
1 beg- fl *fc'.0p at (j,e M'ners' Home in
GlegciUO Mrs. Duffy, proprietess.
CHAPTER V.—Continued.
There was no response, but the
speaker moistened his lips and pro
ceeded firmly. “It was that of a pro
fessional gambler, utterly devoid of
mercy toward his victims; a reckless
fighter, who shot to kill upon the least
provocation; a man without moral
character, and from vruom any good
action was impossible. That was what
was said about you. is the tale true?”
Hampton laughed unpleasantly, his
eyes grown hard and ugly.
“I presume it must be,” he admitted,
k with a quick side glance toward the
closed door, ‘ for the girl out yonder
thought about the same. A most ex
cellent reputation to establish with
only ten years of strict attendance to
business.”
Wynkocp’s grave face expressed his
disapproval.
"Well, in my present judgment that
report was not altogether true," he
went on clearly and with greater con
fidence. “I did suppose you exactly
that sort of a man when I first came
into this room. I have not believed
so, however, for a single moment
since. Nevertheless, the naked truth
is certainly bad enough, without any
necessity for our resorting to romance.
You may deceive ethers by an assump
lipn of recklessness, but I feel con
vinced your true nature is not evil. It
has been warped through some caus<
which is none of my business. Let u
deal alone with facts. You are a gam
bier, a professional gambler, with ah
that that implies; your life is, of neces
sity, passed among the most vicious
and degrading elements of mining
camps, and you. do not hesitate even
to take human life when in your judg
ment it seems necessary to preserve
your cwn. Under this veneer of law
lessness you may, indeed, possess a
warm heart, Mr. Hampton; you maj
he a good fellow, but you are certain
ly not a model character, even accord
ing to the liberal code of the border.’
“Extremely kind of you to enter my
rooms uninvited, and furnish me with
this list of moral deficiencies,” ac
knowledged the other with affected
carelessness. ‘But thus far you have
failed to tell me anything strikingly
. new. Am I to understand you have
some particular object in this ex
change of amenities?”
“Most assuredly. It is to ask if such
a person as you practically confess
yourself to be—homeless, associating
only with the most despicable and
vicious characters, and leading so un
certain and disreputable a life—can be
fit to assume charge of a girl, almost
a woman, and mould her future?”
For a long, breathless moment
Hampton stared incredulously at his
questioner, crushing his cigar between
his teeth. Twice he started to speak,
but literally choked back the bitter
words burning his lips, while an un
controllable admiration for the other’s
boldness began to overcome his first
fierce anger.
“By God!" he exclaimed at last, ris
ing to his feet and pointing toward the
*'• door. “I have shot men for less. Go,
before 1 forget your cloth. You little
impudent fool! See here—I saved
that girl from death, or worse; I
plucked her from the very mouth of
hell; I like her; she’s got sand; so far
as 1 know there is not a single soul
for her to turn to for help in all this
wide world. And you. you miserable,
snivelling hypocrite, you little creep
ing Presbyterian parson, you want me
to shake her! What sort of a wild
beast do you suppose I am?”
Wynkoop had taken one hasty step
backward, impelled to it by the fierce
anger blazing from those stem, gray
eyes. But now he paused, and, for
ttof oniy time on record, discovered
*W' conventional language of polite so
ciety inadequate to express his needs.
“I think.” he said, scarcely realizing
his own words, “you are a damned
fool.”
into Hampton’s eyes there leaped a
light upon which other men had looked
before they died,—the strange mad
gleam one sometimes sees in fighting
animals, or amid the fierce charges of
war. His hand swept instinctively
backward, closing upon the butt of a
revolver beneath Lis coat, and for one
second he who had dared such utter
ance looked on death. Then the hard
lines about the man’s mouth softened,
the fingers clutching the weapon re
laxed. and Hampton laid one opened
hand upon the minister’s shrinking
shoulder.
“Sit down,” he said, his voice un
steady from so sudden a reaction.
“Perhaps—perhaps 1 don’t exactly un
derstand.”
For a full minuta they sat thus lock
ing at each other through the fast
dimming light, “he two prize-fighters
meeting for the first time within the
ring, and taking mental stock before
beginning their physical argument.
Hampton, with a touch of his old au
dacity of manner, was first to break
the silence.
j6o yon think I am a damned, fool.
WW. we are In pretty fair accord as
to that fact, although no one before
has ever ventured to state it quite so
clearly In my psewnce. Perhaps you
will kindly explain?” ■ ■ v
The preacher wet his dry Ups with
Us Mine, forget lias himself when
i bis thoughts began to crystallize into
expression.
“I regret having spoken a3 I di<J,” i
he began. ‘ Such language is n-jt my :
custom. I was irritated because of
your haste in rejecting mv advances
before hearing the proposition I came
to submit, i certainly respect your
eyi&a*. GSsire to be of assistance to
tms young woman, nor !'"v* 1 the
slightest intention of interfering be- J
tween you. Your act in preserving
her life was truly a noble one, and
your loyalty to her interests since is i
worthy of all Christian praise. But
I believe I have a right to ask, what
do you intend for the future? Keep
her with you? Drag her about from
camp to camp? Educate her among
the contaminating poison of gambling
j holes and dance-halls? Is her home j
hereafter to be the saloon and the!
rough frontier hotel? Her ideal of1
! manhood the quarrelsome gambler,
j and of womanhood a painted harlot?
I Mr. Hampton, you are evidently a man
| of education, of early refinement; you
| have known better things; and I have j
| come to you seeking merely to aid you j
; in deciding this helpless young wom
| an's destiny. I thought, I prayed, you
! would be at once interested in that
I purpose, and would comprehend the
reasonableness of my position.”
Hampton sat silent, gazing out of
j the window', his qy~s apnarcntly on
j the lights now becoming dimly visible
in the saloon opposite. For a consid
| erable time he made no move, and the
other straightened back in his chair
watching him.
“Well!" he ventured at last, “what
is your proposition?" The question
was quietly asked, but a slight tremor
in the low voice told of repressed feel
ing.
“That, for the present at least, you
fresh morning sunshine. Now they
sat in silence, the young girl, with
cheeks flushed and dreamy eyes aglow,
gazed far off along the valley, the
man watching her curiously, and won
dering how best to approach his task.
Observing her now, sitting thus in
total unconsciousness of his scrutiny.
Hampton made no attempt to analyze
the depth of his interest for this waif
who had come drifting into his life.
Even to his somewhat prejudiced
eyes she wa3 not an attractive crea
ture, for she possessed no clear con
ception of how to render apparent
those few feminine charms she pos
sessed. Negligence and total uncon
sciousness of self, coupled with lack
of womanly companionship and guid
ance, had left her altogether in the
rough. He marked now the coarse
ragged shoes, the cheap patched skirt.,
the tousled auburn hair, the sunburnt
checks with a suggestion of freckles
plainly visible beneath the eyes, and
some of the- fastidiousness of early
days caused him to shrug his shoul
ders. Yet underneath the tan there
was the glow of perfect young health;
the eyes were frank, brave, ur”,acb.
mg; while the roi,*uea chin held a
world of character in its firm con
tour. sight of this
brought back to him that abiding
faith in her “dead gameness” which
had first awakened his admiration.
“Kid,” he ventured at last, “you
were talking while we came up the
trail about how we'd do this and that
after awhile. You don't suppose I'm
going to have any useless girl like
you hanging around on to me, dQ
you?”
She glanced quickly about at him,
as though such unexpected expressions
startled her from a pleasant reverie.
“Why, I—I thought that was the way
you planned it yesterday,” she ex
claimed, doubtfully.
“Oh, yesterday! Well, you see, yes
terday I was sort of dreaming; to-day
I am wide awake, and I've about de
cided, Kid, that for your own good,
and my comfort, I've got to shake
you.”
A sudden gleam cf fierce resentment
leaped into the dark eyes, the un
restrained glow of a passion which
had never known control. “Oh, you
have, have you, Mr. Bob Hampton?
You have about decided! Well, why
don't you altogether decide? I don’t
think I'm down on my knees begging
you for mercy. Good Lord! I reck
on I can get along all right without
you—I did before. Just what hap
pened to give you such a change of
heart?”
“I made the sudden discovery," he
^ .
"I Have Shot Men for Less. Go, Before I Forget Yau*
confide this girl into the care of some
worthy woman.”
"Have you any such in mind?”
“I have already discussed the mat
ter briefly with Mrs. Herndon, wife of
the superintendent of the Golden Rule
mines. She is a refined Christian lady,
beyond doubt the most proper person
to assume such a charge in this camp.”
Hampton flung his sodden cigar butt
I out of the window. “I’ll talk it over
| to-morrow with—with Miss Gillis,” he
I said, somewhat gruffly. “It may be
this means a good deal more to me
I than you suppose, parson, but I’m
| bound to acknowledge there is consld
i erable hard sense in what you have
just said, and I'll talk it over with the
girl.”
Wynkoop held out his hand cordial
ly and the firm grasp of the other
closed over his fingers.
"I don’t exactly know why I didn’t
kick you downstairs,” the latter com
mented, as though still in wonder at
j himself. “Never remember being quite
! so considerate before, but I reckon
you must have come at me in about
| the right way.”
If Wynkoop answered, his words
! were indistinguishable, but Hampton
i remained standing in the open door
watching the missionary go down the
narrow stairs.
“Nervy little devil,” he acknowl
edged slowly to himself. “And maybe,
after all, that would be the best thing
for the Kid.”
CHAPTER VI.
“To Ee or Not to Be.”
They were seated rather close togeth
er upon the steep hillside, gazing silent
ly down upon squalid Glencaid. At such
considerable distance all the dull sb’b
biness of (he mining town had disap
peared, r.r.d tt seemed almost ideal,
viewed against the natural background
of brown rocks and green trees. Every
where was loneliness, no sound telling
of the labor of man reached them,
and the few scattered buildings far
below resembling mere doll-houses.
They had conversed only upon the
constantly changing beauty of the
' scene, or of incidents connected with
their upward climb, while moving
slowly along the trail Jhwngh the
said, affecting a harness he was far
from feeling, “t«« yqu were too near
being a young «.*oman to go traipsing
around the country with me, living at
shacks, and having no company but
gambling sharks, and that class of
cattle.”
”Oh, did you? What else?”
“Only that our tempers don't ex
actly seem to jibe, and the two of
us can't be bosses in the same ranch.”
She looked at him contemptuously,
swinging her body farther around on
the rock, and sitting stiffly, the* color
on her cheeks deepening through the
sunburn. “Now see here, Mister Bob
Hampton, you’re a fraud, and you
know it! Didn't I understand exact
ly who you was, and what was your
business? Didn't I know you was a
gambler, and a 'bad man?’ Didn’t I
teli you plain enough out yonder”—
and her voice faltered slightly—“just
what 1 thought about you? Good Lord!
I haven't been begging to stick with
you, have I? I just didn't know
which way to turn to, after dad waa
killed, and you sorter hung on to me,
and I let it go the way 1 supposed you
v,-anted It. But I’m not particularly
stuck on your style, let me tell you,
and I recken there's plenty of ways
for me to get alcng. Only first, I pro-,
pose to understand what your little
game is. You don’t throw down your
hand like that without some reason." \
Hampton sat up, spurred into in
stant admiration by such independ
ence of spirit. "You grow rather good
looking, Kid. when you get hot, but
you go at things half-cocked, and
you've got to get* over it. That's th.$
whole trouble—you’ve nevep - been
trained, and I wouldn’t make much of
a trainer for a bigh-airung filly like
you. Ever remember ycur mother?”
"Mighty little; reckon shy mart
linve -lied wbrn I was about five years
old. That’s her picture."
Hampton tuck in his hand the old
fashioned locket she held out toward
him, the long chain st’ll clasped about
her throat, and pried open the
catch wc’s knife blade. P’je bent
down to fasten her loosened shoe,
and when her eyes were uplifted his
gaze was riveted upon the face in thg
picture.
“Mighty pretty, wasn't she?” she
as.ced, w.th a sudden girlish interest,
bending forward to look, regardless of
liis strained altitude. "And she was
prettier than that, even, the way I
remember her best, with her hair all
hanging down, coming to tuck me into
bed at night. Someway that’s how 1
always seem to see her.”
The man drew a deep breath, and
snapped shut the locket, yet still re
la.ned it in his hand. “Is—is she
dead? he Questioned, and his voice
trembled in spite of his steel nerves.
“Yes, in St. Louis; dad took me
there with him two years ago, and I
| saw her grave."
j ‘‘Dad? Do yon mean old Gillis?"
She nodded, beginning dimiy to won-'
der why he should spealt so fiercely
and stare at her in that odd way.
Ha seemed to choke twice before }. ?
could ask the next question.
“E'id he—old Gillis, I mean—clftfm
to be your father, or her husband?”
"No, I don't reckon he ever did. but
he gave me that picture, and told me
she was my mother. I always lived
with ihim. and called him dad. I reck
on he liked it, and he was mighty
good to me. We were at Randolph
a long time, and since then he's been
post-trader at Bethune. That's all I
know about it, for dad never talked
very much, and he used to get mad
when I asked him questions.”
Hampton dropped the locket from
his grasp and arose to his feet. For
several minutes he stood with his
back toward her, apparently gazing
down the valley, his jaw set, his dim
med eyes seeing nothing. Slowly the
color came creeping into his face, and
his hands unclinched. Then he wheel
ed about, and looked down upon her,
completely restored to his old na
ture.
“Then it seems that it is just you
and I, Kid, who have got to settle this
little affair." he announced, firmly.
“I'll have my say about it, and then
you can uncork your feelings. I rath
er imagine I haven’t very much legal
right in the premises, but I've got a
sort of moral grip on you by reason of
having pulled you out alive from that
canyon yonder, and I propose to play
this game to the limit. You say your
mother is dead, and the man who
raised you is dead, and, so far as eith
er of us know, there isn't a soul any
where on earth who possesses any
claim over you, or any desire to have.
Then, naturally, the whole jack-pot is
up to me, provided I've got the cards.
Now. Kid, waving your prejudice aside.
I ain’t just exactly the best man in
this world to bring up a girl like you
and make a lady out of her. I thought
yesterday that maybe we might man
age to hitch along together for
awhile, but I’ve got a different think
coming to-day. There's no use dis
figuring the truth. I'm a gambler,
something of a fighter on the side, and
folks don't say anything too pleasing
about my peaceful disposition around
these settlements; I haven’t any home,
and mighty few friends, and the few
I have got are nothing to boast about.
I reckon there's a cause for it all.
So, considering everything, I’m about
the poorest proposition ever was heard
of to start a young ladies’ seminary.
The Lord knows, old Gillis was bad
enough, but I'm a damned sight worse.
Now, some woman has got to take you
in hand, and I reckon I've found the
right one.”
"Goin' to get married. Bob?”
"Not this year; it’s hardly become
so serious as that; but I'm going to
find you a good home here, and I'm
going to put up plenty of stuff, so that
they’ll take care of you all right and
proper.”
The dark eyes never wavered as
they looked steadily into the gray
ones, but the chin quivered slightly.
(TO BE CONTINUED.!
Need Awakening.
Though men are accused of not
knowing their weakness, yet perhaps
a few know their own strength. It is
in men as in soils, where sometimes
there is a vein of gold, which the
owner knows not of.—Swift.
No Sentiment in Business.
Some Old-Fashioned Ideas of Trading
Have Passed On.
“Times have changed.” said an old
grocer on Kansas avenue, the West
side. “Buyers get their groceries,
meats and merchandise where they
believe they can get the most for
their money. Of course, quality as
well as quantity is considered. Twen
ty years ago it was different. Mer
chants often were patronized because
they were of a particular nationality
or creed. Sometimes it was on ac
count of their political beHet Thee
Qag* wara^tbose who had the notion
I eral years gave the most for the
money. I remember a man who had
just moved into the neighborhood,
came into my place of business sev
eral years ago. He asked me about
my nationality. I told him. He
walked out cf the store and never re
turned. But; it's different now. Re
ligion, nationality iind politics are for
gotten. Honest bargains and honest
methods are Bought And it is bet
ter for the buyer and merchant—
—mbwmm
DISH FOR TEA OR SUPPER.
Simpte Refreshment Menu That Is ,
Easy to Prepare.
A ball of cream of chicken salad
served with nut sandwiches and a
glass of lemon scuash, make a de
i lightful tea or supper dish. Olives
and salted peanuts may be passed.
To make the cream of chicken
salad, chop the chicken very fine. Add
to each half pint one-half pint of
cream sauce and two tablespoonfuls
of gelatine that has been soaked in
four tablespoonfuls of cold water for
8n hour. Mix the ingredients together
hot. season nicely and turn into a
ehallow pan to cool. When cold fo’
‘into balls the size of F-_"
* _ . .. . bp walnuts.
^ Pu, ,n4 ..c r these balls on a nest of
i.t.uco lecres, put cut teaspoonful of
mayonnaise in the middle and the..
are ready to serve.
toasted unsalted al
for sandwiches. After they
-iave been chopped fine sprinkle them
thickly between thin slices of bread
and butter, press together and cut in
any fancy shapes desired.
The lemon squash may be made the
day before. Grate the yellow rind of
three lemons and add two pounds of
sugar to one quart of water; boil for
five minutes and strain. Add the juice
of 12 lemons and strain again. At
serving time dilute this with Apolli
naris water, making the lemon squash
sufficiently cool to be palatable.—
Woman's Home Companion.
BETTER THAN CAN BE BOUGHT.
Handkerchiefs Made at Home Are
Dainty and Economical.
Some handkerchiefs which are pret
ty and dainty are fascinating to
make and at the same time are
economical. One yard and a quarter
°f 45-inch wide handkerchief linen
will make nine men's handkerchiefs
of the correct size. Twelve women’s
handkerchiefs may be made from a
yard and a quarter of 32-inch wide
linen at one dollar or $1.50 a yard.
After the linen is cut into squares
for the handkerchiefs each corner is
slightly curved to form a curved in
stead of a square corner. The edges
are then rolled and whipped over with
colored wash file thread. The stitches
take in only the depth of the roll.
After the handkerchief is all whipped,
turn back and whip in the same way,
the return stitches between those
done the first time. This crosses the
threads and produces a charming
cross-sticth effect. A small initial
should be worked in the corner in the
same color thread. These handker
chiefs are odd an i unique, and still
are much in vogue, as ail the smart
handkerchiefs have a touch of color
somewhere.
Baked Potato for Invalid.
For economy in the sickroom pre
pare baked potatoes by washing and
drying them thoroughly; lay them on
the asbestos bread toaster, and cover
them closely with a small granite pan;
turn the fire on only half way, turn
the potatoes over occasionally, and
in an hour, when they should be done,
spread a napkin over the hand; place
a potato in the center, and. holding the
napkin closely around it with the po
tato like a bail on the top of the
hapd, pat it gently all over, roll it out
on a plate, open the jacket, season
with butter, pepper and salt, and, if
liked, a tablespoonful of cream, and
you have a potato mashed as fine as
in the ordinary way, only a more deli
cious and tempting as well as a more
easily digested dainty for the sick
one.
Imitation Canton Ginger.
Take young carrots, scrape care
fully, cut in pieces the size of the
West Indian preserved ginger; par
boil gently to keep from breaking,
drain carefully, let lie on sieve all
night. The next day weigh, put equal
parts of sugar with tablespoon of es
sence of ginger, the yellow rind of one
half a lemon, and one-fourth pint of
water to each pound of carrots: sim
mer gently four hours, then lift the
pieces out carefully, put in small jars,
removing the lemon peel; boil the
sirup quickly for ten minutes, adft a
wine glass of brandy to a pint; when
cold seal same as jelly and keep in
a cool place.
Breakfast Food Variety. _
When other breakfast foods tire
toast slices of bread, crumble fine and
eat with cream and sugar. This is de
licious and nourishing.
For a cold night one can make de
licious hot chocolate by melting in a
little hot water a cake of sweet cho
colate and adding milk. This takes
only a few minutes and is always of
the right sweetness.
*——— --— ]
Bath Bags.
Four pounds of fine oatmeal, two
quarts of clean bran, one and one-half
pounds of powdered orris root, one
and one-half pounds of almond meal,
one pound of powdered white castile
soap, three ounces of primrose sachet
powder. Keep in glass jars, filling
little cheesecloth bags a3 needed.
Leaves the skin soft, clear and vel
vety.
Cement for Glass.
Add one pint of vinegar to one pint
of milk and separate the curds from j
the whey. Mix the whey with the
whites of five eggs. Beat it thorough
ly together and sift into it a sufficient
quantity of unslacked lime to convert
it into a thick paste. Broken glass or
china mended with this cement will
not break again and will resist the ac
tion of fire and water.
Sugar Ginger Wafers.
Three-fourths cup butter, creamed
with two cups white sugar, one cup
milk, four cups sifted flour, three
quarters teaspoon soda dissolved in a
little boiling water, one tablespoon
ginger. Spread the mixture very thin
on bottom of pans, well washed and
greased. Use a flat knife. Bake in
moderate oven till light brown. Cut
while hot and slip from pan.
His Great Idea.
Gilbert, the small son of a minister,
waa one day trying to construct a
church with his buiMIsg blocks, hut
With the coming of fall the brid
has again made her appearance in ail
her loveliness, and there is a fresh
array of new and beautiful frocks in
the contemplation of which women
never tire. Satin sometimes veiled
with lace is at the moment the favor
ite wedding robe, although the robe of
one fashionable bride of the east was
made of a superb panne velvet
trimmed with old family point lace
and a large lace shawl veil added to
the richness of the costume. Of cours*
it takes either a tall or a full flgj-e
to properly carry such rich materia'*,
and the petite or thin bride would do
well to wear a chiffon or other filmy
gown and a tulle veil. Such frocks can
be exquisitely embroidered and be
quite as beautiful and far more suita
ble for the thin or short girl than vel
vet
No matter how simple the bridal
gown Itself may be, there is s large
field of choice in the matter of the at
tendants' frocks, and a party of brides
maids msy be gowned in different col
ors or shades of the same color, or if
a matron of honor or a maid of honor,
or both, are added to bridesmaids,
there is s still grester chance te dis
play artistic taste and originality.
If there is te be extreme simplicity
in the wedding gowns, then s house
wedding or a small church would seem
the proper thing; but if a large church
wedding, with a long Invitation list in
cluded in the program, then let there
be ss novel and beautiful garment*
and other accessories to the pageant
as la consistent with good taste—and
a lot more is consistent than the hide
bound lover of the commonplace is
usually willing to admit.
The French adhere strictly to the
jeuna fill* idea la dressing their
brides, the simplest frocks and usually
tulle veils, but their girl brides sre
quite different from ours, and so is
the whole social scheme. It behooves
the American woman to exercise her
originality in the matter of dress, if
she have it, and not only to'select the
best of the English and continental
fashions, but to add touches of her
own and add originality to the scheme
or to evolve new designs.
But other apparel must be consid
ered besides the bridal outfitting* and
we must needs turn to the tailor-made
costumes. As a general statement we
would say that the skirts are shorter
and the eoata are longer, although
with the long coat a short skirt does
not look well. The skirt that just
touches the ground is permissible, and
long princess coats in cloth are made
just above the ankles. Then on the
other hand the half-length coat is
equally popular.
Checks are popular, and are used
extensively by leading tailors in rather
somber mixtures that lend themselves
admirably to the braiding which is
such a marked feature of the Viennese
tailor-made.
Another delightful trimming, and
xne that is gladly welcomed with the
first touch of autumn, is velvet. Vel
vet collars are used even on riding
xabits, and some of the smartest cloth
dresses are strapped with it.
The coming of autumn has brought
with it a revival of satin trimmed with
cloth, and very noticeable in a crowd
is an evening gown of copper-colored
satin trimmed with gold and shaded
embroideries, with an introduction of
real lace at the deco age and long
lace sleeves.
I am quite certain that sleeves will
change very much in evening dress,
and their importance cannot be over
estimated, for upon them very o.tea
depends the success of a frock. The
picture-sleeve is always pretty In the
picture frock for country house wear,
but the best dinner gowns show but
l*ttle sleeve. I think one of the most
becoming sleeves is the trelliswork of
chenille, studded, perhaps, with jet,
and edged with a fringe. The shape of
the arm is very often ruined by an ill
fitting sleeve. The manipulation of the
sleeve, therefore, should receive most
careful attention. No woman looks
well dressed unless she knows how to
put oa her elothes; the best dress
maker in the world cannot invest the
j wearer with the meaning of the gowa.
As to hate, I should like to point out
one or two important changes which
have taken place in the millinery
world since last season. We have
completely done away with hat brims
which are longer at the back than the
front, and we no longer hide the back
of our necks! Cloche hats—even those
in mushroom form—are still very
fashionable, but they are no longer
exaggerated in outline and they are
worn on the head. And then we are
becoming very enthusiastic over the
Design for an Evening Gown.
cavalier hat, turned up at one side
and trimmed with handsome feathers
or with immense clusters of flowers.
Black taffeta hats bound with black
■ilk braid are possessed of much
charm. fIn this connection the braid is
always wide and rather coarse in tex
ture; it forms an important binding
for the cloche brim and is the best
of taste with tailor-made costumes.
A MATTER OF FORM.
