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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (May 20, 1909)
\PJCTO/ZE.i5 jr hTf'fo/JSz COPYRIGHT 1907 — |THt BOPB-S-rtERHIU. C.O. SYNOPSIS. "Mad" Dan Maitland, on reaching his New York bachelor club, met an attrac tive young woman at the door. Janitor • •'Hagan assured him no one lmd been within that day. Dan discovered a wom an's linger prints in dust on his desk, along with a letter from his attorney. Maitland dined with ltunnerman. his at torney. Dan set out for Oreentields, to get his family jewels. During his walk to tlie country seat, he met the young woman in gray, whom lie had seen leav ing liis bachelors’ club. Her auto had broken down. CHAPTER II.—Continued. Her superb composure claimed his admiration. Absolutely ignorant though she had been of his proximity, the voice from out of the skies evi dently alarmed her not at all. Still bending over the lifted foot, she .turned her head slowly and looked up; and "Oh!” said a small voice, tinged with relief. Anil coolly knotting the laces again, she sat up. "I didn't hear you, you knew." "Nor I see you," Maitland supple mented, unblushingly, “until a moment ago. I—er—can 1 be of assistance?" "Can’t you?” "Idiot!" said Maitland, severely, both to and of himself. Aloud: "1 think ! can." i nape so —aouDiiiiiiy. 11 s very unfortunate. I . . . was running rather fast, I suppose, anil didn't see the slope until too late. Now," open ing her hands in a gesture ingenuously charming with its suggestion of help lessness and dependence, “I don't know what can be the matter with the machine.” “I’m coming down.” announced Maitland briefly. “Wait.” “Thauk you. I shall.” She laughed, and Maitland could have blushed for his inanity; happily he had action to cloak his embarrass ment. In a twinkling he was at the water's edge, pausing there to listen, with admirable docility, to her plain tive objection: “But you'll get wet and—and ruin vottr things. I can't ask that of you." He chuckled, by way of reply, slap ping gallantly into the shallows and courageously wading out to the side of the car. Whereupon he was advised in tones of fluttered indignation: “You simply wouldn't listen to me! And I warned you! Xow you’re soak ing wet and will certainly catch your death of cold, and—and what can I do? Truly, I am sorry.” Here the young man lost track of her remark. He was looking up into the shadow of the motoring cap, dis covering things; for the shadow was set at naught by the moon luster that, reflected from the surface of the stream, invested with a gentle and glamorous radiance the face that bent above him. And he caught at his breath sharply, direst fears confirmed: She was pretty indeed—perilously pretty. The firm, resolute chin, the sensitive, sweet line of scarlet lips, the straight little nose, the brows del icately arched, the large, alert, tawny eyes with the dangerous sweet shad ows beneath, the glint as of raw cop per where her hair caught the light— Maitland appreciated them all far too well; and clutched nervously the rail of the seat, trying to steady himself, to re-collect his routed wits and con sider sensibly that it all was due to the magic of the moon, belike; the witchery of this apparition that looked down into his eyes so gravely. "Of course," he mumbled, “it's too beautiful to endure. Of course it will all fade, vanish utterly in the cold light of day.” Above him, perplexed brows gath ered ominously. “I beg pardon?" “I--er—yes,” he stammered at ran dom. “You—er—what ?” Positively, she was laughing at him! He, Maitland the exquisite. Mad Mait land the imperturbable, was being laughed at by a mere child, a girl scarcely out of her teens. He glanced upward, caught her eye a-gleam with merriment, and looked away with much vain dignity. • I was saying," he manufactured, ‘‘that I did not mind the wetting in the least. I'm happy to be of service.” “You weren't saying anything of the sort,” she contradicted, calmly. "How ever—” She paused significantly. Maitland experienced an instan taneous sensation as of furtive guilt, decidedly the reverse of comfortable, lie shuffled uneasily. There was a brief silence, on her part expectant, on his, blank. His menial attitude re mained hopeless; for some mysterious reason bis nonchalance had deserted him in the hour of his supermest need: not in all his experience did he remember anything like this—as awk ward. The river purled indifferently about his calves; a vagrant breeze disturbed the tree tops and died of sheer lassi tude; Time plodded on with measured stride. Then, abruptly, full-winged inspiration was born out of the chaos of his mind. Listening intently, he gianced with covert suspicion at the bridge: it proved untenanted, inoffen sive of mien; nor arose there any sound of hoof or wheel upon the high way. Again he looked up at the girl; and found her in thoughtful mood, frowning, regarding him steadily be neath level brows. He assumed a disarming levity ol demeanor, smiling winningly. "There's only one way," he suggested—not toe archly—and extended his arms. “Indeed?" She considered him with pardonable dubiety. Instantly his purpose became as adamant. “I must carry you. It's the only way." ' "Oh. indeed no! I—couldn’t impose upon you. I'm—very heavy, you know—” "Never mind.” firmly insistent. “You can't stay here all night, of course.” He Began to Wade Cautiously Shoreward. “Hut are you sure?" (She was yield ing! ) "I don’t like to—" He shook his head, careful to re strain the twitching corners of his lips. "It will take but a moment," he urged, gravely. "And I’ll be quite careful.” "Weil—" She perceived that, if not right, he was stubborn: and with a fi nal small gesture of deprecation, weakly surrendered. "I'm sorry to be such a nuisance.1’ she murmured, ris ing and gathering skirts about her. Maitland stoutly denied the hideous insinuation. "I ant only too glad—" She balanced herself lightly upon the step. He moved nearer and as sured himself of a firm foothold on the pebbly liver bed. She sank gracefully into his arms, proving a considerable burden—weightier, in fact, than he had anticipated. He was somewhat staggered: it seemed that he embraced countless yards of ruffles and things ballasted with (at a shrewd guess) lead He swayed. Then, recovering his equilibrium, he incautiously glanced into her eyes. And lost it again, completely. "1 was mistaken," he told himself; "daylight will but enhance—” She held herself considerately still, perhaps wondering why he made no move. Perhaps otherwise; there is reason to believe that she may have suspected—being a woman. At length: “Is there anything I can do.” she inquired, meekly, "to make it easier for you?" “I’m afraid,” he replied, attitude apologetic, "that I must ask: you to put your arm around my ne—my shoul ders. It would be more natural." “Oh.” The monosyllable was heavy with meaning—with any one of a dozen meanings, in truth. Maitland debated the most obvious. Did she conceive he had insinuated that it was his habit to ferry armfuls of attractive feminini ty over rocky fords by the light of a midnight moon? No matter. While he thought it out, she was consenting. Presently a slender arm was passed round his neck. Having awaited only that, he began to wade cautiously shorewards. the distance lessened perceptibly, but he contemplated the decreasing inter val without, joy, for all that she was of an appreciable weight. For all bur dens there are compensations. Unconsciously, inevitably,' her head sank toward his shoulder: he was aware of her breath, fragrant and warm, upon his cheek. ... He stopped abruptly, cold chills running up and down his back; he gritted his teeth; he shuddered perceptibly. “What is the matter?" she de manded. deeply concerned, but at pains not to stir. Maitland made a strange noise with his tongue behind clenched teeth. "Urrrrgh," he said distinctly. She lifted her head, startled; relief followed, intense and instantaneous. “I'm sorry," he muttered, humbly, face aflame, "but you . . . tickled.” “Um—so—sorry!” she gasped, vio lently agitated. And laughed a low, almost a silent, little laugh, as with deft fingers she tucked away the er rant rock of hair. “Ass!" Maitland told himself, fierce ly, striding forward. In another moment they were on dry land. The girl slipped from his arms and faced him. eyes dancing, cheeks crimson, lips a tense, quivering, scar let line. He met this with a rueful smile. “Sht—thank you—but." she gasped, explosively, “it was so funny!” Wounded dignity melted before her laughter. For a time, there in the moonlight, under the scornful regard of the disabled motor car!s twin head lights, these two rocked and shrieked. while the silent night flung back dis dainful echoes of their mad laughter. Perhaps the insane incongruity of their performance first became ap parent to the girl: she. at all events, was the first to control herself. Mait land subsided, rumbling, while she dabbed at her eyes with a wisp of lace and linen. "Forgive me." she said, faintly, at length; "1 didn’t mean to—” “How could you help it? Who'd ex pect a hulking brute like myself to be ticklish?” "You are awfully good," she coun tered more calmly. "Don't say that. I’m a clumsy lout. Hut—" He held her gaze inquiringly. "But may 1 ask—” "Oh, of course—certainly: I am— was—bound for Greenpoint on-the Sound—" “Ten miles!" he interrupted. The corners of her red lips drooped: her brows puckered with dismay, in stinctively she glanced toward the water-bound car. “What am 1 to do?" she cried. “Ten miles! ... 1 could never walk it. never in ihe world! You see, I went to town to-day to do a little shopping. As we were coming home Ihe chauf feur was arrested for careless driving. He had bumped a delivery wagon over —it wasn't really his fault. 1 telephoned home for somebody to bail him out, and my father said he would come in. Then I dined, returned to the police station and waited. Xobody came 1 couldn't stay there all night. I 'phoned to everybody I knew, until my money gave out; no one was in town. At last, in desperation, I started home aione." Maitland nodded his comprehension. “Your father—?” he hinted delicately. “Judge Wentworth,” she explained, hastily. “We’ve taken the Grover place at Greenpoint for the season." “1 see”—thoughtfully. And this was the girl who he had believed had been in his rooms that evening, in his ab sence! Oh, clearly, that was impos sible. Her lone rang with truth. She interrupted his train of thought with a cry of despair. “What will they think!" “I dare say," he ventured hopefully, "1 could hire a team at some farm house—" “But the delay! It’s so late al ready!” Undeniably late; one o'clock at the earliest. A thought longer Muitland hung In lack of purpose, then without a word of explanation turned and again began to wade out. “What do you mean to do?” she cried, surprised. "See vt hat’s the trouble,” he called back. “L know a bit about motors. Perhaps—” “Then—but why—” She stopped; and Maitland forbore to encourage her to round out her question. If was no difficult matter to supply the missing words. Why had he not thought of investigating the motor before insisting that he must carry her ashore? The humiliating conviction forced itself upon him that he was not figur ing to great: advantage in this adven ture. Distinctly a humiliating sensa tion to one who ordinarily was by way of having a fine conceit of himself, it requires a certain amount of ego tism to enable one to play the ex quisite to one's personal satisfaction; Maitland had enjoyed the possession of that certain amount; theretofore his approval of self had been passably en tire. Now—ho could not deny—the boor had shown up through tlie polish of the beau. Intolerable - thought! “Cad!” ex claimed Maitland, bitterly. This all was due to hasty jumping at conclu sions; if he had not chosen to believe a young and charming girl identical with an—an adventuress, this thing had not happened and lie had still re tained his own good will. For one lit tle moment he despised himself hearti ly—one little moment of clear insight into self was his. And forthwith he began to meditate apologies, formu lating phrases designed to prove ade quate without sounding exaggerated arid insincere. By this time he had reached the car. and—through sheer blundering luck—at once stumbled upon t lie seat of trouble—a clogged valve in the car bureter. N'o serious matter; with the assistance of a repair kit more than commonly complete, he had the valve clear in a jiffy. News of this triumph he shouted to tlie girl, receiving in reply an "Oh. thank you!" so fervently grateful that he felt more guilty than ever. Ruminating unhappily on the end of contemplated abasement, he waded round the car. satisfying himself that there was nothing else out of gear; and apprehensively cranked up. Whereupon the motor began to hum contentedly; all was well. Flushed with this success, Maitland climbed aboard and opened the throttle a trifle. The car moved. And then, with a swish, a gurgle, and a watery whoosh! it surged forward, tip. out of the river, gallantly up the slope. At the top the amateur chauffeur shut down the throttle and jumped out, turning Jo face the girl. She was by the step almost before he could offer a hand to help her in, and as she paused to render hint his due meed of thanks, it became evident that she har bored little if any resentment; eyes shining, face aglow with gratitude, she dropped hint a droll but graceful courtesy. “You are too good!" she declared with spirit. "How can 1 thank you?” "You might," he suggested, looking down into her face from his superior height, “give me a hit of a lift—just a couple of miles up the road. Though." he supplemented eagerly, "if you’d really prefer, I should be only too happy to drive the car home for you?" "Two miles, did you say?” He fancied something odd in her tone; besides, the question was super fluous. His eyes informed with puz zlement, he replied: “Why, yes—that much, more or less. I live—" "Of course," she put in quickly, “I'll give you the lift—only too glad. Hut as for your taking me home at this hour, I can't hear of that.” “But—” "Besides, what would people say?” she countered, obstinately. "Oh. no»" she decided; and he felt that from thfs decision there would be no appeal: "1 couldn't think of interfering with your . . . arrangements." Her eyes held his for a single in stant, instinct with mischief, gleaming with bewildering light front out a face schooled to gravity. -Maitland expe rienced a sensation of havirtg grasped after and missed a subtlety of al lusion: his wits, keen as they were, re coiled. baffled by her finesse. And the. more he divined that she was playing with him, as an experienced swords man might play with an impertinent novice, the denser his confusion grew. "Hut I have no arrangements—" he stammered. (TO HR CONTINt’ED.) USE LEAL AS A STIMULANT _ •*£-— in« in mines that contain much water. Indians who masticate the leaves of this plant can work 24 hours without eating or sleeping. Coca leaves are used by the natives when engaged in long and fatiguing journeys and by soldiers when subject to hardships and privations. They may be used with all kinds of food and are said to cure dyspepsia, either taken as an infusion in the shape of tea or by masticating the leaves. The life of the plant when perfect is 80 years. Let Others Live Also. We have seen that the highest form of protection for some may he the worst form ot suppression for the ma jority. And, if we would have the right to live ours-ilves. we must first perform the great eternal duty to let others live also.—Strindberg. How Coca la Cultivated—Preventive of Sleep and Fatigue. Coca is the South American invlg orant. The shrub from which the coca leaves are obtained grows under fa vorable conditions to a height of about four meters, it is cultivated In Peru and Bolivia. At the time the crop is gathered the seeds are sown In beds, when they germinate and grow, and In two months the growing plants reach a height of-about a foot. The leaves, grown in the proper sunlight and shade, are yellowish, small and thick. This is the kind of leaf that Is pre ferred for chewing by persons using the leaf as a stimulant, fortifier and preventive of sleep and fatigue in the performance of arduous work, Inas much as they prevent rheumatism, from which miners suffer when work Sim PsisMcm HE first coat is in bine serge; it fastens over in a point to one side; the fronts then slope away. White faced cloth is used for the collar, cuffs and pockets,.trimmed at the edge by black satin-covered buttons and but ton-holes, made with black silk cord. Hat of straw, trimmed with masses of small roses and a feather mount. Materials required: 2 yards serge 46 inches wide, % yard white face cloth. 3 dozen buttons, 2 yards cord. Here is a coat Tor fawn face-cloth; it has a semi-fitting front ar.d a tight hack: tabs are cut on the front, hack and sleeves, trimmed with buttons and cords: ali the seams are wrapped and the collar is of velvet. Hat of stretched satin, trimmed with roses and a feature mount. Materials required: 1% yard cloth 46 inches wide, XVi dozen buttons, Vs yard velvet, 3 yards lining. The third is of tweed, bound with satin. The coat fastens invisibly down center of front, and is trimmed with buttons and cords in sets of threes the sleeve is trimmed in the same way. and is bound with satin. Hat of straw, trimmed with silk and a feather mount. Materials required: 1 Va yard 48 inches wide, 1 yard satin, 15 buttons, 3 yards lining. REALLY SMART LINEN DRESS. Designed to Be Made Up in Rouge Pink and in Semi-Princess Style. Rouge pink linen is selected for this smart semi-princess style. A plain panel continues from shoulders to hem of skirt, and has a wrapped seam at each side, giving the effect of a tuck: one tuck is made on either side to fit on the bodice, and other tucks con tinue to the end ot' sleeve; three more tucks of different widths trim the foot of skirt, commencing on each side of panel. Tucked lawn is used for the yoke, which is edged wfth braid, a gal loon-waist-band is taken as far as pan el, and on the right side of it a ribbon is attached, finished at the end by a tassel. Hat of coarse straw to match, trim med with chiffon, roses and a feather. Materials required; Nine yards linen 36 inches wide, lour yards braid, one hall yard galloon for waist-belt, three quarters yard ribbon, one tassel, one half yard tucked lawn. Mouth Wash. An excellent mouth-wash may be made by mixing one ounce of carbon ate of soda with one pint of water. Bottle for use. After cleaning the teeth as usual, rinse with a little of this liquid. It has a fine preservative effect on the teeth, and cleanses the tongue and gums. Return to Quaint Curls. Among the folk fashions borrowed from Poland is that curious one of the dangling curls at the sides of the face. Some of the daring women in Paris are trying the little curls which fall over the temples and account for the stray locks about the ear. To Save Stockings. Girls will not be half so apt to dance holes in their delicate silk stock ings if only they will have slippers powdered inside. This simple opera tion permits the silk and shoe to rub together with decidedly less friction, and the wear Is thus not so great. There is no more satisfactory ar rangement for a yoke than the separ ate guimpe tied down with ribbons at the waist line. BRAINS NEEDED IN THE HOME. Without Intelligent Application, Housework Means Drudgery and General Unhappiness. As a recipe for a happy home then ! is none better than brains and good housekeeping. The more a woman knows the more easily she achieves Housework undirected by brains spells drudgery. The housewife with brains knows the value of system, of diregarding traditions if they mean a waste ot higher powers, of making life more i simple if following the fashion means I cramped nerves and strained purse. The brain shows the futility of j scrubbing, stitching and dusting as home making qualities: while the j other half will never let culture run rampant while stockings are un darned aud meals are belter skelter. A woman was once asked to define her ideal housekeeping. "It is that." she said, "where the woman keeps the house and not the house the worn- j an." Houses having a way of not onlj | “keeping" the woman, but binding her j with chains impossible to break un- ! less brains form more than half the j mixture used in that house's running. A New Trimming. Many of the imported gowns are be ing trimmed with silk-covered cord. It is very effective, and is necessarily somewhat exclusive, since it cannot be bought in the shops. It is not dif ficult to make at home, however. Kse soft cotton cord, as thick as heavy twine. Messaiine. satin or taffeta may he used in the desired color. Cut the material in bias strips, turn in the edges, bind the cord, sew ing carefully along these edges. The trimming is then braided on to the gown in a large pattern. If it is un practical to have the gown stamped, trace the pattern on tissue paper, haste it on and braid through it. After the design is finished the paper may he pulled out. This kind of cord also j makes suitable loops for silk-covered | buttons when they are used for trim j miug. Hints on Hemming. Hemming on light-weight wool goods should he done by hand. Use a short needleful of split silk. It makes a prettier hem. And does away with the tight twist ing of the fine single silk. Another good plan is to use the ravellings of the material. It is a perfect match. It has the same sheen as the mate rial. It does not show, therefore, If a chance stitch goes through. K_-4 IN fOQUE Almost every gown has a different colored shoulder scarf. Tt is now quite the fad to have lingerie embroidered tn pink and blue, according to fancy. A waist that closes in the back is always pretty with tucks extending to yolk depth in front. | Passementerie drop trimmings are now to be found in all the modish colors, and in pearl, jet, crystal and metallic effects. A long chain, intended to be twist ed around the neck a second and third time, is ornamented with rose coral oblongs effectively matched. Net girdles of wide soft mesh are embroidered in ribbousine (a lustrious fabric), and fringed with it. They ' come in all of the fashionable colors. New cloak gowns, which may be worn as an outdoor garment or as a princess robe, come in broadcloth, in black, navy blue, violet and smoks 1 color. 1 Yearning. I want to trail back to the field and tin wood Wlnre zephyrs are kissing the tre»«. Where rivers sing softly their rhythms if peace And melody rides on the breeze. I want to go back to the old bay t bridge And angle for fish with a pin. To feel once again all the thrills I have known At hooking and landing a fin! I want to return where the gooseberries grow. Where choke-cherries pucker yo r throat— I want to go pond-Iilv hunting . more In Stewart's old, fiat-bottomed boat I want to be lost in the heart of Hun,” Where squirrels and owls have t nests: I want to (lop down on my look 'm the elms And worship the blue throng' t r crests! I want to go barefoot along the old tr. That leads to the clover-decked lint By ways that are winding, where b.,> hang low And whisper their loves to the rills' I want to go back and just splash in tl ■ creek And let the cool Cedar run fast— Hun over and under, and scold as it lave-. The hands it has known in the pa.-: ' I want to wade out where the sand-bar is heaped In diamonds that sparkle witli lig! : Just wade and get sopping clear up to my waist And holler—and yell—In my might! I want to run down to “The yuarry." "The Hill," "The Bend.” "The High bank" and “The Strand"— Let me stand all enthroned where my Itovhood was spent. Take me back to my own Fairyland' Take me back where the rests are sweet with perfume. Where the bees sing a song that ii glad— Take me hack, let me feel in my heart once again. Just the God-given joy of a lad! L And now the good citizen docs nc • wait for the Macedonian cry Iron th village paper to bum those leaves' H takes time and the rake by the fore lock and gets busy early. ☆ w ☆ If some men were as particular about getting up when they are called as they are about winding their alarm clocks, wives would be saved a heap of nagging. •£■ e. A lady disciple of Rooseve’.tian spelling has married a Chicago proof reader. She desires to reform him. I presume. I Come to Thee. I come to thee. O my darling! Faint with the longing of years. Weak with unsntiate passion. And burnt with its scalding tears. I have come from the Town of Ambit; \n. Through the Wood of the Heart-Sick To dream in the Temple of Beauty. And feed on the lilies of love. —Alfred Hitch. ® ® (!) Non Appreciative. Having announced his tpxt. an oh! colored preacher down in Georgia, as related by the Atlanta Constitution went on to say: "My attention has been drawed ter de fact dat some scoundttl has gone 'n put a alligator in de pulpit, right under my two foots; but, long as ez dar, I gwine let him stay 'twel after de benediction; fer I notice dat, des lak de res' er you triflin', no 'count sinners, he done made up his mind ter take it easy on sleep through de sermon!” ® ® ® Woman. Oh, woman, you are charming. And poets long have sung Their sweetest verses to you In every written tongue: But noire of them has ever Told why it is that you Will always leave a street ear .ot dne gnorW -W. J. l.amplon. in Success Magazine. ® ® ® Song of an Editor. This is the season for plantin' seed. *nd 'tis also the printer's time of n ••■>d. Sow radish seed anil lettuce, too, and pay ilie printer whatever is due. Go huild yourself an onion bed and remember the printer must be fed. Sow several rows >f early peas, and pay for last year's paper, please. Dig up the earth 'round »ach strawberry vine and if you want Mir paper drop 11s a line. F’lant some potatoes to put in hash and remember lie printer is short of cash. Fix up a iiH or so of beans, and with the editor livide your means. Of water-melons ,-ou'll need a patch—the editor's pants leeds one to match. Bay up your sul icription. plant your corn, and you'll •aise a big crop as sure as you’re born.— ilenry (Oula.) Kagle. -BYRON WILLIAMS. Girt In. It Is not to die, nor even to die of lunger, that makes a man wretched. Vlany men have died; all men must lie. But it is to live miserable, we enow not why; to work sore, and yet ;ain nothing; to be heart worn, veary, yet isolated, unrelated, girt n with a cold, universal laissey faire. —Thomas Carlyle. But Is He? When a man pawns his watch he irobably believes that he is making ;ood use of his time.