Nebraska Newspapers

    The Hollow ♦ ♦ ♦ I
p * of Her Hand'
^George Barr M°Cutcheon I
COPYMGrtrtSVl BY GYOKcFgMA JVSCVTDXf&r: COPYJVG/G: /9/2 GY PODDJfEAD &<» CQGPMY
SYNOPSIS.
•iaaY WnaNfl to (Mod murdered In
• IM) IMW MW New Turk Mn M’ran
da- » •wBtnwikd few the cfty and Iden
®*~ IS* bud> A Towns kibu «t» ac
Wraadkli the Ins and aub
•N«*t’l) itw* neared. I* rjvpecied
Mr. . Turk
In an * -to gamut a Mndwt anew u m
On Ur war *u iw»u a round woman In
Uu iw4 wKo prriw t* be the woman
we - k ad Wrwwdal! Kevan* that the
gut lad dawe tier a service In ridding her
*d the wet who (bough ah. lined him
daefdy. bad a.erl her great sorrow.
M*a VnaM de -rmluas ts shield her
aad taken her Is fc-r own home Mrs
*ns«tf lean the at»fT of Hetty Caa
- ’hat petlea that rw
latw* ta Wrmwde T» i* and the storr of
ft* (raged< ate '-w-.<ls the gtr! ever to
re* She Wan iiertv a boat, friend*hip
aad a. _r* fr-m park oa account of the
•r»g»<» »!*• Sara Y randa!' and Hettv
attend the • .-.*Tai of Chain* Yrandall a*
tte teen* of Ms twrarfita Sara Wrandall
and Ih*-tft return to New Turk after an
ais-r r of • rear In Fumpe Leslie
Yreader hr 41 er of Chain*, makes him
self otafw to Sark sad becomes greatly
Uttered eg le fle'ty Sara ssea In Lan
he a kr.fttuan-u t* aalhrtlty ft revenge on
the Yrands lie aad iwaillni for the
WVveg# et a ■»< at the lands of
CTukJlis Yrandsn hr marrvlnc his nror
ltr<w trko the famity [esllr Is com
past eitt tits friend Brandon Booth, an
ar.e imu Sir* • her country place
lawn* oewfessea |a> w> that be la madly
la lore with Hetty
CHAPTER V!l —Continued.
"1 say, Lewlie. la she staying hero*”
mod 1 tooth, lowering bis voice to u
rlrtUC half w fctpper.
TITso*” demanded Wrandall va
cantly His mind appeared to be else
wfcere
“Why. that's the girl I saw on the
rood— Wake up! The one on the
envelope, yon gas. Is she the one you
»*•• tell.bg me about la the club—the
Mias Whi: t-Hrr N*n« who—~
TS. you mean Miss Cagtieurn. She’s
Just tee upstair*. You must have
Biot Ur ou the steps ”
“Yon know I did. So that is Hiss
Cast let ou ’ *
-Ulppinz. t*a*t «be? Dtdnl I tell
“She's b*-apf!ful. She Is a type. Just
as you said aid man—a really wonder
ful typo I saw her yesterday—and the
day oefor*."
"I ve been wondering how you man
aged to get a likeness of her on the
hack of an envelope " said Leslie sar
castically. ‘Must have had a good
kwg look at her. my boy. It isn't a
■nay-shot, you know ”
Booth flushed. “It la an Impression,
that a all I drew it from memory,
•pen my aoul”'
•' '-e'i! be .mmeasely gratified. I'm
■am.”
"For heaven a sake. Lea. don’t be
■tw-h a fool as to show her the thing.”
uned Booth in consternation. “She'd
Never understand.”
■Ob. you needn't worry. She haa a
fine sense of humor."
Booth tf.fr. i know whether to laugh
or scowl. He compromised with him
self by slipping his am through that
of his friend and saving heartily•
"t wish you the beet of luck, old
hoy ”
Thanks." said Leslie drily.
CHARTER VIII.
In Which Hetty Is Weighed.
Booth sod Leslie returned to the
cfty on Tuesday. The artist left be
hind him a ‘ memory sketch" of Sara
Wrsndall. done In the solitude of his
room tone after the rest of the house
Rna sr*tp*d la slumber on the first
I I I It
f*mn ■ii ''min laai
H* Wm as Deeply perplexed as Ever.
eight of his stay at Soutblook. It was
as sketchily drawn as the one he had
made of Hetty, and quite as wonderful
la the mattrr of faithfulness, but ut
terly without the subtle something
that made the other notable. The
craft tsesa of the artist was there, but
the touch of inspiration was lacking.
Kara was delighted She was flat
tered. and made no pretense of disguis
ing the fact.
The discussion which followed the
exhibition of the sketch st luncheon,
w«s very animated. It served to e*
«!• Leslie to such a degree that be
, brought forth from his pocket the
treasured sketch of Hetty, for the pur
pose of comparison
The girl mho had been genuinely en
thusiastic over the picture of Sara,
and who had not been by way of know
lag that the first sketch existed, was
catered with confusion. Embarrass
ment and a shy sense of gratification'
were succeeded almost at once by a
fading of keen annoyance. The fact
that the sketch wm in Leslie's pos
session and evidently a thing to be
cherished—took away all the pleasure
she may have experienced during the
first few mo menu of Interest.
Booth caught the aegry flash In her
eyes, preceding the flush and unac
countable pallor that followed almost,
Immediately. He felt guilty, and at
the same time deeply annoyed with
Leslie. Later on he tried to explain,
but the attempt waa a lamentable fail
ure. She laughed, not unkindly. In
face.
Leslie had refused to allow the
•ketch to leave his hand. If she could
have gained possess Win of It. even tor'
an iLstaat, the thing would have boon
tore to bits. But it went back Into bis
commodious poc ketbook, and she was
too proud to demand it of him.
She became oddly sensitive to
Booth's persistent though inoffensive
scrutiny as time wore oa More than
once she had caught him looking at
her with a fixedness that betrayed per
plexity so plainly that she could not
fall to recognize an underlying motive.
He was vainly striving to refresh his
memory; that was clear to her. There
is no mistaking that look In a person's
eyes. It cannot be disguised.
He was as deeply perplexed as ever
when the time came for him to depart
with Leslie He asked her point blank
on the last evening of his stay if they
had ever met before, and she frankly
confessed to a short memory for faces.
It was not unlikely, she said, that he
bad seen her In London or In Paris,
but she had not the faintest recollec
tion of having seen him before their
meeting In the road.
I'rged by Sara, she had reluctantly
consented to sit to him for a portrait
during the month of June. He put the
request in 6uch terms that it did not
sound like a preposition. It was not
surprising that he should want her for
a subject; in fact, he put it In such a
way that she could not but feel that
she would be doing him a great and
enduring favor. She imposed but one
condition: The picture was never to
be exhibited. He met that, with bland
magnanimity, by proffering the canvas
to Mrs. Wrancall. ae the subject's
"next beat friend.” to "have and to
bold so long as she might live,” "free
gratis.” "with the artist's compli
ment*." and so on and so forth, in airy
good humor.
Leslie's aid had been solicited by
both Sara and the painter In the final
effort to overcome the girl's objec
.iuur. in? was rawer iwrea aooui it.
but added his Toice to the general
clamour. With half an eye one could
fee that he did not relish the idea of
Hetty posing for days to the hand
some. agreeable painter. Moreover, it
meant that Booth, who could afTord to
gratify his own whims, would be
obliged to Spend a month or more in
the neighborhood, so that he could de
vote himself almost entirely to thd
consummation of this particular under
taking. Moreover, it meant that Vivi
an's portrait was to be temporarily
disregarded.
Sara Wran da II was quick to recog
nise the first symptoms of jealousy on
the part of her brother-in-law. The
new idol of the Wrandalls was in love,
selfishly, Insufferably in love as things
went with all the Wrandalls. They
hated selfishly, and ao they loved. Her
husband had been their king. But
their king was dead, long live the
king! Leslie had put on the family
crown—a little jauntily, perhaps—
cocked over the eye a bit, so to speak
—but it was there just the same, an
noyingly plain to view.
Sara had tried to like him. He had
been her friend, the only one she could
claim among them all. And yet, be
neath his genial allegiance, she could
detect the air of condescension, the
bland attitude of a superior who de
fends another's cause for the reason
that It gratifies Kero. She experienced
a thrill of malicious Joy In contemplat
ing the fall of Kero. He would bring
down hie house about his head, and
there would be no Rome to pay the
fiddler.
Brandon Booth took a small cottage
on the upper road, half way between
the village and the home of Sara
Wrandall, and not far from the ab
horred "back gate" that swung in the
teeth of her connections by marriage.
He set up his establishment in half a
day and. being settled, betook himself
off to dine with Sara and Hetty. All
his household cares, like the world,
reeled snugly on the shoulders of an
Atlas named Pat, than whom there
was no more faithful servitor In all
the earth, nor in the heavens, for that
matter, if we are to accept his own
estimate of himself. In any event, he
was a treasure. Booth s house was al
ways in order. Try as he would, he
couldn't get it out of order. Pat’s wife
saw to that.
As he swung jauntily down the tree
lined road that led to Sara's portals.
Booth was full of the joy of living.
Sara was at the bottom of the ter
race. moving among the flower beds in
the formal garden.
At the sound of his footsteps on the
gravel. Sara looked up and Instantly
smiled her welcome.
“It is so nice to see you again,” she
said, giving him her hand.
“ My heart’s In the highlands,’” he
quoted, waving a vague tribute to the
heavens. “And it's nice of you to see
mi-." he added gracefully. Then he
pointed up the terrace. “Isn't she a
picture? 'Gad, it's lovely—the whole
effect. That picture against the sky—”
He stopped short, and the sentence
was never finished, although she wait
ed for him to complete it before re
marking:
"Her heart is not in the highlands.”
"You mean—something’s gone
wre ng—”
"Oh, no,” she said, still smiling;
"nothing like that. Her heart is in
the lowlands. You would consider
Washington square to be in the low
land^ wouldn't you?”
“Oh. I see,” he said slowly. "You
mean she’s thinking of Leslie.’
"Who knows? It was a venture on
my part, that’s alL She may be think
ing of you, Blr. Booth.”
"Or some chap in old England, that’s
more like it,” he retorted. “She can’t
be thinking of me, you know. No one
ever thinks of me when I’m out of
view. Out of sight, out of mind. No;
she’s thinking of something a long
way off—or some one, If you choose to
have it that way.”
She smiled upon him with half
closed, shadowy eyes, and shook her
head. Then-she arose.
"Let as go in. Hetty is eager to sec
you again.’’ . —
They started up the terrace. His
face clouded.
“I have had a feeling all along that
she'd rather not have this portrait
painted, Mrs. Wrandall. A queer sort
of feeling that she doesn't just like the
idea of being put on canvas.”
“Nonsense,” she Bald, without look
ing at him.
Hetty met them at the top of the
steps. The electric porch lights had
just been turned on by the butler. The
girl etood In the path of the light
Booth was never to forget the loveli
ness of her in that moment He car
ried the image with him on the long
walk home through the black night
(He declined Sara's offer to send him
over in the car for the very reason
that he wanted the half-hour of soli
tude In which to concentrate all the
impressions she bad made on his
fancy.)
The three of them stood there for a
few minutes, awaiting the butler’s an
nouncement Sara's arm was about
Hetty's shoulders. He was so taken
up with the picture they presented
that he scarcely heard their light chat
ter. They were types of loveliness so
full of contrast that he marveled at
the power of nature to create women
in the same mold and yet to model so
differently.
As they entered the vestibule, a
servant came up with the word that
Miss Castleton was wanted at the
telephone, “long distance from New
York.”
The girl stopped In her tracks.
Booth looked at her in mild surprise,
a condition which gave way an instant
later to perplexity. The look of an
noyance in her eyes could not be dis
guised or mistaken.
“Ask him to call me up later, Wat
son," she said quietly.
“This is the third time he has called,
Miss Castleton,” said the man. “You
were dressing, if you please, ma'am,
the first time—”
“I will come,” she Interrupted sharp
ly, with a cunous glance at Sara, who
for some reason avoided meeting
Booth's gaze.
“Tell him we shall expect him on
Friday," said Mrs. Wr&ndall.
"By George!" thought Booth, as she
left them. “I wonder if it can be Les
lie. If it is—-well, he wouldn’t be flat
tered if he could have seen the look In
her eyes.
Later on, he had no trouble in gath
ering that it was Leslie Wrandall who
called, but be was very much in the
dark as to the meaning of that ex
pressive look. He only knew that she
was in the telephone room for ten min
utes or longer, and that all trace of
emotion was gone from her face when
she rejoined them with a brief apology
for keeping them waiting.
He left at ten-thirty, saying good
night to them on the terrace. Sara
walked to the steps with him.
"Don’t you think her voice is love
ly?” she asked. Hetty had sung for
them.
“I dare say," he responded absently.
"Give you my word, though, I visn’t
thinking of her voice. She is lovely."
He walked home as If In a dream.
The spell was on him.
Far in the night, he started up from
the easy chair In which he had been
smoking and dreaming and racking
his brain by turns.
"By Jove!” he exclaimed aloud. "I
remember! I’ve got it! And tomor
row I’ll prove it.”
Then he went to bed, with the storm
from the sea pounding about the
house, and slept serenely until Pat
and Mary wondered whether he meant
to get up at alL
"Pat,” said he at breakfast, “I want
you to go to the city this morning and
fetch out all of the Studios you can
find about the place. The old ones are
in that Italian hall seat and the late
ones are in the studio. Bring all of
them.”
“There’s a diwtl of a bunch of
thim,” said Pat ruefully.
He was not to begin sketching the
figure until the following day. After
luncheon, howhver, he had an appoint
ment to inspect Hetty’s wardrobe, os
tensibly for the purpose of picking out
& gown for the picture. As a matter
of fact, he had decided the point to
his own satisfaction the night before.
She should pose for him in the dainty
white dress she had worn on that oc
casion.
While they were going over the ex
tensive assortment of gowns, with
Sara as the judge from whom there
seemed to be no appeal, he casually
inquired if she had ever posed before.
He watched her closely as he put
the question. She was holding up a
beautiful point lace creation for his
inspection, and there was a pleading
smile on her lips. It must have been
her favorite gown. The smile faded
away. The hand that dangled the gar
ment before hie eyes suddenly be
came motionless, as if paralyzed. In
---
' XrtS"*
The Girl Stopped in Her Tracks.
the next instant, she recovered her
self, and, giving the lace a quick fillip
that sent its odor of sachet leaping to
his nostrils, responded with perfect
composure.
“Isn’t there a distinction between
posing for an artist, and sitting for
one's portrait?” she asked.
He was silent. The fact that he did
not respond seemed to disturb her aft
er a moment or two. She made the
common mistake of pressing the ques
tion.
"Why do you ask?" was her inquiry.
When it was too late she wished she
had not uttered the words. He had
caught the somewhat anxious note in
her voice.
“We always ask that, I think,” he
said. "It's, a habit.*
"Oh,” she said doubtfully.
“And by the way, you haven’t an
swered.”
She was busy with the gown for a
time. At last she looked him full in
the face.
“That’s true,” she agreed; “1 haven't
answered, have I? No, Mr. Booth, I’ve
never posed for a portrait It is a
new experience for me. You will have
to contend with a great deal of stupid
ity on my part But I shall try to be
plastic.”
He uttered a polite protest, and
pursued the question no farther. Her
answer had been so palpably evasive
that it struck him as bald, even awk
ward.
Pat, disgruntled and irritable to the
point of profanity—he was a privi
leged character and might have sworn
if he felt like it without receiving no
tice—came shambling up the cottage
walk late that afternoon, bearing two
large, shouldersagging bundles. He
had walked from the station—a matter
of half a mile—and it was hot. His
employer sat in the shady porch, view
ing his approach.
The young man drew a chair up to
the table and began the task of work
ing out the puzzle that now seemed
more or less near to solution. He had
a pretty clear idea as to the period he
wanted to investigate. To the best of
his recollection, the Studios published
SOME ODD DEATH REPORTS
N_
New York World Print* Humorous
Returns Alleged to Be Taken
From the Records.
The chief statistician of Wisconsin,
in examining death certificates filed
by physicians with the state board of
health, has discovered and disclosed
come of more than local interest.
They reveal euch aberrations of sense
and science In the diagnosis of dis
ease and the causes of death as ' to
merit consideration from reformers
who wish to put nearly every act of
human life under medical supervision.
A few instances must serve to illue
trate the nature of a multitude. One
report is this: "Went to bed feeling
well, but woke up dead.” Another
says: “Do not know the cause of
death, but patient fully recovered from
last illness.” A third reported: “Last
illness caused by chronic rheumatism,
but was cured before death.” Still
another: “Deceased never had been
fatally sick.”. And this: "Died sud
denly; nothing serious.”
Some reports are mere absurdities,
such as: “Kicked by a horse shod on
the left kidney.” “Died suddenly at
the age of one hundred and three. To
this time he bid fair to reach a ripe old
age.” "Deceased died from blood poi
son. caused by a broken ankle, which
is remarkable, as the automobile
struck him between the lamp and the
radiator.” A mother la reported to
have “died In Infancy.”
The significance at these reports lies
in the fact that they emanate from the
members of a learned profession,
dealing with the practice of that pro
fession.—New York World.
Smile, and Others Will Smile.
In an elevator of one of our large
stores I saw a lady turn her head
and in so doing, struck another lady’s
face with her feather, the lady struck
was angry and scowled at the first
lady, and in so doing turned her head
and struck with her hat ornament an
other lady. This lady turned her
head and struck another lady's face;
this lady was annoyed, but she had
seen the others, and as she looked up
she saw two gentlemen with broad
smiles on their faces, and she smiled,
and soon the others in the car saw the
humorous side, and there were smiles
upon smiles in that gloomy store ele
vator.
London’s Modern Fire Brigade.
The London Are brigade is rapidly
becoming a completely motor-equipped
Are fighting organization. Today Lon
don possesses 97 motor appliances and
two motor fire floats. It is now pro
posed to spend in the near future
$500,000 in providing 53 motor escape
vans, 43 electric escape vans, 94 pe
trol or petrol electric motor pumps, 27
motor turntable ladders, 11 motor lor
ries, S motor ladders, 15 motor
cars, and a motor canteen van, or 249
new motor appliances. In three years
bones will be unknown in the Lon
don Ore brigade. ___
three or four years back held the key.
He selected the numbers and began
to ran through them. He was search
ing for a vaguely remembered article
on one of the lesser-known English
painters who had given great promise
at the time it was published but who
dropped completely out of notice scon
afterward because of a mistaken no
tion of his own importance. If
Booth's memory served him right, the
fellow came a cropper, so to speak. In
trying to ride rongh shod over public
opinion, and went to the dogs. He
had been painting sensibly np to that
I time, but suddenly went in for the
most violent style of impressionism.
That was the end of him.
There had been reproductions of his
principal canvases, with sketches and
studies In charcoal. One of these pic
tures had made a lasting impression
on Booth: The figure of a young wom
an In deep meditation standing in the
shadow of a- window casement from
which she looked out upon the world
apparently without a thought of it. A
slender young woman in vague reds
and browns, whose shadowy face was
positively Illuminated by a pair of
wonderful blue eyes.
He came upon it at last For a long
time he sat there gazing at the face
of Hetty Castleton. a look of half-won
der. half-triumph In his eyes. There
could be no doubt as to the Identity
of the subject. The face was hers:
the velvety, dreamy, soulful eyes that
had haunted him for years, as he now
believed. Is no sense could the pic
ture be described as a portrait It was
a study, deliberately arranged and de
liberately posed for in the artist's stu
dio. He was mystified. Why should
she, the daughter of Colonel Castleton.
the grand-niece of an earl, be engaged
in posing for what evidently was
meant to be a commercial product of
this whilom artist?
Turning from a skilfully colored full
page reproduction, he glanced at first
casually over the dozen or more
sketches and studies on the succeed
ing pages. Many of them represented
studies of women’s heads and figures,
with little or no attempt to obtain a
likeness. Some were half-draped, show
ing in a sketchy way the long graceful
lines of the half-nude figure, of bare
shoulders and breasts, of gauze-like
fabrics that but Illy concealed Impres
sive charms. Suddenly his eyes nar
rowed and a sharp exclamation fell
from his lips. He bent closer to the
pages and studied the drawings with
^doubled interest.
Then he whistled softly to himself, a
token of simple amazement. The head
of each of these remarkable studies
suggested in outline the head and fea
tures of Hetty Castleton! She had
been Hawkright's model!
The next morning at ten he was at
Southlook, arranging his easel and
canvas in the north end of the long
living room, where the light from the
tail French windows afforded abun
dant and well-distributed light for the
enterprise in hand. Hetty had not yet
appeared. Sara, attired in a loose
morning gown, was watching him from
a comfortable chair in the corner, one
shapely bare arm behind her head; the
free hand was gracefully employed in
managing a cigarette. He was con
scious of the fact that her lazy, half
alert gaze was upon him all the time,
although she pretended to be entirely
indifferent to the preparations. Dimly
he could see the faint smile of inter
est on her lips.
Hetty came In, calm, serene and
lovelier than ever in the clear morn
ing light She was wearing the simple
white gown he had cnosen the day be
fore. If she was conscious of the
rather intense scrutiny he bestowed
upon her as she gave him her hand
in greeting, she did not appear to be
in the least disturbed.
‘‘You may go away, Sara," she said
firmly. “I shall be t6o dreadfully self
conscious if you are looking on.”
Booth looked at her rather sharply.
Sara indolently abandoned her com
fortable chair and left them alone in
the room.
“Shall we try a few effects, Miss
Castleton?” he inquired, after a period
of constraint that had its effect on
both of them.
"I am in your hands," she said sim
ply.
He made suggestions. She fell into
the position so easily, so naturally, so
effectively, that he put aside all previ
ous doubts and blurted out:
“You have posed before, Miss Cas
tleton.”
She smiled frankly. “But not for
a really truly portrait,” she said.
“Such as this is to be.”
He hesitated an instant. “I think
I recall a canvas by Maurice Hawk
right,” he said, and at once experienc
ed a curious sense of perturbation. It
was not unlike fear.
Instead of betraying the confusion
or surprise he expected, Miss Castle
ton merely raised her eyebrows in
quiringly..
“What has that to do with me, Mr.
Booth?” she asked.
He laughed awkwardly.
“Don’t you know his work?” he in
quired, with a slight twist of his lip.
“I may have seen his pictures,” she
replied, puckering her brow as if in
reflection. “Oh,” she cried, with a
bright smile of understanding. “I see!
Yes, I have a double—a really remark
able double. Have you never seen Het
ty Glynn, the actress?”
“1 am sure I have not,” he said, tak
ing a long breath. It was one of re
lief. he remembered afterward. “If
she is so like you as all that, I couldn’t
have forgotten her.”
“She is quite unknown, I believe
she went on, ignoring the implied com
pliment. “A chorus girt, or something
like that They say she Is wonderfully
like me—or was, at least a few years
ago.”
He was silent for s few minutes,
■ta dying her face and figure with the.
I
J critical eye of the artist. As he turn
' ed to the canvas with his crayon point
' he remarked, wi* an unmistakable
note of relief in his voice:
“That explains everything. It must
have been Hetty Glynn who posed for
all those things of Hawkright's."
“I dare say,” said she indifferently.
CHAPTER IX.
The Ghost at the Feast.
The next day he appeared bright
and early with his copy of the Studio.
"There,” he said, holding it before
her eyes. She took it from his hand
and stared long and earnestly at the
reproduction.
"Do you think it like me?” she in
quired Innocently.
"Amazingly like you,” he declared
with conviction.
She turned the page. He was watch
| ing her closely. As she looked upon
the sketches of the half-nude figure a
warm blush covered her face and
■ neck. She did not speak for a full
i minute, and he was positive that her
fingers tightened their grasp on the
j magazine.
"The same model,” he said quietly,
i She nodded her head.
"Hetty Glynn, I am sure,” she said,
after a pause, without lifting her eyes.
1 Her voice was low, the words not very
distinct
He drew a long breath, and she look
ed up quickly. What he saw in her
; honest blue eyes convicted her.
Sara Wrandall came into the room
j at that moment. Hotty hastily closed
| the magazine and held it behind her.
Booth had intended to show the. re
production to Mrs. Wrandall, but the
girl's behavior caused him to change
' his mind. He felt that he possessed
a secret that could not be shared with
Sara Wrandall, then or afterward.
Moreover, he decided that he would
not refer to the Hawkright pictures
again unless the girl herself brought
up the subject. All this flashed through
his mind as he stepped forward to
greet the newcomer.
When he turned again to Hetty, the
magazine had disappeared. He never
saw it afterward, and, what is more to
the point, he never asked her to pro
duce it.
He thought hard over the situation.
The obvious solution came to him:
She had been at one time reduced to
the necessity of posing, a circumstance
evidently known to but few and least
of all to Sara Wrandall, from whom
the girl plainly meant to keep the
truth. This conviction distressed him,
but not in the way that might have ;
been expected. He had no scruples j
about sharing the secret or in keeping '
it inviolate; his real distress lay in
the fear that Mrs. Wrandall might
hear of all this from other and per
haps ungentle sources. As for her pos
ing for Hawkright, it meant little or
nothing to him. In his own experience,
two girls of gentle birth had served as
models for pictures of his own mak
ing, and he fully appreciated the exi
gencies that had driven them to it
One had posed in the ••altogether.”
She was a girl of absolutely irre
proachable character, who afterward
married a chap he knew very well,
and who was fully aware of that short
phase in her life. That feature of the j
situation meant nothing to him. He
i-1—i-n—m—utility iiiuimg !
He Was Watching Her Closely.
was in no doubt concerning Hetty. She 1
was what she appeared to be: A gen
tlewoman.
He admitted to himself that he was !
under the spell of her. It was not j
love, he was able to contend; but
it was a mysterious appeal to some
thing within him that had never re- j
vealed itself before. He couldn't j
quite explain what it was.
In his solitary hours at the cottage
on the upper road, he was wont to
take his friend Leslie Wrandall into
consideration. As a friend, was it not
his duty to go to him with his sordid
little tale? Was it right to let Wran
dall go on with his wooing when there
existed that which might make all the
difference in the world to him? He
invariably brought these deliberations
to a close by relaxing into a grim smile
of amusement, as much as to say:
"Serve him right, anyway. Trust him
to sift her antecedents thoroughly
He’s already done it, and he is quite
satisfied with the result Serve them
all right for that matter.”
But then there was Hetty Glynn.
What -of her? Hetty Glynn, real or
mythical, was a disturbing factor Ir.
his deductions. If there was a real
Hetty Glynn and she was Hetty Cas
tle ton’s doable, what then?
On the fifth day of a series of rather
prolonged and tedious sittings, he wan
obliged to confine his work to an hour
and a half in the forenoon. Mrs. Wran
dall was having a few friends in for
auction-bridge Immediately after lunch
eon. She asked him to stay over &n<l
take a hand, but he declined. He dn.
not play bridge.
OO BB CQHTIKCEXU
it was her husband
who finally brought
home RUB-NO-MORE.
Now she’s enthusiastic
about it. She had in
tended to buy REB
NO-MORE WASHING
POWDER. But over
looked it. Don’t you
overlook it.
RUB-NO-MORE
WASHING POWDER
is a sudless dirt re
,a mover for clothes.
£ It cleans your dishes,
'sinks, toilets and
cleans and sweetens
your milk crocks. It
kills germs. It doss
not need hot water.
RUB-NO-MORE RUB-NO-MORE
Washing Powder Carbo Naptha Soap
Five Cents—All Grocers
The Rub-No-More Co., Ft.Wayne, Ini
|W. L.DOUGLAS I
SHOES
Men's
Women’s &£•*£ U
Misses, Boys.Chlldren
$1.50 $1.75 $2 $2-60f
YOU CANSAVEMONEY
^ by weartef \b» 1
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I also protect you against high prlci-s
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$3.00 and $1.00 shoes In the worli.
Take No Substitute
$1,006,279 INCREASE
* in the tale* of the H. Y.
yX Douglas shoes in 1013 orer lOl l.
“4\The reason for the enormous in
|dl crease in the sales of the If. /.
IS Douglas shoes is because of the, >
Jl^earfro value,earcellent style,eat y
and long trear.
Ask your dealer to show you the kind
of W. L. Douglas shoes he is »** uc
for $3.00. $2.60. $3.00. $A60. $1.00 sod $4 iO.
. If the W.Ukmglas sb ie» are not for ssie in
L your vicinity, order direct from fiscforv. Shcee
A for every member of the family at *11 pn.*a,
II postage free Write for illustrated catalog
Tjik showing how T.» order by mail.
. A W. L. DOUGLAS. 310 Spark Street,
Brockton. Mass.
Ozark Homesteads SSCS
SINGS PRAISE OF “BIGNESS’'
Writer in Leslie’s Weekly Sees Good
in Everything That Has Quali
fication of Size.
Big! It is said that the soil that
produces big crops is found where big
men abound. After all bigness is
something of which every one is
proud. California boasts of its big
trees, Oregon and Washington of their
big apples, Texas of its big territory,
Oklahoma of its big oil wells, Colorado
of its big mines. New England of its
big mills. Alabama of its big iron de
posits, Pennsylvania of its big steel
industry and New York yof its big
hanks. Everywhere bigness is the boast
hf civilization. Nations vie with each
hther to command the biggest part of
the world's trade. In this great strug
gle for commercial supremacy the
i'nited States, during the past decade,
has been among the foremost because
hf its big men in the industrial,,the
railway and professional fields. The
product of this bigness of men
has been a big country with big
Rages Let us stop cavallling and
finding fault. Let us put an end to
busting and smashing, and give the
widest opportunity for individual ef
fort. Encourage bigness of the fac
tory and the pay envelope alike. Give
t>ig brains a chance, whether in bank,
rounting room or workshop. Bigness
pays.—Leslie’s Weekly.
Known of Old.
“Ambassador Thomas Nelson Page,
like most married novelists, treats
Harried life in his books from the in
side, as it were,” a Washington woman
said on her return from Rome.
“At a tea Mr. and Mrs. Page had a
udicrous argument over something or
>ther. and when their misunderstand
ng was satisfactorily cleared up Mr.
Page laughed and said:
“ This seems like a chapter that has
dipped out of a novel, doesn’t it?’
“‘It seems,’ Mrs. Page retored,
more like a chapter that will slip into
>ne.’ ”
The people who are hard to get along
rith are those who object to our bav
ng our own way.
Ready-Cooked
i
—from
Your Grocer. j
Post
Toasties
come from the ovens to your 1
table in tightly sealed pack
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opened — with cream, good
milk or fruits.
Every crisp flake of this
attractive food represents the
best part of choice white
Indian com—
Perfectly cooked, delicately
flavoured and toasted to an
appetizing golden “brown.”
Post Toasties are made for
your pleasure and nourish
ment.
Sold by Grocers