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-. 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 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 ages — ready to eat when 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