The Hollow ♦ ♦ ♦
& ♦ of Her Hand
^George Barr M°Cutclieon
CQPYmMT./9/2 eY GfORct&AKK mCl/TU/fOrt '■ COf^/WC/fT,/9S2 GT 0ODQ,Sf&ID GQMPA/tY
CHAPTER XVII.—Continued.
U« did mm one* interrupt her. All
tb time she was speaking he was
s-udjitg the profile of her (ace as if
fascinated by its strange immobility.
for the matter of a full half hour he
•at oa the raft, hie back against a post.
fc:» arms folded serosa ihe breast of
the thus ulster he wore, staring at
her. dr eking to every word of the
Cory she told. A look of surprise
cr*-|d into his face when sbe came to
lh>* po-m where the thought of marry
ing Hetty to the brother of her victim
first br^an to manifest itself in her
d-signs For a time the lock of !n
<- <*d witty remained, to be succeeded
by utter scorn as sbe went on with
the recital. Hit reasons, her excuses,
her explanations for this master stroke
In he s ay of com|>ensauon for ail
that -he had endured at the hands of
the scornful «rsndalls. all of »bom
ware hateful to her without exception,
stirred t.im deeply. He began to un
d-rstand tb> force* thit comoelled her
to r« sort to this Machiavellian plan
S r revenge os them. She admitted
e>erything her readiness to blight
lieity's . le forever; her utter calloua
te-aa in laying down these ugly plana;
k-r tarpons :.g rindictivenrss; her re
fie-‘job# on the triumph sbe was to
eaycy when her aims were fully at
Xj-Led she confessed to a genuine
puf for Hetty Caatieion from the be
ga.mtg. but it was outweighed by that
t! Lt she could only describe as an
pte-e»,.,*! . . . How she hated the
Wraadalls! . . . Then came the
yes-., awakening when the truth came
go her as a revelation from God. Hetty
kad not been to blame. The girl was
Int oant of the one sin that called
for vengeance so far as she was con
ceri.ed The slaying of Challis Wran
dali was justified! All these months
» i nae .e-en harbort t.g a woman she
lei:- r«d to hare been his mistress as
w-di as hi* murderess It was not so
tin. the murderess that she would
hare foisted upon the \V ran Jails as a
daughter, but the su-strese!
•She iov»d the girl she had loved her
fro* 'hat first night. Back of it all.
r ■ .u> lay the r»n., unsuspected
truth; from the very beginning she in
*tii.<-threty bad known this girl to be
mco-enj of guile. . . . Her house
of ard* fell down. There was noth
i: . left o' the plans on which it had
b*er constructed. It had all been
*»-•- away, even as she sirftve to
pr-> <-cl :t a,’a:nrt d-ftruction. and the
$'■ nd was strewn with the ashes of
fire# burnt out . . . She was
eto- ki-d to find that she had even
butlt upon the evil spot! . . . Al
ta*>»t word for word she repeated Het
ty *■ own story of her meeting with
< h*.!.* Wrandail. arid how she went.
Hep by step and blindly, to the last
•i-ene in the tragedy, when his vile
u*#j>. hi# true nature was revealed to
ter The girt had told her everything.
She bad thought herself to be In love
with Wrandail. She was carried away
by hiu prof stations. She was infatu
ated (Sara smiled to herself as she
•pe«e of this She kaew Challis Wmn
dall s charm! I The girl believed In
him .oiK‘i>Uy. When he took her to
Burtons inn It was to make her his
w-lf., as she supposed. He had ar
ranged everything Then came the
tru’h. She del ended herself. , . .
"1 came upon her In the road on
tha: wild night. Brandon. at the place
f pointed out. Can you picture her as
1 hare described her? Can you pic
ture her despair, ber hopelessness, her
misery* 1 have told you everything.
tron. beginning to end. You know how
she cause to me. bow I prepared her
foe the sacrifice, how she left me. I
have not written to her. 1 cannot. She
w w hate me with all her soul. Just as
I have hated the W rands Us but with
g--aier reason. 1 confess. She would
have given herself up to the law long
ago. If it had not been for exposing
me to the world as her defender, her
jvroiector. She knew she was not mor
ally guilty of crime of murder. In
the b -g lining she was afraid. She
did not know our land, our laws In
Urn- she came to understand that she
• w is no real peril, but then it was
too late. A confession would have
plac'd me In an impossible position.
You t-. w^he thought of me all this
time r.r loved me as no woman ever
lowed another. Was not 1 the wife
of ;! - man she had killed, and was
■ot I the noblest of ail women In her
eyea? Cod- And to think of what 1
had planned for her!"
Tins a am the end of the story.
The words died away in a sort of
whu j wring wail, falling in with the
wind to be lost to hU straining ears.
Her head drooped, her arms bong
limply at her side.
V*>r a long tune he sat there in si
lence. looking out over the darkening
water, unwilling, unable indeed, to
apeak His heart was full of compas
sion for hi r. mingling strangely with
what was left of scorn and horror.
What could he say to her?
At last she turned to him "Now
you know all that 1 can tell you of
He-tj l A* tie ton—of Hetty Glynn. You
could not have forced this from tne,
Brandon She would not tell you. It
•as left for me to do in Any own good
time Well. 1 have spoken. What
have you to say?"
“1 can only say. Sara, that I thank
Cod for everything.'- he said slowly.
« "Kor everything?"
-J thank God for you. for her and
lor everything. I thank Cod that she
found him out in time, that she killed
him. -hat you etuelded her, that you
to carry out your devilish
aefceBK. aod ttet your heart la rery
•ore ©day ”
-You do not despise me?"
-Xu. | »m sorry l#f you.”
her eyes narrowed. *T don’t want
yuu to feel sorry for me."
“You don't understand. I am sorry
, because you have found -our
■elf out and must be despising your
**^Xou'have guessed the truth. I de
spise myself. But what could be ex
pected of me?" she asked ironically.
“As the Wrandalls would 6ay, ‘blood
will tell.‘"
"Nonsense! Don't talk like that!
It is quite unworthy of you. in spite
of everything. Sara, you are wonder
ful. The very thing you tried to do,
the way you went about it. the way
you surrender, makes for greatness in
you. If you had gone on with it and
succeeded, that fact alone would have
put you in the class with the great,
strong. virile women of history. It—”
"With the Medicls, the Borgias
and she began bitterly.
"Yea, with them. But they were
great women, just the same. You are
greater, for you have more than they
possessed: a conscience. 1 wish 1
could tell you just what 1 feel. I
havt n't the words. 1—"
"1 only want you to tell me the
truth. Do you despise me?”
"Again I say that I do not. I can
only say that 1 regard you with—yes,
with awe.”
"As one might think of a deadly
serpent."
“Hardly that," he said, 6miling for
the first time. He crossed over and
laid bU hand on her shoulder. "Don’t
think too meanly of yourself. 1 under
I stand it all. You lived for months
without a heart, that’s all.”
“You put it very gently.”
“I think I am right. Now, you’ve
got it back, and it's hungry for the
sweet, good things of life. You want
to be happy. You want to love again
and to be loved. You don't want to
pitied. 1 understand. It's the return
of a heart that went away long months
ago and left an empty place that you
tilled with gall. The bitterness Is
gone. There is something sweet in
its place. Am I not right?”
She hesitated. "If you mean that
1 want to he loved by my enemies,
Brandon, you are wrong,” she said
clearly "1 have not been chastened
in that particular."
"You mean the Wrandalls?”
"It is not iu my nature to love my
•uemies. We stand on the same foot
ing as before, and always 6hall. They
understand me, 1 understand them. I
_m glad that my project failed, not for
their sake, but for my own.”
He was silent. This woman was be
yond him. He could not understand a
nature like this.
"You say nothing. Well, 1 can't ask
you to understand. We will not dis
cuss my enemies, but my friends.
What do you intend to do in respect
to Hetty?"
"I am going to make her my wife,”
| he said levelly.
She turned away. It was now quite
dark. He could not see the expres
sion on her face.
"What you have heard does not
weaken your love for her?’
"No. It strengthens it."
"Y'ou know what she has done. She
lias taken a life with her own hands.
Can you take her to your bosom, can
you make her the mother of your own
children? Remember, there is blood
! on her hands."
"Ah. but her heart Is clean!”
“True," she said moodily, “her heart
is clean.”
“No cleaner than yours is now,
Sara."
She uttered a short, mocking laugh,
j "It Isn't necessary to say a thing
like that to me.”
"I beg your pardon.”
Her manner changed abruptly. She
turned to him, intense and serious.
"She Is so far away, Brandon. On
the other side of the world, and she
is full of loathing for me. How am I
I
This Woman Was Beyond Him.
! to regain what 1 have lost? How am
; J to make ber understand? She went
| away with that last ugly thought of
! me, with the thought of me as I ap
peared to ber on that last, enlighten
ing day. All these months it has been
growing more horrible to her. It has
; been beside her all the time. All
, these months she has known that I
! pretended to love her ae—
“1 don't believe you know Hetty as
; well as you think you do.” he broke
| in. "You forget that she loved you
with all her soul. You can’t kill love
so easily as all that. It will be all
right, Sara. You must write and ask
■ her to come back. It—”
“Ah, but you don't know!” Then
she related the story of the liberated
canary bird. "Hetty understands. The
cage door is open. She may return
when she chooses, but—don’t you see?
—she must come of her own free
will.”
"You will not ask her to come?”
“No. It is the test She will know
that I have told you everything. You
will go to her. Then she may under
stand. If she forgives she will come
back. There is nothing else to say,
nothing else to consider.”
“I shall go to her at once,” he said
resolutely.
She gave him a quick, searching
glance.
"t>he may refuse to marry you, even
now, Brandon."
"She can't!” he cried. An instant
later his face fell. "By Jove, I—I sup
pose the law will have to be consid
ered now. She will at least have to
go through the form of a trial.”
She whirled on him angrily. "The
law? What has the law to do with
it? Don’t be a fool!”
“She ought to be legally exoner
ated.” he said.
Her fingers gripped his arm fiercely.
“1 want you to understand one thing,
Brandon. The story I have told you
was for your ears alone. The secret
lives with us and dies with us.”
He looked hie relief. "Right! It
must go no farther. It is not a mat
ter for the law to decide. You may
trust me."
“I am cold.” she said. He heard
her teeth chatter distinctly as she
pulled her thick mantle closer about
her throat and shoulders. “It is very
raw and wet down here. Come!"
As she started off along the long,
narrow pier, he sprang after her.
grasping her arm. She leaned rather j
heavily against him for a few steps
and then drew herself up. Her teeth j
still chattered, her arm trembled in
his clasp.
“By Jove, Sara, this is bad." he 1
cried. In distress. "You’re chilled to
the marrow.”
''Nerves,'' she retorted, and he some-,
how felt that her lips were set and
drawn.
"You must get to bed right away.
Hot bath, mustard, and all that. I'll
not stop for dinner. Thanks just the
same. I will be over in the morn
ing.”
"When will you sail?” she ■*Tked.
after a moment. ’*!r'
“I can't go for ten days, at least.
My mother goes into the hospital next
week for an operation, as I've told you.
I can't leave until after that's over.
Nothing serious, but—well, I can’t go
away. 1 shall write to Hetty tonight,
and cable her tomorrow. By the way.
1—I don’t know just where to find her.
You see, we were not to write to each
other. It was in the bargain. I sup
pose you don’t know how I can—’’
j “Yes, 1 can tell you precisely where
she is. She is in Venice, but leaves
there for Rome, by the Express."
"Then you have been hearing from
her?” he cried sharply.
“Not directly. But I will say this
much: there has not been a day since
she landed in England that I have not
received news of her. I have not j
been out of touch with her, Brandon,
not even for an hour."
“Good heaven, Sara! You don’t
mean to say you've had her shadowed j
by—by detectives," he exclaimed,
aghast.
"Her maid Is a very faithful serv- ■
ant,” was her ambiguous rejoinder.
CHAPTER XVIIL
Disturbing News.
He walked home swiftly through !
the early night, his brain seething with :
tumultuous thoughts. The revela
tions of the day were staggering; the I
whole universe seemed to have turned
topsy-turvy since that devastating
hour at Burton’s inn. Somehow he
was not able to confine his thoughts
to Hetty Castleton alone. She seemed
to sink into the background, despite
the absolution he had been so ready,
so eager to grant her on hearing the
story from Sara's lips. Not that his
resolve to search her out and claim
her in spite of everything was likely
to weaken, but that the absorbing fig
ure of Sara Wtandall stood out most
clearly in his reflections.
What an amazing creature she was!
He could not drive her out of his
thoughts, even when he tried to con
centrate them on the one person who
was dearest to him of all in all the
world, his warm-hearted, adorable
Hetty. Strange contrasts suggested
themselves to him as he strode along,
head bent and shoulders hunched. He
could not help contrasting the two
women. He loved Hetty; he would
always love her, of that he was posi
tive. She was Sara’s superior in ev
ery respect, infinitely so. he argued.
And yet there was something in Sara
that could crowd this adored one. this
perfect one out of his thoughts for the
time being. He found It difficult to
concentrate his thoughts on Hetty
Castleton.
How white and ill Sara had looked
when she said good night to him at
the door! The memory of her dark,
mysterious eyes haunted him; he
could see them in the night about him.
They had been full of pain; there were '
torrents of tears behind them. They
had glistened as if burnished by the
fires of fever.
Even as he wrote his long, trium
phant letter to Hetty Castleton. the
picture of Sara Wrandall encroached
upon his mental vision. He could not
drive it out He thought of her as
she had appeared to him early in the
spring; through all the varying stages
of their growing intimacy; through the
interesting days when he vainly tried
to translate her matchless beauty by
means of wretched pigments; up to
this present Ijour in which she was
revealed, and yet not revealed, to him.
Her vivid face was always before him.
between his eyee and the thin, white
paper on which he scribbled so eager
ly. Her feverish eyes were looking
into his; she was reading what he
wrote before it appeared on the sur
face of the sheet!
His letter to Hetty was a triumph
of skill and diplomacy, achieved after
many attempts. He found it hard not
to say too much, and quite as difficult
not to say /too little. He spent hours
over this all-important missive. At
last it was finished. He read and re
read It, searching for the slightest
flaw: a fatal word or suggestion that
might create In her mind the slightest
doubt as to his sincerity. She was
sure to read this letter a great many
I times, and always with the view to
finding something between the lines:
such as pity, resignation, an enforced
conception of loyalty, or even faith!
He meant that she should find noth
ing there but love. It was full of ten
derness, full of hope, full of promise.
He Was coming to her with a stead
fast, enduring love in his heart, he
wanted her now more than ever before.
There was no mention of Challis
Wrandall. and but once was Sara's
name used. There was nothing in
the letter that could have betrayed
their joint secret to the most acute
outsider, and yet she would under
stand that he had wrung everything
from Sara’s lip6. Her secret was his.
He decided that it would not be safe
to anticipate the letter by a cable
gram. It was not likely that any mes
sage he could send would have the
desired effect. Instead of reassuring
her. in all probability it would create
fresh alarm.
Sleep did not come to him until after
throe o’clock. At two he got up and
deliberately added a postscript to the
letter he had written. It was in the
nature of a poignant plea for Sara
Wrandall. Even as he penned these
Ecoth Was Startled by Her Appear
ance.
lines, he shuddered at the thought of
what she had planned to do to Hetty
Castleton. Staring hard at the black
window before him, the pen still in
his hand, he allowed his thoughts to
dwell so intimately on the subject of
his well-meant postscript that her
ashen face with its burning eyes
seemed to take shape in the night
beyond. It wae a long time before
he could get rid of the illusion. After
wards he tried to conjure up Hetty’s
face and to drive out the likeness of
the other woman, and found that he
could not recall a single feature in the
face of the girl he loved!
When he reached Southlook in the
morning, he found that nearly all of
the doors and windows were boarded
up. Wagons were standing in the
stable yard, laden with trunks -and
crates. Servants without livery were
scurrying about the halls. There was
an air of finality about their move
ments.
“Yes, sir,” said Watson, in reply
to his question, “we are in a rush.
Mrs. Wrandall expects to close the
’ouse this evening, sir. We all go up
this afternoon. I suppose you know,
sir. we 'ave taken a new apartment
in town.”
“No!” exclaimed Booth.
“Yes, sir, we ave, sir. They've
been decorating it for the pawst two
weeks. Seems like she didn’t care for
the old one we 'ad. As a matter of
fact, I didn't care much for it, either.
She's taken one of them hexpensive
ones looking out over the park, sir
You know we used to look out over
Madison avenue, sir, and God knows
it wasn't hinspirin'. Yes. sir, we go
up this afternoon. Mrs. Wrandall
will be down in a second, thank you,
sir."
Booth actually was startled by he?
appearance when she entered the
room a few minutes later. She looked
positively ill.
"My dear Sara,” he cried anxiously,
“this is too bad. You are making
yourself ill. Come, come, this won't
do.”
“I shall be all right in a day or
two," she said, with a weary little
gesture, “i’ have been nervous. The
strain was too great. Brandon. This
is the reaction you might 6ay.”
"Your hand ie hot, your eyes look
feverish. You'd better see your doc
tor as soon as you get to town. An
ounce of prevention, you know.”
“Well.” she said, with a searching
look into his eyes, "have you written
to her?”
“Yes. Posted It at seven o’clock
this morning.”
“I trust you did not go so far as
to—well, to volunteer a word In my
behalf. You were not to do that, you
know.”
He looked uncomfortable. "I'm
afraid I did take your name In vain.”
he equivocated. "You are a—a won
derful woman, Sara,” he went on,
moved to the remark by a curious in
fluence that he could not have ex
plained any more than he could have
accounted for the sudden gush of
emotion that took possession of him.
She ignored the tribute. "You will
persuade her to come to New York
with you?”
“For your sake, Sara, If Ehe won't
come for mine.”
"She knows the cage is open,” was
her way of dismissing the subject.
“I am glad you came over. I have a
letter from Leslie. It came this morn
ing. You may be interested in what
he has to say of Hetty—and of your
self.” She smiled faintly. “He is
determined that you shall not be with
out a friend wh,!e he Is alive.”
"Ges isn't such a rotter, Sara. He's
spoiled, but be Is hardly to be blamed
for that.”
"I will read bis letter to you.” she
said, and there was no little signifi
cance in the way she put it. She held
the letter in her hand, but he had
iailed to notice it before. Now he saw
that it was a crumpled ball of paper.
He was obliged to wait for a minute
or two while she restored it to a read
able condition. "He was in London
when this was written," she explained,
turning to the window for light. She
glanced swiftly over the first page
until she found the place where she
meant to begin. “ ‘I suppose Hetty
Castleton has -written that we met
in Lucerne two weeks ago,’ ” she read,
'* ‘Curious coincidence in connection
with it, too. I was with her father.
Col. Braid Castleton, when we came
upon her most unexpectedly. I ran
across him in Paris just before the
aviation meet, and got to know him
rather well. He's a fine chap, don't
you think? I confess I was somewhat
surprised to learn that he didn't know
she'd left America. He explained it
quite naturally, however. He'd been
ill in the north of Ireland and must
have missed her letters. Hetty was
on the point of leaving for Italy. We
didn't see much of her. But, by Jove,
Sara, I am more completely gone on
her than ever. She is adorable. Now j
that I've met her father, who had the
beastly misfortune to miss old Murgat
royd's funeral, I can readily see where
in the saying "blood will tell'' applies
to her. He is a prince. He came over
to London with me the day after we
left Hetty in Lucerne, and I had him
in to meet mother and Vivian at Clar
idge'e. They like him immensely. He
set us straight on a good many points
concerning the Glynn and Castleton
families. Of course, I knew they were
among the best over here, but I didn't
know how fine they were until we pre
vailed on him to talk a little about
himself. You will be glad to hear
that he is coming over with us on the
Mauretania. She sails the twenty
sevenin. \\ e 11 be on tne water by the
time you get this letter. It had been
our intention to sail last week, but
the colonel had to go to Ireland for
a few days to settle some beastly
squabbles among the tenants. Next
year he wants me to come over for
the shooting. He isn’t going back to
India for two years, you may be in
terested to hear. Two years' leave.
Lots of influence, believe me! We’ve
been expecting him back in London
since day before yesterday. I dare
say he found matters worse than he
suspected and has been delayed. He
has been negotiating for the sale of
some of his property in Belfast—fac
tory sites, I believe. He is particularly i
anxious to close the deal before he j
leaves England. Had to lift a mort- |
gage ^>n the property, before he could '
think of making the sale. 1 staked !
him to four thousand pounds, to tide !
him over. Of course, he is eager to
make the sale. ’Gad, I almost had ■
to beg him to take the money. Ter- ;
ribly proud and haughty, as the butler
would say. He said he wouldn’t sleep 1
well until he has returned the filthy ,
lucre. We are looking for him back
any hour now. But if he shouldn't get j
here by Friday, we will sail without j
him. He said he would follow by the
next boat, in case anything happened
that he didn't catch the Mauretania.’ ”
Sara interrupted herself to offer an |
ironic observation: "If Hetty did not i
despise her father so heartily, I should
advise you to look farther for a father
in-law, Brandon. The colonel is a bad
lot. Estates in the north of Ireland!
Poor Leslie!” She laughed softly.
“He’ll not show up, eh?” -
“Not a bit of it,” she said. “He
may be charged to profit and loss in
Leslie's books. This part of the letter
will interest you," she went on, as
If all that had gone before was of
no importance to him. “ T hear inter- j
esting news concerning you, my dear
— - -
girl. My heartiest congratulations if
it is all true. Brandy is one in a mil
lion. I have hoped all along to have
him as a full-fledged brother-in-law. If
that’s the way you’d put it. Father
writes that every one is talking about
It, and saying what a fine thing it is.
He has a feeling of delicacy about ap
proaching you in the matter, and I
fancy it’s just as well until everything
is settled. I wish you’d let me make
a suggestion, however. Wouldn't it
be wise to let us all get together and
talk over the business end of the
game? Brandy’s a fine chap, a corker,
in fact, but the question is: has be
got it in him to take Challis’ place in
the firm? You’ve got to consider the
future as well as the present, my dear.
We all do. With his artistic tempera
ment he might play hob with your in
terests. and ours too, for that matter.
Wouldn’t it be wise for me to sound
him a bit before we take him into the
firm? Forgive me for suggesting this,
but, as you know, your interests are
mine, and I’m terribly keen about see
ing you get the best of everything.
By the way. wasn’t he a bit gone on
Hetty? Passing fancy, of course, and
not deep enough to hurt anybody.
Good old Brandy! ’ ”
"There is more. Brandon, but It’s
of no consequence,” 6he said, tossing
the letter upon the table. "You see
how the land lays.”
Booth was pale with annoyance.
"By Jove. Sara, what an insufferable
ass he is!”
“The shoe pinches?”
“Oh, it's such perfect rot! I’m
sorry on vour account. Have you ever
heard of such gall?”
‘‘Oh..he is merely acting as the fam
ily spokesman. I can see them now
in solemn conclave. They think it
their indisputable right to select a
husband for me. to pass upon him. to
accept or decline him as they see fit,
to say whether he is a proper man to
hang up his hat and coat in the offices
cf Wrandall & Co.”
mo you mean to say—
"Let's not talk about it, Brandon.
It is too silly."
They fell to discussing her plans for
the immediate future, although the
minds of both were at work with
something else.
“Now that I have served my pur
pose, 1 suppose you will not care to
see so much of me,” she said, as he
prepared to take leave of her.
"Served your purpose? What do
you mean?”
“I should have put it differently.
You have been most assiduous in your
efforts to force the secret from me.
It has been accomplished. Now do
you understand?"
"That isn't fair. Sara,” he protest
ed. “If you'll let me come to see you,
in spite of what the gossips and Mr.
Redmond Wrandall predict, you may
be sure I will be as much in evidence
as ever. I suppose I have been a bit
of a nuisance, hanging on as I have.”
“I admire your perseverance. More
than that. I admire your courage in
accepting the situation as you have.
I only hope you may win her over to
your way of thinking, Brandon.
Goodby.”
"I shall go up to town tomorrow,
kit and bag. When shall I see you?
We have a great deal left to talk about
before I sail.”
“Come when you like.”
“You really want me to come?"
"Certainly.”
He studied her pale, tired face for
a moment, and then shook his head.
“You must take care of yourself,” he
said. “You are unstrung. Get a good
rest and—and forget certains things if
you can. Everything will come out
all right in the end.”
“It depends on what one is willing
to accept as the end.” he said.
(TO BE CONTINTED.)
FOUND PACE TOO STRENUOUS
Father Had to Have Rest If He Was
to Continue His Companiort
* ship With Son.
“Could you spare me?"
As the father spoke, his once hand
some figure leaned forward slightly
toward the boy who sat before him, ;
while his hands trembled nervously.
“My boy,-’ he continued, “about a
month ago you introduced me to the
•Iike-father-like-son’ idea, which is now
spreading over this country, and
which, formulated by eminent educa
tors. simply means that all fathers
shall make companions of their sons,
so that an intimate relationship shall
ensue. Have I done this with you?”
"You certainly have,” replied the I
boy, twirling a semblance of a mus- ,
tache.
“And now I ask that you spare me
for a time.”
The boy smiled.
"But. my dear comrade," he replied,
reproachfully, “we are just beginning
to understand each other. The whole
idea of the 'iike-father-like-son' move
ment is that it be continuous. I must
say. however, that you have been a
dead game sport. What do you want
to quit for?"
In reply the kind father, summoning,
all his control, said, gently:
“Believe me, I don't want to qnit.
but the fact is that since you and I
have been thrown together I have
smoked so many cigarettes, played so
much poker, danced so many new
fangled dances, raced over the coun
try in so many antos that I thought if
you didn’t mind I wofcld take a couple
of weeks off in some good sanitarium
until I can gather strength enough to
go on with the growing friendship be
tween us."—Idle.
•
WANTED HUSBAND TO LOAF
Only Then Was He Agreeable, Testi
fied Wife—Sought Divorce From
Her Silent Spouse.
We read of him in three places in
the dispatches of the day. The first
case wae where a man kissed his wife
against her will, which made her so
mad that she had him arrested for
assault and battery, and the court
sentenced him to thirty days in jail
Next case was where a woman had
her husband arrested for getting
drunk and abusing her. When before
the court, here is what she eaid:
"My man s a fine man when he’a
sober. The trouble is he earns money
and spends it on liquor. The only
time he’s behaved himself was when
he wasn't working and got no money.
I have an income and can support the
family. I wish you’d make him quit
work.”
All right,” said the Judge. And
he sentenced the husband not to work
for thirty days.
The third case was a suit for di
vorce. where the wife charged that
her husband would not speak to her.
He would eat his meals without &
word, then sit down with a paper and
read without looking at her or speak
ing to her. So it has been going on
for a long time. Of course the court
granted the wife a divorce. Having
a silent, soar husband around is in.
toterable.—Ohio State Journal.
More Money In It.
“I can say this much for dentists -
“What is it?"
“You seldom find one who has a
grasping nature.”
“No.”
“They'd much rather fill a toot!
than pull it."
“I’m open for convic
tion,” said one lady.
She liked her regulai
soap and washing
powder. She tried
RUB-NO-MORE just
to see. Now yon ought
to see how easily she
keeps house dirt-free
with this “workless”
dirt remover.
RUB-NO-MORE
WASHING POWDKR
is a sudless dirt re
mover for clothes.
' It cleans your dishes,
’ sinks, toilets and
cleans and sweetens
yoar milk crocks. It
kills germs. It does
not need hot water.
RUB-NO-MORE RUB-NO-MORE
Washing Powder Carbo Naptha Soap
Five Cents—All Grocers
I The Rub-No-More Co., Ft.Wayne, Ind.
READER ALLOWED ONE GUESS
Did This Pleasant Little Conversation
Take Place During or After the
Honeymoon?
He threw down his paper.
"I wonder if the colonel really means
to try it again?”
"What did you say, dear?”
"If you'd been listening you wouldn't
ask me.”
"If you had said anything wonh
hearing I’d be gla4 to listen."
"How do you know you would?"
"Try it."
He glares at her and wisely says
nothing. She picks up the paper.
"Dear me," she says, "I wish they'd
settle iL”
"Settle what?”
"The length of next fall's skirts.”
He snorts.
"Is that all you can find in the pa
per?”
“I guess it's a good deal more im
portant than the stuff you find.”
"Do you mean to compare a paltry
skirt to the stupendous living issues
of the hour?”
"Oh, go jump into the River of
Doubt!”
"What do you know about the Riv
er of Doubt?”
"As much as anybody knovs. Bah!"
• "Bah yourself!”
Whereupon he rises angrily and
goes out on the porch and calms him
self with a pipe.—Cleveland Plaiu
dealer.
Then He Told Her.
Pat. who was in lodgings, was
greatly annoyed by the landlady's heljv
ing herself to his provisions. She Be
gan by taking a piece of his butter,
and when Pat came home she said:
“Pat, I am taking a little of your
butter, but I'm not like other land
ladies—I'm telling you.”
Next day it was an egg, and so on.
Every day there was something taken
and put off with the same remark:
“I’m not like other landladies—I'm
telling you.”
Of course there was never any re
duction in Pat’s bill. One Saturday
his bill came to a larger amount than
usual. Pat looked at It, bundled up a
few things in his handkerchief, walked
to the door and said:
“Landlady, I’m sloping. I’m not like
other lodgers—I'm telling you!”—
London Tit-Bits.
Those Artists!
They were walking through the gal.
leries with a growing air of disap
proval. Before a painting of a wood
land dell, with nymphs and fauns danc
ing. dressed informally as nymphs and
fauns should be, the middle-aged unso
phisticated couple paused. He peered
through his glasses at the title while
she stood back, her disapproval in
creasing.
"It says Barbizon School,’ Mary,
he announced.
"I guess it’s one of them places for
teachin' artists,” she remarked. “I've
beard they ain't strictly moral.”
A woman can do as much with a
hairpin as a man can with a monkey
wrench.
Opportunity seldom makes the man
until after the man has made the op
portunity.
NEW IDEA
Helped Wisconsin Couple.
It doesn't pay to stick too closely
to old notions of things. New ideas
often lead to better health, success
and happiness.
A Wis. couple examined an idea
new to them and stepped up several
rounds on the health ladder. The
husband writes:
"Several years ago we suffered from
coffee drinking, were sleepless, nerv
ous, sallojv, weak and Irritable. My
wife and I both loved coffee and
thought It was a bracer.” (Delusion.)
“Finally, after years of suffering, we
read of Postum and the harmfulness
of coffee, and believing that to grow
we should give some attention to new
Ideas, we decided to test Postum.
"When we made it right we liked
it and wefe free of ills caused by
coffee. Our friends noticed the
change—fresher skim sturdier nerves,
better temper, etc.
“These changes were not sudden,
but increased as we continued to
drink and enjoy Postum, and we lost
the desire for coffee.
“Many of our friends did not like
Postum at first, because they did not
make it right. But when they made
Postum according to directions on
P^S-. they liked it better than coffee
and were benefited by the change.”
Name given by Postum Co., Battle
Creek, Mich. Read “The Road to
Wellville,’’ in pkgs.
Postum now comes In two forms:
Regular Postum—must he well
boiled. 15c and 25c packages.
Instant Postum—is a soluble pow
der. Made in the cup with hot water
—no boiling. 30c and 50c tins.
The cost per cup of both kinds is
about the same.
“There’s a Reason” for Postum.
’—sold by Grocers.