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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Sept. 21, 1916)
mewcncn block A 7\OVEL OF Z^EW VOR^T UFf$ offi^TX DEACA t T “ILLUSTRATION 4^ F PARKER 4 i Author of “The Iron Trail” " “ The Spoilers” The Silver Horde ” Etc. C*tTr:Z'-. 2f Esrfer £~tnk*~i CHAPTER XXI—Continued. Oar daily action* are controlled by a variety cf opposing influences which are 'ike thread* pulling at us from various directions. When for any rea son certain of these threads are snapped ere] the balance is disturbed we are drawn into strange pathways, and our r hole Jives may be changed I through the operation of what seems a 1 most trivial case. In Bob's case the cause approached, ali unheralded. In the person of Mr. Richard Cady, a ! youth whose magnificent vacuity of j purpose was the envy of his friends. Cometlike. he was destined to appear, flash brightly, then disappear below tbe horizon of this tale. Mr. Cady greeted Bob with listless enthusiasm, f teetering tbe while upon bis cane like * Japanese equilibrist. “Haven't seen you for ages," be be- 1 iluiuau; Bob explained that be was spending tlie summer in New York, a statement that filled hLs listener with the same horror be would hare felt had he learned that Bob was passing the heat ed season in the miasmatic jungles of the Amazon “Just ran down from Newport,” Cady volunteered. “I'm sailing today. Better join me for a trip. I know—" he ent Bob's refusal short—“travel's an awful nuisance: I get seasick my self.” “The:! why play at it?" C.-i '** r- lied a mournful eye cpoc bis friend. “Oirir said he. boiiowiy. “Show girl! If l stay i'll marry her. and tint r.ouidn't do. Posi-tive-ly not' So I'm running away. I'll wait over if you'll join me.” “I'm a working man.” •■Haw!" Mr. Cady expelled a short laugh. “True! And I’ve quit drinking.” Now Cady was blase, but be had a heart: his sympathies were slow, but he was not insensible to misfortune. Accordingly be responded with a cry of pity. running his eye over his friend to estimate the ravages of temperance. “Cp against it?" inquired the other. “So says my heartless father. He has sewed up my pockets and scuttled my drawing account, hence the dinner pail on my arm. I’m in quest of toil." “i’ll bet you starve." brightly pre dicted Mr. Cady, in an effort at en couragement. “I’ll lay yon Sve thou sand that you make a flivver of any thing you try.” “I've quit gambling, too.” A.s they shook bands Cady grunted: “My invitation to globe-trot is with drawn. Fine company you’d her’ As Bob walked up the avenue he pondered deeply, wondering if he real ly were so lacking In ability as his friends believed. Money was such a common thing, after all; the silly labor of acquiring it could not be half so interesting as the spending of it Anybody could make money, but to enjoy it. to circulate it judiciously, one must possess individuality—of a sort. Money seemed to come to some people without effort and from the strangest sources—Kurtz, for instance, had grown rich out of coats and trousers'. Bob halted, frowning, while Ting peered out from his hiding piace at the passing throngs, exposing a tiny. Jimp, ping-ribbon tongue. If Kurtz, armed only with a pair of shears and a foolish tape, had won to affluence, why couldn't another? Stock broking was no longer profitable: and old Hannibal's opposition evidently forced a change of occupation. The prospect of such a change was annoying, but scarcely alarming to an Ingrained optimist, and Bob took com fort in reflecting that the !>est-se!!ing literature of the day was rep'ete with Instances of disinherited sops, itr.pov r *1 Should Like to Know Nice People." Lorelei Confessed. erisbed society men. ruined bankers. Or mere idlers, who by lightning strokes of genius bad mended their fortunes overnight. Some few. in the , Surlier days of frenzied fiction, bad played the market others the ponies, i still others had gone west and devel oped abandoned gold mines or obscure water powers. A number, also, had grown disgustingly rich from patent ing rat-traps or shoe buttons. One young man had discovered a way to keep worms out of railroad ties and had promptly bludgeoned the railroad companies out of fabulous royalties. Over the stock-market Idea Bob torrid work up no enthusiasm—be knew too much about it—and, inas r, bravely handed his adver-1 Coutra Cos much as horse racing was oo longer fash onable. opportunities for a Pitts burgh Phil fntnre seemed limited. Moreover, he ha ! never saved a jock ey's life nor a jockey's mother from eviction, hence feedbox tips were not likely. Nor did he know a single son! in the business of inventing rat-traps j or shoe buttons. As for going west, he was clearly of the opinion that a search for abandoned gold mines or forgotten waterfalls wasn't in his line; and the secret of ereosoting railroad ties, now that he came to think of it. was still locked op in the breast of its affluent discoverer. Besides, as the whole episode had occurred in the sec- j ond act of the play, the safety of I building upon it was doobtfnl at best. Bob's wrinkled brow smoothed itself. j and he nodded. His path was plain: it led around the nearest corner to his tailor's door. Mr. Kurtz's greeting was warm a* Bob strolled Into the stately showroom with its high-backed Flemish-oak chairs, its great carved tables, its pan- j eled walls with their antlered decora- • tions. This. It may be said, was not a shop, not a store where clothes were sold, bat a studio where men's dis ! tine-tire garments were draped, and the ; difference was perfectly apparent on j the first of each month. "Knrtz.” began Bob, abrnptly. “I ’ just bet Dick Cady fire thousand dol lars that I can make my own living ; for six months.” This falsehood trou bled him vague; - until he remembered that high finance must be often con dnev-d .ebind a veil. Mr. Knrtz. genial, shrewd, gray, . raised admiring eyes and said: I’ll rake anotuer five thousand.” But Bob declined- "No. I'm going to work.” This announcement interested the tailor deeply. "Who's going to tun yon?" he asked. ‘'Ton are.” Kurtz blinked. "Maybe you'd like to bet on that, too,” he ventured. “I'il [ give you odds.” "Work is one of the few things I haven't tried. You need a good sales man.” "No. I don't I have seven already ” "Say. wouldn't yon like the trade of the whole younger set? I can bring you a lot of fresh customers—fellows ■ like me.” “ ‘Fresh customers’ is right.” laughed Kurtz, then sobered quickly. "You’re joking, of course?” “I'm so serious I could cry. How mneh is it worth to you to make clothes for my crowd?” “Well—” the tailor considered “Quite a bit” “The boys like !o see Dick trimmed —it’s a matter of principle with them never to let him win a bet—and they’d do anything for me. You're the best tailor in the city, but too conservative. Now I'm going to bring you fifty new aeconnts. every one good for better j than two thousand a year. That's a hundred thousand dollars. How much am ! offered? Going! Going!—” "Walt a minute! Would you stick to me for six months if I took you or. ?" "My dear Kurtz. I’ll poultice myself upon yon for life. I’ll guarantee my self not to slide, slip, wrinkle or skid. Thirty years hence, when you come hobbling down to business. yon’Il find me here.” Mr. Kurtz dealt in novelties, and the idea of a society salesman was suffi ciently new to appeal to bis commer cial sense. "I II pay you twenty per cent.'' be offered, “for all the new names yon pur on my boots.” "Make it twenty-five on first orders and twenty on repeaters. I'll bring my own luncheon and pay my car fare." “There wouldn't be any profit left." j demurred Kurtz. “Good! Then it's a bargain—twenty- j five and twenty. Now watch me grab j adolescent offshoots of our famous , Four Hundred.” Bob took a bus up the avenue to the College club for luncheon. At three o'clock be returned, necom- , panied by four Bushed young men whose names gave Kurtz a thrill. In spite of their modish appearance they declared themselves indecently shabby, and allowed Bob to order for them— : a favor which he performed with a m jah's iofty disregard of expense. He «at upon one of the carved tables, se- j lecting samples as if for a quarter j of bridegrooms. Being bosom cronie* i of Mr. Cady, the four youths needed [ little urging. When they had gone in j to be measured Kurtz said guardedly: ’ •Whew! That's more stuff than I’ve j sold In two weeks!” “A mere trifle.” Bob grinned, hap ' pily. “Say. Kurtz, this is the life! I This is the job for me—panhandling j juvenile plutocrats—no office hours, no I heavy lifting, and Thursdays off. I’m I going to make yon famous.” •You'll hreak me with another ran j like this. Yon don’t think tbev’re binf j Sng?” “Why should they bluff? They’ll never discover how many suits they have. Now figure it up and tell the had news.” Mr. Kurtz did as directed, announc ing. “Fifty-five hundred and five dol lars "Fibers!" exclaimed the new sales man: then he began laboriously to com pute 25 per cent of the sum. using as a pad a bolt of expensive white silk vest material. “Thirteen hundred and seventy-six dollars and twenty-five cents is my blackmail, Knrtz. That’s what I call ‘a safe and sane Fonrth.’ Not bad for dull times, and yet It might be better. Anyhow, it’s the hardest thirteen hundred and seventy six dollars I ever earned.” “Hard!” The merchant’s Ups twitched, oscillatingdifs cigar violently. “Hard! I’ll bet those fellows even bought your lunch. I suppose yon mean it’a the first money yon ever-—earned.” ta (Jo., Kicnmonu, cm. ' UiUlUCI, AA H» seemed to choke over tlie last word. "Weil, it's worth something to cet men like these on the hooks, hot—thirteen hundred and seventy-six dollars—” "And twenty-five cents.” Mr. Ivnrtz gulped. “In one day: Why. 1 could buy a farm for that. How much will you have to ‘earn’ to cover your living expenses for six months?” "Ah. there we journey in the realm of purest speculation.” Boh favored him with a sunEy smile. “As well ask me how much my living expenses must be in order to cover my earnings. Whatever one is. the other will be ap proximately ditto—or perhaps slightly in excess thereof. Anyhow, nothing but rigid economy—bane of my life— wt;: make the one fit into the other. But I have a thought Something tells me these boys need white flannels, so get out your stock, Kurtz. If they can't play tennis they must learn, for my sake.” Bob's remarkable stroke of fortune called for a celebration, and his four 1 %***>«-* . He Made Love Openly, Violently, Now. customers clamored tliiit lie stjosoder his Srst profit* forthwith. Ordinarily such a course would have bec-n just to Lis liking: but now he was dying to tel! Lorelei of his triumph, and. fearing to trust hitnse:f with even one drink, he escape 1 from lu friends as soon ns possible. Thus it chanced that he ar rived home sober. It was a happy home-coming. Bob was ir, a state of exaltation. He had no desire to bind himself to Kurtz’ service fur six months or for any other period: nor had he the least thought of living up fo LLs agreement until Lorelei began to treat the matter seriously. Then he objected blankly: "Why. it was ail right as a joke, but I don't want to be a tailor. There’s no romance in woolen goods." “How much do you owe?” she asked. ‘Kealiy. I've no idea. It’s some thing you don't have to remember— somebody always remintLs you In plen ty of rime, and then you borrow enough to pay up.’’ ”I.et's forget the romance and pay up without borrowing. Remember you have two families to support.” Noting that the idea of itermaneut employ ment galled him. she added, craftily. “Of course you'll never sell another lot of clothes like this, but—” "Why not? It’s like selling candy to a child.” ion ran i so witn tr:at crow-j w,:n out drinking.” "Is that so? Now yon git tight ai«<1 bold your bat on. I can make tbnt business pay if f try. and still stay in tbe Rainmakers* union. There's big money in it—enough so we can live the way we want to. I'm sick of this telephone booth, anyhow: we'll present it to some nice newsboy and rent an apartment with a closet. This one’s so small I don't dare to let my trou sers leig. Besides, we've been under ! cover long enough, and I want you to meet tbe people I know. We can af ford the expense—now that I'm mak- I ins thirteen hundred and seventy-six 1 dollars and twenty-five cents a day.” "I should 'ike to know nice people.” j Lorelei confessed. “I'm stck of tbe j kind I've met: tbe men are indecent! and the women are vulgar. I've ai-! ways wanted to know the other kind.” ] Bob was delighted: his fancy took ; fire, and already he was far along J toward prosperity. ‘‘You'll make a hit with the younger set: you'll be a j perfect rare. Bert Hayraan told me today that his married sister is enter taining a iot. and. since the drama will be tottering on its way to destruction without you in a few days. I'll tell him j that we’re invited out to Long Island ! for a week-end.” CHAPTER XXII. Under Lorelei's encouragement Bob [ put in the next two weeks to good ad vantage. In fact, so obsessed was be . with his new employment that It was j not long before his imaginary bet with j Cady assumed reality in his mind. Moreover, It became gossip around his clubs: and In quarters where he was well known his method of winning the wager was deemed not only character istic hot ingenious. His exploits were famong; and his friends, rejoicing In one more display of eccentricity, and relishing any mild misfortune to Dick Cady. In the majority of cases changed tailors. Business at Karts’ Increased so sub stantially that Bob waa treated with a reverential amazement by everyone In the shop. Tbe other salesmen y»td CU»J xwi u | upon him with r-nvy: Knrtz' bearing ■ changed in a way that was extremely to one who had been uni versally accounted a failure. And Boh [expanded under success: he begaD to fee; more than mere amusement in his j experiment. His marriage had become public, bat the affair was too old to be of moeh news value. Now that he had escaped the disagreeable notoriety he had ex pected and was possessed of larger means. Bob—inordinately proud of bis wife's beauty and boyishly eager to display it—undertoot to win social rec ognition for her. It was no difficult tast for one with his wide acquaint ance to make a beginning. Lorelei was surprised and delighted one day to receive an invitation for her and her husltaml to spend a week-end at Fen neliconrt. the country home of Bert Hayman's sister. She had not been sorry to give up her theatrical work, and the prospect of meeting nice people, of leaving for good and all the sordid, unhealthy atmosphere of Broad way, bathed her in a glow of anticipa tion. f ennelleourt is one of the show places of the Wheatley Hills section. Bert Hayman drove the Whartons out from the city, and Lorelei’s first glimpse of Fenneilconrt was su -h that she forgot her vague dislike of Hay i man himself. Bert, who had met her and Bob for luncheon. had turned out - to b«. instead of a polished man of the j world, a glib youth with an artificial ■ laugh and a pair of sober, heavy-lidded : eyes. That he possessed a keen ap : predation of feminine beauty he , showed by surrendering uneondition t ally to Lorelei's charms. As {layman's car rolled up the drive . way and th>- beauties o? Fennelieourt ! displayed themselves. Lorelei found t her heart throbbing violently. Was not this the l^eginaing of a glorious adven I ture? Was not life nnfoidina at lasti j Was she not upon the threshold of a new world? The Sutter in her breast j was answer. Bert led the way through an impres j sire hall that bisected the building, then out upon a stately balustraded stone terrace, where, in the grateful *hade of gaudy awnings, a dozen people were chatting at tea tables. Mrs. Fennell, the hostess, a plain j faced, dumpy young matron, welcomed j the newcomers, then made Lorelei ! known. As for Bob. he needed no in • trod actions: a noisy outburst greeted J him. and Lorelei's heart wanned at | the welcome. [ A few moments of chatter, then she ! and Bob were ied into the house again and np to a cool, wide bedroom. As Lorelei removed her motor coat and bonnet she exclaimed, breathlessly: ■ "What a gorgeocs house! And tbose peopiel They weren't the ieast bit formal.” Bob laughed. “Formality is about the last thing they're famous for. There's liable to be too much infor mality. Say! Yon made those dames look like the Monday morning wash- j iauies' parade. I knew you would." "You said this was the younger set— but that awful Thompson-Beiiaire wid ow is here, and that biomle girl I met with her." “Alice Wyeth?” “Yes. [ thought she was going to kiss you.” Bob grinned. “So did 1. She wiii. too. if she feels like it.” “Won't you have anything to say about It?” “What couid I say? Alice does jus: , as she likes. So does everybody else, for that matter. I've never gone in for this sort of thing very much.” After a moment Lorelei ventured. “I suppose they’re all bard drinkers—” “That wasn't spring water you saw in infir glasses. “Are yon—going to?" Lorelei eyed btm anxiously. *1 f-an't v*-ry well make myself con spicuous by refusing everything: I don't want to look like a zebra in a henyard—and a cocktail before dinner wonidn't hurt anybody." Noting his wife’s expression, he kissed her lightly. “Now don’t spoii yonr first party by worrying over me. Just forget you’re ! married and have a good time.’’ Music greeted them as they descend ed the stairs, and they found some of t the guests dancing to the strains of a giant orchestrion built into tbe mu- 1 sic room Hayman promptly seized upon Lo-elei and whirled her away., but not before she saw the Wyeth blonde making for Bob as an eagle makes for its prey. Guests continued to arrive from time to time; some from Westchester and tbe Connecticut shore, others t from neighboring estates. One couple in riding clothes, out for a gallop, dis mounted and stayed for a trot. Tbe huge tiled terrace began to resemble a Broadway the dansanr. There was more freedom, more vi- i vacity than Lorelei was accustomed to. even in the gayest downtown resorts:; the fun was swift and hilarious, there was a great deal of drinking. Boh. I after a manful struggle against his; desires and a frightened resistance’ to the advances of Miss Wyeth, had | fled to the billiard room. \ i, Lorelei became interested in watch ing Miss Courtenay, tbe girl in the rid- ; ing habit, one of the season’s debu- , tariff-*, who. it seemed, was especially , susceptible to the influence of liquor. | Lorelei was glad when it came time : to dress for dinner. As she went to | her room Mrs. Fenneli stopped her on | the stairs to say: , “My dear, Elizabeth Courtenay was - frantically Jealoua of yon.” i “Of me? I don’t understand.” “She and Bert are great frlenda— i and he’s gone perfectly daft orer yon. i Why, he’s telling everybody." Lorelei i flashed, to tbe evident amusement of I her hostess, who ran on: “Ob. Bert 11 means ft.’ I rserer heard him rare so. Quite a compliment. my dear!" With a playful pat she neat on her war. leav ing the yonng wife weak with dismay. When Boh came in he betrayed at elation only too familiar. "You're beeu drinking!” cried Lore j lei. “I isml to; ! ran tifteen t!ire*» sirre* Mr abstinence is the inarve ,>f tiie whole pa rty.** ■'I'm afraid—” “Say! ^ u can't belt* sneezing when you bare a eold. W.iat s a feilow gt. Ins to do in a crowd like this? Bm [don't worry. I know when to .jnrt “ In troth he did seem lietter able fo 1 take care of himself titan most of the men Lorelei had seen. so site sji.1 no more. As he throttled h:m~df e itb Ids eve ning tie Bob gasped: “H iring a gnod time?" “Ye-es!~ lyirelt-i con’d not summon courage for a negnt;; answer; site could not confess that her dream had turned out wretchedly, and that what Boh seemed to <*ons;der simply the usual thing impressed >,er as abnormal and wanton. ’‘Well, that’s good.*’ he said. “I’m not strong for these week-end slaugh ters. but it's something yon'II hare to do." “Is all society like—this?" she in quired. ■‘Um-m. yes and no! Society is like a layer cake—” “Because it's made of dongh?” Bob laughed. “Partly! Anyhow, the upper crust is icy. and while the lower layer is just as rich as those a bore, it's more indigestible. There's the heavy, soggy layers in between, too. I don't know any of that crowd. They're mostly Dodos—the land that endow colleges This younger set keeps the whole cake from getting tasteless. After a while Lorelei ventured: still a little nervous. ! wish you'd stay close to me this evening.” ' Can't be done." Bob declared. "It'* 3 role at Fennellconrt that husbands mU't ignore their wives. Betty doesn't invite many married couples. an 1 a wife-lover is considered a test. When in Rome do as the tourists do." Lorelei finished dressing in silence. Dinner was quite different to any thing Bob'® wife had ever experienced, and if the afternoon had been embar rassing to her the evening was a triai. As the cocktails were served. Harden Fennell distinguished himse'f !.y ing his balance and falling backward, to the great amusement of his gnesis No one went to his assistance; he re gained his feet by climbing a high backed chair, hand over hand, and dur ing the dinner he sat for the most par" in a comatose state, his eyes bieare.' and staring, his tongue unresponsive Lorelei had little opportunity of watch ing him. sin~e Bert Hayman monopo lized her attention. The latter made love openly, violently now. and it added to her genera! disgust to see that Bob had again fallen into the clutches of Miss Wyeth, who made no secret of her fondness for him. Lorelei was not the only one to take special note of the blonde girl's infatu ation. Mrs. Thompson - Be: ia i re was equally observant and at length made her disapproval patent by a remark th.T set the table laughing and drove the blood from Lorelei's face. Some t:rre irer LnreSei bee rj her explain to the man on her right: "We weren't surprised in the least . . . Bob's always doing some crazy thing when he's drunk. . . . His latest fancy . . . pretty, of course, but . . from some western village. I believe . . . can't possibly last Why should it?" The words were pur posely made audible, and during the rest of the meal, when Mrs. Tbomp «on-BeI!aire was not bitir.gly sarcastic to Lorelei, she was offensively patron izing. After dinner Lorelei had a better op portunity '!>an during the afternoon of becoming acquainted with the women of the party, bat the experience was not pleasant. She was made to under stand that they regarded her not as! Bob's wife in any real sense, but rather j as h:< latest and most fleeting fancy, j Ifis marriage they seemed to look npon | as a bizarre advemnrc. such as might : happen *o any man in their set who ] was looking for amusement. There w%- more dancing during tne i evening. Miss Wyeth continued to i monopolize Bob. and Loreiet was of- j fended to note that his resistance gave j signs of weakening. She smothered 1 her feeiings. however, and remonstrat- j ed gently, only to find that he was in 1 uo condition to listen. The dinner had , been too much for him. ATTIC A THING OF THE PAST; Treasure House of Family Relics Has Completely Disappeared in These Modern Days. A very modern indictment against the architects and builders of this town has been returned by a young married couple who have spent con siderable time looking for a home. 1'ltey report the incredible fact that tier" are no attics in tfcs &*Ver class if houses, or very few. Where the j it tic ought to tie there are finished f rooms with regui'r floors, papered sails and lighting fixtures. To the philosophic mind this is a dare of affairs o-* the gravest mo-; nent, for in the swift moving tide of t \nierican life that has swept away so : nany of the moorings of the home j »nd family the attic was about all j hat was left to tie to, remarks a writer In the Indianapolis News. Not everybody can have ancestors, per mit*. family skeletons, and the other hlngs that go with lineage, but ev erybody can have an attic if they will nake a stand for it and not allow a nere style in houses to deprive them if their rights. An attic is the near est substitute for a family tree that las been discovered. It takes only a ew generations to famish it with me nentos that constitute a complete [enealogical history of the occupants if the house. And these are the things —like portraits and skeletons—that go o preserve family pride. No man can go into the attic and lee the first copper-toed boots he wore is a boy banging to the rafters witfc int feeling some sort of a stir within dm. He cannot see the remains of ds grandmother’s hoopsUrts without ! There were many gayettes to enliven ! tlie party, and. although outward de I eenries were observed after a fashion 1 Loreiei was sickened by die 'beer license that she felt on every h.-ort | She bad a wild desire to make te r e; ! ,-uses and es'-npe from FenneHeourt, | hot Boh h s.* disappeared, and sl.e gath ere*i that l.«- and Bert were playing of some fithsl-.-us wager In the hill ard room. Pleading a headache, she ~.~ euse.! herself a-, s*on as she con: 1. •-*s-> sorry." «;rid Mrs. Fewie.l: then, with a knowing laugh: “There’s no likelihood of Bob’s annoy:!)? yon for ; some time.” Once in her room. Lorelei gave way to the indignation that had been slow i iy growing in her breast. How dared ’ Bob introduce her to such people! If ! this was the world in which be had l moved lefore his marriage, he had ' shown bis wife an insult by bringine her into ir. Sorely people like the Fen i iteils. Bert Hayman. Mrs. Thompson | Bella ire. ^be Madden woman, were not typical members of New York’s exclu sive circles! Applied to them, ’smart’ was a laughably ir jdesjuate term: they were worse than fast; they were frank ly vicious. This was more than a gay week-end party: it was an orgy. Lore lei’s anger at her betrayal was so keen that she dared not send for Bob imme diately for fear of speaking too vio lently. but she assured herself that she wouid leave in the morning, even , though he chose to remain. Still in a blazing temper, she dis robed and sat down to calm herself and ‘ to wait for her husband. A half-hour passed, then another; at Last she seat a maid in *juest of him, but the report she received was not reassuring; Bob was scarcely in a condition to come to bis room. Lorelei's lips were white as -he dismissed the servant. By and by the music ceased. She heard people passing in the hall, and distinguished Betty Fennell's voice bid ding good night to someone. Still she waited. When at last the door opened Hay man stood on the threshold, peering at her. She saw that he was considerably dr;inker than when she had escaped from his attentions, bat evidently he knew r;nite well what he was about. "Kindly get out and close the door ■after yon." she directed, still without rai- ng her voice. The intruder took no warning from ' her crisp tones nor from the fact that . her twilight eyes were as dark as a midnight -ky. She stepped to her dressing table and pressed the pearl | pnsh-button. holding her finger upon it and staring at Hayman. He moved toward her. bet she snatched one of j i the candlesticks from among her toilet I_ Hayman Reeled Away. articles, swan? it above her head, and brought the weapon down. Hayman reeled away, covering his face with his hands and cursing wildly: then. Lore lei. guided more by instinct than by reason or memory, found Mrs. Fen nell's chamber and pounded upon its door with blind fury. She heard a stir from the direction whence she had come, and Hayman's voice calling something unintelligible: then Mrs. Fenneii's startled face appeared before her. “What's the matter? My dear: You'll wake everybody in the house.'’ (TO BE CONTINUED ) feeling somehow that there is a con necting link between him and the his tory of his country. As for the pad ded silk brocaded vest his grandfather wore on his wedding day. it is a pat ent of respectability equal to a suit of armot besides looking a good deal like cue. Hew German Army Horses Are Dyed. Because of the shortage of horses in Germany it has been fonnd expedient to dye white and dappled horses a field-gray, as already noted in Popular Mechanics Magazine, thereby giving th- m the same protective coloring as the soldiers' uniforms and making then! available for military purposes. The coloring when first applied gives tie* horse a violet hue, which later changes into greenish-brown by reason ot the chemical action of the swear retained in the irnir. A staff apothe cary of the German army has found ri-at the lest dye is a 1 per cent solu tion of permanganate of pof.issituu. This is applied to the head. legs, nod upl>er i-art of the body with a brush and to the more sensitive parts with s The coloring is permanent, harmless, and costs about 50 cents per horse.—Popular Mechanics Magazine. Sickness and Death From Milk. It is well known that the records 3f many cities show that dirty milk ?auses much sickness and death from iiarrheal diseases among children one to five years old and that it is in hot weather that dirty milk is most ieadly. A wire hairbrush, such as you can juy for ten cents, is just the thing for j ceeping the cat's fur in goad coxfi- | loo. Both contain less heat producing properties than heavy meats. Tty them for summer luncheons and picnic tidbits. Libby, McNeill & Libby Chicago laiiit on Libby’* at y oar grocer's THE HIGHEST QUAUTY SPAGHETTI 36 % Httpe Boot Frrt SKTHNER MFG.COL OMAHA, USA. UMBt HKNM aCWfOi JlMOLO THE HIM (OAimr lEWIHH MACHINE NE\*#fOME HOT SOLD OIDEB AHT QTHEB SAME Wr*e for fre« booklet “Pomts to be coesidere-i befor* pcrchas.nga Sewinjp Learz the £ac*js. THE HEW HOME SEWTR6 MACH1KCC.,0fU.1 a£tMA3E. For Sale or Trade 2.000 acre Saskatchewan Farm, with com plete equipment. Produced in 1915 over 100.000 bushels. Value $100,000. Further listings cf Canada land desired. FRANK CRAWFORD W. O. W. Bei.ei.aS OMAHA, 5EBRASKA NOT LIKE NEW EXPERIENCE Butcher Had Suffered Before From the Prank* Indulged in by His Frisky Horse, The eccentricities of Yankee char acter are innumerable, and they are almost always amusing. In a Maine town a gentleman was standing with some friends on his tennis lawn when the horse of the village butcher—a rather frisky animal—came dashing madly over a terrace from the street, flinging the unfortunate butcher into the tennis net with a shoulder of beef on top of him. and a big block of ice thumped with a good deal of force into his side. The fiery steed complete! his work by dragging the wagon to which he was attached over his prostrate mas ter and then flying away to demolish it and the lawn turf together by careening along until stopped by a tree. The batcher was taken up in sensible and pretty badly bruised. As soon as he could be re-tored to con sciousness one of the bystanders pro nounced the usual conundrum whether he was hurt. The butcher tried to move, found he could not, gave a sickly smile, and then said, jauntily: "Oh. it's nothing; I don't mind. Tm used to It." Doubtful Case. The judge's five-year-old son, John, had been naughty when his parents were having company and had been reproved. That night when his mother went up to hear John say his prayers she suggested that he ash God to teach his parents how to bring him up prop erly. John was quite penitent and prayed humbly: “Please, God. teaach mother how to make me a good boy." He paused for a moment, then added thoughtfully. "And father, too, if you can do anything with him." Looking On the Bright Side. “W hat became of that plan you had to get rich raising chickens?” “It wasn't ^together a success.” "Was it any kind of a success?" “It didn't do me much good. But it made a few surviving chickens very happy and comfortable."