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."