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About The Omaha morning bee. (Omaha [Neb.]) 1922-1927 | View Entire Issue (Feb. 3, 1924)
THE COINCIDENCE uk.-s^e^-Lovi - gg .• AMONG the girls who were fond of young Holly Keyes It was thought the knowing thing to say that he had "the I/itin touch.” By this they meant that he was a lightsome spark, flexibly expressive and of contagious gayety. He could do "positively anything” they said, for this tall gentleman was a master of light accomplishments. He was a willing player upon the pi anoforte; being one of those dashing young amateurs whose hands sweep the keys like sea birds running to rise from the water. He improvlsetf and composed; he had written several charming little songs. Of course he "danced like an angel" and he drew ■ recognizable caricatures” but not malicious ones. Moreover he had a light baritone voice with touching Wristful tones in it. Holly had no vanity at all. He took his accomplishments and himself not sferioucly but carelessly; he was the friendliest soul alive and would do anything he could for anybody. Consequently he was asked to do a great deal, and the general Impres sion about him was that with all his gifts he would "never amount to anything." "Why don’t you?” a girl asked him one afternoon on the Country club veranda. She was a visitor from out of town. "Why don't you amount to something and fool ’em?” she urged him. “Anyhow, why don’t you try?” ' I’ve thought of It sometimes. Why do they think I won’t amount to any thing? I don't mean I think I shall, myself; I only mean I wonder why they think I won't. What -easons do they give?” "They don’t give any,” the girl re plied. “They just say. ‘Oh, yes; Holly's charmipg but of course he'll never amount to anything.’ They don't stop to analyze why they think , so, you see. They just have that im presslon of you and let It go at that.” "Well, why do you think they have It?” he asked. She looked thoughtful, concentrat ing. ”1 think it's because they all use you,” she said. . “They know you'll do everything they ask you to do, and a lot of polite, thoughtful things, besides, that they don't ask you to do. On top of that you're al waye the ‘life of the party’—you've certainly been the life of every party I've been to since I came here. The trouble Is you don’t charge anything for It. I mean by that, you don't act as If you were conferring a favor. You let 'em take it for grant ed you’ll do all the ‘entertaining,’ and carry all the baskets, too. They love you, of course; but they know that they can use you and that they don’t have to make any returns for It; so they really feel you’ll let every 'body else treat you the same way, wherever you go and whatever you do.” "So that's It,” Holly laughed. “ 'Amounting to something’ Is just getting returns. Is It?” ‘‘Well, Isn't it? Look at the liand somedittle man with the ‘strong law,’ Thompson Rennert. He makes every body feel that he’s out to get returns for himself, and they all think he has a great future before him. If you and he both wrote to papa that your Intentions were fairly honorable, and If papa had to take one of you, It would seem much wiser to let It be the good-looking little Rennert man with the Jaw.” "I see,” Holly returned, nodding. "You’re ambitious.” "Not so very, but your wife .would have a poor time of It, my friend. When you were a star in theatricals she'd hear 'em say, 'He ought to have gone on the stagel’ When she'd sit In the gallery to hear yoii make an after-dinner speech she'd have to listen to everybody whispering, ’He ought to have been an orator!’ And when you'd play or sing: "Oh, he ought to have been a musician!' Your wife’ll always be hearing what you ought to have been; and that's the palnfulest thing a wife can hear about her husband.” "Whereas, with little Tommie, she'd nert—” Holly'suggeeted. “Whereas, with little Tommy, she’d have a husband with a lot of selfish snergy, and she’d get to be prosperous and Important some day,” said the visitor. “Little Tommie Rennert is rather narrow-minded, but he’s ‘good,’ he’s affable, he’s 'devoted to business.' and he wouldn’t do anything for any body unless he got credit for it. He , sent me some sensible flowers—Just about a third as many as were in that enormous stack you sent me yester day—and at the dance that night be expected me to make a fuss over him ■ for It. You sent me a bouquet for a dance you couldn't go to yourself. No; I’d take Tommie, because he’ll get on In the world, and you'll prob ably be working for him som® day." “What a horrible prophecy!” “You see.” she explained, "he’d hire you because h^'d think he could make your popularity useful to him In his business. Don't you really, see that you'll be working for him some day?” Holly shook his head ruefully. "Lordy!” he said. "What did give you that Idea? Are you a good prophet usually?” Miss Virginia Peel, of Lemlngton. the visitor, looked at him thought fully. "I think I'm a good prophet in this case,” she said. "I’ll tell you why. Wherever you go you find more or less the same types, don't tou? Of course everybody's an in i vidua!, and are in some things different from any other person In ‘.he world; but when you go from one town to another,' you're pretty apt o find people that correspond to people you knew where you came 'roin. The way it is with me, when I’m visiting in a place like this, I root a woman, for Instance, and (retty soon I begin to think, ‘Oh. yes! I knew a lot about you. You’re inolher Mrs. Calvin Jones; that's eliat you are!’ You see, Mrs. Calvin (ones is a type I've always known In my own town.” "I see,” Holly said. "And when you met me, you said to yourself—" Kho nodded. "Yes, I said to my self, 'I know him because he's an Other Harry Loyd.* ” "Oil. then the Holly Keyes of Lem iiiyton Is named Harry Loyd?” "Well, our Harry Loyd isn't quite a Holly Keyes," sho said. "Y’et he is a lot like you in a great many ways. He's—well.' If you'll please bow I’ll tell you one thing about him. Mr. Keyes: he’s charming.” "Thank you ” "You’re not very enthusiastic." she said. "Of course we none of us like to be told that we're like some one else, and yet most of us really are. Harry Loyd is like you In other ways than being gay and charming. He plays and sings and tells stories won derfully, too. He's been ’the life of the party’ for years, and carried the baskets and changed the tires and done everything for everybody, and let people use him and walk all over him, and he's always been friendly and ready—and never got any re turns for himself.” "But what made you think I’d be a hired man of Tommie Rennert’s some day? You said—” "I know,” she interrupted. "That’s what I’m explaining. You see we have a Tommie Rennert in Reming ton, too. Ours is named Lohrman. Theodore Lohrman. He doesn’t look a bit like Mr. Rennert—but he’s the same type: the aggressive ‘successful business man’ and not much else. He started with very little and he’s already at the head of what my fa ther calls a ‘tremendously rising in dustry.’ Isn’t that like Mr. Ren nert?" Holly frowned. "I see,” he said. "Ah—which do you like best?” "Ho you mean which do I like best: you or Mr. Rennert?” "Well, l wouldn't go so far as to ask that Just yet,” said Holly. ‘T’d be afraid to, especially since you’ve already told me you'd rather marry Tommie Rennert.” "Oh, no. I dldnt; I only said it, would seem wiser." “Rut you say this Harry Loyd in your town Is like me and a Mr. Lohr man is like our Tommie Rennert. Which one do you see the most of: Loyd or Lohrman?” “Mr. Lohrman.” Aou do?” Holly said, and he looked depressed. "You see Lohrman oftener than the one that's like me?” “A'es. Mr. Lohrman married my cousin.” t “Well, that’s quite a relief.1” the young man assured her. "That’s some comfort, anyhow!” ‘‘They’re both married,” Miss Peel said demurely. “Mr. Loyd, too.” “That’s some comfort,” Holly re turned brightening still. "I’m glad Air. Loyd’s married, too—though, of course, he’d never have had any chance with you!" “He's quite a lot older," she ex plained. “So is Mr. Lohrman. They’re both abput 40 now. I suppose. That's why it seems to me I can see what you and Mr. Rennert will be like when you are about 40.” At this Holly's expression became one of dismal foreboding. “Oh. mur der!” he said. “I see! That’s why you think I'll be working for Tom mie Rennert some day. My proto type. Loyd, works for Tommie’s pro totype. Lohrman. Don't tell me it’s true!" “Yes, I will,” she said, and laughed at his burlesque gesture of dismay. "They grew up together, just as you and Mr. Tommie Rennert did, and in their youth Harry Loyd and Theo dore Lohrman lived the fable of the grasshopper and the ant, just the way you and Tommie are living it now. Theodore had his nose to the grindstone every day while Harry l,oyd was out at the Country club making thing* lovely for some 'vis iting girl’—the way you're doing that for me today. A'ou see it was the summertime of the grasshopper and the ant. Well, when winter came, and Harry Loyd and Theodore were middle-aged, the grasshopper's sing ing and amiability hadn’t laid by any stores. Theodore and his wife, my cousin, Judith, have a beautiful big house, and their children go sway to the best schools; but Mr. and Mrs. Harry Loyd live In a little frame house, and their children won't be able to get anywhere except through high school—not on poor Harry Loyd's twenty-two hundred a year! They say Theodore pays him that just for his popularity, though Harry isn’t much use to him as a business man. Couldn't you take It as a warn ing. Mr. Keyes?” “I don’t suppose so,” he said. "Grasshoppers can't be anything but grasshoppers, can they? It's a pretty dismal prospect, though—the winter!” With that he shivered, then laughed. “Well, It’s summer still.” he went on, cheering up. “And besides, you aren't a ‘type,’ and that's a comfort!" “Why, of course I’m a ‘type!’" she returned. "Every town In the world has a girl like me—dozens of ’em!” “No,” he said earnestly. “Lemlng ton Is the only place that’s got the one. There's only one of you." "What makes you think so?” “Because there couldn’t possibly be any one else anywhere that could look so warm hearted and be so cold blooded!" At this her charming color height ened. "What makes you think I'm cold-blooded?" “My goodness!" he exclaimed. “Why, the calculating Iciness of the way you discuss Tommie Rennert and me! You figure us out as If you were a mathematician with chalk and a blackboard!" He had become so earnest that she looked at him gravely. "I don’t— quite," ehe said. “Don’t you see I was Just warning you?” "You mean you were trying to stim ulate me out of being a grasshopper," he said. “And at the same time you're sharp enough to see It can't he done.” "Don't you really think It could?" she said, and gave him a clear, full look, wholly serious. As serious as she was, he returned her look, but shook his head. "I'll never make a ‘good business man’,” ha said. "It Just can't be done. I think I’ll probably be lucky If I'm getting 12,200 a year at 40, like your Mr. Harry Loyd. Suppose both Tom mie Rennert and I do write to your father—which do you think you'll vote for?" t She laughed aloud and Jumped up from the wicker settee. "It Isn't nec essary to go that far to keep a visitor amused," she said. “Come In to the piano and alng some funny songs. I might begin to tako you seriously If you didn't, and then I should have to think It over!” "Its my opinion you will, before you leave," Holly said, detaining her. "Tommie Rennert thinks so, too, dnrn him! We're both getting serious, Miss Peel!” He laughed, hut she saw that he rneunt It, and she was far from sure that she wanted either Holly or Thompson Rennert to mean anything of the kind. Ho she ran to the door that led Into the club-house. "Come on!" ahe cried. “Como and sing for J the lady while it'e still summer!" Then, abruptly, she turned back to him, blushing a little. "Goodness!” she said. "Here's Theodore Lohr man!" "Who?" I mean Mr. Rennert,"- she ex plained, hurriedly. "He's coming through the club-house. He didn't see me; but—but he has an expres sion that makes me think he’s look ing for me." "That settles it!” Holly said rue fully. "You already know his look ingfor-you expression and he’a actu ally left hia old factory to run itself in tho middle of tho afternoon be cause you're out here. He's never done such a thing befoie. I told you it was serious.” "Oh, he may be.” she admitted. "But that's only half of—" At this point she checked herself sharply, for the small and neat figure of Mr. Ren nert appeared in the doorway. He was more than small and neat, how ever; nor was the Jaw she had men tioned unpleasantly obtrusive. This young man had a blue eye that was warm enough now, at sight of Miss Virginia Peel, and, although there was a dryness about him, he had the fortune to be strikingly good-looking. "Ah—I thought perhaps you'd come for a drive with me,” he said. "I understand you to say, yesterday evening—” "Of course." she responded, giving him her hand with what seemed to the other person present a little too much heartiness: but she at once made up for it. "Mr. Keyes Is going to play and sing for us a while, and then we cun all three go out for a run in your car. Mr. Rennert. I'm so glad It isn't a runabout.” Rennert; accepted this somewhat dampening disposal of the situation, and accepted It with a still sort of grace, as well. "That wilt* be very pleasant,” he said. "Especially if Holly's going to be kind enough to entertain us before we go " Nevertheless as the two young men followed the graceful figure of Miss Peel indoors, they exchanged a quick little estimating glance in which they both recognized the beginning of a rivalry. It was one of those Country Club summer rivalries that are like j dramas composed of dozens of little scenes. The settings shift contin- 1 ually. The three roles are played j with fervor, and though the heroine j may laugh sometimes, the laughter of tho other two Is infrequent and I never genuine. Certain of the scenes, however, j were enacted at the house of the ' heroine’s aunt, Mrs. George Peel. * where Virginia wns slaying, and it i was Mrs. Peel's opinion that Holly Keyes "had a chance." True Vir ginia usually arrived at the Coun try club with Rennert in his car, wfille Holly went out there by trolley, but Mrs. Peel was naturally aware that when Mr. Hennert came to her house for her niece lie seldom fulled to find Holly taking a most tempor ary leave of her ypon the veranda steps. Moreover. Virginia had said she “liked” fldlly. For that matter, she liked Ren nert, too. .she had the pleasunt in firmity of being unable to he cold to Hnyone who was warm to her. When anyone showed that he liked her, she was Inevitably pleased with him—when anyone showed thnt he loved her, she was more than pleased, she was profoundly touched. If she had not known the Harry I.oyd nt home who was so like tills Holly Keyes and If she had not so often seen Mrs. I.oyd patching the children's clothes and "turning” skirts for another year's wear Vir ginia might have let herself lie more Impulsive with Holly; for of course, as he became more and more serious in his feeling for her, she could not prevent herself from being moved by It. Indeed, she finally became ills tressed hy it, and Inld him so. That was the evening before she went away. They hml been dancing indoors at the Country club, and for a little while he hml persuaded her to walk with him In the strip of forest grove outside, where they could nol be seen. "Please, let's not talk anv more about It," she said, In a voice tremulous with her great earnestness. "I Just can't say 'yes' to you Holly. I can’t!" "But you're going tomorrow, and If you get that far away from me I know I'll lose you ." He laughed sorrowfully. "Listen," she said. "I never meant It to go this far. At first I enjoyed having you seem Interested In mo; I can’t deny It. Hut honestly, f thought you were such- such a light sort of person—" "Yes," Holly Interrupted, with n little bitterness. "You mude a pretty plain you're familiar with my 'type' — I'm just 'Harry Loyd,’ I know. We're only minstrels, of course; the light comedians that were never meant to be taken seriously. But we do feel a little ourselves, some times. We rdklly do, you know." “I do know," Virginia said, In a low voice. "Don't be afraid you haven't made me understand that. Lately I’ve seen that you care for me in a very real and lovely way. und I appreciate it more than you She Rave him her hand with what seemed to the other person present a little too much heartiness. guess. But not enough to think I want to mahry you." ■'Well—" he said, "it doesn’t seem to me I can stand it, but I suppose I've got to." Then, for a moment, in the darkness he walked away from her, but turned quickly and came back where she stood grieving. "It's all that confounded Harry Loyd!" he said. "I believe If It weren't for him I'd have had a better chance to make you like me." She echoed his unhappy laughter and her response came to him In a whisper: " 'Like you?' You don't know how much I like you' But—" "Yes—l hear the 'but!’ ’’ he said. "Do you think you'll say ‘yes' to Rennert before you go?" "I don't know. I don't think so." "Can I come to Lemington to see you?" "N—no." g "Will you let Tommy Rennert come there?" he asked, huskily. "I don't know.” Holly laughed again, and his bitter ness returned. "I see. You want to make It clear that there's no chance at all for me. Though you won t say ‘yes’ to Tommie defljritely, you're go ing home to think it over about him, because maybe you will decide to say ■yes’ to him later. Isn't that the way of it?” That was. indeed, “the way of it," but Virginia could not admit it. For some reason she felt that it would be shameful to make such an admission: and the unhappy young man heard premonitory sounds of approaching tears. ”1 Just can't talk about it any more, Holly," she said. "I—you don’t know how it all hurts me!” This had the right effect at once. "For heaven's sake donlt cry!" he ■said, of course; and patted her shoul der lightly. “There's nothing for you to really worry about. You're right about me; I'm not a heavyweight, and I'm not going to be In such a bad state of mind. Cheer up. d'ye hear?" "I—I ain't." she whimpered. “I know you do care, Holly!" "Well, what of It?" he said brusquely. "Listen!" From the clubhouse veranda, (wo hundred yards away, there catne a chorus of boys' and girls' volcea call ing: "Holly! Oh. Holly! Oh, Holly!" "What you want?” he bellowed. "How about ‘Spaniard O'Reilly?' Kverybody's waiting!" "I'm coming!" he called. Then he turned to hla agitated companion, and laughed. "It's that fool new song," he explained. "I promised ’em I!d sing It with the orchestra. Don't worry any more about us Harry Loyds. We're all rifeht so long as It's sum mertime, you know, t'ome along!" She came along, hut she knew It wasn't "all right” with hitn; and she wept to her pillow th it night when she thought of how gayly he had sung "Spaniard O'Reilly," and had l>een (he "life of tin- party,” as usual, for her sake—to keep her ironi ' wor rying." And the next morning he aaid goodby over the telephorta as gayly—lie explained that a "tourna ment foursome” prevented him from coming to tile station. Orchids, can dy and a copy of "Venetian letters, ’ hound In leather, with her Initials stamped on tlm cover, were waiting there for her, however, In the hands of a mecsengsr, when she arrived with the troubled Mr. Rennert In his <ar. Mr. Rennert was more troubled when he beheld these parting gifts. "I thought you—that Is, I under stand you to—to Imply,” lie stam mered, "I understood you’d Implied to Holly Keyes- " "Yes, ' she said Madly. her anus full pf 1 tolly's farewell. "I did. I did Imply." "And about ni'\ you Implied—'* I only Implied, though," she pro tested defensively. "You mustn't mnke nny more of It yet." "ltut when 1 come to I^mington—" "If you do come,'' she said. "Hut you told mi—” "I said I'd write to you that you can. If I decide that you can." "But you will decide that way. won't you?” lie ts'RRod as they reached the Rate where her porter waited. And he looked so earnestly her lover, nnd so handsome, and so troubled, that she was unable to re press an Impulse that brightened him magically. "At least," she snld hur riedly. "I hope 1 wllir Then she ran through the pate, following her porter; and on the tialn *he thought of how Tommie Rennert would look, the next time he met Holly Keyes. Tommie would look triumphant—and Virginia winced a little when she thought of that; her journey was not a happy one. All the way she accused herself, defended herself, acquitted herself and convict ed herself; the principal charge brought by the prosecution being that she was mercenary. But whether she was guilty or not depends on the definition of the word ''mercenary"; and many Intelligent people would have thought her mere ly sensible. She was one of a large family, Rnd a happy enough family, loo, though the head of It was only a country court judge vlth a salary of $4,000 a year. Virginia had "scraped along on nothing" and site was tired of doing it; she liked "pretty things” and hoped to be able to buy them, some day. Moreover, she, liked the hard-work ing, scrupulous Kennert. He was a dry little man, mentally; and not ppen'-h&nded: but neither was he so j "close"' that' he would be stingy as a husband. She reached her destina tion, a little before nightfall. In a state of depression. But the start ling and terrible thing that had just happened In Lemington made her own trouble seem nothing. She had not let her family know by what train she would arrive, so no one met her at the station; where upon she was more depressed than ever. She tried to prepare a bright face for the meeting with her mother, but failed completely. Her mother, hurrying downstairs, as the daugh ter entered the front door, cried. "Vir ginia!" excitedly, embraced her, and then stepping hack from her. said: "So you’ve heard It! 1 can tell from your face that you have!" "Heard what, mother?" "About poor Harry and Theodore!" Virginia stared Incredulously. "Did you see it In the paper on the train?” her mother asked. “I don't know what you're talking about, mamma. What is It?" "They were killed this morning, both of them," said Mrs. Peel, "I thought from your face you must have known it." • A little later she brought Virginia a newspaper with an account of the accident. "Shocking Accident Villa Promi nent Manufacturer. Theodore I,ohrman Ides Instantly. Kvpresa Crashes Into Limousine. H. J. Loyd Also Victim. Dies With Kmployer. "At 10:15 o'clock this morning Theodore Lohrman, one of the most Important figures In the financial and industrial life of the city, was cross ing the L. B. • C. tracks In hia limousine on the Southport turnpike, when his car was struck by the east bound express, traveling at a high rate of speed. The body of the lim ousine was thrown at least 60 feet by the shock and both of the occu pants. Mr. Lohrman and II. J. Loyd, who was accompanying him to in spect Mr. I/ohrman's Southport mills, were instantly killed. The chauffeur was taken to a hospital badly hurt and unable to tell how the accident occurred. The shock to Mr. Lohr man's business associates i* particu larly severe at this time, as a mem ber of the I.ohrman firm slated to a representative of this paper. A far reaching enlargement of the Lohr man Industries had Just been planned end although Mr. Lohrman a death gwlll make no difference irr these plans, which will be carried through Immediately—" Virginia stopped i ending to stare pallidly at her mother. "What a hor rible way to put It!” she said. "'A1 though Mr. Lohrman'a death will make no difference " "It only means it won't make any difference In Hie plans for carrying out the enlargement," said Mrs. I’eel, gently. "Naturally It makes a dread ful difference to |ioor Cousin Judith. Of course, though, she has a great deal to live for. She's lost him, but she has the children and and other things. She'll lie Immensely well off " "Poor Ruth Loyd has children to live for, too," said Virginia. “The paner scarcely mentions Harry: It seems to think Theodore's death so .much more Important!" "Hell, In a way It Is," her mother returned sadly. "Rut as your father tried to any when he telephoned me the news. It'll never seem like the same town again, without Harry." "As father ‘tried* to say?" "Yes," Mrs Peel explained. "He 1 linked up and I could hardly under stand him, hut that's w list he meant, klxerybody seems to feel the same way about him." "Kverybody except the newspaper." "Of course poor Theodora's death will be greatly felt In a business way," the mother said. 9 "But the newspaper says that's Just where it won’t be felt. The 'enlarge ments' and everything else will go on Jr the same. Why, that's awful!" Mrs. Peel sighed. “I haven't been to see poor Cousin Judith, but sister she s being so brave! I thought I'd let her get the first shock over, and I waited for you to go with me tomorrow. The funeral isn't until Thursday, and neither Is poor Harry's. tVe'II go tomorrow after lunch, shan't we?" Virginia assented wanly; adding that she would then go on to see Mrs. Boyd. And the next day, early in the afternoon, they sc^ forth upon these painful errands of condolence. They found the effect of the shock well dis persed when they arrived at Mrs. laihrman's. She kissed them sorrow fully, showing some emotion; then she sat with them In her spacious and luxurious drawingroom, and spoke resignedly cf her loss. "Everything will go on just the same," she said. “Theodore, Jr , enters the technical school in the fall, and both Judith anil Mary will go to Miss Bursley s in Boston—all the'children are bearing It splendidly. Theodore> trust com pany will have charge of the estate's interest, and we can all feel that my dear husband is still taking care of us." "Judith dear." Mrs. Peel said im pulsively, *'I can't tell you how glad we all are to see you keeping sych splendid control of voyrself. I do hope poor little Ruth Ixiyd has something like yoyr serenity of spirit:" “Poor Ruth!" Mrs. Rohnnan said, and she shook her head sadly. “I hear she has no resignation at all. Of course, it makes things Just a little harder for me to realize that Harry would still be alive if Theo dore hadn't taken him with him. and the terrible part of it is that he didn't take him becaAe he needed him. Theodore told me, the night before, that he was going to run down in his car to look at the South port mills. 'X think i'll take Harry along,' ho said. 'It's quite a drive 1 and he may know a new story or j two.’ He never counted on poor { Harry for business, of course; though i he said Harry's personality helped to. make business for him. I can't bear to think of Ruth; they say she's , about crazy. If she could only show , more bravery!” Mrs. Peel said admiringly, when | she and her daughter had come out of the house and reached the side ! walk. "Did you ever see such cour age? She's so wonderfully serene and resigned. I think she must have ,\ perfect faith.” Virginia looked profoundly thought ful. ”I>o you think it's faith?” she asked. "Do you think Judith cares a great deal? Don't you think she's still got what she really cares moat libout: her children—and—and the jest of it?” . Her mother was shocked. "Vir ginia:” “You wouldn't call her ‘stricken,’ would you?” Virginia said. “I don’t think the children are precisely that, either.” “My dear, people can't Just sit down and cry all the time.” "I know,” said Virginia gravely. "But he died only yesterday.” "Well, but—” “I'm not criticizing it,” Virginia In terrupted. and her eyes seemed to rest upon something far, far distant. ”1 was thinking—I was thinking—" * "Thinking what?" “I was thinking that this was really the most satlHfactory kind of marri age possible,” said Virginia. "I mean so that you wouldn't be too unhappy if he dies. I believe—oh, I believe that's the answer!” ■Virginia! What answer?” "It s something I’ll tell you about later," said Virginia, and paused: for they had come to a street corner. "Are you going home, mama, or are you coming on with me to Ruth's?” Mrs. Peel looked nervous. ”1 be lieve If you don’t mind I'll let you go alone, dear. You know her better than I do, and It might be a little in trusive If I went. You tell her every thing for me, If she can listen to you. I think I'll go home, dear. The truth Is I—well, I dread seeing her. and, well—I Just feel as if I couldn’t go into poor Harry's house without breaking down, myself." She stopped, and fumbled for a handkerchief, whereupon her daugh ter gave her a little push that moved her a step toward home. "For heav en's sake go home and don't let's cry on the street, mama!” she said brusquely, and went on to Ruth Loyd's alone. Two hours later, she passed this comer where she had parted with her mother, and it seemed to her a long, long time since she had been there. Her face was that of one who had been looking on helplessly, at helpless tragedy; and when she got home she ran to her room and flung herself upon her bed without even taking off her hat. "You're getting your poor hat out of shape, child,” Mrs. Peel said, having followed her in. "Your head will rest better with out It. anyway. Do take it off. I sup pose you found nobody could say any thing of any use to poor Ruth?” Virginia rose miserably and removed her hat without speaking: then she sank again upon the bed. "I feel selfish to let you go there alone. I suppose it was pretty terrible." "There's no telling It," Virginia said faintly. "No. I’m afraid not,” Mrs. Pee] murmured. Then she went to the win dows and lowered the shades. At the door she paused, looking thoughtful. "Both the funerals are on Thursday at almost the same time. Theodore's is at two o'clock and poor Harry's at half-past. I suppose as we're family connections we'll have to go to Theo dore s In fac t I'm glad it's that way. I'd rather go to Theodore's. I believe, than to—” Fhe checked herself ab ruptly. "I understand, mama.” Virginia said."We have to go to Theodore's of course. Judith wouldn't understand If we didn't.” So, on Thursday. Virginia stood among Theodore's relatives at the cemetery, and thought of the enlarge ments of Theodore's business: those enlargements that would be made in spite of what was now being done before her. She looked about her among the dark-clothed groups, and saw Theodore's business associates: . the two principal bankers, the six or i seven principal manufacturers and the four or five principal merchants of the town: the principal lawyer—he j Had been Theodore's attorney—and j half a dozen of Theodore’s chief em ployes, hL» "high salaried men." Ju- 1 dilh afid her children stood close to her, and they and Theodore's other relatives and the business men were all of a gloomy and respectful grav ity—Vet to Virginia it * seemed that nothing whatever w-s greatly chang ed by their leaving Theodore here in The Man She Dreams Of Hy Janet Constantine HhK ideal—that irhostly figrnre that is in the back of every jrirl's min^ —the prince charminjr who will come some day. brinpinj: romance and happiness into her life. She won ders how she may win his love; what she can do to make herself more attractive in his eyes. Rut little does she guess the thing above all others that men will love in her — and that is the glow of perfect health. For the youjig girl, life in all its fullness lies ahead. The healthy, vie orous girl is the girl who is admired -by men. A rosebud com plexion : a clear skin; steady nerves- those are the thinjrs that men want in the women they choose for their wives. If K'fls but real ized the truth of this, they could double their own happiness, and their chances for popularity with the opposite sex; but unfortunately there are far too many young women who are careless about their health, and who avoid taking proper cart of themselves, which after all is the most important thing in life. * This is the time to build up her strength and remove those weak nesses or ailments which are the seat of her trouble. Head this: Omaha. Neb. -‘‘Pr. Pierce’s Favorite Prescription is the he.-t tonic and nervine for women that 1 have ever known. Some years ago when I was in very poor health (my whole body aching and 1 felt about all in), Pr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription was recommended to me by a friend. I will never forget how quickly this medicine strengthened me and relieved me of my aches and pains. The first bottle proved to me that it was just the medicine I needed. It is truly a friend to ailing women and 1 would never hesitate to recommend it to all women who are weak, ailing and nervous."—Mrs. l.uella Lott. 4004 North 20th St. Send 10c for trial package. Address Pr. Pierce's Invalids' Hotel, Buffalo, N. Y. Also try Pr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets for liver ills. the ground liehind them, as they turned to go away. • Then, as they went toward the tars that waited upon the drive to take them home, the other funeral was just arriving; but it first Virginia could see only a part of it, the pro cession ( wan so long. The hearse stopped not far away, and some young men, not wholly composed i manner themselves, helped the widow and her children to deacend from the cab nearest the hearse. Virginia caught a glimpse of black figure* bowed and racked at sight of the pu>: of freshly upturned earth before them; she had a sense of the abyss of vacancy that this hillock of ye low earth meant to them; and she hurried Into her car, shuddering. Her father and mother were with her, and the three sat In silence as they drove by the long line of Harry Lloyd's funeral procession, still con. lng into the gate of the cemeter. Behind the undertaker'* cars were a great many others; and ltehlnd the^-e were a number of shabbier vehicle*, while last of all came humbly two I shaky old carriages draw n by gaunt horses and carrying solemn ar.d downcaat colored people who ha i known Harry Lloyd and wished to show that they had known'him lor ingly. Virginia's father sighed heavily as the car swept out of the cemetery and came upon the asphalt stre*'. "Poor dear old Harry wouldn't have liked that," he said. "Wouldn't have like what?" his wife Inquired. "He wouldn't have liked to everybody so miserable at his funera’. I never saw so many people with their faces working to keep from cry ing in my life. Harry would have cheered ’em up if he could; that was his life business, I believe, rea’.iy: keeping people cheerful. He'd rather have had 'em all laughing." Just then, as It happened, there came a sound of laughter on the air and a heavy black automobile went by them. Eight middleaged cltlwna in black were seen within it; they were smoking, and one of them had evidently Just reached the point of a funny story. They were Theodore s pallbearers on the way home. "How dreadful!" Mrs. Peel ex claimed. "Why, no,” her husband said. “It's only natural. They've been on a strain and now they're relaxed." "Maybe," Virginia said vaguely. "I [ doubt if they've been on much of a strain. Will you ask the driver to stop at the te>graph office on the way home." "The telegraph office?" Judge Pci! echoed. "What for? Have you just remembered you left the family jewel at your Uncle George's Who are you sending telegrams to, young lady?" "I'll tell you and mamma when we get home,” she said. She sent her telegram, and a little later, explained to her father and moiher what she had done. It was a long and rather ag.tating explanation for all three of them, but finally the parents k’ss-ed their daughter a little tearfully, and went to tell the new* to her younger brothers and sisters. These were for a time uproarious', nevertheless, they were well brought— Up," and the whole family behaved discreetly when a taxicab came to a halt before the house, at twilight two evening* later. A radiant young man somewhat grimed with train dust jumped out of the cab. Virginia, a trembling rose, waa waiting Jor him in the library, with the lamp lighted and the door wide open. "You—you must have thought my telegram was—was very bold." she murmured. "You * angelic thing!" he said. "What made you decide to ser.d it’" N’ow of course what he hoped sb« Would say wa», "I found that I loved you." and for a moment he was pus. tied by her reply. sh« began to cry. 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