I, THE KING By WAY LAND WELLS WILLIAMS. (Copyright. 1424.) - - ■ (Continued from Yesterday.) "Now p'r'aps next time you won't knock tny sista down," finished Dickie in beautifully bland cheerful tones. Perhaps he wouldn't, Kit reflected as he walked back to the Broom. Nana could be.flouted In safety, but boys were another matter. III. In summer the Newells went to a place called Narragansett Pier. Here they lived in a long gray shingled house overlooking the water. The nursery was on the side of the house, and from the windows on that side you could see part of the water. An other window, at the back, was di rectly over the kitchen door. There was a little porch there, with Virginia creeper climbing over it, where the servants sat and talked in the even ing. Kit lay in bed at night and listened to thpm. As he lay there in the morning he could hear the milkman talking with Annie, the cook. He would open his eyes and see in front of him the fire place with the pictured called "Speak!” over it and on his right the two windows you could see the water from. The blinds were closed now, hut the sun filtered through them in stripes, each one shading from bright yellow to dull green. Then pretty soon there would be a sound of crunching wheels from the other window, and the milkman's voice, rich and masculine, saying: "Well, and how's my best girl this morning?" or something like that. Kit had never seen the milkman, hut he liked his voice. And after some exchanges with Annie's lighter voice the wheels would crunch away and leave him again to the silence and dim light. The Virginia creeper would rustle against the porch; a fly would buzz angrily and then stop; a bird would fly by outside with a sudden twitter. And it was not the sea or the beach or the bathing that the word Karra gansett brought to Kit’s mind in later years, hut the languor and deli cate light of those early mornings. After breakfast he would play on the beach, mostly in his bathing suit. Then would come the bathe, and after that, dinner. Then the rest. Then a walk and a play in some woods that lay behind the house, or possibly he would go with his mother for a drive. Sometimes she would pay calls and Kit would sit by Wil liam asking questions and watching the horses swish the flies from their flanks. Then supper, with the sun streaming flat into the back window of the nursery and illuminating "Speak!" with a rich golden glow. Then bed. with his mother coming in to kiss him. Sometimes he was already asleep. Papa had a boat. She was moored directly opposite the house, some two hundred yards out. Often In the after noon Papa and Mama and other peo ple, lovely-smelling ladles in veils and Immaculate gentlemen in white flan nel trousers, would get into rowboats and go out to her and sail all the afternoon, coming back about the time Kit had his supper. Occasion ally fhey would not return till he was in bed and asleep. Once he was allowed to go sailing, too. He was rowed out to the boat with Mama and Papa and another lady and gentleman The boat was quite large; you could have a good run on the thing they called the deck. When the bo;*t started the great white sails were spread out and the floor and everything rocked in the blue waves and it became hard to run straight. Over the edge the water flowed by. fast and white, with a hissing sound. Kit loved it. His mother sat with the other lady on the deck by the steps leading down Into the cabin. His mother was nervous, and kept calling to him to do this or that. There was no railing to the boat, only a little ridge of wood (called scupper), gnd Mama was afraid, she said, that Kit would fall over. • "I ought never to have let you bring him, George," he heard her say. “I knew it would be like this.” The boat rolled and rocked, and Kit had great fun. Once he was running along he lost his balance in a sud den dip and fell backwards. He sim ply sat down and slid till his feet touched the scupper; he knew he wasn't going to fall over. He heard his mother scream. The other gen tleman, who was nearest him at the time, took him by the hand nnd led him to the two ladles. He sat down on his mother's knees, which felt weak and wobbly under him. “Oh." she said, "I feel positively sick. You needn't laugh, George." But both the gentlemen and even the other lady were smiling. “Here, Marjorie, I'll take him,” she said, and Kit was transferred to her lap. "I boat without a rail on a windy day Isn’t much fun for a lively young man. Is it? Shall I tell you a story, kit?” His mother got up. unsteadily, and went down the stairway. “Well, George.” she said as she went, “I hope you’re satisfied." "Bully excuse," murmured Kit's father. After that Kit did not go sailing for some years. But the time came when he would go out with his father in all kinds of weather, and he learned from his father and the skip per how to steer and come about nnd handle the main sheets—ropes really, but you called them sheets. He was never 'in the least sick, and con ceived a love of sailing and the sea which had an import effect in 1917. IV. Mrs. Newell sat in front of her dressing table while Marcelline did her hair. Marcelline was not young; she was plain and stoutish, but she had a slim shapely waist. Kit leaned on the dressing table and played with a silver brush with long white bristles which it amused him to comb with the button hook. The bristles flowed smoothly through the hook, concentrating the/nselves to its shape and then spreading out again. His mother inspected one finger. "J'ai casse cet ongle,” she said. Mar celline was sympathetic. "Ts. ts, quel dommage! Est-ce que ca fait mal, madame?" “Non. Mais c’est laid, vous savez. C’est embetant.” "Oui, mais Madame aura ses gants. Ca ne se verra pas!” "Oui. Mats pas a diner." "Kt maintenant pour la coiffure!" said Marcelline. "Est-ce que madame se fere collfer a gauche ce soir, ou a drolte?” "A gauche, je crois.—Non, atten dez. Je ne sals pas si the Hoffing tons' loge se trouve a droite ou n gauche. Vratment. J'ai oublie.” "Mais . . . Que fairs, alors?" "Je ne sals pas. C’est embetant." They talked on at some length. Kit understood in a general way; he had never been taught a word of French, hut Marcelline was a great friend of his and he had absorbed a certain amount from her. "Si madame mettait sa grande tiare?" suggested Marcelline at last. "Aveo une tiare on est bien n'^mporte ou!" "Oui, mais ... I didn't want to really dress up tonight. I couldn’t wear the blue in that case. I’d have to wear 4he white satin." "Eh bien, pourquoi pas le satin blanc? C'est l’opera!” "Oh . . . Ties bien, je le mettral. Je ne voulais pas, puisque monsieur ne va pas aveo moi, et je ne vais nulle part apres I'opera, mais enfln “Mummy," said Kit, “Joan Mer cer's Mnmu's cook’s got a cat with three kittens!" "Really, darling? What color are they? Marcelline, donnez moi cette eplnglr la!” "Gray and white. Why isn’t Papa going tohlght, Mummy?"__ Neu) York -- Day by Day— V . . J By o. o. McIntyre. New York, Oct. 10.—The sophisti cation of New York youngsters is amazing to those of us who In our youth sat like "little gentlemen" on a parlor chair—seen but not heard— when company came. We don't know how to act in their presence these dayR. Shyness among them is extinct. Youngsters of 8 and 10 discuss grown up topics as casually as a fish takes to water. A nurse in Central park pointed out a little shelter house along one of the bypaths, "Is it not beau tiful?" shd asked. Her young charge immediately re plied: "It is a bum reproduction of the 'Petit Trianon' at Versailles." And he went back to sucking his lolipop. It is one of the social graces to have a 12 or 14-year-old daughter receive at afternon tea. They greet elders with the non chalance of an experienced hostess. There are no abashed giggles or awk ward pauses. Some of them seem able to pick out the stupid and label the clever. And they make those ill at ease feel perfectly at home. One finds boys In short pants who have roamed the world. They can discuss Rome, London, Cairo and Paris intelligently. Thpy have se«n the latest plays and read the most talked about books of the day. There is a ghastly pertinency about them. Perhaps the New Age is better. Yet many of us cannot help feeling sorry for youngsters who have been denied the pleasure of going barefoot, skin ning the cat, playing In musty hay mows, building bonfires and exploring the topmost branches of trees. The other day a neighbor's boy of 13 departed alone for San Francisco to meet his parents returning from the orient. He engaged his drawing room nnd attended to all the details. At the same age I traveled from 8t. Louis to Kansas City. I was tagged and put in charge of the conductor and never moved in my sent. Had it not been for the train butcher’s glass revolver filled with peppermint drops I think I would have died of loneliness. It Is told of two New York street sweepers who were discussing a co worker who had gone the way of all flesh. "He swept a clean street," declared one. "Yes,” replied the other, "but be tween you nnd me ho wns a little weak around the fire plugs.” New York street sweepers, by the way, are the only men who adhere to the comic paper tradition of smoking a pipe upside down. Nearly all who smoke pipes follow this custojn. Also they are the only people who pay no attention to traffic dangers. They wield brushes in perfect oblivion to darting motors. They put the burden 'of safety on the drivers and ns a con sequence the casualties among them is nil. One of those impeccable hotels on the avenue attempted as adroitly as possible to caution a western patron against wearing cowboy boots around the foyer. It was Intimated the dere liction In dress was an nffront to the refined atmosphere of the place. The patron accepted the wnrnlng. but three days later rode on the elevator with on assistant manager who was going to the barbershop clad In san dals nnd lounging robe and was sock less. The westerner's wife was with him. He said nothing. He merely grablied him by the neck and knocked his head against the side of the ele vator. All of which shows slight rea son is returning to a world askew. To most of ns well polished boots are more pleasing to the eye than the flnpping bell bottomed trousers now worn. And every day in every way they are growing wider and wider. (Copyright, 1924 ) “He doesn’t feel well enough.” “Is Papa sick?" Mrs. Newell did not answer for a moment. “He doesn’t feel very well. Will you go down and kiss him before you go to bed, and lie nice to him?" “Yes. Mummy, I want a cat with kittens!” “We'll see about It. Attendez. Mar celline, je vous donnerat la clef." Marcelline went across the room, opened a small door in the wall and presently came back with a black leather box. This when open re vealed a hifth circlet, a veritable crown of diamonds. Kit had never seen anything so magnificent. He held his breath while Marcelline lift ed the glittering thing and placed It on his mother's soft brown hair. "Ma-tna!" he gasped. “You're so hew tiful!" Marcelline and his mother laughed. His mother stood on a sheet which Marcelllne placed on the floor. She slipped off her peignoir; Marcelllne brought up a mass of shiny white stuff which presently, as she adjusted It to Mama's form, became recog nizable as a gown. It was narrow at the waist, so narrow that It seemed impossible there could be any Mama there. Above. It flared Into a brief bodice which left Mama's white arms and neck entirely bare. Below the waist it flared much more widely Into the skirt; this at the back was ex panded into a train. His mother as she stood there, fully dressed, pulling on her Jong white gloves, locked lne* pressihlv reg.il and beautiful (To Be < I ntlnuert Monday.> Sure Remedy. Customer—Can you tell me what 1 can do to avoid falling hair? Manicurist—Jump out of the way. —London Mail. And Then He Won a Golf Cup By Briggs AS> AM AFTER DlNMCR SPEAKER HE WAS GREATLY ^Sought after /wd was ALWAYS The Life op Tne Party A5 AN ORA,Tor ©KJv.SENipu-S JuBJectj mg’ was LI5Tcncd la u^th profoc^aod ReiPecT IM CLUB HE Tout* Tr1<5 FU^^'tjT '3TbRici ■ BUT- TMlSM HE UUOM a r^yEBj tygflEP»arj i'|Mrii"'Ir’TUiT \ how i wow that Cup-- ow I 7^e first hole i had a fivje- \ I vi/A& aw) TV1AT ttvaP owj Thu J • \_ ^ecoWID BUT — — -feT«vou SEAL X ALL RaGwT uCAvi vmRTE AmOTELLTUEKI PoR EvERS Das BoT \sou got a S>jCll EQvlnic -A 10 LOVE. AM ERSLKJE ^JiT^RP^iTvf’Svr wmS rT>(2. C.v/£wjlkl£* VAieapy BA»CK UMTiLKtiT ; tvtVJlWWtWX c^NAVAEtt. AMO SOU VMOMtI Barney Google and Spark Plug BARNEY WANTS TO GO VERY MUCH “INCOG.” Drawn f°r The Omaho Bee by Billy DoBock / Vts st* s cam otvjg [T^'L ^•sarsr whos«p ?/?L ls_ ... a CA»M nr 7h's Ship i' wanna know if v ^j Ycuvs GOT ISHte 6000 H1O1N& SPOTS FOR ' HyS^U A HORSE AN OSTRICH. AND ThE ^ GCnT VOVR T :—^= -y TAttnNz'9&&' ^ BRINGING UP FATHER u. _SL SPgnST _Drawn for The Omaha Be. by McM.nu. I FOR. HEAVEN bAKE' J L DOIN' T DO Tv-VAvT - I - e>ET “8)5000 WITH BAvRtSET ON /KM“ IE l LObE I'M ROUSED r* i i ftp i ■ c t»n —Hicr->- r»AT\j«g Sc»v»c«. I»C- | 1 H JERRY ON THE JOB COMPLETE INFORMATION WANTED Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Hoban (Copyright 1924) It j wffTe "To “TuaKi c S! mr, V\qsbv f But 'Tatars £ 'TUo tM^UTiSt? OP 'tV»lC £auAO&o twpts Gertie 'TaElR \>J£kG€S li*S0GO- ? fAuSt PcrrcusES. <•5