F—————
Bellefonte, Pa., May 10, 1912.
—
REBELLION.
Billy sat on the extreme edge ol the
last stone forming the low wall bor
dering the grounds about his home.
There was a lowering expression upon
his face.
the wall,
Around the corner swung Mrs. Don- |
nell. Billy and Mrs. Donnell were
chums, so she beamed and called
“Hello!™ as a chum should. Billy
looked up trom under his frowning
brows and made no answer,
“My goodness!” exclaimed Mrs.
Donnell, pausing in surprise. “What's
the matter with you this morning?
Where's your taugh? And your dim-
ple?”
Billy growled something and shifted
around. Then he spoke with a great
effort. “They've got—" He actually
choked over the word. "They've gone
and got a—a baby at our house!” He
jerked his head toward what had been
home to him. The expression ot his
face signified that his connection with
the place was now completely sev-
ered.
“O—o—oh! | see,” said Mrs. Don-
nell. She flicked the top of the wall
with an absurd handkerchief and then
sat down beside Billy. Her serious-
ness was very comforting. “No wondeg
you are excited.”
“I'm not excited,” contradicted Bil
ly, flatly. “I'm mad. | don’t want fit.
What good is a baby? Nobody but-
toned my shoes for me this morning!”
“Horrible!” sympathized Mrs. Done
nell. She pulled one fat leg up on her
‘lap and proceeded to remedy the de-
fect in Billy's toilet. “Well, you see,
the baby's new, and you must expect
them to be dreadfully interested in it.
People are that way. You've no idea
how foolish they can be over a red,
homely little new baby, Billy.”
“Theirs is awful red,” Billy de
clared scornfully. “And it yells. That
isn't the worst, though—it’s a giri!”
He shot out the words in explosive
contempt. “What good’s a girl?”
“They certainly have piled it up on
you, haven't they?" cried Mrs. Don-
nell. “Whatever are you going to do?”
“I'm thinkin’,” announced Billy.
“First 1 thought I'd run away. It ain't
going to be any fun at home any more,
All they do 1s look at the baby and
act silly over it. [ can wait an’ wait
for somebody to pour the cream on
my peaches, an’ there's nobody to do
it. Mother she stays right with that
baby and father he stays with it, and
Mary she just runs around from the
kitchen to upstairs and back again
and says ‘The darlin’! Ain't it sw-
w-w-e-et!’"”
“Well, isn’t it?” queried Mrs. Don-
nell in suspiciously shaky tones.
Billy glared at her in reproach.
“Sweet!” he almost yelled. “It's just
ugly and red, and | hate it!”
“Billy!”
“1 do!” repeated Billy.
a thing! [It doesn’t know anything:
When father took me in to see it this
morning [| showed it my new knife
and it wouldn't even look at it!
would if it had been a boy!
have some sense! Father just laughed.
And anyhow | didn’t have any use for
a baby.”
“1 know,” said Mrs. Donnell. “I'll
go and buy the baby and take it away
and that will rid you of it.”
Wild hope sprung into Billy's eyes.
Then it died out. “You don’t want it,”
he said, disgustedly. “After you take
a good look at it you wouldn't even let
‘em give it to you!”
“Mercy!” said Mrs. Donnell. “ls it
as bad as that? Well, | might take
it anyway just to oblige an old friend
like you. Here comes your father—
I'll see about it now!"
“Good morning, Mr. Baxter! | was
just talking business with yonr son.
He says there is a superfluous baby
up at the house that is in his way, and
he'd ike to dispose of it. If you'll
sell it I'll take it off your hands.
What price do you ask?”
“Um-m!” said Billy's father, frown-
ing thoughtfully. “Now, that's kind
of you. What shall we sell it for,
Billy?"
“A quarter,” Billy suggested tenta-
tively.
“Oh, | think we ought to ask at
least 30 cents,” said his father. “But
wouldn’t your mother object? I think
she'd feel sorry if we sold it!”
“Would she?’ asked Billy in sur
prise. ie
“Yes,” said his father. “It's queer,
but she’s just crazy about it. You and |
1 have got to stand together and bear
it! We don’t want to burt mother's
lings, do we?”
fat admitted Billy, irresoluteiy.
“Have you seen what funny fingers
it has? They curl around ome of
yours, tight!”
“Do they?” asked Billy, interested!y.
“That's what they do,” said his
father. “Come with me and I'll show
you. You can have lots of fun with
it, Billy. Come on!”
“All right,” said Billy, sliding down
from the wall and joining his father.
“1 guess we won't sell it,” he called
back to Mrs. Donnell. “But thank you,
just the same!”
A Manager.
“Why do you insist on carrying
that umbrella?” asked the bridegroom.
“For purposes of domestic econ-
omy,” replied the bride. “I'm golog
to turn it upside down and catch
enough rice to do the family for vev.
eral weeks."
—For high class Job Work come to
the WATCHMAN Office.
| tartly.
Now and then he beat his |
heels viciously against the stones of |
“It can't do |
It
Boys |
IN STRESS OF PITY.
! (Copyright, 1511, Ly Assoclated Literary
i Press.)
“Work is work, but picnics is only
| picnics,” summed up Aunt Hepzibah
“I'm goin’ to town and you'll
| stay here and do that ironin’, so don't
let's have another word about it.”
Barbara Larsen stood, meek and
| submissive, bravely holding back the
tears till her aunt's gaunt form had
turned down the road and disap-
| peared trolleyward. Then she threw
herself down in the old rocker and
| sobbed unrestrainedly.
She had told Jasper Burnham she
| was going—Jasper, who had never be-
fore mustered up courage to ask her '
i
| to go anywhere. And now he'd think
| she was doing it on purpose—that she
| didn't care.
{ She rose at last.
be done.
kitchen door some wayward impulse
The ironing must
| turned her steps and forced her up
into her own tiny bedroom, where lay
| in all their dear, seductive glory her
| “best things” that she had laid out
But as she reached the
i
| ready to wear. Sobs shook her anew
| as she gazed at them. She moved
over to the bureau and opening the
i bottom drawer took from it a shining
‘ length of ribbon that matched the
| little rosebuds on her dress.
to unhook the unbecoming brown
| gingham that was her
! week-day garb.
“I'll try them on, anyway,” she re-
solved,
mournful satisfaction.
known she could be so pretty. She
the house, came Jasper.
heart beat hard. Turning,
vine-covered porch.
“I'll let him see I was ready, any-
way,” she thought defiantly, “and
then he'll think something happened
afterward.”
Jasper paused uncertainly at the
gate.
“Coming?” he called.
Barbara looked up the road and saw
the other girls chattering along with
their sweethearts, all bound for the
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! Aurt Hepzibah Sat Waiting.
great picnic of the year. Then she
looked again at Jasper. Shyness, in
tho face of all the advamcing crowd,
was overpowering him. He had turn-
ed to go. Barbara's heart geve an
agonized throb.
“Yes,” she called suddenly.
She ran down the path, through
the gate, and paused beside him.
| Without a word he started on, Lands
plunged deep in his pockets, speech-
less and overcome by his own daring.
Barbara walked beside him with
downcast eyes. Presently, stealing a
glance at her, he saw the signs of
tears on her face. A rush of pitying
indigantion banished self-conscious-
ness for the moment,
“Who's been hurting you?” he de-
manded.
“No one,” she denied.
“Then what've you been crying
for?”
“Because—because aunt said I
shouldn't go,” she stammered.
. A sudden, terrifying sense of what
| she had done overwhelmed her. Then
the sound of happy, laughing voices
| behind brought a wave of defiant ex-
| ultation.
‘“What’ll she do?”
| shortly.
“l don't know—don't
about it,” she begged.
But Jasper’s mind clung to the sub-
ject.
“Darn her!” he burst forth. “Why
‘on’t you leave? She's not your real
unt, is she?”
“No, but she took me when I was
‘ttle, and she's kept me and raised
re, and all for nothing.”
“For nothing, yes, and you've work:
1 like a slave for her. She couldn't
ay a hired girl to do what you've
one,” avowed Jasper heatedly.
As silence fell his shyness return-
‘d. He walked awkwardly, kicking at
the stones in his path or switching
aimlessly at the tall reedy growth by
the roadside. When they reached the
pienic ground, a wide, cleared space
in the woods Ly ~ rushing stream. he
withdrew to a distance and Barbara
joined a group of chattering girls by
one of the swings.
He kept shyly apart from her dur-
ing the afternoon, though his eyes
followed her everywhere with a dumb
worship. When twilight came and
asked Jasper
let's think
hair, she surveyed herself with a |
She hadn't |
, of awakened womanhood,
they began to flock homeward
dan
a ————— GH
chattering groups of twos and threes,
Barbara had an instant’s pang lest he
should fail her, but a moment later he
fell into step at her side.
With the homeward walk came
back the crushing fear of what might
befall her as a result of her disobe-
dience. She knew only too well the
harsh ill-temper of her aunt. She
lagged more and more slowly, till all
the happy, laughter-loving crowd had
left them. Jasper lagged even one
step slower, seeming loath to bring
the silent walk to an end. Yet the
twilight, the solitariness, the very
nearness to the object of his devo-
tion bred in him a paralyzing shyness,
a very agouy of self-consciousness.
Never, perhaps, would he
have a!
chance like this again, yet the very |
thought of speaking, of even reaching
out and touching the little hand that |
swung near him, brought the perspira-
tion in great beads to his brow.
Barbara, with the growing intuition
vaguely
realized all this,
As they came in sight of the house
her heart began to beat painfully.
She moved closer to Jasper.
“I'm frightened,” she whispered.
of indignation swept Jasper's
consciousness from him. His hand
+ went out suddenly and grasped her
| With a sudden impulse she began '
invariable
small one.
“Don't you
soothingly.
They came opposite
be afraid,” he said
the window.
, Inside Aunt Hepzibah sat, waiting.
| Her jaws were set in a heavy, nur
Fully arrayed, the pink ribbon |
gleaming around her waving brown '
|
poseful revenge. Barbara grasped
Jasper's arm with a little half-sob.
“Oh I—1 hate her!” she whispered.
Jasper stood silent, staring at the
. woman, and with the helpless, trem-
|
|
!
| the
looked longingly out at the radiant | bling touch on his arm there surged
aiternoon. Swinging down the road, | up within him a mighty passion. He
with furtive, bashful glances toward | shook Barbara's hand from his arm
Barbara's | almost roughly and took three great
she ran | strides toward the house.
down the stairway and out on the | halted, suddenly, and turned.
Then he
“You come with me,” he said.
She had to run to keep up with
him. There was no breath left for
gpeech. Presently they turned in at
a gateway.
“Why, it's the minister's,” panted
Barbara.
Jasper knocked loudly at the door.
“We want to get married,” an-
nounced Jasper, a steady fire burning
in hig eyes.
“Well, now, I'm sure!"
minister's wife bewilderedly.
“Why, it's little Barbara Larsen and
—and Jasper! Well, well, well!” She
| led them into the front room and
' disappeared.
“Mighty good thing!” they heard
| per's farm. As
the minister say. “That child leads a
dog's life.” He strode into the room.
“Well, well!” he said kindly, “so
you want to get married! That's
right, Jasper. You're doing fine with
the farm now. A wife is just what
you need to make the old place look
right.” He stocd them up before hin.
When it was over and they were
again outside, Jasper took Barbara's
hand in his.
“Come,” he said.
They walked, hand in hand and
speechless, down the village street
and along the road that led te Jas-
they reached the
gateway the moon peeped out from
under a cloud and flooded the or-
chard with silver light. Jasper
stopped and gazed dazedly about at
the familiar scene, then down at his
wife's drooping head.
“Barbara!” he whispered unbeliev-
ingly.
She looked up, her eyes still dark
with wonder,
He took her suddenly in his arms.
The pent-up longing of two endless
years seemed to culminate in that
moment,
“Why, Barbara!” he cried passion-
ately, “you're mine—you're mine!
And I didn't know I was doing it!"
Here Today, Gone Tomorrow.
In 1901 Vancouver, B. C., had only
27,000 inhabitants, With its suburbs it
hae now 127,000. But it is at this mo-
ment engaged in revising its list of
voters. The list under revision con.
tains some 20,000 names and {rom it
no less than 6,000 are to be removed
as no longer resident.
If the last revision occurred three
vears ago this means that every year
one-tenth of its voters leave Vancou.
ver. As the larger proportion of its
floating population cannot consist of
voters this would imply that during
the last ten years some 200,000 people
have spent some time in Vancouver,
and of them nearly half have declined
to settle there.
Some of course have gone to other
parts of the province, but it seems
more than probable that the greater
number have crossed the border to
the United States. Altogether the im.
migrant population of Canada is in a
very fluld condition. If this be the
case after ten years of apparent pros.
perity one can judge what will be its
condition if a reaction should set in.—
America.
Long Haul.
First Hobo—Strange how few of our
youthful dreams come true, ain't it?
Second Hobo—Oh, I don’t know, 1
remember how I once yearned to wear
long pants. Now I guess I wear them
longer than most any man in the
country.”
Pleasing Humor.
Tell a girl she has a musical laugh
and she will think you the funniest
fe''ow in the worla
Not Worth Five.
“Marry me?” sald the duke. *“But,
duke,” responded the heiress, “I feel
somewhat committed to the count.”
“Have no regrets on that score. I
gave the count a five-dollar note and
bought him off.”
- a —— —— ——
exclaimed
VERA’S VACATION.
“I intended to stay the week end,
but remained a month,” said Vera.
“A month?” echoed Corrine.
“Yes; mother forwarded my trunk.” |
“Were vou well acquainted at the |
hotel 7”
“Didn't know a soul, excepting my |
cousin, who introduced me upon my !
arrival to five girls and one fellow. |
That fellow was simply crazy about
tennis, zolf and launching.”
“Did you have your middy blouses
with you?”
“Of course. I could see myself sail.
ing already, when he grasped my
hand, saying “Good-bye, hope we meet |
again. | must hustle, as my train
leaves in five minutes.”
“That evening while waiting at the
desk for some mail I did not expect, |
I met Jr. Evers. We stepped out on |
the vorch and talked about sororities |
and fraternities until I was hoarse. |
Never before or since have I been so
-adiant. Just as I was trying to |
nake my eyes not behave, he said: |
If vou play bridge, my wife and I |
¥ould be delighted to have you join |
ve.’ But I wasn't keen about it and
| begged to be excused as I felt chilled.” |
For the second time that day a fire |
self- |
i
i
“Another young man would sit on |
the beach glancing admiringly at my
stunning bathing suit. Once when I
iropped my handkerchief, accidentally |
on purpose, he picked it up. ‘Thank |
you kindly,’ I said. Can you beat it? |
Taking an ear trumpet from his pock- |
et, he explained that he was stone
fea.”
“How tragic,” interrupted Corrine.
“Weren't there any eligibles?”
“There was one prosperous, well
groomed athletic person, who was re-
cently imported from France and
couldn't converse in English.”
“1 thought you studied French?”
“Certainly, but ail I could remember
was ‘Je vous aime and Tres blen.'"”
“Did you like the hotel?”
A
' anda, rocking and knocking,
| zest to the visit.
Waverly Oils.
“Ok, who wouldn't? Printed menu
and finger bowls three times a day.
Besides, the old ladies sat on the ver-
added
“I forzot about Mr. Wilson, who es-
corted me to a dan~e across the bay.
| Upon entering the hall he said, ‘1
don’t dance.”
“Exciting; did you decorate the
| wall?”
“Until | met a young man who was
devotion itself. 1 saw his constantly
after that. The money he spent on
candy and flowers!”
“You're too particular, Vera. What
was the trouble with him?”
“The trouble was a case of mistak-
en ilentity. He mistook me for my
| cousin, Vera Carter, who is heiress to
a couple of millions. 1 suppose he
works a year to make a splurge for
a few days.”
“Another day a Mr. Johnston invit- |
ed me to go automobiling. Everything
EE |
!
| Crying Spells.
—
| . There are seme women who have “cry-
| ing spells,” which see: to be entirely une
| accountable, and are generally attributed
{in a vague way to "nerves. A man
| hates to see a woman cry under any cir-
| cumstances, and these bursts of tears
awaken very little sympathy in him.
They would if he understood all the
| weakness and misery that lie behind the
{ tears. Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription
| has brightened many a home, given
| smiles for tears to many a woman just
| because it removes the cause of these
| nervous outbreaks. Disease of the deli-
| cate womanly organs will surely affect
! the entire nervous system. “Favorite
| Prescription” cures these diseases, and
{ builds up a condition of sound health,
| For nervous, hysterical women there is
{ no medicine to compare with "Favorite
| Prescription.”
m—
i
Medical.
} — —
was ideal until we had a puncture. |
The village was five miles away. We
had to sit in the broiling sun for four
|
hours, as Mr. Johnston protested he |
could not walk because he was sub-
Ject to epileptic fits and had to be
careful,”
“It's a wonder you stayed away so
long.”
“On, there was a bachelor abeut 50
| years old with loads of money.”
“Vera!” declared Corrine in sur-
prise. “You couldn't crre for an old
man like that?”
“No, because he was damaged. Had
lost his right arm in an accident. But
I was courteous to him because he ex-
pected his nephew home from Europe
soon.”
“lI suppose you
nephew.”
“Indeed I have. I've seen him every
evening since | came back and his
uncle is going to be my uncle.”
never saw the
—Finest Job Work at this office.
Clear Steady
Light
with-out a
Flicker
Triple-refined
barrels direct
Look at these two pictures:
‘The difference is caused by the
different kind of oil used. If you
want the steady, clear light al-
ways order the best oil—
FAMILY FAVORITE OIL
Crude Oil. Eoate iitle more iv in
ferior tank wagon oils—saves money,
saves trouble—saves r eyes. Your
dealer has Family
from
WAVERLY OIL WORKS CO.
independent Refiners PITTSBURG, PA.
Also makers of Waverly Special Auto
Oil and Waverly Gaslines.
avorite Oil in
our refineries.
FOR
will help
of Clothes
The
Fauble Store
Clothes T roubles Easy.
WE HAVE THEKIND
We price them honestly.
You will find it as easy
to own
‘GOOD CLOTHES
if you come here as it is the
ordinary kind elsewhere. Let
us show you what a good store
for men The Fauble store is.
MEN
make your
you want.
Endorsed at Home.
| SUCH PROUF AS THIS SHOULD CONVINCE
i ANY BELLEFONTE CITIZEN.
| The public endorsement of a local citi-
! zen is the best proof that can be produced.
None er, none stronger can be had,
| aman comes forward and testifies
i to his fellow citizens, addresses his friends
| and rs, you may be sure he is
i ly convinced or he would not do
James H. Rine, 239 W. High St..
fonte, ., says: ‘“Doan’s Kidney
a wonderful kidney remedy,
Ten years 1 first used them and at
that time told a public statement of the
a TLR
friend toury Doar . Sdney pilanan
followed relief has been received fiom Kid:
ney trouble. Whenever | hea
Soe eer Lo
Ss nowin,
that they will have a effect.” 8
For sale by all dealers. Price 50 cents,
Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, New York,
sole agents for the United States.
Remember the name~Doan's— and take
no other. 57.19
Fine Jon Priuting. : 4
FINE JOB PRINTING
o—A SPECIALTY—o0
AT THB
WATCHMAN OFFICE
There is no style of work, from the
cheapest ** fi
ger’ to the finest
BOOK WORK,
factory manner. ang most satis.
manner, consist.
ent the class of work.
communicate with this i "or
" —_—
Insurance.
essere co srs ————
— TTT
ARLE C. TUTEN
(Successor to D. W. Woodring.)
Fire,
Life
and
Automobile Insurance
None but Reliable Companies Represented.
Surety Bonds of All Descriptions.
Both Telephones 56-27.y BELLEFONTE, PA
JOHN F. GRAY & SON,
(Successor to Grant Hoover)
Fire,
Life
Accident Insurance.
represents. the largest Fi
is Age the Wong: re
— NO ASSESSMENTS —
pi? Bokfailto give usa call before insuring your
or as we are in to write
large lines at any time.
Office in Crider’s Stone Building,
43-18-1y. BELLEFONTE, PA,
The Preferred
Accident
Insurance
THE $5,000 TRAVEL POLICY
BENEFITS:
3 total disability,
i
10 partial disability,
Dine is Rantial disability
PREMIUM $12 PER YEAR,
pavable quarterly if desired.
Ee ee an
ELEN
eT ane coin ot
Fire Insurance
I invite your to my Fire )
ance Agency, and Most Ex.
ie nsylvania |
H. E. FENLON,
50-21. Agent, Bellefonte, Pa.