Bewarraic aidan
Bellefonte, Pa., March 3, 1916.
omm—
The
Governor’s Lady
A Novelization of
Alice Bradley’s Play
By Gertrude Slebenson
Illustrations From Photographs of
the Stage Production
-
[525252585 25252525252525253505 252
TATLT LLL ELIT LTT LY
] COopyright, S18 JES cation Rights Reserved)
[Continued from last week.]
CHAPTER IIL.
As Slade turned from the fright
ened, insignificant figure of his flee
ing wife, he saw a woman of perfect
poise and queenly carriage, a woman
a trifle haughty and insolent in her
youth and beauty and assured com-
mand of all the intricacies of social
grace and charm. Her wide, full eyes
met his with an engaging, frank curi-
osity to see this new factor in the po-
litical world. Her gown was a tri-
umph of soft, shimmering silk and
alluring chiffon—a gown that empha-
sized the charm of her proud, statu-
esque figure. She was the sort of
woman that makes a man glow with
pride to present as his wife or daugh-
ter. She was all that Mary Slade was
not, :
Slade stood looking at her, fasci-
nated, forgetting for the moment the
man she was with, remembering noth-
ing but the magnetic personality of
the woman whose reputation for do-
ing big things :: a big way was al-
ready known to him—a woman whose
eyes meeting his gave back flash for
flash and understanding for under-
standing.
Almost mechanically Slade found
himself acknowledging Scnator Strick:
land’s formal presentation of his
daughter. Hesitatingly he offered his
band, which the girl, perfectly at
ase, grasped with a cordial, sympa-
thetic pressure. Her eyes were look:
fang critically into his, much as if she
were trying to read him through and
through and take his measure for fu-
ture use.
Her easy, graceful acceptance of the
situation, her thoughtful inquiry for
Mrs. Slade’s health, prompted by well
.bred sympathy rather than any curi-
Jus interest, and the cultured modula-
tion of her splendid voice, charmed
him as no woman had ever done be-
fore.
There was nothing of the shy, retir-
ng ingenue in Katherine Strickland’s
makeup. She was a woman of splen-
did physique and wonderful mental de-
velopment. Her appeal to a man was
that of a dominant intellect as much
as of a lovely woman. She immedi-
ately impressed Slade as being keen-
witted, strong-minded and clever. His
admiration displayed itself in his shin-
ing eyes and his unusually affable, at-
tentive manner.
Suddenly he found himself compar-
ing his own little old-fashioned wife
with this handsome, self-possessed
woman before him. What a wife Kath-
erine Strickland would be for the gov-
ernor of a state! What a picture she
would make presiding at the head of
a millionaire’s dinner tables! How
wonderfully such a woman would
adorn the richly furnished rooms of
his newly built mansion! Instead of
the work-worn fingers of his wife, con-
tinuously fumbling with darning
threads, he saw, in a mental vision,
this woman’s lovely hands constantly
engaged in unwinding the threads of
problematic political tangles. Here
was a woman who would be a man’s
wife and comrade—the very antithesis
of the household drudge his own wife
wag content to be, with no interest
outside of the four walls of her home
and no desire for anything bigger in
life than the daily routine of break-
fast, dinner and supper, washing on
Monday, ironing on Tuesday, and so
on to the end of the week—week after
week in the same deadly rut. Here
was a woman who would “go along
with a man”—possibly a step ahead,
blazing the way for new and greater
glories and recognizing no limit.
Slade brought his reflections to a
sudden halt’ as he remembered the
girl’s father,
“Why, what has happened to you,
senator? Your face looks different
than it did this afternoon.”
“Her fault,” r lied the senator,
with a smile of tolerant affection, in-
dicating his daughter. “She made me
cut my beard this way. It’s French.”
Katherine laughed a delightful,
throaty little laugh,
“Nonsense, father,” she protested.
“Of course, I like the West, but I
don’t believe in being absolutely typ-
ical. I was horrified when I got back
and found you so blatantly the typi.
cal, much-cartooned Westerner.”
“Mr. Slade,” resumed Strickland, “a
few influential men from different
parts of our state are having a meet:
ing in town tomorrow, and I want you
to meet them. I'm arranging a little
impromptu dinner, and thought Kath:
erine might be able to persuade Mrs,
Slade ard yourself to join us.”
“Oh, father, tell the truth,” Kath-
crine interrupted. “These gentlemen
want to meet you, Mr. Slade. I hear
we're to expect great things of you.
You see, I've been mixed up in poli
tics all my life, and I do love to have
a hand in them.”
“She'd run for president if they'd
let her,” teased her father. °
“Indeed I would,” the girl admitted, | own mind that no puddle would ‘be sc
brazenly. “I’ve got politics in my
blocd, and home doesn’t seem like
home unless politics are being brewed
in our dining-room. So you’ll both
come, won't you—you and Mrs. Slade.”
Slade was stammering his accept
ance when Strickland interrupted ab-
ruptly.
“How’d you like to be governor,
Slade?” .
Slade threw back his head with a
laugh that was intended to denote
complete unconcern,
“Oh—that talk! Did the evening
papers put that into your head or—”
and he paused significantly, “did you
put it into the evening papers?”
Strickland’s laugh was a practical
admission.
“It would mean a hard fight, Slade.
The water-front crowd's against you,
and you can’t get on without their
influence.”
“Not in this town, at least,” amend-
ed Katherine.
“You’ve got to have Wesley Merritt,
his paper, his highfaluting editorials
and his speechmaking—and his wife,”
Strickland explained. “He and his
crowd run the town.”
“Oh, you mean my neighbors?”
asked Slade. “They'll come around,”
he finished, meaningly.
“But, man alive! Only today Mer-
ritt’s attack on you was scurrilous. I
remonstrated with him myself. He’s
your out-and-out enemy. I've tried to
get him—to—to come over and shake
hands, but he swears he’ll never cross |
your threshold—"
“I guess they’ll come when I want
‘em to come,” Slade interrupted, with |
an assurance his auditors could not
understand. “In fact, I'm looking for
’em any minute now,” and he consult
ed his watch.
“You're looking for them—here—to-
night?” gasped Strickland, showing
plainly he thought Slade was making
a joke of the matter.
“Yes, tonight,” replied the would-be
governor, quietly, and turned to Kath-
erine.
Strickland subsided, a question
growing in his mind as to whether he
had fnlly measured the man he expect:
ed to use for his own political and
financial ends. There was in Slade’s
method of fighting a direct and open
quality that would make him hard to
handle in the crooked and indirect
ways of political life,
Katherine Strickland’s eyes nar
rowed as she met Slade’s gaze. Her
quick, calculating mind saw in this
man the possibility of realizing her
highest hopes and ambitions. With
such a man a woman could scale any
heights—reach any goal. He was hard |
—yes! But a man needs to be hard
in these days and times if he is ever
to accomplish anything. In her fer
tile brain smoldered ambitions as
great as his ambitions that she now
realized would never be attained un
less she made some great, radical
change in her life,
She had pushed her father as far
as the man would—could go. She
had outdistanced every girl in her |
circle. She had reached high, but she !
had triumphed. Now she was at the
end of her tether.
of making some one huge stroke or
sinking back into stupid obscurity, a
situation all the more bitter because
of her previous successes. The
thought of settling down into the ev
big that she couldn't become a frog
of considerable size in it.
Now, as her restless brain and soul
clamored for higher goals and a wider
field, the thought of Slade’s millions,
Slade’s dominating, forceful personal
ity, Slade’s reputation for sweeping
everything before him, Slade’s prob-
able governorship, flashed through her
mind like a burning streak of electric
fire. With him, with his weapons,
what a career lay before a woman!
Just as suddenly she found herself
wondering what sort of a woman had
been a mate to this man for so many
years. She was conscious of a poign-
ant pang of envy—jealousy almost—
against this woman who had the op-
portunity which was denied her.
“Well, what do you think of your
own country, now you’re back?” she
heard Slade’s voice saying. “Seem
big to you?”
“Oh, I like Washington,” she said,
bringing herself back to the conver-
sation with difficulty.
Her father, noticing her abstrac-
tion, remarked indulgently: “She likes
Washington, Slade. She likes the
East, but she doesn’t tell it to every-
body on account of father’s votes.
Now, Slade and I love our western
city, eh, Slade?”
“Well,” with some reluctance, “it’s
a good starting point,” Slade admitted.
“Ah!” Katherine exclaimed, now
thoroughly herself again. “There's a
man for you! He's not going to let
a town stand in his way. Mr. Slade,
this is father’s Waterloo. He's been
a great disappointment to me. That's
the worst of parents. We children
never know how they're going to turn
out. If father had only listened to
me it would have been Washington
for him—Washington for me. But he
wouldn't cross the Delaware. He
wouldn't leave the West. If there'd
only been a drop of Napoleon in fa-
ther,” she concluded with a sudden
burst of vehemence.
“Napoleon!” repeated the senator.
“Yes, Napoleon. He got what he
wanted, and nothing ever stood in his
path. I just love the way he rode
over poor old Josephine’s heart, don’t
you?”—and she turned to Slade.
“But he was right!” she continued,
earnestly, as if she were making a
plea for something that lay very close
to her own heart. “Why should we
let anyone hold us back? I wouldn't.
But mother didn’t want to leave the
West, so father stuck to his town and
hig friends and his state. Now he
stands in the background and boosts
other men politically.
“He wants to boost you,” she added,
suddenly,
“Letting out secrets,” her father ac-
cused, playfully.
But Katherine was never more se-
rious. “You're his dark horse,” she
persisted.
“You're a lucky man, senator,”
Slade broke in, as he watched Kath-
erine admiringly. “You're a lucky
man to have a charming young woman
behind you in the race.”
“That's all we women are for,” an-
swered Katherine, bitterly, “standing
; behind some man and watching him
It was a matter !
eryday life of the western city where |
1 she was born made her very soul |
squirm. Surely there was something
more in life for her. Surely there
were bigger goals to be gained.
She had never realized how empty
She Was All That Mary Slade Was
Not.
the old home life was until now, when
she suddenly found herself a part of
it again after the brilliant European
season and the stimulating, exciting
life in diplomatic circles at the capital,
The thought of remaining in the West,
a big frog in a little puddle, had
grown positively hateful to her. Big
or little herself, she wanted a big
puddle. She was quite satisfied in her
do things.”
“Why, child alive, you do things
yourself,” the senator remonstrated.
“She makes busts, Slade—heads. Done
some big guns in Europe.”
Katherine sighed and leaned back
wearily in her chair. “Oh, in my
feminine way, I model,” she admitted.
“But if there’d been one drop of Na-
poleon in father I shouldn’t have had
to fall back on molding clay. I should
have been molding,” she hesitated,
and then finished daringly, “opinions
and people.”
CHAPTER III.
Just how much more freely Kath-
erine might have revealed her aims
and inspirations, Slade could not
know, for at that moment the butler
appeared and engaged his attention.
As the man withdrew, Slade spread
wide his arms and announced gran-
diloquently:
“The gentleman of the waterfront
crowd, if you please. Mr. ‘Wesley
Merritt, the gentleman who wasn’t go-
ing to darken my door, is here!”
He broke off with a loud, mirthless
laugh. As well as any man who ever
lived, he liked to feel the grip of his
own power. He had come to the point
where it was genuine satisfaction to
humble mer and conquer things.
“Wesley Merritt!” the senator was
almost too surprised for speech.
“After his abuse of you in the paper
today—. And Hunt! How did you
do it?”
“This is the sort of thing I like,”
broke in Katherine, eagerly. “Oh, it’s
so exciting,” she declared, her eyes
glowing with eagerness and animation.
“Oh, Mr. Slade, how did you make
them kow-tow ?” :
Slade’s reply was prevented by the
brusque, excited entrance of Merritt
and Hunt. The pair, angry and bel-
ligerent, strode into the room without
a word. Merritt, small, wiry, ener-
getic, was in the lead, followed closely
by his shadow and echo, Hunt.
“Is it true?” he demanded angrily,
before he realized that Slade was not
alone. “How do you do, senator—
Miss Strickland!” he exclaimed, in
surprise. “Lovely home you have, Mr,
Slade,” he added, trying to adjust him-
self to the scene he had not expected.
“An astonishing rumor has reached
us, Mr. Slade,” he finally declared, get-
ting down to the business of his inva-
sion. “It concerns you, senator. It
concerns every public-spirited man in
the city. Is it true, Slade, that you
have bought up our entire water front
on which our residences—our old,
homes—the mansions of the city face,
and that you intend building factories
there?”
“Why, yes,” Slade admitted, with
maddening calmness.
[Continued on page 7, Col. 1.]
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ATLANTIC REFINING COMPANY
useless Question.
“Would your wife vote for you as a
candidate for office?”
my bothering my head about that,” re-
plied Mr. Meekton. “I don’t believe
Henrietta would let me run in the first
place.”
Meat Market.
(Get the Best Meats.
You save nothing by buying poor, thin
or gristly meats. I use only the
LARGEST AND FATTEST CATTLE
and supply my customers with the fresh-
est, choicest, best blood and muscle mak-
ing Steaks and Roasts. My prices are no
higher than poorer meats are elsewhere.
I alwavs have
— DRESSED POULTRY —
Game in season, and any kinds of good
meats you want.
TRY MY SHOP.
P. L. BEEZER,
34-34-1y. Bellefonte, Pa
High Street.
Fine Job Printing.
FINE JOB PRINTING
0—A SPECIALTY—o0
AT THE
WATCHMAN OFFICE.
There is no style of work, from the
cheapest “Dodger” to the finest
BOOK WORK,
that we car: not do in the most satis-
factory manner, and at Prices consist-
ent with the class of work. Call on or
communicate with this office’
Flour and Feed.
(CURTIS Y. WAGNER,
BROCKERHOFF MILLS,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Manufacturer, Wholesaler and Retailer of
Roller Flour
Feed
Corn Meal
and Grain
Manufactures and has on hand at all times the
following brands of high grade flour:
WHITE STAR
OUR BEST
HIGH GRADE
VICTORY PATENT
FANCY PATENT
The only place in the county where that extraor-
dinarily fine grade of spring wheat Patent Flour
SPRAY
can be secured. Also International Stock Food
and feed of all kinds.
All kinds of Grain bought at the office Flour
xchanged for wheat.
OFFICE and STORE—BISHOP STREET,
BELLEFONTE, PA.
Compare this issue of the “Watchman” with other county
“I don't think there's any use of PAPers, and note the difference.
Dry Goods, Etc.
7-19 MILL AT ROOPSBURG.
LYON & COMPANY.
Spring Suits, Coats & Skirts.
Our line of Spring Suits is large and all new models.
New shaped sleeves; new flare skirts. Coats with
the ripple skirt. All the new spring shades. The
prices range from $8.00 to 15.00.
Coats. Coats.
The spring styles in Coats are very attractive. We
can show the plain Silk Taffeta Coat with the sherred
effect, or the plain cloth in Gaberdene, Poplin and
Serge; and for the lady who wants the exclusive styles
we can show the most elegant trimmed models.
Prices that cannot help but please the most economi-
cal buyer.
Skirts. Skirts.
A full line of the new flare and plaited Skirts in all the
new colors and black and white.
Silk Waists.
New Silk Waists in Georgette Crepe, Crepe de Chine,
Striped Silk. Plain colors, white, flesh, nile green,
black and mais.
Corsets. Corsets.
New models in Royal Worcester and Bon Ton Corsets
from $1.00 up. or
Winter Stock must be sold. Entire remainder of all
Winter Coats—plush, corduroy and cloth; Suits for
ladies, misses and children; Furs, single Muffs and
Sets will be sold regardless of cost.
Lyon & Co. .... Bellefonte
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