Beusrvalic Aad
Selistnte, Pass March 10, 1916.
The Governor’ s Lady.
[Continued from page 6, Col. 3.1
4Se ana
by servants with Dan there. Without
him she felt like a prisoner of state
and looked on the servants as so many
Jailers.
Leaving her breakfast practically
mntasted, Mary again ventured to the
telephone, With faltering voice she
repeated the number. “One-three-nine-
four;” with beating heart she inquired
for “Mr. Slade;” with sinking courage
she received the answer that Mr. Slade
had gone out, leaving no message.
Again and again during the day she
repeated the call, only to receive a
similar reply. The possibility of her
husband having left such a message
to be delivered to her, whether he was
there or not never occurred to the
truthful, simple-minded little woman.
[But Slade did not want to be reached
by her, and if an untruth, more or
less, were necessary, the telephone
boy was easily bribed.
Meanwhile Slade was eagerly look:
ing forward to his new life, Never a
man to waver, he did aot once look
back to the wife he had so coolly de-
serted. He was being dined and ban-
queted and feted, being everywhere
hailed as the candidate for governor.
He was sniffing the first breath of fu-
ture glories with keenest delight. This
was the sort of thing that made a man
feel big! This was the sort of life to
lead—with men bowing and salaaming
all around him. He walked with a firmer
tread. His shoulders were thrown
back a bit more arrogantly. His chest
was more noticeable as he walked
down the street.
The innate conceit and self-esteem
of the man made him overlook the fact
that the party needed a rich man. He
was quite satisfied that he was being
boosted by Strickland and the others
because of his brains, his unusual abil-
ity, his oratory and his power to lead
men. He was happier than he had
been for years. Every day the new
life looked brighter and the old less
desirable,
If he gave a thought to Mary it was
a passing one. Mary was “comfort.
able.” She had everything that money
sould buy. The servants would be tak-
Ing good care of her, of course. Of
the lump in Mary’s throat as she sat
at the lonely breakfast table and as
she went through the still more lone: |
some ordeal of the formal dinner, he
knew nothing. Of the woman's aching
heart and her eyes bright with unshed
tears as she tried to keep up before
the servants and make excuses for his
absence, Slade was heartlessly ob-
ltvious. Or perhaps it was self-esteem
again, that made him unable to feel
for her—the self-esteem of the suc |
sessful man who feels no wounds
when fighting for what he wants, and
neither knows nor cares that others
{eel them. He had a heart, but it was |
anpleasantly like Pharaoh’s.
But of Katherine Strickland’s stat-
nesque beauty and her cosmopolitan
manner he was delightfully aware.
During the weeks since he had left |
home Slade had been calling regu- |
larly at the Strickland home, partly to
consult with the senator and partly
for the purpose of posing for the bust
which Katherine was modeling.
they sat hour after hour, he posing
comfortably, she working deftly and
talking even more cleverly, Slade and .
Katherine had come to ‘a mutual un-
derstanding. The more they saw of
each other the more each became con-
vinced that their paths would inevit-
ably converge.
Katherine talked animatedly and en-
tertainingly of social life abroad and
of the gay times in Washington, and
Slade’s heart warmed and his eyes
flashed as he pictured himself a part
of that charmed circle. With keen
penetration he saw the longing of the
girl’s nature, her iron will, her deter-
mination to gain social honors at al
most any cost. He flattered himself
that when he said the word Katherine
Strickland would be ready to cast her
lot with his.
From the smoking room of Senator
Strickland’s big house came the stri-
dent sound of men’s voices, raised in
excitement, and, it would seem, ac-
claim. Now and again the senator's
smooth, oratorical voice would sound
and then Slade’s slightly deprecatory,
yet firm and pleased. Then would
follow the patter of applause, laughter
and the sudden dropping of voices that
signified earnest converse,
To Katherine Strickland, sitting in
the softly lighted library adjoining,
every sound had its meaning. Her
eyes sparkled with keen interest, In
her cheeks glowed the deep rose of
excitement and exultation. In that other
room she knew they were making his-
tory. In that other room they were
putting up a man for governor, a man
she admired and who had aroused her
interest as no other man had ever
done.
Nothing could stand in that man’s
way, she thought, with a catch in her
breath, nothing could stop him now
that he was fairly started. How dif-
ferent this domineering, forceful per-
sonality from Bob Hayes, the man who
had first won her girl's heart, and yet
for whom she had never been willing
ito renounce her interest in the polit-
ical and social life which obsessed her
with the same compelling force as it
did Slade.
‘With an effort she brought her mind
back to the present and to Mrs. W
ley Merritt, who had dropped in on
her way from a dance to pick up her
husband.
“You simply weren't listening to a
word I said,” Mre. Merritt complained
in her affectedly affectionate way. “I
As
was asking if you know Mr. Slade very
well.”
“Yes,” Katherine replied,
“we know him very well.”
“And does he ever mention his
wife?” in Mrs, Merritt's most perfectly
| feline manner.
} “Never once,” admitted Katherine,
{ without even an attempt at an evasion.
i “And you have never met her?” Mrs.
Merritt was in her glory if she could
probe.
“No, I have never met her.”
“How extraordinary! My husband
—why, Wesley Merritt's name spells
| hearth and home, domestic purity—
while Slade’s! They tell me he hasn®t
seen his wife for weeks, and it’s town
talk that he’s living at his club. And
to think he’s never mentioned her to
you!”
Katherine had quietly rung for a
servant, and as Mrs. Merritt finished,
remarked casually: “Martin, see that
these letters are mailed at once.”
Unabashed, Mrs. Merritt was moving
eagerly about the artistic room, com-
fortable in all its appointments, its
richness enhanced and mellowed with
age, a blend of color that nothing but
years can give.
Fannie Merritt was a decided blonde.
Her decision had been made more
than ten years before. It was a de-
cision that, once made, must be
abided by, and the woman had been
living up to it ever since. Her gown
was the last word of sartorial elegance
and style. Daringly decollette it clung
to her long, svelte figure with loving
emphasis, and trailed round her ex-
quisitely dressed feet. Her hair did
credit to the hairdresser’s long and pa-
tient efforts, and long, bizarre diamond
pendants flashed and sparkled from
her ears. If ever a woman had become
a slave to her own personal pleasure
and dress, that woman was Fannie
lightly,
ever to crave motherhood, she lavished
a kind of affection on a watery-eyed |
little poodle, which repaid her with
lap-dog gratitude.
Tonight she was restless and ill at |
ease. Like Katherine, her mind was |
full of one thought—Slade, Slade, Slade |
—but thoughts that took a different di-
rection. She was sick of his name,
sick of hearing of his money, sick of
him named as “the man of the hour.”
He was winning the very honors she
had coveted for her husband, and tak-
ing them right out from beneath his
very eyes and nose. There didn’t seem
to be a doubt of Slade becoming gov-
ernor, the very position for which her
husband had been striving for the past
six terms. Slade with his millions
needed the gavernorship no more than
a pampered child needs a new toy,
while to her husband success or fail-
ure this time meant either the retriev-
ing of his fortunes or his utter ruin.
The abstraction of the two women
was broken by the sudden entrance
of Hayes.
{| “Whew!” he whistled. “They’re hav-
| ing a time of it in there. Good eve-
| ning, Mrs. Merritt, your husband is
|
certainly making it warm for Mr. | senator's nearly out.
Slade.”
| ified for the moment.
i “Dear, dear!” she exclaimed as she
watched Hayes gazing wistfully at
Katherine and looking very handsome
i and manly in his well-made evening
| clothes. “It's quite like old times to
see you together.” Unhappy herself,
| it gave her a certain pleasure to make
| other people unhappy. The jealousy
she had long felt for the younger and
more beautiful woman found expres-
| sion now in her purring tones, as, with
amiable cruelty, she reminded them
of their earlier intimacy. She took
delight in making Bob writhe and
Katherine whiten as she recalled their
passionate young love when only the
senator's stern interference had kept
them from wedding.
“Let me see,” she recollected, “when
I was your confidante,
.
$10,000 | Want?”
twenty-one, Katherine, and you, Rob,
were twenty-four. I can feel Rob's
hands gripping mine yet: ‘O, Fannie—
please see her for me—the senator
doesn’t approve of it.” And the tears
you shed on my shoulder, Katherine
—why, it feels wet to think of it.”
“0! Fannie!” Katherine's voice was
not as firm as usual.
“I always said,” the woman per-
sisted, “Rob, she’ll come home to you
in the end—"
“I think I'll go back and listen to
the discussion,” and Bob flung dis-
gustedly out of the room. At the door
he almost collided with Merritt. Kath-
erine had hurried out to see a reporter
who wanted the wherefores and the
whys of the dinner party to Slade.
“I can’t possibly get away, dear,”
Merritt explained to his wife. “I've
you were
“Did You Ask tho Senator for the |
i
|
! near the fireplace.
the talk of his power and of hearing |
| mockingly, “darling.”
“Indeed,” laughed Mrs. Merritt, grat: i
| sweetness.
been buttonholed by some men from
up the state. Shall you wait or go
home—first?”
Mrs. Merritt refused to be dis-
missed in that peremptory fashion.
“Ill wait,” she returned with acid
“Then if you are not ready
I'll run along.”
“Slade’s had an ovation tonight,”
Merritt informed her, nodding toward
the smoking-room. “The big out-of-
town men are all here. Some of ’em
in there yet. He’s big, Fannie. He's
big. We can’t deny that. The brute
attacks his point with all the force of
a sledge hammer.”
“Yes, that's what you lack—
punch!” his wife turned on him petu-
lantly.
“You're snowed under,” she com- |
plained, bitterly. “If you'd taken my |
advice you wouldn’t have come to this
Slade feed tonight. What's your pa-
per for,” she demanded, “if you can’t
attack your rival candidate in its col-
umns? Anyone would think you want-
ed to make him governor—instead of
yourself.”
“I can’t attack him publicly,” Mer-
ritt retorted. “He’d put up glue fac-
tories facing our property and, with
a lake breeze blowing our way—
phew! My position is very difficult.
Of course, election’s a long way ahead,
but I’m the only stick in his puddle.”
“Yes, you're a big stick!” she
taunted. “Why don’t you do some:
thing?”
“What can I do?” he groaned. “I've”
been told tonight by no less than four
men that they won’t support me again.
And Strickland’s speech introducing
Slade was a masterpiece!”
“Yes—Strickland’s masterpieces are
concocted by his daughter, we all
know that. Just as I write your stuff,”
she finished with hateful emphasis on
Merritt. Too self-centered and selfish the possessive,
“My dear, I wish you'd be more
i careful!” warned Merritt, making
sure that the door leading into the
| smoking-room was closed.
“Your ‘Message to the Farmer’--that
| made you famous! What did I ever
get for writing it?” and with self-satis-
fied deliberateness she arranged her:
self carefully in a low-seated chair
“I never denied that you had a
man’s brain,” placatingly, drawlingly,
“Yes—I'm the family mosquito that
buzzes behind your ears. God help
us if it wasn’t for me. Did you ask
the senator for the $10,000 I want?”
she demanded.
“He can’t,” Merritt was huddled in
the nearest chair. The subject had
been causing him appetiteless days
and sleepless nights. When a woman
of Fannie Merritt's persistency and
tenacity wants something a man can’t
get then that man is very likely to be
nagged into desperation.
“You look out, Wesley,” she an-
swered, alarm breaking the careful
modulation of her voice. ‘“That’s the
first time he ever refused us.”
‘“He’s broke—dead broke. I don’t
know how he can keep this up. The
That's why
he’s sticking to Slade.”
“Well, I don’t care how you get it—
I want it. It’s vital. I've got to have
ten thousand to go to Europe. Every-
body’s going—Mrs. Webb, Mrs. O’Don-
nell—” and her voice trailed off into
a pettish whine.
“Yes, I know all about that crowd,”
Merritt snarled. “Sunny places for
shady people.”
“Wesley! I need clothes. I've told
everybody I'm going,” and the peev-
ish woman glared at her husband.
Then she added suddenly: “Can’t the
senator ask Slade?”
CASTORIA.
"here women are only fulfilling the
| franchised states of the Union is so
“Oh, my God, Fannie!” the hectored :
man groaned. “Can I suggest that?!
A rival candidate! I've mortgaged
my property up to the hilt now for |
clothes—but sooner than—”
“I don’t care—I need clothes,” his |
wife interrupted, rising and walking |
restlessly about the room. “I've got |
to go to Europe. The devil take your .
excuses.” |
Then, with a sudden change of |
thought, she cooed. “Wesley!”
[Continued next week. ]
MEXICAN WOMEN WANT VOTE
Republic's First Woman’s Congress |
Petitions Carranza.
Mexican women are demanding the
righ. of suffrage.
In the first woman’s congress held
in the republic women of Yucatan
have declared Mexican women the
equal of men in intelligence and en-
titled to hold office and to share in
all political activities. The Mexican
suffragists call on women throughout
their land to join in the demand.
The demand of the women was re-
ceived at El Paso, by Andreas Garcia,
Mexican Consul, for trasmission to
General Carranza. |
Women As Street-Cleaning Inspectors.
“Because women are the only per-
sons who know how to clean house”
Street Commissioner Fetherston of
New York City, is going to permit
five of them to get on his street clean-
ing force and see what they can do at
cleaning up the large dirty-faced city
of Greater New York. “New York is
nothing more than a large private
house,” remarked the commissioner,
and as women are natural housekeep-
ers and also trained house cleaners,
he expects better results from them
than from an entire board of men.
‘Women have been saying for a long
time now that municipalities are only
extensions of homes and private
houses. Their contention for posi-
tions in the great modern civic move-
ments is based upon the fact that
same duties on a large scale which
for generations they have been fulfill-
ing on a small scale. Women believe
that they can make good in such po-
sitions. These five inspectors from
New York City will be watched with
considerable interest by all those
who have faith that this is a most nat-
ural and wise step for Commissioner
Fetherston to take.
Propinquity Did It.
The prairie districts of Canada,
Manitoba, Alberta and Saskatchewan
are presenting bills for woman suf-
frage. “It may be,” says an English
paper, ‘because the intercourse of
Manitoba and Alberta with the en-
close that they have been won over
to suffrage by seeing it in practice.”
In Manitoba a government woman
suffrage bill has been drafted, while
a similar bill is being drawn up in
Alberta. Suffragists confidently be-
lieve that women will win equal suf-
frage rights in those two provinces
within a few months. There are also
good hopes for suffrage in Saskatch-
ewan. It is expected that Dominion
Franchise will automatically follow
the Provincial vote for the women
of Manitoba and Alberta, as in any
Province all those people vote for
the Dominion Parliament who are
qualified to vote for their own Pro-
vincial Parliament.
CASTORIA.
Exact Copy: of Wrapper.
59:20-e.0w
= GASTORIA
For Infants and Children.
5) Mothers Know That
Genuine Gastoria
Use
For Over
Thirty Years
=GASTORIA
THE CENTAUR COMPANY. NEW Yonx sy. a
— ———
Hats and Caps. Clothing.
New Things
For Spring
ARE HERE.
Suits,
Spring Overcoats,
Shirts,
Ties,
Hats.
We Would Like to Show You.
It won't hurt to look.
BUY
when you are ready.
FAUBLES
BELLEFONTE, PENNA.
58-4
$350 SHOES
Reduced
to $2.25
NOW ON SALE
Ladies $3.00 and $3.50 Shoes
Reduced to $2.25 Per Pair.
ALL NEW GOODS,
Latest Styles, Good Sizes and
Widths. This sale is
FoR CASH ONLY.
Shoes must be fitted in the
store, as they will not be ex-
changed.
H. C. YEAGER,
THE SHOE MAN,
58-27
Bush Arcade Bldg, BELLEFONTE, PA.