Pemocralic ata, do t Belletonte, Pa., June 1, 1917. “K 1} ® (Continued from page 6, column 4.) | her quickly. For a moment he was ap- | peased. | «hats more like it. How lovely you He lifted first one hand “Are | are, Sidney!” and then the other to his lips. you ever going to forgive me?” | gave that long ago.” He was almost boyishly relieved. | What a wonder she was! So lovely, and so sane. Many a woman would me, Edwardes.” “Wait a moment. We had a system in the operating room as perfect as 1 i have held that over him for years—not that he had done anything really wrong | on that nightmare excursion. But so could devise it. I never finished an many women are exigent about prom- operation without having my first as- ses. sistant verify the clip and sponge “When are you going to marry me?” count. But that first case died because | “We needn’t discuss that tonight, a sponge had been left in the operating | Max. Can’t we talk things over when field. You know how those things go; | you are stronger?” you can’t always see them, and one goes by the count, after reasonable caution. Then I almost lost another case in the same way—a free case. | Her tone caught his attention, and turned him a little white. He faced her to the window, so that the light fell i on her. “As well as I could tell, the precau- “What things? What do you mean?” tions had not been relaxed. I was do-i He had forced her hand. She had ing from four to six cases a day. After | meant to wait; but, with his keen eyes the second one I almost went crazy. I! pn her, she could not dissemble. made up my mind, if there was ever another, I'd give up and go away.” “There was another?” “Not for several months. When the last case died, a free case again, I per- formed my own autopsy. I allowed only my first assistant in the room. He was almost as frenzied as I was. It was the same thing again. When I told him I was going away, he offered to take the blame himself, to say he had closed the incision. He tried to make me think he was responsible. 1 knew—better.” “It’s incredible.” “Exactly ; but it’s true. The last pa- tient was a laborer. He left a family. I've sent them money from time to time. the children he left, and what would become of them. The ironic part of it was that, for all that had happened, I was busier all the time. Men were sending me cases from all over the country. It was either stay and keep on working, with that chance, or—quit. 1 quit.” «But if you had stayed, and taken extra precautions—” “We'd taken every precaution we knew.” Neither of the men spoke for a time. K. stood, his tall figure outlined against the window. “That's the worst, is it?” Max Wil- son demanded at last. “That's enough.” “It’s extremely significant. You ha an enemy somewhere—on your staff, probably. This profession of ours is a big one, but you know its jealousies. Let a man get his shoulders above the crowd, and the pack is after him.” He laughed a little. “Mixed figure, but you know what I mean.” K. shook his head. He had had that gift of the big man everywhere, in every profession, of securing the loyal- ty of his followers. He would have trusted every one of them with his life. “You're going to do it, of course.” “Take up your work?” “Yes.” He stirred restiessly. To stay on, to be near Sidney, perhaps to stand by as Wilson’s best man when she was married—it turned him cold. But he did not give a decided negative. The sick man was flushed and growing fret- ful ; it would not do to irritate him. “Give me another day on it,” he said at last. And so the matter stood. Max's injury had been productive of good, in one way. It had brought the two brothers closer together. In the mornings Max was restless until Doc- tor Ed arrived. When he came, he brought books in the shabby bag—his beloved Burns, although he needed no book for that, the “Pickwick Papers,” Renan’s “Lives of the Disciples.” Very often Max would doze off; but at the cessation of Doctor Ed's sonorous voice the sick man would stir fretfully and demand more. It pleased the older man vastly. It reminded him of Max’s boyhood, when he had read to Max at night. For once in the last dozen years, he needed him. “Go on, BEd. What in blazes makes you stop every five minutes?” Max pro- tested, one day. Doctor Ed, who had only stopped to bite off the end of a stogie to hold in his cheek, picked up his book in a hurry, and eyed the invalid over it. “Stop bullying. I'll read when I'm ready. Have you any idea what I'm reading?” “Of course.” “Well, I haven't. For ten minutes I've been reading across both pages!” Max laughed, and suddenly put out his hand. Demonstrations of affection were so rare with him that for a mo- ment Doctor Ed was puzzled. ' Then, rather sheepishly, he took it. “When I get out,” Max said, “well have to go out to the White Springs again and have supper.” That was all ; but Ed understood. On the day when K. had told Max his reason for giving up his work, Sidney spent her hour with Max that evening as usual. His big chair had been drawn close to a window, and she found him there, looking out. She kissed him. But instead of letting her draw away, he put out his arms and caught her to him. “Smile at me. You don’t smile any more. You ought to smile; your mouth—" “I am almost always tired; that’s all, Max.” She eyed him bravely. “Aren't you going to let me love to you at all? You get awa yond my reach.” “I was looking for the paper to read to you.” A sudden suspicion flamed in his eyes. “Sidney, you don’t like me to touch you any more. Come here where I can see you.” ake be- I used to sit and think about | “I am going to make you very un- | happy for a little while.” | “Well?” | «T've hud a lot of time to think. It | isn’t that I am angry. I am not even | jealous. - I was at first. It isn’t that. It’s hard to make you understand. I | think you care for me—”" | “But, good heavens, Sidney, you do | care for me, don’t you?” | «pm afraid I don’t, | enough.” | She tried to explain, rather pitifully. After one look at his face, she spoke to the window. «f'm so wretched about it. I thought I cared. To me you were the best and greatest man that ever lived. I—when I said my prayers, I— But that doesn’t | matter. You were a sort of god to me.” He groaned under his breath. «No man could live up to that, Sid- ney.” “No. I see that now. But that’s the way I cared. It's just that I never loved the real you, because I never knew you.” When he remained silent, she made an attempt to justify herself. «qd known very few men,” she said. “] came into the hospital, and for a 4me life seemed very terrible. There were wickednesses 1 had never heard »f, and somebody always paying for them. I was always asking, Why! Why? Then you would come in, and a Max; not H lot of them you cured and sent oul i! You gave them their chance, don’t you | see? Until I knew about Carlotta, yo1 always meant that to me. You wer: like K.—always helping.” || The room was very silent. In th | | nurses’ parlor, a few feet down the cor ridor, the nurses were at prayers. | “Yea, though I walk through the val || ley of the shadow of death—" | The man in the chair stirred. Ht 4 had come through the valley of the | | shadow, and for what? He was ver] || bitter. He said to himself savagel] || that they would better have let hin || die. “You say you never loved me becaust || you never knew me. I'm not a rotter || Sidney. Isn’t it possible that the mar | you cared about, who—who did his | best by people and all that—is the rea ‘me?’ | She gazed at him thoughtfully. He | missed something out of her eyes, the¢ sort of luminous, wistful greatness { Measured by this new glance, so clear so appraising, he shrank back into his | chair. | “The man who did his best is quite (real. You have always done your besi ‘in your work; you always will. Bul | the other is a part of you too, Max Even if I cared, I would not dare tc ‘run the risk.” She took a step toward the door, hesitated, came back, and put a lighi hand on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, dear Max.” She had kissed him lightly on the cheek before he knew what she intend- ed to do. So passionless was the little caress that, perhaps more than any: thing else, it typified the change in their relation. When the door closed behind her, he saw that she had left her ring on the arm of his chair. He picked it up. It was still warm from her finger. He held it to his lips with a quick gesture, In all his successful life he had never before felt the bitterness of failure. The very warmth of the little ring hurt. Why hadn’t they let him die? He didn’t want to live—he wouldn't live. Nobody cared for him! He would— His eyes, lifted from the ring, fell on the red glow of the roses that had come that morning. Even in the half light, Hood's Sarsaparilla. Two Good Remedies Working Together, Produce Marvel- ous Results. For instance, Hood’s Sarsaparilla, the standard blood purifier, is recom- mended for conditions that are scrof- ulous or dependent on impure blood. Peptiron Pills, the new iron tonic, are especially recommended for con- ditions that are radically or charac- teristically anemic and nervous. Many persons suffer from a combi- nation of these conditions. They are afflicted with swellings of the glands, and sores on different parts of the body, limbs and face, and are besides pale and nervous. If these patients take both Hood’s Sarsaparilla (before meals) and Pept- iron Pills (after meals) they are rea- sonably sure to derive fourfold benefit. These two great medicines supple- ment each other, and the use of both, even in cases where only one may ap- pear to be indicated, is of great ad- vantage. 62-22 I | i i { «If you mean about Carlotta, I for- | | The fear of agitating him brought | iyov slowed with fiery color. The ring was in his right hand. With | the left he settled his collar and soft silk tie. K. saw Carlotta that evening for the last time. Katie brought word to him, where he was helping Harriet close her trunk—she was on her way to Europe | for the fall styles—that he was wanted i ! in the lower hall. “A lady!” she said, closing the door behind her by way of caution. “And Manuel, former King gal, has just been appolnted by the wounded soldiers are receiving treat- British Red Cross Society as head of | ment of this character. its section oforthopedics, relating to. ——The United States has acquir- of Portu- | the institutions in Great Britian where | can cession, 526,444; den slice of Mexico, 31,017; purchase of Alaska, 590,884; by annexation, Hpwail 6,449; « §: from Spain, Guam, in 1853, Gads- in 1867, in 1898, 1899, Philippine the treat t of deformities in A ) : : Eg A He is now engag- ©d the following territory: In 1803, 19ands, 19.54% and Puerto Rico, 3, ed in a tour of inspection, with Col. the Louisiana purchase, 890,921 y Samos, bX Robert Jones, inspector-general of or- | Sym miles) I thopedics in the British army, of all | gon Territory, 285,123; in 1848, Mexi- For high class Job Work come to the “Watchman” Office. a good thing for her she’s not from the alley. The way those people beg off you is a sin and a shame, and it's pot at home you're going to be to them from now on.” So K. had put on his coat and, with- out sc much as a glance in Harriet’s mirror, had gone down the stairs. Car- MONDAY H, that dreaded wash day! Isn’t there some way to do it easier—some way to avoid that terrific kitchen lotta stood under the chandelier, and he saw at once the ravages that trou- ble had made in her. She was a dead white, and she looked ten years older heat, the back-breaking job of toting wood, shoveling madam, there is. than her age. “I came, you see, Doctor Edwardes.” Evidently she found it hard to speak. “You were to come,” K. encouraged her, “to see if we couldn't plan some- thing for you. Now, I think I've got it. You know, of course, that I closed my hospital. They are trying to persuade me te go back, and—I'm trying to per- suade myself that I'm fit to go back. You see,’—his tone was determinedly cheerful—“my faith in myself has been pretty nearly gone. When one loses ‘ that, there isn’t much left.” “You had been very successful.” She did rot look up. “well, I had and I hadn’t. I'm not going to worry you about that. My offer is this: We'll just try to forget about—about Schwitter’s and all the rest, and if I go back I'll take you on in the operating room.” “You sent me away once!” “Well, I can ask you to come back, can’t I?” He smiled at her encour- agingly. “Are you sure you understand about Max Wilson and myself?” “Everyone makes mistakes now and then, and loving women have made mis- takes since the world began. Most people live in glass houses, Miss Har- rison. And don’t make any mistake about this: People can always come back. No depth is too low. ‘All they need is the will power.” He smiled down at her. She had come armed with confession. But the offer meant reinstatement, another chance. She would work her finger- ends off for him. She would make it up to him in other ways. But she could not tell him and lose everything. “Come,” he said. “Shall we go back and start over again?” He held out his hand. (Continued next week.) Architect.—Anna W. Keichline, Bellefonte, Pa. 62-4-6m coal and cleaning out ashes? Yes, have chased this wash-day bugaboo away to stay. With a Perfection in your kitchen you won’t have heat all the time, but just when you need it. The water gets hot—off goes the heat, fuel expense stops, the kitchen cools off. You save money, time and work. And the Perfection will bake, boil, fry or roast at a minute’s notice. Just light a match and it'll begin to “do things up brown.” Your dealer will explain its many fine points, such as the fireless cooker and the separate oven. THE ATLANTIC REFINING COMPANY Philadelphia and Pittsburgh use Rayolight Oil smell. And it doesn’t cost a penny more than the ordinary kinds. Always look for this sign: eter] 0 ATLANTIC Rayofigh Your Perfection, or any other oil-burning device, simply can’t give best results unless you It burns without sputter, smoke or am | THR 1 walk %\ ” TE HT I rg { bt Me if I = 62-18-0t. Dry Goods. Dry Goods. at 10 cents to 50 cents. and $4.50. COATS AND prices. All colors and blacks. $1.50, special $1.25. SHOES! and tan. LYON @& COMPANY. Special Sale of Summer Dress Stuffs in Washable Silks and Cottons Rl eh ee Seventy-five pieces dress goods in plaid and checkered voiles, flaxons, basket weaves, poplins, figured and striped pongees that sold at 15¢ to 75¢ per yard now sell Washable Silks and Satins 32 and}36 inches wide, the regular price $1.25 and $1.35 now go at go cents and $1.00. Special Sale of Shirtwaists The handsomest line of Shirtwaists in the country. silk, crepe de chine, tub silk, georgette, crepe voiles, plaids, taffetas, values from $1.25 to $6.50, now g8c. We are still selling Coats and Suits at greatly reduced Coats from $9.00 up. Suits from $10.00 up. Washable Skirts and Middies We have a large stock of Sport Skirts, all colors and white with the new} pockets and belts, regular price Blouses and Smocked Middies in all colors and plain white, from g8c to $1.50. We are selling Shoes for less than they cost to manufac- ture. Men’s, Women’s and Children’s in black, white Rugs, Carpets and Linoleums Save money by buying your Rugs from us. and Linoleums at prices that will mean a big saving. Lyon & Co. -« Bellefonte. ET SR EE : In COAT SUITS . “FOUR GENERATION” ENDORSEMENT TZ fourth generation has taken “High Art Clothes” just as favorably as the first did, way back in 1868. In fact, if the constantly in ] creasing sale of these clothes in our shop is indication, “High Art Clothes” in this generation are more popular than ever. SHOES !! wear no others, Carpets 58-4 Allegheny St. This season we offer the largest assortment of bright, snappy models for young men and ultra servative styles for those of mature years, This is based on our confidence in though con- we ever had. High-Art Clothe and if you are not already one of those who would call and see how good looking, well fit- ting and reasonable these clothes are. “High Art” enthusiast ever after. You'll be a BELLEFONTE, PA. —_—
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers