Pemocralic ata,
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Belletonte, Pa., June 1, 1917.
“K 1}
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(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
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walk
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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.
—_—