v Pemorraiic ald Bellefonte, Pa., June 28, 1918. AT THE DOCTOR’S DOOR. (Continued from page 2, column 3). prayed for strength to tell someone— tell anyone about her beaded bag. Yet her mind, darkening and darkening clung to the thought that nobody must know her name here. . . . not like it. ... Chan wouldn’t like herto.:.. «x “You're all beat out,” a shrill voice was saying in her ear. “Can’t I get you something ?” again the oice urged through the whirling mist. : “Bottle—in my handbag,” she found the strength to whisper. She opened her eyes and dimly made out the dull complexion and untidy hair of Wanda Holt bending over her. “You haven’t got any handbag with you.” Wanda was groping round her skirts and the chair. . . . She seem- ed then to fly away for a long time. “Your bag’s mot at the table,” the voice said again close to her ear. “Maybe somebody took it.” The mind which still lived within . Alberta told her that the girl who had danced away with Ronny Prawl had taken her beaded bag. There seemed no way now but to go quickly to her | husband. “If you'll call a taxi,” she managed to whisper. “Shall I tell your 2 “No. Let me go—alone.” She was conscious of struggling to her feet and attempting flight. A bal- ustrade caught her on one side and the little girl in the Peter Pan cos- tume held her on the other. A man from the door came and guided her down the rest of the way. She was passing things with distorted distinct- ness, as though she were looking into a bright room through a slit in a black curtain. As she was helped out toward the street she was aware of two red-faced men in costume who grinned unpleasantly. “So soon?” asked one, winking. “What a waste of good liquor!” commiserated the other. “And the evening is just begun.” Wanda had helped her into the taxi- cab and she had collapsed among the cushions. She saw the plain little woman leaning anxiously in and heard her inquire: “Where do you want to go?” Alberta was conscious of all this and aware of pronouncing her hus- band’s name. But she knew, in a sort of vague, disembodied despair, that the words never got beyond the bar- rier of her lips. “Drive to the nearest drugstore. Be quick,” she heard Wanda order the driver as she got in beside her, and slammed the door and put her scraw- 2 arm protectingly around her shoul- ers. At the moment when the front door banged upon Alberta and her red knight, Dr. Plaisted stood at the head of the stairs and smiled rather sadly down upon their departure. He won- dered at the nervous strength of this delicate-appearing woman, her hunger for enjoyment which kept her going on and on for periods of activity which, if devoted to any! sort of use- ful work, would put a strong man in the hospital. Dr. Plaisted rated him- self as a strong man, yet in his younger days when he had gone in for maternity cases he had lacked the physical endurance to stand indefinite- ly these long spells under strain. “The nervous reserve in women,” thought he, “which Nature has stored up against the needs of motherhood.” Lacking children, women must go looking for an Aztec Ball somewhere and dance until they drop. And then they send for the doctor. : He went into his dispensary and lit one of the rank cigarettes which he had affected since his medical-student days. With the first indrawing of the smoke he wondered if Bertie were in good health. Her color was not so bright as it had been a few weeks ago; but she never complained of any- thing. At any rate, it wouldn’t be a bad plan to give her an overhauling. She needed a talking to—perhaps a month or so of enforced rest in the country. He was sorry he had been so busy with that confounded frivol- ing practice of his as not to give her the proper amount of attention. After all, in spite of her ambition and abil- ity, Bertie was a good deal of a child. What was it that detestable old bore, Bolby, had said about pretty women ? “To give beauty to some women 18 like giving dynamite to a baby.” Dr. Channing Plaisted was not a jealous man. His faith in his wife was founded on the knowledge of the love which they bore for the other. They had always gone their separate ways without chains and returned to each other without remorse. While Alperta had exerted her charm upon other men, Channing Plaisted had sat back and smiled, secure in the vanity of the old spider who is beloved by a butterfly, the latter fluttering her gaudy wings to lure less-wary insects to the web. They had worked as a successful firm these many years an his only worry tonight was that ker fragile wings would grow tired or that she was fluttering into unprofit- able fields. Dr. Plaisted yawned. It was near- ly one o’clock and he had a hard day ahead of him. He shuffled across the dispensary and from behind the door brought forth a prosperous kit of golf clubs. He had promised to play eighteen holes with old John D. Hel- lig tomorrow morning and he knew what that meant—a sour twosome over the Spoonberry course, a game in which Plaisted was expected to ans- swer cheerfully to his host’s insulting comments and to permit the old gen- tleman to beat him at least two strokes to the hole. Then there would be an interminable luncheon at the Hellig house and Plaisted would listen diplomatically to a satire on feminine vanity, aimed at Mrs. Hel- lig, who would be present, and Mr. Hellig would insist upon Scotch whis- key and Dr. Plaisted would assure him that, in the presence of uric acid, Scotch whiskey was preferable to any other liquor. Oh, well! John D. Hellig was rated among the two dozen richest men in the country. Dr. Plaisted sighed and carefully examined a new light ball which he plucked from the pocket of his kit. It might go well with the Chan would | { wind, he thought, as he tossed it back, ! buttoned the flap and restored the bag | to its place behind the door. | He turned out the light and shuffled | into his bedroom and threw aside his | bathrobe. He hoped Bertie wouldn’t | wake him when she came in, as he ' must get a good night’s sleep if he would endure old Hellig in the morning. | He had been dreaming of battle. The Huns had just chained him to a ! stake and pointed a machine-gun at his head. “Don’t!” he had screamed as the machine went rat-tat-tatting with a curiously bell-like sound . . . . He sat up in bed. i ringing furiously. | “Hello!” he growled, half-asleep i and furious at the interruption to his i ose. | “Is this Dr. Plaisted?” The voice | which came to him was thin and ple- | beian, not the distinguished utterance | of his chosen clientele. However, he | reflected rapidly, this might be a maid { from some important house, honoring | him with a night-call. | “Yes. This is Dr. Plaisted,” he ans- | wered guardedly. | «I have a very sick woman here, | Doctor,” wavered the voice, which | seemed to grow higher with every word and to break with anxiety. “She | seems to have a heart attack and I'm | afraid that if she doesn’t get atten- | tion right away she’ll collapse.” Dr. Plaisted’s first impulse was to | leap out of bed, array himself in the | garments of emergency and be off to { the call of duty. Strange that Bertie {had been so insistent on this very | night—after all, she wouldn’t be hard with him in a case like this. He swung half-way out of bed and switched on the electric light over the small clock on the stand. It now lacked a quarter of three. «I think I might——" he was be- ginning to promise the telephone when his eye was caught by that cor- respondence card, scribbled across with Bertie’s frivolous handwriting. It lay accusingly under the light be- side the clock. «I take no patients after ten p. m.,” he repeated aloud as he read. “Qh, but you must!” came the ur- gent treble over the wire. “She’s in dreadful shape. I can’t get anyone else.” “Is she a patient of mine?” asked Plaisted guardedly, his eye still upon Alberta’s card, as though for moral support. “I don't know.” The voice had ris- en to a sort of panic-stricken wail. “I've scarcely met her. She’s a Miss Warren—but what difference does it make?” What difference should it make? Plaisted cast the eye of an inner con- science on Alberta’s scribbled warn- ing as it stared up at him under the light. There was something ghostlike in the frantic, broken appeal of the telephone, coming to him out of the dark—as though it had been sent as a rebuke for the selfish ways into which his life was falling. “How did you come to be calling me?” the physician temporized. “I know a doctor up on Riverside Drive. He said he was too far away and mentioned you a “Where is the patient now?” asked Plaisted, somewhat wearily. “She’s in my studio. Washington Square South——" Probably That settled the matter. some Bohemian had taken a bit too much to drink. Bertie’s card seemed to nod approval to the thought. “I’m very sorry.” It came much easier now for him to refuse. “I've made it a rule not to go out for night cases. There’s a younger man who attends to night cases for me—a Dr. Chase.” “T know—my doctor mentioned him. But I’ve called him up a dozen times —he isn’t there.” “I'm sorry.” Wearily he tried to keep his temper, thinking how this senseless interruption to his sleep would spoil his game in the morning. “You'll probably find someone by looking around.” : He snapped up the receiver and sank back upon his pillow. He lay for some time in a half-waking state, that nasal little voice spectrally plaguing him. Perhaps this might look cruel on the surface of it, he ar- gued to himself. But a doctor’s work must be like a soldier’'s—no place for sentimentality. Bertie had been quite right in insisting on this rule—Ber- tie had a way of being right in prac- tical things. A doctor must have his hours of rest just like any other work- er or he'll never be good for anything. What was the lazy little beggar, Chase, doing at this time of night? The visitation seemed to hang over his pillow, taunting him out of his sleep. He lay there stupidly for a long time, momentarily dreading the jangle of that telephone and that shrill voice crying: “What difference does it make? She's in a desperately bad condition—-" “I'm getting maudlin!” snarled the doctor and turned over on his pillow. Again the telephone jangled. “Hello!” shouted Dr. Plaisted vio- lently at the specter. “This is Miss Holt again—oh, Doc- d | tor—you must come. I can’t get any- body—the hospital says I'm out of their . district—she’s dying! Oh, come, please, or she can’t live!” “Miss Holt, this is very irregular— I——" Against that storm he seem- ed perfectly inadequate. “I don’t care how irregular it is,” said the nasal voice decisively. want you to come and help her before she dies.” “It’s probably not so bad as that,” he replied soothin AT, “Suppose you get a taxi-cab ow. ring her over to my house. : i “But she’s too ill to move.” “Qh, you can get her here, I'm sure.” “That’s very cruel, Dr. Plaisted.” It cut into his ear like a whip of steel. “But Miss Holt——" There was no reply. She had shut him off. He was not at all sure what the im- pertinent Miss Holt had decided to do, ut just the same he couldn’t lie su- pinely wooing sleep with her re- proaches ringing like a box in the ear. He was guiltily glad that Ber- tie had not come home yet, for he obeyed an impulse to slip into his bathrobe and shuffle over to his dis- pensary, where he turned on the light and went clinking among his medi- cine bottles. Perhaps the sick woman might be brought to his doorstep; and ” ! i i The telephone | on the little table at his elbow was | | group—a man with a military hat, a ‘ woman with a queer headdress and in such a contingency he could not well refuse her aid and comfort. The doorbell rang and Dr Plaisted, fussing with the cord of his gray bathrobe, went shuffling down the stairs. In the square of lace on the door-glass silhouetted against the street lamps, he could see a shadowy between them something drooping and formless. The physician groped for the button on the wall to switch on the electric light; and he swore softly as he pressed his thumb against the button, for the hall remained in darkness. «Blasted thing burned out!” he growled and, feeling for the knob, opened the door to his untimely call- ers. There was something vaguely terri- fying about the group which now con- fronted him silently. A stout man in the untidy uniform of a chauffeur, a small, gnome-like person in a garb which was neither man’s nor wom- an’s; and swinging between them, loosely like a corpse, her head hang- ing, her body draped in a man’s over- coat, a woman’s helpless figure. «We'll have to get her up stairs,” the doctor announced without ado. “The lights have gone out down here.” “She ain’t nothin’ to carry,” gruffly explained the man in the cap, lifting the bundle in his arms and surging into the hall and up the stairs. The doctor followed stiffly in the wake of the girl in the Peter Pan cos- tume. Belated conscience was upon him and he protested to the small per- son ahead. “If I had known you were having so much trouble getting a doctor » “Known!” shrilled the nasal voice he had heard over the wire. “I think I told you plainly enough. Evidently your sleep is worth more than a hu- man life!” By the glare from above he could see her plain, thin face with its short hair and gnome-like eyes, one furious mask of accusation. “She'll be all right in a short time, I’m sure,” soothed the doctor. Meanwhile, the chauffeur with his burden had struggled into the dispen- sary at the first landing. He was bending over the sick woman, easing her down upon a leather couch when Dr. Plaisted entered, so he did not see her at first. And when he did see, standing plainly in view of the blanch- ed face with its half-closed eyes, la- boring nostrils and tangle of soft, brilliant hair, recognition, at first, turned him into an unknowing lump, for he stood perfectly still, fingering the cord of his bathrobe. “Aren't you going to do some- thing 7” screamed the gnome woman, clutching him by the arm and shaking him back to life. “Why certainly—good Lord!” He threw himself down beside her, lifted the lids of those drooping eyes, put his ear to her heaving breast; an even in the midst of the routine of his trade he was moaning insanely: “Bertie! Speak to me—what's hap- pened to you?” In another instant he was running toward his medicines and fumbling inadequately with the test-tube. “Here you!” he called roughly to the Peter Pan girl. “Hold this over the flame.” He was trying to fit a needle to the hypodermic syringe, but bs hands trembled so that he twice ailed. “Why in the world didn’t you tell | me who it was?” he asked the girl! savagely. . : | “Isn’t one life as good as another?” | she glared back. “I told you it was | Miss Warren—that’s the name shel i gave me.” “Told you! he growled. “You idiot —she’s my wife!” He had rushed back to the couch and dug the point of the needle deep into the smooth, white arm. There came no response, for the breast had ceased to heave and the eyes, a little wider open, stared unseeingly. Over the side of the brown couch her beau- tiful hair rilled like a flood of crystal. Again the doctor raised one of the drooping eyelids, and now he bit his lip as if to suppress the thing that was tearing him apart. Suddenly he stood straight up and threw the hypodermic needle wildly across the room. «Tt’s curious—how it could have happened,” he kept saying with a va- cant, puzzled look. ; Wanda Holt had been standing quietly by the door, and when she found she was going to cry she ran precipitately down the stairs. In the darkness of the lower hall she made out the fat chauffeur, true to his bus- iness, waiting for his fare. “Want the taxi any more?” he ask- ed in a voice which somehow managed to convey understanding. Quite unable to answer, she opened the door and let him follow her out into the street. The little eccentric vehicle he had been keeping at her disposal since their departure from the Aztec Ball waited, a melancholy _— 3 lump with a single glaring eye, close to the curb. «I—T’1l walk home,” replied Wanda, dazedly looking into his face, which was round and blank like a full moon. “Well, who's paying for this ride?” he asked gruffly. She took her eyes from his stare and glanced up at the pleasant, white- trimmed brick house from whose sec- ond story a light still shone with a sort of hypocritical cheerfulness. “Oh,” she replied at last as she turned toward Washington Square, “collect from the Doctor. This party seems to be on him!”"—By Wallace Ir- win, in Hearst’s Magazine. Reportorial Repartee. The proofreader in a small Middle Western daily was a woman of great precision and great propriety. One day the reporter succeeded in getting into type an item about “Willie Brown, the boy who was burned in the West End by a live wire.” On the following day the reporter found on his desk a frigid note asking: “Which is the west end of a boy?” It took an instant to reply: “The end the son sets on, of course.” — God tells us we must all love our enemies. He could not ex- pect us to love His enemies. With my own eyes I have seen the hellish work of the Hun. And no one who has not seen with his own eyes can have even a glimmer of understand- ing.—Harry Lauder. Best Ever Known! Fred Spencer, thus Inthusias- tically Endorses It. “My restored health convinces me that Goldine possesses more merit than all other remedies put together. I must say that it is the best remedy introduced in Ashtabula. I have suf- fered from acute indigestion for sev- eral years, it practically taking the | form of misery in eating. Gas would raise in my stomach, until I would vomit, as it pressed against my heart. 1 particularly noticed these facts at night. I was very careful of what I ate, usually eating very sparingly, in the hope that these attacks would subside, but the gas pressure just kept up the same. I got very little sleep at all, not only because of the choking spells, but also 1 was very nervous and could not get rest. I heard of what Goldine had done for others, so I bought a bottle at the d | drug store and it relieved me after a few doses, my appetite is fine and I can eat a whole meal without having distressing choking spells. Can sleep good and my health is better than it has been for years.” If you are one among the many suf- ferers, go to Green's Pharmacy, the local agency for Goldine and Goldine Alterac. 63-26 : be Hoe Sls ! Here is your opportunity to insure against embarrassing errors in spelling, pronunciation and poor choice of |& words. Know the meaning of puzzling war terms. Increase your efficiency, which results in power and success. WEBSTERS {NEW INTERNATIONAL DICTIONARY is an all-know- ing teacher, a universal question answerer, made to meet your needs. It is in daily use by hundreds of thousands of suc- cessful men and women the world over. 400,000 Words. 2700 Pages. 6000 Il lustrations. 12,000 Bi hical En- tries. 30,000 Geograp Subjects. GRAND PRIZE, (Highest Award) Panama-Pacific Exposition. REGULAR and INDIA-PAPER Editions. WRITE for Specimen Pages. FREE Pocket Maps if you name this paper. G. & C. MERRIAM CO., Springfield, Mass., U. S. A. Sasanasass | FINE GROCERIES | We Have to 4c a Ib. Very Fancy Almerin White Grapes, Celery. Walnuts, Finest Quality Cheese. goods. LL GOODS in our line are thirty to sixty days late this sea- A son. Prices are somewhat, but not strongly above the lev- el at this time last season. It is not safe to predict, but it does seem that prices are just now “passing over the top” and may be somewhat more reasonable in the near future. New Evaporated Apricots at 25¢ and 30c a lb. Fancy Peaches 20e and 22c Ib. Very Fancy Evaporated Corn at 35c a 1b. or 3 cans for $1.00. Fancy Selected Sweet Potatoes 5c a lb.—some grades at 3c Cranberries at 18c per quart or pound. New Paper-shell Almonds, California INCLUDE OYSTERS IN YOUR ORDERS We will deliver fresh opened, solid measure at cost with other WE MAKE OUR OWN MINCE MEAT. Received Shoes. Shoes. No item is cut our or cut short on account of cost—it is just THE BEST WE CAN MAKE and is highly recommended by all those who have tried it. If you have used it you already know—or try it just now. SECHLER & COMPANY, Bush House Block, - 57-1 - - - Bellefonte, Pa. EL A A lS i VEBGERS SHOE STORE EE ——-—_§ Gea is el — TE ERE ER Shoes Shoes Reduced cued All my stock of Ladies’ Low Shoes at cost and less than cost. On account of labor shortage and other conditions the firm from whom I purchase my stock of Ladies’ Low Shoes for spring could not deliver the shoes until this last week—they should have reached me on March 1st. Realizing that the season is far advanced I am going to sell these shoes at cost and less than cost. These shoes were purch- ased to sell for $6 and $7. They are made of the very best leather that can be put in shoes and in the very latest styles. These shoes will be put on sale at once for $4.85 Per Pair. Here is an opportunity to purchase your needs in low shoes at a saving of over $2 per pair. —————— YEAGER'S SHOE STORE THE SHOE STORE FOR THE POOR MAN Bush Arcade Building BELLEFONTE, PA. 58-27 Lyon & Co. Lyon & Co. We are adding special bargains each week to the June sale. BARGAIN NO. 1. Ladies’ Summer Vests, low neck and sleeveless; value 25c., sale price 14c. BARGAIN NO. 2. House Dresses, sizes 34 to 44 ; while they last $1.48. BARGAIN NO. 3. Splashed Voile White Shirt Waists, all sizes ; value $1.75, sale price 98c. BARGAIN NO. 4. Ladies’ White Pique Skirts; value $2.50, sale price $1.98. Also Plaid Skirts white ground and combination of colors in the over plaids; value $2.50, sale price $1.50. BARGAIN NO. 5. Ladies’ and Misses’, Mid- dies’ and Middie Coats, all sizes and all colors ; value $1.50 and $1.75, sale price g8c. Coats and Suits. Special price reductions on all Coats and Coat Suits. Corset bargains in Bon Ton and Royal Wor- cester. One lot of good models in corsets which the manufacturer has discontinued, will be sold at less than cost. Shoes Shoes Shoes for Men, Ladies and Children. Ladies’ white high canvas Shoes, real value $3.50, sale price $2.49. Ladies’ white low canvas Shoes, price $2.00. Ladies’ white low canvas Pumps, real value $3.50, sale price $2.49. Ladies’ low black Pumps, real value $3.50, sale price real value $3, sale $2.49. ; Ladies’ high black Shoes, real value $7.50, sale price $6.00. * Men's and Children’s Shoes at special sale prices. Lyon & Co. Lyon & Co.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers