TY
TA
(Continued from last week).
SYNOPSIS
I-APRIL.—General factotum in the
house of her sister Ina, wife of Herbert
Deacon, in the small town of Warbleton
Lulu Bett leads a dull, cramped existence,
with which she is constantly at enmity,
though apparently satisfied with her lot.
She has natural thoughts and aspirations
which neither her sister nor her brother-
In-law seemingly can comprehend. To Mr.
Deacon comes Bobby Larkin, recently
graduated high-school youth, secretly
enamored of Deacon’s elder daughter,
Diana, an applicant for a “job” around
the Deacon house. He is engaged, his
occupation to be to keep the lawn in trim.
The family is excited over the news of an
approaching visit from Deacon’s brother
senian, whom he had not seen for many
years. Deacon jokes with Lulu, with
subtle meaning, concerning the coming
meeeting.
II—MAY.—Chiefly because of the ripple
in her placid, colorless existence which
the arrival of Ninian will bring, Lulu is
interested and speculative, meanwhile
watching with something like envy the
boy-and-girl love-making of Bobby and
Diana. Unexpectedly, Ninian arrives, in
the absence of Herbert, at his business,
and of Ina, resting. Thus he becomes
acquainted with Lulu first and in a meas-
ure understands her position in the house.
To Lulu, Ninian is a much-traveled man
of the world and even the slight interest
which he takes in her i8 appreciated, be-
cause it is something new in her life.
Above that shroud-like plaited lace.
the veins of Lulu’s throat showed dark
as she swallowed, cleared her throat,
swallowed again.
“Don’t you let Dwight scare you,”
she besought Ninian.
“Scare me!” cried Ninian. “Why, I
think it’s a good job deme, if you ask
me.”
Lulu’s eyes flew to his face. As he
laughed, he was looking at her, ang
now he nodded and shut and opened
his eyes several times very fast. Their
points of light flickered. With a pang
of wonder which pierced her and left
her shaken, Lulu looked. His eyes
continued to meet her own. It was
exactly like looking at his photograph.
Dwight had recovered his authentic
air,
“Oh, well,” he said, “we can inquire
at our leisure. If it is necessary, I
should say we can have it set aside
quietly up here in the city—no one’ll
be the wiser.”
“Set aside nothing!” said Ninian.
“I'd like to see it stand.”
“Are you serious, Nin?’
“Sure I'm serious.”
Ina jerked gently at her sister's
arm.
“Lulu! You hear him? What you
going to say to that?”
Lulu shook her head.
earnest,” she said,
“I am in earnest—hope to die,” Nin-
ian declared. He was on two legs of
his chair and was slightly tilting, so
that the effect of his earnestness was
Impaired. But he was obviously in
earnest.
They were looking at Lulu again.
And now she looked at Ninian, and
there was something terrible in that
“He isn’t in
look which tried to ask him, alone,
about this thing,
Dwight exploded. “There was a fel-
low I know there in the theater,” he
cried. “I'll get him on the line. He
could tell me if there's any way—"
and was off.
Ina inexplicably began touching
away tears. “Oh,” she said, “what
will mamma say?”
Lulu hardly heard her. Mrs. Bett
was incalculably distant.
“You sure?’ Lulu said low to
Ninian.
For the first time, something in her
exceeding isolation really touched him.
“Say,” he said, “you come on with
me. We'll have it done over again
somewhere, if you say so.”
“Oh,” said Lulu, “if I thought—"
He leaned and patted her hand.
“Good girl,” he said.
They sat silent, Ninian padding on
the cloth with the flat of his plump
hands. .
Dwight returned. “It's a go all
right,” he said. He sat down, laughed
weakly, rubbed at his face. “You two
are tied as tight as the church could
te you.”
“Good enough,” said Ninian.
Lulu?”
“It's—it’s all right, I guess,” Lulu
said.
“Well, I'll be dished,” said Dwight.
“Sister!” said Ina.
Ninian meditated, his lips set tight
and high. It is impossible to trace
the processes of this man. Perhaps
they were all compact of the devil-
may-care attitude engendered in any
persistent traveler. Perhaps the incom.
parable cookery of Lulu played its
part.
“I was going to make a trip south
this month,” he said, “on my way
home from here. Suppose we get
married again by somebody or other,
and start right off. You'd like that,
wouldn't you—going south,
“Yes,” said Lulu only.
“It’s July,” said Ina, with her sense
of fitness, but no one. heard. : .
“Eh,
Jt ‘was arranged that their trunks
should follow them—Ing. = - ="...
Copyright by D.APPLETON AND COMPA
TE SLT o3Y
Jrwin Myers
Le 8 RL 7 of
BIERIP oN
, would see to
that, though she was scandalized that
they were not first to return to War-
bleton for the blessing of Mrs. Bett.
“Mamma won't mind,” said Lulu.
“Mamma can’t stand a fuss any more.”
They left the table. The men and
women still sitting at the other tables
saw nothing unusual about these four,
Indifferently dressed, indifferently
conditioned. The hotel orchestri..
playing ragtime in deafening concord,
made Lulu’s wedding march,
* * *® * ¥ * *
It was still early next day—a hot
Sunday—when Ina and Dwight
reached home. Mrs. Bett was stand-
ing on the porch.
“Where's Lulie?’ asked Mrs. Bett.
They told.
Mrs. Bett took it in, a bit at a time.
Her pale eyes searched their faces,
she shook her head, heard it again,
grasped it. Her first question was:
“Who's going to do your work?”
Ina had thought of that, and this
was manifest,
“Oh,” she said, “you and I'll have
to manage.”
Mrs. Bett meditated, frowning.
“I left the bacon for her to cook for
vour breakfasts” che said. “I ean’t
cook bacon fit to eat. Neither can
vou.”
“We've had our breakfasts,” lua
escaped from this dilemma.
“Had it up in the city, on expense?”
“Well, we didn’t have much.”
In Mrs. Bett’'s eves tears gathered,
but they were not for Lulu.
“I should think,” she said, “I should
think Lulie might have had a little
more gratitude to her than this.”
On their way to church Ina and
Dwight encountered Di, who had left
the house some time earlier, step-
ping sedately to ehurch in company
with Bobby Larkin. Di was in white,
and her face was the face of an angel,
80 young, so questioning, so utterly
devoid of her sophistication.
“That child,” said Ina, “must not
see so much of that Larkin boy. She's
just a little, little girl.”
“Of course she mustn't,’ said
Dwight sharply, “and if I was her
mother—"
“Oh, stop that!” said Ina,
voce, at the church steps.
To every one with whom they spoke
im the aisle after church, Ina an-
sotto
To Every One With Whom They
Spoke in the Aisle After Church
Ina Anriounced Their News.
nounced their news: Had they heard?
Lulu married Dwight’s brother Ninian
In the city yesterday. Oh, sudden,
yes! And romantic . . . spoken
with that upward inflection to which
ina was a prey.
Vv
August,
Mrs. Bett had been having a “tan-
trim,” brought on by nothing definable.
Abruptly as she and Ina were getting
supper, Mrs. Bett had fallen silent,
had in fact refused to reply when ad-
dressed. When all was ready and
Dwight was entering, hair wetly
brushed, she had withdrawn from the
room amd closed her bedroom door
until it echoed.
“She's got one again,” said Ina,
grieving. “Dwight, you go.”
He went, showing no sign of annoy
auce, and stood outside his mother-
in-law’s door and knocked.
No answer,
“Mother, come and have some sup-
Der”... Jian
No answer. :
“Looks to me like your muffins was
Just: about the best ever.” . . :
east wre
- mother. ]
was. ‘something ..which functioned as’
“Come on—I had something funny
to tell you and Ina.”
He retreated, knowing nothing of
the admirable control exercised by
this woman for her own passionate
satisfaction in sending him away un-
satisfied. He showed nothing but anx-
fous concern, touched with regret, at
hls failure. Ina, too, returned from
that door discomfited. Dwight made
a gallant effort to retrieve the failen
fortunes of their evening meal, and
turned upon Di, who had just entered.
and with exceeding facetiousness in-
quired how Bobby was.
Di looked hunted. She could never
tell whether her parents were going
to tease her about Bobby, or rebuke
her for being seen with him. It de-
pended on mood, and this mood Di
had not the experience to gauge. She
now groped for some neutral fact, and
mentioned that he was going to take
her and Jenny for ice cream that
night.
Ina’s irritation found just expres
sion in her office of motherhood.
“lI won’t have you downtown in the
evening,” she said.
“But you let me go last night.”
“All the better reason why you
should not go tonight.”
“I tell you,” cried Dwight. “Why
not all walk down? Why not all have
ice cream 2
He was all gentle- |
ness and propitiation, the reconciling |
element in his home.
“Me, too?” Monona’s ardent hope
her terrible fear were
brows, her parted lips.
“You, too, vertainly.” Dwight could
not do enough for every one.
Monona clapped her hands. “Goody!
goody! Last time you wouldn’t let
me go.”
“That's why pap"’s going to take
you this time,” Ina caid.
These ethical balances having been
nicely struck, Ina proposed another:
“But,” she said, “but, you must eat
more supper or you ~annot go.”
“I don’t want any more.” Mononu’s
look was honest and piteous.
“Makes no difference. You must eat
or you'll get sick.”
“No >»
“Very well, then. No ice creum
soda for such a little girl.”
Monona began to cry quietly. But
she passed her plate. She ate, chew-
ing high, and slowly.
“See? She can eat ff she will eat,”
Ina said to Dwight. “The only troubie
is, she will not take tlhe time.”
“She don’t put her mind on her
meals,” Dwight Herbert diagnosed it.
“Oh, bigger bites than that!” he en-
couraged his little daughter.
Di’s mind had been proceeding along
its own paths.
“Are you going to take Jenny and
Bobby too?” she inquired.
“Certainly. The whole party.”
“Bobby’ll want to pay for Jenny
and 1.”
“Me, darling,” said Ina patiently,
punctiliously—and less punctiliously
added: “Nonsense. This is going to
be papa’s little party.”
“But we had the engagement ®vith
Bobby. It was an engagement.”
“Well,” said Ina, “I think we'll just
set that aside—that important en-
gagement. I think we just will.”
“Papa! Boby’ll want to be the one
to pay for Jenny and I—"
“Di!” 1Ina’s voice dominated all.
“Will you be more careful of your
grammar or shall I speak to you
again?’
“Well, I'd rather use bad grammar
than—than—than—” she looked re-
sentfully at her mother, her father.
Their moral defection was evident to
her, but it was indefinable. They told
her that she ought to be ashamed
when papa wanted to give them all a
treat. She sat silent, frowning, put-
apon.
“Look, mamma!” cried Monona,
swallowing a third of an egg at one
impulse. Ina saw only the empty
plate.
“Mamma’s nice little girl!” cried
she, shining upon her child. :
The rules of the ordinary sports ot
the playground, scrupulously applied,
would have clarified the ethical at-
mosphere of this little family. But
there was no one to apply them.
When Di and Monona had been ex-
cused, Dwight ssked:
“Nothing new from the bride and
groom?” ’
“No. And, Dwight, it's been a week
since the last.”
“See—where are they then?”
He knew perfectly well that they
were in Savannah, Georgia, but Ina
played his game, told him, and retold
bits that the letter had said.
“I don’t understand,” she added,
“why they should go straight to QOre-
gon without coming here first.”
Dwight hazarded that Nin probably
had to get back, and shone pleasantly
in the reflected importance of a
brother filled with affairs.
“I don’t know what to make of Lu-
Iu’s letters,” Ina proceeded. “They're
80—s0—"
“You haven't had but two, have
you?’
“That’s all—well, of course it’s only
been a month. But both letters have
been so—"
Ina was never really articulate.
Whatever corner of her brain had the
blood in it at the moment seemed to
be operative, and she let the matter
go at that.
“I don’t think it's fair to. mamma—
going off that way. Leaving her own
mother. Why, she may never see
mamma again—" Ina’ breath caught.
Into her face came something of the
lovely tenderness with which she
sometimes looked at Monona and Di.
She sprang up. She had forgotten to
put some supper to warm for
mamma. The lovely light was still
8 her face as she bustled ahont
against the time of mamma's recovery
from her tantrim. Dwight's face was
like this when he spoke of his foster
In both these beings there
pure love, 5. Lali.
Mamma had reccyvered and was eat-
ing cold scrambled eggs on the corner
of the kitchen tzhle when the ice
cream soda party was ready to set
out, Dwight threw her a casual “Bet-
ter come, too, Mett or Bett,” but she
ghock her head. fe wished to go,
wished It with violence, but she con-
trived to give to her arbitrary refusal
& quality of contempt. When Jenny
drrived with Bobby, she had hrought
a sheaf of gladioli for Mrs. Bett, and
took them to her in the kitchen. and
as she laid the flowers beside her. the
young girl stopped and kissed her.
“Fou little darling" cried Mrs. Dott,
and clunz to her, her lifted eyes lit
by something intense and living. But
when the ice crear parry had set off
et last, Mrs, Bett left her supper. gath-
ered up the flowers, and crossed the
lawn to the: old cripple, Grandma
Gates.
“Inie cha’m’t have ’‘em.” the old
woman thought.
And then it was quite beautiful to
watch her with Grandma Gates,
whom she tended and petted, to
tvhose complainings she listened. and
to whom she tried to tell the small
events of her day. When her neigh-
bor had gone. Grandma Gates said
i that it was as good as a dose of medi-
cine to have her come in.
Mrs. Bett sat on the porch restored
and pleasant when the family re-
tnrned. Di and Bobby had walked
tome with Jenny.
“Looli here,” said Dwight Herbert,
in her epe- !
i “who
is it sits bome and has ice
cream put in her lap like a queen?”
“Vanilly or chocolate?’ Mrs. Bett
i demanded.
“Chocolate, mamma!” Ina cried,
-tardy apprehension.”
with the breeze in her voice,
“Vanilly sets better,” Mrs. Bett said.
They sat with her on the porch
while she ate. Ina rocked on a creak-
ing board. Dwight swung a ieg over
the railing. Monona sat pulling her
skirt over her feet, and humming all
on one note. There was no moon, but
the warm dusk had a quality of
transparency as if it were lit in all
its particles.
The gate opened, and some one
, came up the walk. They looked, and
it was Lulu.
“Well, if it ain't Miss Lulu Bett!”
A Al Vim
bolt i ik
/ rr
“Well, If It Ain't Miss Lulu Bett!”
Dwight Cried, Involuntarily.
Dwight cried involuntarily, and Ina
cried out something.
“How did you know?’ Lulu asked.
“Know! Krow what?”
“That it ain’t Lulu Deacon.
mamma.”
She passed the others and kissed
her mother.
“Say,” said Mrs. Bett placidly. “And
I just ate up the last spoonful o
cream.”
“Ain’t Lulu Deacon!”
rose and sweiled richly.
talking?”
“Didn’t he write to you?”
asked.
“Not a word.” Dwight answered
this. “All we've had we had from you
—the last from Savannah, Georgia.”
“Savannah, Georgia,” said Lulu,
and laughed.
They could see that she was dressad
well, in dark red cloth, with a little
tilting hat and a drooping veil. She
did not seem in any wise upset, nor,
save for that nervous laughter, did
she show her excitement.
“Well, but he’s here with you, isn't
he?’ Dwight demanded. “Isn't he
here? Where is he?”
“Must be ’most to Oregon by this
time,” Lulu said,
“Oregon!”
“You see,” said Lulu, “he had an-
other wife.”
“Why, he had not!”
Dwight absurdly.
“Yes. He hasn’t seen her for fife
teen years and he thinks she’s dead.
But he isn’t sure.”
“Nonsense,” sald Dwight. “Why,
of course she's dead if he thinks 50.”
“I had to be sure,” said Lulu.
At first dumb before this, Ina now
cried out: “Monona! Go upstairs to
bed at once.”
“It's only quarter to,” said Monona,
with assurance,
“Do as mamma tells you.”
*“But-—"
“Afonona I”
She went, kissing them all good.
night and taking her time about it.
Everything was suspended while she
kissed them and departed, walking
slowly backward.
“Married?” said Mrs. Bett with
Hello,
Ina's voice
“What you
Lulu
exclaimed
husband married?”
i.
| married, mother.”
“Mercy,” said Ina.
| thing like that in our family.
| “Well, go on—go on!” Dwight crieq.
| “Tell us ebont it."
| Lulu spoke in a monotone, with her
{old manner of hesitation:
“We were going to Oregon. First
{down to New Orleans and then out
ito California and up the coast.” On
| this she paused and sighed. “Well,
‘then at Savannah, Georgia, he said
lhe thought I better know, first. So
{he told me.”
“Yes—well, what did he say?
| Dwight demanded irritably.
| “Cora Waters,” said Lulu. “Cora
| Waters. She married him down in
{ San Diego, eighteen years ago. She
went to South America with him.”
“Well, he never let us know of it,
| £ she did,” said Dwight.
“No. She married him just before
{he went. Then in South America,
after two years, she ran away again.
| That’s all he knows.”
“That's a pretty story,” said Dwight
{ contemptuously.
| “He says if she'd been alive, she'd
{heen after him for a divorce. And
| she never has been, so he thinks she
| must be dead. The trouble is,” Lulu
{sald again, “he wasn’t sure. And I
| had to be sure.”
| “Well, but mercy,” sald Ina,
“couldn’t he find out now?”
“It might take a long time,” said
Lulu simply, “and I didn’t want to
| stay and not know.”
“Well, then, why didn’t he say so
here?” Ina’s indignation mounted.
“He would have. But you know
{how sudden everything was. He said
he thought about telling us right there
In the restaurant, but of course that'd
been hard—wouldn’t it? And then
he felt so sure she was dead.”
“Why did he tell you at all. then?”
demanded Ina, whose processes were
simple.
“Yes. Well! Why indeed?’ Dwight
Herbert brought out these words with
a curious emphasis,
“I thought that, just at first,” Lulu
said, “but only just at first. Of course
that wouldn’t have been right. And
then, you see, he gave me my choice.”
“Gave you your choice?’ Dwight
echoed.
“Yes. About going on and taking
the chances. He gave me my choice
when he told me, there in Savannah,
Georgia.”
“What made him conclude, by then,
thet you ought to be told?” Dwight
asked.
“Why, he’d got to thinking about
it,” she answered.
A silence fell. Lulu sat looking out
toward the street.
“The only thing” she said, “as
| hadn't told me till we got out to
{ Oregon.”
“Lulu!” said Ina. Ina began to
cry. “You poor thing!” she said.
Her tears were a signal to Mrs.
Bett, who had been striving to under-
stand all. Now she too wept, tossing
up her hands and rocking her body.
Her saucer and spoon clattered on
her knee.
“He felt bad, too,” Lulu said.
“He!” said Dwight. “He must
have.”
“It's you,” Ina sobbed. “It's you.
My sister!”
“Well,” said Lulu, “but I never
thought of it making you both feel
bad, or I wouldn't have come home.
I knew,” she added, “it'd make Dwight
feel bad. I mean, it was his hrother—”
“Thank goodness,” Ina broke in,
“nobody need know about it.”
Lulu regarded her, without change.
“Oh, yes,” she said in her mono-
tone. “People will have to know.”
“I do not see the mecessity.”
Dwight's voice was on edge. Then
too he said “do not,” always with
Dwight betokening the finalities.
“Why, what would they think?"
Lulu asked, troubled.
“What difference does it make what
they think?”
“Why,” . ‘sald Lulu slowly, “I
shouldn't like—you see they might—
why, Dwight, I think we'll have to
tell them.”
“You do! You think the disgrace
of bigamy in this family is something
the whole town will have to know
about?”
Lulu looked at him with parted lips.
“Say,” she said, *I never thought
about it being that.”
Dwight laughed.
think it was?
“What do you
And whose disgrace
2 It, pray™
Ninian’s,” said Lulu.
~Ninfan’s! Well, he's gone. But
you're here. And I'm here. Folks'll
feel sorry for you. But the disgrace—
that'd reflect on me. See?”
“But if we don’t tell, what'll they
think then?”
(Continued next week).
mpm A A ——
700 Tons of Steel Used for Auto Tags
In 1921.
Single automobile license tags is-
sued in Pennsylvania last year num-
bered 1,433,430, and if placed one
after the other would have made a
continuous line of metal tags 351
miles long, according to registrar
Ben J. Eynon, of Harrisburg. If
placed one on top of another they
would have made a metal pillar 2%
miles high.
It required 741 tons of steel to
make the tags used on motor vehicles
in the State last year. Their trans-
portation at one time would have re-
quired nineteen cars of forty tons ca-
pacity each. As the single plates is-
sued this year will run far in excess
will be still greater.
Last year there was one motor ve-
hicle for every 12.6 persons in Penn-
sylvania. The motor cars registered
in Pennsylvania last year ran up a
mileage of more than 4,500,000 miles
over Pennsylvania highways. °
“Lulie, ‘was ‘your |
—— Subscribe for the “Watchman.”
“Yes,” Lulu szid. “my husband was |
“Think of any-
long as it happened, I kind of wish he |
of last year, the amount of steel used
FARM NOTES.
—Late planting may save your
wheat crop from the pest’s ravages.
| See your county agent about the best
| planting dates.
—The spots that were wettest last
i spring are the hardest to plow now,
| especially where the season has turn-
{ ed off dry. Plan to drain these areas.
—The farmer who is considering the
| bui.ding of a tank, should plan to do
{ so before cold weather sets in. Ask
| the county agent for Extension Cir-
| cular No. 89.
| —Milk producers may produce milk
full of pep and life by making sure
| that their herds are free from disease,
i by using clean sanitary methods and
{ handling milk so as to.insure purity of
| product.
—A dangerous form of colic is lia-
i ble to result if care is not taken in
| feeding new oats to horses. The oats
{ should be introduced into the ration
i gradually, increasing the amount a
i little each day.
| .—The strawberry bed is now begin-
‘ning to fill up with plants. When
| rows are filled with plants 4 to 6 inch-
| es apart each way, all other runners
{ should be considered as weeds and not
i allowed to root.
i —It is always a wise provision to
add water to silage when it is stored
| if there is any likelihood that the corn
(is low in moisture content. Dry
Weather, frosting, and over-maturity
| all tend to reduce moisture in corn.
i —Sod fields to be planted to corn
land potatoes should be fall plowed to
i destroy grubs or pupae in the soil. If
| practicable, follow old sod with clo-
iver, buckwheat, or some small grain,
!as these are less injurious than the
larger grains.
—The greatest yield of total diges-
tible nutrients is obtained from corn
that is cut for silage when the kernels
have become well dented. Be sure
rand tramp the silage thoroughly
around the edge of the silo, so as to
| prevent unnecessary spoiling.
—Proper conditions for the storage
i of seed corn are good ventilation, pro-
tection from rain or snow, from rats
; and mice, and from extremes of tem-
: perature. Repair the openings made
| by rats last year, and arrange for free
| circulation of air around each ear.
—The three varieties of tomatoes
| introduced by Pennsylvania State Col-
i lege this year, namely, Penn State
| Earliana, Matchum, and Nittany, are
{ doing all that was claimed for them.
|A considerable quantity of seed is be-
i ing saved this year to be sold to the
| public.
—If not obtained before this time,
| para-dichloro-benzine should be pur-
| chased now in readiness for the treat-
[ ment of peach trees on or after Sep-
| tember 10. Practically all of the bor-
ers can be exterminated with the one
! treatment if the chemical is properly
i applied. Consult your county agent.
| —Peach growers who intend to use
, the para-dichloro-benzine treatment
iin their orchards this fall, should ar-
‘range to have this chemical on hand
for use early in September. For in-
| formation in regard to the place to
| purchase this chemical, the amount to
fuse, and the proper method of apply-
jing it to the trees, the grower is re-
| ferred to his local farm bureau office.
—Many of the hens on a general
farm are forced into a molt during
; this season by a change in the method
| of feeding. Keep a good mash before
| the laying hens at all times. Try
(equal parts of weight of corn meal,
| Wheat bran, wheat middlings, ground
| oats, and beef scrap. Milk may be
| substituted for the beef scrap at the
| rate of 12 to 15 quarts a day for every
100 hens.
—DMuch has been written in poetry
‘and prose as to the part the mule
played in winning the world war.
Nohing much has ever been said about
the farm mule in Pennsylvania but
reports show that he is a mighty val-
uable adjunct to our agriculture. At
the first of the present year there were
54,678 mules plodding along on the
farms of the State, approximately the
same number that have been on the
job for the past decade.
—DBees are not a nuisance even
though borough and city councils en-
act ordinances against bee-keeping.
! Such ordinance will not stand, when
{ the defendants convicted in the city
courts under such ordinances, appeal
to the higher courts of justice.
The liability of a bee-keeper for in-
jury done by his bees to some other
person or to the property of another
rests on the doctrine of negligence
and not on the theory of the bees be-
ing a nuisance. There has come to
the notice of the Bureau of Plant In-
dustry, Pennsylvania Department of
Agriculture a case of persecution of
an individual by a borough passing
such an unconstitutional ordinance. If
a bee-keeper in a city will arrange his
bee yard and management properly,
there will be nc reason for complaint
by the neighbors and if the neighbors
get stung it is because of their own
carelessness.
—The serious menace to the wheat
crop as a result of angoumois grain
moth injury in many counties of the
State this year, can be checked only
by the use of rigid control methods.
Early threshing of the wheat greatly
reduces the injury sustained, and if
handled on a community basis, this
practice gradually solves the prob-
lem. Under present conditions, how-
ever, fumigation of the grain in the
bins after threshing becomes a neces-
sity. For this purpose carbon bi-sul-
phide at the rate of one pint to each
100 bushels of grain should be used.
The gas from this chemical is heavier
than air and will penetrate to the bot-
tom of the bins. For the most effec-
tive results, the granary should be
closed tight for twenty-four hours,
and then aired thoroughly. When the
granary cannot be made absolutely
air-tight, more of the carbon bi-sul-
phide will be required in proportion.
A second fumigation should be made
about one month after the first, in
case the wheat is to be held that
length of time. Two such treatments
will ordinarily suffice to keep the moth
in check. One precaution should be
observed in fumigating. Carbon bi-
sulphide is very inflammable and care
should be taken to keep it away from
lights and fire. Hh