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- Just Like the Boy
in the Story
By MILDRED HONORS
(®, 1923, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)
Dorothy finished the story and closed
the magazine. It was a good story, the
story of a girl who took a great chance
and found a great happiness. If life
were only as simple as stories! She
gave the hammock pillows a discon-
tented little punch.
Through the open pantry window
came Aunt Emily's voice, “Is Dorothy
going to marry this Tom Waite, or
gin’t she?”
“Why, Emily, they're just friends.”
That was her mother.
“Humph! Being friends with a r2an
don’t get you very far.”
“But they were brought up together,
Emily; went to school together. Tom-
my is just like her brother.”
“Stuff and nonsense! She's got two
brothers now. What's she need of any
more. I do hate to see a girl smart as
Dorothy wasting her life in this little
one-hoss town. I do wish, Ellen, you'd
persuade her to go back to Boston with
me next week and go into the hospital.
It’s only three years. What's three
years? And trained nurses get »40 a
week. Ain't that worth having? I
gay ‘tis. She'd make a nurse and a
good one, too.”
“She always was a great hand in
sickness,” mother agreed.
“And was always tore out to be a
nurse. Now she’s got the chance, why
don’t she take it? I don't know what's
to hinder her, without it’s that Tom
Walitte. Now, I don’t believe in any
girl's getting married just to get a
Mrs, on her tombstone, but if she likes
him—good feller, ain't he?”
“Tommy's a dear boy. A little slow,
perhaps, but steady. He'll make some
girl a first-rate husband. They say—"
Mother's voice trailed off, lost in
the click of dishes, but Aunt Emily's
swer had a ring of triumph.
“Well, I been married twice and I
tell you, Ellen Patterson, the best man
that ever lived needs a little mite o'
AL
8-4 ¢
"im “i
ii il l
—
WAHLT=RS
They Read It Together.
managing. Now, take Sally Simpton—
you remember Sully Simpton? Never
dared to say her soul was her own—"
Dorothy flopped over. What did she
care about Sally Simpton? She had
troubles of her own.
cover. Presently she slipped out of
the hammock and called Tom on the
telephone in the hall,
“Tommy,” in answer to his deep
hello, “I don’t want to go to the movies
tonight. Just run over and talk to me,
will you? Right.”
“Tom,” she began when he arrived,
“you know how Aunt Emily wants me
to train in that Boston hospital next
month. I want to go and yet—oh, I
don’t know what to do. I wish you'd
kelp me.”
“Thought you'd made up your mind
to go.”
“I had, but this morning Mr. Allen
called me into his office, and, Tom,
what do you think? He wants to train
me for Claire Temple's place. She's go-
ing to be married, you know. I was so
surprised, I never thought he’d choose
me.”
“Don’t know why not.”
“But Im not smart, Tom.
girls are cleverer than I am.”
“What other girls can do, you can
do,” doggedly.
“Oh, Tom, do you think so? Well,
anyhow, he wants me.”
“More money, of course.”
“Yes; it's really a sort of private
gecretary. Doesn't that sound big?
But poor Mr, Allen. He wants me to
give him my word of honor that I'll
stay at least two years. Poor thing.
Claire's the third girl he's had since
I've worked there. So Im choosing my
career tonight. Which shall it be,
office or hospital?”
Silence.
“Say something, Tom.
there like a bump on a log!”
“Aren't you leaving out the other
career?’
' “What other career?
“Marriage.”
_ “Pooh! I'll meet lots of nice sales
Lots ot
Don’t sit
Idly her finger |
traced the birl’s head on the magazine ;
men in the office. And in the hospital
—why, Aunt Emily says there's so
many wealthy young bachelors you
just trip over ‘em!”
“You can marry me, if you want
to, Dot. I'm willing.”
She swept him a deep curtsey. “No,
thank yeu, Mr. Waitte. I wouldn't
dream of bothering you.”
“But, I” :
Dorothy held up her hand. Office,
hospital, office, hospital,” she counted
her slim fingers. “Eeny, meeny, miney,
mo. Toss up a cent.”
Obediently, he dug in his pocket.
“Tom! Remember that Columbus
day, when Ruth and Stan and you and
I all wanted to do something different,
and we couldn't agree, s0 we each
wrote on a slip of paper and put them
in Stan’s hat and drew one?”
“Yup. Worked, too, didn't it? Why
don’t you try that now? Good a way
as any.”
“But this Is serious.”
“Well, if you can’t decide for your-
self, we'll have to decide for you. Come
on, now; be a sport. I'll write the
slips.”
He took three cards from his inside
pocket, wrote rapidly on the backs and
dropped them into a blue bowl on the
table.
“Come on, now. No cheating, and
no changing.” He held the bowl high.
Dorothy’s eyes danced, but her
mouth was a straight red line. Slowly
she reached up and took out a card.
They read it together.
“Marriage!”
“Oh, Tom!”
“No changing, now. Play the game
fair, Dot.”
“But, Tom—"
His voice deepened, sobered: “Dot,
of course we're going to get married
Just like we used to say when we were
kids. Father's taking me into the busi-
ness the first of the year, and we'll
build a house on that lot up Cedar Hill
that Gran left me.”
“But you haven't said that you—"
“There never was anybody else,” he
said. .
“They say I'm slow,” spoke Tommy
Waitte, “but I guess I'm not so blamed
slow, after all.” And he proceeded to
prove it,
* *
Two hours later, Tom went home, for
the first time in his memory, by the
front door, Dorothy watched him swing
down the path and her eyes were ten-
der. Tommy was a good boy—he'd
make a first-rate husband.
She shut the door and flew back to
the sitting room. From the blue bowl
she pulled two cards. Then snatched
up the Ladies’ Magazine, skipped
twice around the table, and collapsed,
a laughing, breathless heap, on the
couch. :
“Forgive me, Tommy,” she whis-
pered, “but it worked! It worked! It
worked! He wrote ‘marriage’ on every
ope, Just like the boy in the story.”
SNAIL “L#VING INK BOTTLE”
Small Crustacean Found on New Eng-
land Coast Endowed With Re-
markable Properties.
Along the coast of New England
there is a common species of sea snail
that is a living bottle of indelible ink,
very beautiful and quite as durable,
when applied to lingerie, as any that
one buys. The mollusk in suestion is
found clinging to rocks just helow
the level of low tide, and the ink is
contained in a whitish vein beneath
the skin of its back. The fluid is at
first yellow in color, but when ex-
posed to the sun it turns green, then
blue, then purple, and ‘finally to a
brilliant unchangeable crimson. This
is one of the two species of whelks
from which in ancient time was ob-
tained the famous “Tyrian purple’—a
{ dye considered too splendid for the
i adornment of any but kings and
nobles. Indeed, it was so costly that
none but the very rich could afford
it, wool dyed with it being worth $175
a pound. The liquor was procured by
crushing the snails in a mortar. Six
pounds of it were required to stain
a pound of wool, the ready-woveil
fabric being soaked in it and after-
ward exposed to sunlight. Stuffs thus
dyed are said to have had a remark-
able color effect, presenting changing
hues to the eye, like modern “variable”
silks.
* * * * -
Hot Onions and Pneumonia.
Hot onions, according to a French
physician, are said to be sure cure for
pneumonia. The remedy is as follows:
Take six or ten onions, according to
size, and chop fine, put in a large pan
over a fire, then add the same quantity
or rye meal and vinegar to make a
thick paste. In the meantime stir it
thoroughly, letting it simmer for five
or ten minutes. Then put in a cotton
bag large enough to cover the lungs
and apply to chest as hot as patient
can bear. In about ten minutes apply
another, and thus continue by reheat-
ing the poultices, and in a few min-
utes the patient will be out of danger.
This simple remedy has never failed
to cure this too-often fatal malady.
Usually three or four applications
will be sufficient.—London Tit-Bits.
In Praise of Open Fire.
Following are some thoughts by the
late John Burroughs: “The open fire
is a primitive, elemental thing: it
cheers with more than mere heat; it is
a bit of the red heart of nature laid
bare; it is a dragon of the prince,
docile and friendly there in the corner,
What pictures; what activity; how so-
cial; how it keeps up the talk. You
are not permitted to forget it for a mo-
ment. How it responds when you
nudge it! How It rejoices when you
feed it! Why, an open fire in your
room is a whole literature, It supple
ments your library as nothing else in
the room does or can.”
Lardlord Could Not Help but Think
Citizens of Petunia Were Over.
doing Their “Coue.”
“Well, no,” admitted the landlord of
the Petunia tavern. “The town isn’t
as lively just now as it might be. You
see, at present the Coue craze is raging
here, and it seems like our folks can’t
get up much interest in anything else.
No use to attempt to buy, sell or beg,
or ask a direction or expect a favor,
for the party you speak to is pretty
sure to be muttering, ‘Every day, in
every way, I am growing better and
better, and walling his eyes at va-
cancy as he does so.
“Tuther evening the I. X. L. store
was robbed. Constable Slackputter
saw the villains leaving with the goods,
but he was Just starting to say, ‘Every
day, in every way—,’ and so forth, and
by the time he had repeated the
formula 20 times the robbers’ car was
clear out of hearing. A feller started
to propose to a girl lately, but she had
begun to state 20 times that she was
better and better. This gave him op-
portunity to think it over and he got
up without committing himself, and
left. Any minute I am looking for a
building to ketch fire, and the fire com-
pany be in the midst of declaring that
they are better than ever before and
the structure be holocausted before
they get to it. There are so many citi-
zens growing better and better that I
don’t believe the town will amount to
anything till they quit it.”—Kansas
City Star.
WORD MAKES A DIFFERENCE
Controversy at Philadelphia Is a Case
in Point, and There Have Been
Many Others.
In the case of a Philadelphia woman
who served as a stenographer in
France during the war, and has since
passed away, the government has de-
clined to refund a tax payment of $56,
394 made by her estate, on the ground
that she was not “in” but merely
“with” the military forces in France.
Much depends on a single word, and
the case is to go before a jury, the
Philadelphia Public Ledger says.
There are many historic instances ot
controversy over a word. Goldwin
Smith said the Civil war was fought
on a point of grammar—whether it
should be “the United States is” or
“the United States are.” Church coun-
cils in the Middle ages were “by
schisms rent assunder” over the use
of the word “filioque” in the creed, and
there are similar divergences over
other terms. “In the beginning was
the. Word”—and that word, the Greek
“logos,” has itself been the theme of
interminable discussion. The speaker
who has the malady which in ithe
Thaw trial was termed ‘logorrhea’”
has no understanding of the art of one
who makes every word count for its
value and do its work,
Your Telephone Can Sing.
Did you know it is possible to play
a tune on an ordinary telephone re-
ceiver? asks London Tit-Bits.
The musical telephone works in the
same way as the usual speaking in-
strument. When you talk into a tele-
phone your voice moves a little disk
which alters the power of an electric
current, thus moving a duplicate disk
at the other end of the line. This sec-
ond disk translates the electric wave
back into human language.
In the musical telephone, instead of
talking into. a mouthpiece, various
buttons are pressed which alter the
electric current in the same way that
your voice does. This causes the disk
in the receiver to move up and down.
In this way various notes are pro-
duced, and if the apparatus can be
varied sufficiently, whole tunes may
be played... .
Experiments have shown that elec-
tric lights can be played in the same
way. A big arc lamp has been made
to play “God Save the King,”
Galluses.
In addition to being the food pro-
ducer, political balance wheel, and all
the other things the farmer does and
is for the country, it looks as If he
would have to protect and maintain
the great American institution of sus-
penders.
The cities and towns have passed
them up entirely, and pin thelr faith
to the relatively untrustworthy belt.
They are even making the jest that a
pessimist is a man who wears sus-
penders as well as his belt,
Let us rally around, or under, or in-
side of, as the case may be, the Amer:-
can gallus. No other device is so
scientific, so reliable, so comforting.
No other will stand such punishment
and still function smoothly and effi-
clently, down to the last two buttons
of 10-penny nalls.—Farm Journal,
For Handling Coil Stock.
The loading and unloading of heavy
coils of wire or rod-stock, never a sim-
ple proposition, is expeditiously etf-
fected by means of a novel conveyor
developed by a Wickliffe (0.) concern
for use with its electric tramrail sys-
tem. The coll conveyor is in the form
of a steel hook about eight feet long,
and will carry a ton of rod-stock at a
time. In conjunction with electric hoists
it makes the loading and unloading of
this sort of metal cheap and easy.—
Scientific American.
The Too Social Microbe.
“They have succeeded in isolating
the grip germ.”
“Yes,” answered Farmer Corntossel.
“They can Isolate him once in a
while, but there ain’t no way to make
him keep to himse!f.”
TAKING IT TOO SERIOUSLY
Forget-Me-Nots
By CLARA C. HOLMES
(©, 1923, by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.)
“What have ye got there in that
basket, Bula?”
The girl's face turned crimson ; she
did not answer, 3
_“Up_to some underhanded affair,
eh? Where did ye get them weeds?’
“They came from Mrs. Doubleday’s
garden, father,”
“I won't have any more weeds from
anybody’s garden; haven't I got white-
weed an’ bouncin’ bets an’ goldenglow
all over the farm already? Ye march
that bluegrass straight back. After
this—hear me?—after this, I warn ye
to keep away from them Double-
days.”
The girl obediently retraced her
steps to Meadow road. She climbed
upon the meadow fence and sat there,
“I will not take back these forget-
me-nots. Harold gave them to me,
What a cruel world this is!” she cried.
“I know!
I can take the flowers |
over to the brookside and transplant |
them under the willows.”
She was busy with her plants when
she heard her name softly called. She
glanced up.
“Oh, it's you, Harold. Father
wouldn't let me have the flowers.”
“I've just seen your father, Bula:
he has forbidden me to meet you
again. He seems to think my friend-
ship will hurt you. Oh, Bula! I cannot
submit to this ignominy! I'm going
away for good.”
“Father’s ideas are not mine, Har-
old; you are not to blame because
your father got in prison for life.”
“The primary law includes the inno-
cent. I had better go where I can
build my own reputation.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “You
can't write the letters, because father
would intercept them,” she warned.
Taking her hands, he looked earn-
estly into her trustful eyes.
“I think my mother has good judg-
ment,” he began, frankly, “I—I have
been talking matters over with her.
“Well, This Is a Delight!”
Ske thinks if I go, you will forget be-
cause you are young, and you have the
bright, wide world before you. Some
time you may appreciate my not hav-
Ing doomed you to share in my fam-
ily’s disrepute.”
“I don’t want to forget you, Harold,
unless you yourself don’t care.”
“I do care, sweetheart,” he cried,
grasping her to him. “I do care, and
I'm tearing myself away. Dearest,
dearest girl, good-by!”
She did not see him disappear into
the thicket. Her eyes were blinded
with tears.
The next day Annie, Bula’'s cousin
and helper, came rushing home from a
neighborhood call.
“Bula, Harold Doubleday’s gone! He
enlisted in the American marine!”
The information was news to Bula,
but she answered quietly: “He told
me he intended to go away.”
“I never, never will forgive Uncle
Walter,” stormed Annie. “When Har-
old came here yesterday to say good-
by, your father raved at him and or-
dered him off the premises!”
_ “Harold is displaying good sense,
Annie; he was handicapped living
here.”
“He should have been helped,” re-
torted Annie. “He is a fine fellow,
and his mother is a beautiful woman.”
Bula despatched the loquacious An-
nie about her work, Indeed, with the
care of the household, the oversight
of the vegetable garden, and the ducks
and hens, Bula had little time in
which to grieve in loneliness. In the
short days of winter she was occupied
with the family sewing. The follow-
ing April the great war came. Early
in the year following the armistice,
Bula's father died.
“What will you do now?’ Annie
asked, gazing curiously at the mistress
of the big Meadowbrook farm.
“I will reserve enough for a vege-
table and flower garden, and dispose
of the rest of the land.”
Indeed a wild fancy obsessed Bula’'s
mind—a desire to possess the flowers
she had been so sternly denied.
“Will you stay with me, Annie, and
tend store? We can have a flower
shop out on the boulevard.”
Annie possessed a bookful of ideas;
she waxed eloquent.
There was no irresolution in Bula.
With the assistance of a carpenter ang
a gardener the flower shop idea at
once became an actuality. A road-
side field was ornamented with trel-
lises, arches and mounds; and by
summer these were radiant with fa-
miliar as well as rare flowers.
One morning Bula wandered through
her flower Eden. She was curiously
restless. The insect pests disheartened
her and Annie's chatter bored. She
gave In to the impulse to get away
from the garden. :
“I'm going to the brookside, Annie,
to gather watergrass. It has spread
and run yards and yards. [I've a won-
derful bed of forget-me-nots there.”
Dew sparkled on the green. Birds
sang joyfully. It was a perfect June
day.
“It makes my heart ache to come
here,” Bula mused. “How cruelly
practical he was! I hope I never shall
see that heartless man again!”
“Well, this is a delight!”
“How do you do, Lieutenant
Doubleday,” she greeted coldly.
“It’s oddly coincidental that I
should come here. But I must say
I'm glad,” he repeated.
“I thought you were stationed on
the Pacific coast,” she ventured.
“I am; I'm on furlough.”
“Don’t you like the West?”
“Yes, but it's lonesome out there.”
“That seems incredible.” She
laughed cynically.
“Why? I've always been thinking
of you, Bula.”
“In that dazzling uniform you should
not have been lonely.”
“Here is our seat still—under the
willows,” he suggested.
“I must go home.”
“I've come all the way from the
coast in order to see you again.”
“I've ceased to care now, Lieuten-
ant Doubleday.”
“You can care again, Bula, can't
you?" 4
“Have you changed your old opin-
fon?” ’
“Yes, since my promotion. Is a man
responsible for the spirit of his an-
cestors?” i
“Surely not.”
He grasped her hands. “Can you
forgive me for an unintentional un-
kindness?”
“I—TI'll be friendly.”
Impulsively he clasped her in his
arms. ]
“You said we'd begin again,” she de-
murred, struggling to free herself.
“We'll. begin, dear,. where. we left
off.”
Surrendering to his unyielding arms,
she finished the story for him with g
tearful smile. “Here amid forget-me-
nots, Harold.”
CHOSE NEW BREEDING PLACE
Periodic Migration of Pearl Oysters
Caused Alarm Which Proved
to Be Unfounded.
Ceylon today is perhaps best known
for its tea. But in days gone by it
had a more romantic claim to fame—
it was the home of the most renowned
pearl fisheries in the world.
Fifteen years ago the pearl oysters,
which were a source of great wealth
to the island, made one of their peri-
odic mysterious disappearances.
In 1919 it was discovered that they
were returning to their banks on the
Gulf of Mannar, the narrow strip of
water that divides Ceylon from India.
Unfortunately, as it seemed at first,
they were depositing themselves on
sand.
Past history had shown that the
pearl oyster never lived to a fishable
age unless it settled on rock, but those
responsible for the care of the oyster
banks were not disheartened.
They believed that the oysters on
the sand would breed, and, as there
were numerous rocky areas in the
vicinity, there was every chance of a
fair proportion of the spats, or young
oysters, depositing themselves on more
favorable ground.
And such has proved to be the case.
Today there are countless millions of
voung and thriving pearl oysters on
the rocky areas in the Gulf of Mannar.
Noise.
Quietest place in the world Is a
laboratory at University of Utrecht,
Netherlands. Walls are insulated so
that no sound can get in from the
outside.
In this absolutely noiseless room,
important experiments are being ecar-
ried on by scientists studying the ef-
fect of noise on human nerves and
brain.
A person, entering this stillness,
LIMIT HAD BEEN REACHED
| CGoud-Natured Irish Woman Evidently
Was Willing to Overlook a
Good Deal, but—
The Woman, according to her prom-
ise, went to the suburbs to take dinner
with friends. She boarded a pay-as-
you-enter car and settled down for a
long ride. Soon her attention was at-
tracted by the entrance of a big, fat
woman with a large market basket and
a huge bundle. She sat in the seat
nearest the door on the left, set the
basket at her feet and then piled the
loosely wrapped bundle on top. All
went well until a man got in at the
next block. Then, as the car gave a
lurch, he fell over the basket and
knocked off the bundle, which burst
open and a turkey rolled on the floor.
“I beg your pardon,” he stammered,
utterly confused, while the woman
picked up her turkey, rewrapped it
and put it back in place.
“Ah, and there’s no harm done. It's
all right, God bless ye.”
The car jolted on and presently
stopped again to take on another pas-
senger. A second gentleman dropped
in his fare, lurched forward apd
tripped over the basket. Again the
ill-fated turkey tumbled in the dust.
The passengers giggled, but not the
woman. She rested her elbows on her
hips and eyed the man with a pug-
nacious light in her eye.
“Sorry, madam, but—" he began.
*Ah, it’s all right this time. God
bless ye. But—I'll give the devil to
the next poor fool who comes in.”
And the glint in her eye told how
muh the next passenger would have
to be thankful for if he watched his
toes and avoided that basket.—New
York Sun.
FINALLY SAW GREAT LIGHT
New Distinction = Accorded George
Washington by Wideawake Little
Indiana Youngster.
iSecause Milburn had been reading
about George Washington at school,
his mother gave him an illustrated
book about Washington, relates the
Indianapolis News. The first picture
in the volume was that of George
Washington on a horse, gazing with
a rapt expression at a part of the
country of which he was supposed to
be the parent. Under the picture was
the caption, “George Washington, the
Father of His Country.”
Milburn opened the book and began
to read, “George Washington—George
Washington, the father—' but there
he halted. Finally, he appealed to
his mother,
“Study the picture for a while, and
see if you can’t make it out,” his
mother adivsed. i
Milburn did study the picture, Sud-
denly he had an inspiration, and al-
most bursting with pride, he shouted :
“I've got it now. George \Washing-
ton, the father of the horse.”
Up-to-Date Advertising.
As the late party-goer opened the
door he saw a man wearing a burglar's
mask kneeling before the safe. The
next moment the man had turned and
placed a revolver at the other's head.
“Throw up your hands,” cried the
intruder.
With the meekness of a lamb and
the speed of an express train, he
obeyed.
“You understand,” remarked the
man, pleasantly, “that I can, in the
present circumstances, loot the prem-
ises at my pleasure.”
+] do.”
“You realize that you are at my
mercy?”
“1 do.”
*“‘Well, then,” cried the masked man,
“you will be interested to know that
I got in through your dining room
window without the slightest difficulty.
Had it been equipped with Popson’s
patent safety burglar alarms this
could not have happened. Installed
complete with battery, $25. Allow me
tc hand you a circular and to .wish
you the best of good evenings and all
tlie pleasures of the season.”
Vanishing.
Plant a tree and get free honorary
membership in American Tree associa-
tion. It hopes to induce a million of
us to set out at least one tree this
year. Let's make it two mililon, or
more.
You appreciate the forestry problem
if you recently have had to buy any
lumber. Lumber is vanishing, along
with the forests. Our national lumber
preduction now is less than 27,000,000,
000 board feet a year, compared with
46,000,000,000 fn 1906, though our
woodsmen are attacking the forests
more vigorously than then. Like
liquor—the cask is getting emptier,
He Arrived in Time.
A veterinarian recently called to the
home of an East sider was horrified
has a peculiar sensation in the ears,
then a feeling of terror. Noise, which
is making a nervous wreck of civil!
ized man, has become Such a part of
us that its total absence strikes fear
to the heart, Deaf people are not af- |
fected this way, for the vibrations of
sound reach them through their other
senses.
Misunderstood Phrase,
“I don't care a dam” IS a phrase that
was recently the cause of a member |
being called to order in the house of
parliament. A recent writer explains
that “dam” Is an old Indian name for
u coin current in the Eighteenth cen-
tury and worth twopence. .There 8 a
passage in “Wellington's Dispatches”
which quotes a letter written by
Colonel Wellesley (as he was them),
who describes a certain officer's opinion
as “not worth a twopenny dam.”
on his arrival to see the children play-
ing with a young timber wolf, The
owner explained that he had pur-
chased the animal believing it to be
a German police dog. The wolf is
now incarcerated in a heavy wire cage
in the back yard.—Detroit News,
Naming the Dock.
It was a beautiful little lake. The
man who had purchased an estate on
it said he must have a dock for his
motorboat and asked if there was any
tiiuber in the neighborhood. They told
him there was plenty of hickory.
“Build it of that,” he directed, “an«
I'll name it Hickory Dickory Dock.”"—
Louisville Courier-Journal,
: Sure to Regret It.
Never make a fool of yourself over
# woman. 12 she marries you, you
will never hear the last of it.—Judge.