Boi
Bellefonte, Pa., March 11, 1927.
THINGS ARE TOUGH.
Said the little read rooster “Gosh all hem-
lock; Things are tough,
Seems that worms are getting scarcer, and
I cannot find enough,
What's become of all those fat ones is a
mystery to me;
There were thousands in that rainy spell
-——but now, where can they be?”
The old black hen who heard him, didn’t
grumble or complain,
She had gone through lots of dry spells,
she had lived through floods of rain,
So she flew up on the grindstone and she
gave her claws a whet,
As she said “I've never seen the time when
there weren't worms to get.”
She picked a new and undug spot: the
earch was hard and firm,
The little rooster jeered “New ground,
that's no place for a worm,”
The old black hen just spread her feet,
she dug both fast and free,
“I must go to the worms” she said “The
worms won't come to me.”
The rooster vainly spent his day, through
habit, by the ways,
‘Where fat, round worms had passed in
squads back in the rainy days.
‘When nightfall found him supperless, he
growled in accents rough,
“I'm hungry as a fowl can be, conditions
sure are tough.”
He turned to the old black hen and said,
“It's worse with you,
For you're not only hungry, but you must
be tired too,
I rested while I watched for worms, so I
feel fairly pert;
But how are you? Without worms too and
after all that work.”
The old black hen hopped to her perch and
dropped her eyes to sleep
And murmured in a drowsy tone “Young
man hear this and weep,
I'm full of worms and happy, for I've dined
both long and well,
The worms are there as always—but I had
to dig like Hell.”
Oh, here and there red roosters still are
holding sales positions,
They cannot do much business now be-
cause of poor conditions,
But as soon as things get right again,
they'll sell a hundred firms,
Meanwhile the old black hens are out.and
gobbling up the worms.
—Exchange.
‘ pt ——f A on ————
THE VERY GOOD ACTOR.
Elaine Laure was slamming the
pans in the tiny kitchen of a wall-up
Harlem flat. Her husband slammed
the piano in their shabby living room.
“If he hadn't bought that baby
grand on the installment plan I might
have a car!” Elaine gave the coffee
pot an extra vicious bang.
“If she wouldn’t make so much noise
I might dope out this air!” Tony
Larue’s long fingers wandered over
the keys in search of suitable rhythm.
Elaine had been in the chorus of a
Broadway show when Tony had fallen
in love with her from the orchestra
pit. Not from the seats of the
wealthy that speculators sell, but from
the lowly nightly chair of an under-
paid violinist. It is seldom that a
carefree girl used to the footlights’
glare gives her heart to a fiddler with-
out any bank account. But petite
Elaine had fallen hard for the soulful
young musician. She had scornfully
given a millionaire the stony stare and
his conge, preferring Tony’s soltaire
to the other’s tempting offers.
“A peach of a girl and a deuce of a
shame!” Fifi St. Clair opined. “She
might have been a Marchioness or a
movie star. To think of Elaine wast-
ing herself on a tin-pan-alley Tom-
my!”
In fact, there were few of her clos-
est friends who could understand her
choice. Elaine, who had been the idol
of the smartest night clubs! Elaine,
however, fooled them all.
Tony, of course, kept on with his
bow. Even love must live. For a
year and a half both of them moved
in a rosy realm of bliss. Sharing a
little nest of their own compensated
them for the sacrifice they made.
“You'll make the grade some day,
old dear!” she would assure him fond-
ly. She pictured his name in electric
lights after he had attained the covet-
ed concert stage. She was certain
that he would. The time would come
when his songs would ring through
the cabarets. His playing would be
wafted on the ether every night. Then
she’d have her little car, the comforts
and the trips they loved to plan.
Working about in the kitchen, she
heard a crash of chords. There fol-
lowed a lilting harmony that lured
her toes to tread the worn linoleum
floor. It really wasn’t bad, that catchy
melody. , She caught the scratch of
Tony’s pen as he transferred the mu-
sic to his manuscript.
“How does it strike you?” he call-
ed to Elaine. She knew he was all en-
thused.
“Not so bad,” she answered a little
grudgingly.
“Breakfast’s ready,” she added.
“Forget it!” came from Tony. “I'm
doing a song for Hamilton Glenn,” he
explained, and kept on writing. “He
heads the bill at the theatre two weeks
from tonight. If I can get him to try
it out, I'm sure it will go over.”
How often she had heard him voice
such vain hopes before.
Just then the telephone rang.
Fifi St. Clair was on the wire.
Elaine hadn’t heard from her former
chum for something over a year. Fifi,
too, had forsaken the show for the
bonds of matrimony... She had married
all older, indulgent man who owned a
mine or something. In any event, he
was rich—far beyond the potential
state that Elaine hoped for Tony. At
the moment Fifi was phoning from
her private suite at the Ritz.
“You must come down to luncheon
with me. I won’t take no for an an-
swer. Hop in a taxi and toddle along.
I'm simply crazy to see you!”
i Elaine was fetching a picture when
she entered the hotel lounge,
“Greetings, Ray of Sunshine!” She
glanced with fond approval at the nat-
ural golden hair that had earned
Elaine her nickname.
“How come you're back in town?”
Elaine was hoping that her tone
wouldn’t betray her envy of Fifi’s neg-
ligee. It was really a gorgeous Chin-
ese thing that became her wonderful-
ly. A wistful glance also appraised
the cost of the apartment. Its rent
for a day must be as much as Tony’s
flat for a month. Elaine was a bit
nonplussed. She’d never dare take Fifi
home for steak and fried potatos in
her shabby uptown flat.
Fifi proceeded to answer in her
characteristic way. It appeared that
hubby had not come on, but had re-
mained at home—for which she was
duly glad. Servants, cars and a bank
account had only proved a bore to the
former Miss St. Clair. The social
whirl of an inland town had driven
her to tears. “Not of the genus gly-c-
erin,” Fifi had affirmed. “I never
knew I could cry before and really
truly mean it. But, honest, kid, one
can. You'll note that I've learned to
call me one instead of the usual you.
Oh, I've learned lots of things. I'd
rather be proud and poor in New York
than play the wealthy-matron role in
a dinky deadly town!”
Elaine smiled with sympathy, but
wandered, after all, whether Fifi
would. Fifi, however, went on. The
lure of the lights and the jazzful wail
of the moaning saxophone had called
her back to Broadway.
“Just for a vacation—to rest my
shattered, tattered nerves from the
deadly quiet of that seelpy rustic burg.
Doting daddy was willing enough. On
the level, he’s a dear! But he’s just
a bit old-fashioned. He decided I
needed a chaperon. So I promptly
thought of you.”
“Why of me?” inquired Elaine. She
wasn’t going to be put on the shelf in
any such sort of way. Tony had got
away with that. Fifi certainly
shouldn’t.
“Aren't you married and settled
down, and all that sort of thing?”
Fifi filed her answer with a humorous
toss of her head. “Officially I’m visit-
ing you. Otherwise I'm here—board-
ing at the Ritz. Actually, it’s going
to be just one round of parties. We're
lunching with two superchicks who'll
be here any minute.”
“Fifi!” Elaine protested. She shrank
from the thought of the program the
other was proposing. Yet the part
that Fifi suggested was entirely in-
nocent. Surely, after her devotion,
she deserved a. little fling. Hadn’t she
also made up her mind that Tony
needed a lesson? Well, then—here
was her chance!
“Bring on
friends!”
It was half-past two when the party
of four were seated in the grill.
Elaine had a curious feeling that she
must be Cinderella. However, the
man who sat at her side put her at
her ease. Gray-haired and distingue,
his appearance spelled prosperity and
he proved fascinating. Fifi’s compan-
ion was Carter Bruce, an architect
from Chicago. He had drawn some
factory plans for Fifi’s absent half.
The two had met at a dinner given by
Fifi’s husband at the small-town coun-
try club. The present luncheon had
been planned while Fifi and Bruce had
daned—more than a month ago. Only
this morning Bruce had phoned to
Martin Roberts to join them. That
was when he had learned that another
girl was to be in the party.
With a subtle skill that she did not
suspect, Roberts drew her out. He
was guardedly interested. Sketchily
he let her know a little of himself.
His wife, she gathered, was abroad.
They did not live together. The fac-
tories that he controlled made tangi-
ble the visions of architects and build-
ers, This accounted for the contact
that had brought him into touch with
Fifi and her husband. But Roberts
was artistic. Music and rare tapes-
tries were his two pet hobbies.
Music naturally prompted Elaine to
boast a little of Tony. Roberts grew
sympathetic. Before they had lighted
cigarettes over their demi-tasse, he
practically knew the history of
Elaine’s domestic life. Encouraged by
his interest, she told him a little
proudly that Tony was writing a pop-
ular song which Hamilton Glenn would
sing.
Martin Roberts listened with flat-
tering attention. That he happened
to know Hamilton Glenn and know
him rather well he did not choose to
divulge. Elaine would have changed
her tone somewhat had she been aware
of that.
“Let’s motor out to Indian Head and
dance while we have supper,” Carter
Bruce proposed.
Fifi was keen for the ride. A quizz-
ical look in his half-crossed eye, Rob-
erts consulted Elaine.
“I'd love to, but I really can’t.”
Elaine glanced at her wrist watch---
a cheap little plated affair. It was
after four. Tony’d be home from the
theatre at six in a hurry for his sup-
per. He had to be back by ten of
eight so it always was a rush.
“Oh, phene to Tony that you're with
me!” Fifi was out of patience. “I
can’t go with these two men alone.
Tony’ll understand.”
“Couldn’t you possibly?” Roberts
asked. Against her better judgment,
Elaine supposed she could. Roberts
went with her to the phone and Elaine
dialed the theatre.
They motored out to Indian Head in
Roberts’ limousine, dined at a terrace
table and later danced in the moon-
light in the open air. Elaine com-
pletely forgot herself in the pleasure
of the moment; but she suddenly felt
guilty when they started home. Tony
would be in a tantrum, she hadn’t the
slightest doubt, and Elaine grew more
and more contrite as they drove to the
city. It was a little after one when
Fifi and Roberts and Carter Bruce
bade her a gay good-night in front of
her apatment.
Just a little timidly, Elaine climbed
the stairs, Unlocking the door, she
stood in the hall, listening for a mo-
ment. There was a light in the living
room. She could hear Tony beating
time as he softly whistled, Of course
he would be composing. The neigh-
bors would ha
your handsome boy
ve arisen ‘en masse if
he had used the piano -at so late an
hour. Nevertheless, he was at it hard,
with never so much as a thought as
to where his wife might be.
The guilty Elaine was secretly glad,
but her contrite side was hurt. Wasn’t
he even going to ask where and with
whom she’d been?
Apparently not, she decided, as he
whistled on. Then her shadow fell on
the music sheet and he paused with
a puzzled air.
Staccato notes sounded the theme
of the next week’s discords. Indig-
nant at Tony's indifference, Elaine had
little to say. She mentioned Fifi’s
visit, but otherwise was silent about
her evening out.
Elaine’s conscience cuddled itself.
If he felt that way about it, why
should she stay at home? She was
sick of this life of soap-suds, dusters
and darning socks. She meant to find
what fun she might while Fifi was in
town. So every morning, as soon as
she could, she hurried down to the
Ritz. She lunched and shopped and
supped and danced with Fifi and her
friends. Each time that she saw Rob-
erts, Elaine liked him more. What a
pity she hadn’t met a man of Martin's
wealth and charm before she married ,
Now she felt that he never |
would make his way in the world. Be- !
Tony!
sides, she didn’t want to wait. So, in
spite their gay parties—or perhaps be-
cause of them—Elaine grew discon-
tented.
Martin Roberts, however, gave no
hint of any regard other than a liking
for Elaine's society. If Fifi flirted
with Carter Bruce, it was only a man-
ifestation of her gay and mischievous
nature. Elaine was sure that deep in
her heart Fifi loved her husband.
A few days more and Fifi’d be gone.
Life would be drab again. The end
of her role as chaperon would ring the
curtain down on their gay good times.
That evening Tony was in the
depths when he came home from the
theatre. Hamilton Glenn’s appear-
ance was postponed for a month. A
further and vexatious delay in trying
out his song! Some one eles might
offer one that would score a hit and
Tony would lose his chance. Elaine
dared not trust herself to voice her
thoughts to her husband. What would
be the use? Besides, she’d have to
ask him for money in the morning.
She hoped that by then Tony would
be in a better frame of mind.
But Tony didn’t make any com-
plaint when he handed her the sum
she needed for current expenses. In-
stead, he gave her a parting peck and
seemed intent on getting away as
quickly as he could. In view of the
fact that she'd nowhere to go now
that Fifi had gone, Elaine was more
lonely than ever as she went about the
housework. Then a little after 10
o'clock she heard the doorbell ring.
To her surprise, a delivery boy was
standing there with a package—a box
that was addressed to her and labeled
with the name of one of the smartest
furriers on 5th avenue.
Nestled in tissue paper she found
a beautiful silver fox, as soft and
lovely a neckpiece as she had ever
seen. Of course she hadn’t bought it.
Its luxurious attractiveness was far
beyond her means. She did not find
any card inside—any slip of informa-
tion. She wondered if by any chance
Fifi could have sent it—whether she
really ought to accept such a gener-
ous gift, even though Fifi could, of
course, well afford to make her such
a splendid present. She phoned the
shop, but no one knew who had made
the purchase. Nevertheless, there was
no mistake. The neckpiece had been
paid for and ordered sent to her.
Elaine tried it on. In the soft ca-
resses of its embrace she made a pret-
ty picture. She wondered what her
husband would say—whether he'd even
notice it if she wore the fur. As she
stood before the mirror she heard the
telephone. With a start she recog-
nized the voice of Martin Roberts. He
was pleading that she lunch with him
in spite of her ultimatum not to see
him again. Somehow she'd known
that he would call, and although she
knew that she ought to decline, Blaine
was aware that she would consent
when Roberts became persuasive. It
may be that she wanted him to see
her in the fur—to hear the quiet com-
pliment she knew it would evoke. For
just a moment she wondered if it
could be Roberts who had sent the fur.
Surely he wouldn’t insuit her by do-
ing such a thing. But if he had, she
told herself, the only course to take
would be to tell him frankly that she
couldn’t and wouldn't receive any such
gift from him,
Roberts, however, only smiled when
Elaine explained the mystery and
watched his face intently for any be-
traying sign. “Maybe it came from
Santa Claus,” he laughingly suggest-
ed. “Apparently the old boy knew
how well you'd look in it. Anyway,
every day really ought to be Christ-
mas.” ’ :
* Elaine had promised herself to write
to Fifi about the fur, but as the days
slipped quickly by she forgot to do so.
Tony never mentioned it. In fact, she
saw so little of him that it was not
surprising if he did not know she had
it. But just as she might have sur-
mised it would, her luncheon alone
with Roberts led to many more. Now
and then she dined with him and they
went to a gay revue or out to dance
in the evening. She compromised with
her conscience on the ground of Tony’s
neglect. Then, too, this new compan-
ionship was a purely platonic one.
Propinquity, however, often plays
strange pranks with Plato’s friendly
theory.
More frequent tiffs with Tony over
trivial things resulted in a violent
scene that served to cap the climax.
It came one night when Tony found
that he had no evening shirts.” Elaine
had completely forgotten to send them
to the laundry. Bitterly sarcastic, he
hurried out to a nearby shop in a fit
of petulance. Dressing for the din-
ner date she had with Martin Roberts,
Elaine was in a furious mood when
she left the house."
Skillfully sympathetic, Roberts clev-
erly added fuel to the fires of her dis-
content. They had motored out to
Indian Head to dine again on the ter-
race, and under the spell again on the
terrace, and under the spell of the
balmy night Elane did not protest
when he took her in his arms. He had
never attempted to kiss her before,
but now she freely gave him her lips
}
with a willing eagerness. She was
I tired of being neglected; longing to
be loved.
“I've tried hard not to tell you, dear.
It’s always seemed so hopeless,” he
said as he held her close while they
rode back in his car—with never a
thought for the ears and eyes of the
silent chauffeur. “But now that we
i know how much we care, why keep
up this pretense?” Ardently he beg-
ged Elaine to make the break with
Tony. He'd take her away on his
private yacht for a long, glorious
cruise. Later, he'd go to Tony and
get him to let her divorce him. Rob-
erts’ wife, he was
would give him his freedom gladly.
Instinctively she recoiled from the
thought of what he was proposing;
vet as he painted the picture it cer-
tainly was alluring. Why should they
wait, he pleaded, when they wanted
each other so?
“Martin, I can’t—you know I can’t!”
she sobbed against his shoulder. Yet
even as she bade him good-night with
sorrowful refusal, Elaine was aware
in the depths of her heart that she
meant to go with hin.
It was after four in the morning
when Tony returned to the flat. Cas-
ually, at breakfast time, he said he
had been at the Lambs Club as the
guest of Hamilton Glenn. Coldly
; Elaine ignored his excuse and they
ate in the frigid silence. But as soon
as he'd gone she went to the telephone
and called up Martin Roberts.
“You darling!” he exclaimed when
he heard what she had determined.
Later, at luncheon, they laid their
plans and Elaine was completely car-
ried away by the program he pro-
posed.
“The yacht will be ready tomorrow
at noon,” Roberts announced with ela-
tion. “I'll meet you on the River
Drive, by the steps at 86th street. The
launch will be waiting to take us out,
and no one will be the wiser till after
we have sailed.”
All through the night she tossed
about, the prey to various fears. In
spite of her resolution to leave Tony,
Elaine despised herself. But slum-
ber at last soothed her nerves and it
was after 9 o’clock before she opened
her eyes. With a start she jumped
out of bed. She dreaded facing Tony
over the breakfast table. But Tony,
she found, had gone. That avoided an
ordeal that she probably couldn’t have |
borne. On the table she found a note.
It startled her for a moment. Was it |
possible that Tony was also running
away ?
She smiled as she read it quickly.
Really, it was pathetic.
Glenn will sing my song at the mat-
inee today,” Tony had scrawled on |
the sheet. “Why don’t you come to |
the theatre and we'll have a bite down-
town ?”
By the time that Glenn should sing
that song she would be on the yacht,
sailing down the Hudson on its way
to sea! She hastily wrote as much
on the back of Tony’s invitation.
With a sigh of relief she closed the
door and hurried from the apartment.
It wasn’t yet 11, so she had lots of
time. Sauntering slowly down the
Drive, she picked out a sheltered
bench and sat down to wait for Rob-
erts. He’d pass her on his way to the
wharf, but she wouldn’t be seen by
others walking along the path. |
Suddenly she was startled by some
intuition that something must be
wrong. Standing with his back to her,
not twenty feet away, was a tall,
athletic man, well but quietly dressed,
with a pistol in his hand. Apparently
he thought himself screened from
curious view. He evidently had not
observed Elaine on the nearby bench.
With deliberate meditativeness he con-
templated the weapon; then he slowly
raised it and gazed into its muzzle.
Quickly Elaine sprang to her feet;
her instinct was to scream. Scarcely
knowing what she did, she dashed
across the grass and clutched the nan
by the arm. “Oh, don’t—please don’t!”
she begged him. “There must be
some other way—some one who can
help vou.”
He turned to her with a whimsical
smile, surprised at her interruption.
“It won’t make any difference,” he
said. “There’s no one who will care.”
“Oh, I'm sure there must be!” He
did not seem to be poor or ill; she was
sure that he wasn’t a criminal, and
the light in his dark, handsome eyes
was humorous rather than desperate.
“Would it help if you told me about
it all? Sometimes it does, you know.”
“Perhaps it would,” he assented,
and thoughtfully slipped the pistol in-
to the pocket of his coat. Walking
slowly toward the bench, he sat down
beside Elaine. Nervous and apprehen-
sive, she didn’t know what to say.
Somehow she must keep his mind from
what he meant to do—hold him in
conversation until some one should
come along. No doubt Martin Rob-
erts would think of some solution.
Then, without mentioning his name,
the man began to relate his history of
his worries.
As she listened it seemed to Elaine
a strange coincidence that she should
be the confidante to whom he told his |
story. She learned that he was an |
artist who had finally come to fame, !
but when he had reaped financial re- |
ward he found he had lost his wife. |
So nothing mattered now. The case !
was a perfect parallel of Elaine’s own !
situation. He had no word of blame
for the girl who had run away from
him. He felt that he’d been at fault
Nevertheless, he’d made up his mind
that he wished to end it all.
Elaine grew cold as she listened.
Terror clutched at her heart. Sup-
pose it had been Tony she’d found with
a pistol in his hand. Was that what ,
he would do—if he really cared? If
he did, she’d be a murderess; that
phase of the situation struck her like
a blow. Possibly it was also true that
Tony had suffered in silence, as this
man had done; that he hadn’t com-
plained or objected to her going about
beacuse he bitterly blamed himself
that he had not been able to give her
the things she deserved.
“Then you've really forgiven her—
in spite of her leaving you?” Elaine
was incredulous.
“Yes,” he answered earnestly. “But
there’s nothing left for me.”
“Oh, I'm certain that there must
be!” Elaine assured him in.
“Couldn’t I go and see her? Wouldn't
with a shake of his head.
perfectly sure, |
' “Just whom did you suspect?
‘ing
' you take her back again if she was
willing to come?”
“Gladly,” he answered softly, but
“It isn’t
any use. I'll never see her again.”
“But at least you must promise me
that you won't use the pistol. If you
really love her, you won't let her feel
—as I know I should.” Then in a
burst of emotion Elaine told him her
story. It seemed so strange that their
two lives had run such a similar
course. “There—he’s coming now!”
She spoke in a quick frightened tone
as Martin Roberts appeared at the
top of the flight of steps.
“You're not going with him!” The
man at her side placed his hand de-
eisively on her arm. She stared at
him in amazement, but she did move
back a little so that Roberts might
not see them. In another moment he
would have reached their bench. The
Iman appeared to realize what was
passing through her mind. From his
pocket he took the pistol and handed
it to her. Amazed and timid, she held
it gingerly in her fingers. “If you'll
promise not to run away—to go back
to your husband—I’ll promise you
that I wou’t do what I was going to.”
His look was one of appeal, of stanch-
est resolution.
For a moment Elaine hung ‘her
head. then she nodded assent. She
dared not trust herself to speak, but
a sudden feeling of gladness swept all
doubt from: her mind.
The stranger left her with a smile
in front of a subway kiosk. She
hadn’t told him who she was and had
respected his evident desire to remain
unknown. Ashamed of herself, yet
somehow glad because of what she had
done, she made her way with breath-
less haste to her little flat. Some day
she’d tell Tony—take all the blame on
herself—but now the thing that she
wanted most was to destroy the note
that she had left for him.
Then, when she’d found and torn it
up, she hurried out again. It was
after 3 o’clock when she reached the
theatre. Sitting in the darkness of
the orchestra pit, she watched the tiny
twinkling light of her husband’s ba-
ton. The tears rolled slowly down her
cheeks, but she didn’t care.
wanted to feel herself in Tony’s arms
again. And as soon as the intermis-
sion came she hurried back of the
stage.
Tony was standing in the wings,
his features wreathed in smiles. “Did
you hear him sing it ?”” he asked as he
crossed to her side. “My song brought
down the house.” He playfully strok-
one——"
She looked at him in amazement. |
“You mean that you bought me this?”
“Of course,” he said, with a chuckle.
When
Fifi gave you all those clothes I
thought it was time that hubby did a
little something for you.”
“But, Tony, you couldn’t afford it!”
She was conscience-stricken.
“Well, it won't be long till I can.”
It was time to go back to his orchestra
chair, but suddenly he beckoned to
some one who was coming out of one
of the dressing’rooms. “It’s Hamil-
ton Glenn,” he whispered. “I want
vou to meet and thank him for what
he’s done for us.”
Then as he presented her, Tony hur-
‘ried away. As though she had sud-
denly seen a ghost, Elaine stared at
the singer. There was a twinkle in
his eyes and just the trace of a doubt
on his handsome features. It was the
man she had met in the park—the
man whose pistol was concealed in her
handbag now.
“lI hope you won't be angry,” he
said in a muted tone.
“Why should I be?” she asked, un-
comprehendingly.
“Look at the pistol,” he told her,
and took it from her bag. There
wasn’t a cartridge in it. It never had
been loaded. “Last night at the
Lambs Club I heard Martin Roberts
talking. Tony had told me a little
about the situation at home, but he
never suspected what I learned from
Roberts’ caddish boasts. I'd do a lof
for Tony, my dear—so I planned to
be at your trysting place at the ap-
pointed time. I knew that it would
be fruitless to try te change your
mind by arguments or pleas, but I was
sure that if you knew how much Tony
loves you, you’d never go away.”
“Then you never intended to shoot
yourself ?” stammered Elaine in a
daze. “The story you told me wasn’t
your own—it was really Tony’s ?”
“You've guessed it,” nodded Glenn.
“I hoped that my little plan would
work. It’s going to, isn’t it?”
“Of course it is,” smiled Elaine, as
she gratefully clasped his hand in sign
of her solemn pledge. “You're the
finest man I've ever known »
“No, I'm not.” He shook his head.
“But I am a very good actor!”—By
Oliver Panbourne,
Nearly 500 Prosecutions for Violation
of Fishing Laws.
During 1926 there were 494 prose-
cutions for violation of the Pennsyl-
vania fishing laws, the board of fish
commissioners announced recently.
Fines collected within the year for
violations totaled $13,073. The ma-
jority of the prosecutions were for use
of illegal devices and fishing without
a license.
The board’s income for the year
totalled $498,642 of which more thaa
half was received from resident fish-
licenses. Expenditures were
$247,563 and of this amount $114,-
754 was incurred in hatchery opera-
tions.
Fish to the number of 826,567,
ranging in size from one and one-half
to twelve inches, were distributed.
The largest distributions were of pike
and yellow perch.
In outkning its other activities for
the year the board reported that it
had completed surveys of streams in
fifteen counties to provide for a well
balanced distribution of fish; complet-
ed an extension to the Pleasant Mount
hatchery, constructed seven ponds at
the Bellefonte hatchery and purchased
additional land of rearing ponds at
the Corry hatchery and a site for a
new hatchery in Bedford county.
———— A fe —————
—Subseribe for the Watchman.
She only |
n - _.
| FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
That which is called “considering what
iis our duty” in a particular case is very
| often nothing but endeavoring to explain
| it away.—Bishop Butler.
—The spring openings are in full
swing in the great salons here where:
the new styles are presented for the
first time to an impatient public. The
ever-present note in the season’s mode
is a simplicity even greater than last
year, and comfort and practicalness
are emphasized everywhere in the
various sports clothes, the afternoon
ensembles—the ensemble has lost none
1of its popularity—and in the evening
gowns.
{ The hats remain small, and have
little trimming. That little, though.
is recherche, and always bears an ap-
propriate relationship to the ensemble.
| Details were never before of such
| great importance, and the accessories,.
' carefully matched, oftentimes afford
the only trimming to a toilette in
t which a solid-color gown is worn. The
matching hats to the trimming of a
gown, rather than to the gown itself,
is becoming increasingly popular, as
I prophesied in a recent cable, and al-
though more lace is seen, only the flat
laces are being worn. This does not
mean that lace has returned to popu-
larity such as it has enjoyed in sea-
sons past. This cannot possibly be
true for several seasons at least, as
the masculine influence in women’s
dress is too strong at present to per-
mit the return on a wholesale scale of
gen an essentially feminine thing as
ace.
i Never in the history of fashions
have the changes been so few, and’
several competent critics have remark-
ed that this season’s collections are
Just a slightly supplemented version
j of last season’s collections. There are
some new materials, of course, espe-
cially many new crepes, for the crepes
will all be popular, but the lines have
changed very little and are only dis-
| cernible in a little raise of the waist-
!line and a lengthening of two inches
; at the most in the skirts,
The straw hats are somewhat large,
particularly those of Milan straw, and’
| these are worn with light “lawn”
! dresses. There is little trimming on
| these.
| Felt hats will be good all year, and
an Immense variety of ornaments are
worn on these, and also on silk hats.
e ornaments sometimes match the-
dress, whereas the hats themselves
jed the furpiece she wore about her | match the trimming of the dress.
“Hamilton . neck. “Now I can buy you a deecnt | Sometimes, too, the ornaments—usu-
ally pins—are of two colors, one-
matching the dress and one the trim-
ming of the dress.
The two-piece or jumper suit is not
passe, for many are seen in the new:
collections in cashmere, crepella,
kasha, woolens and soft angoras and’
| numerous other materials. This, like
many other former styles, remains:
i good because of its extremely prac-
j tical qualities.
i Crepella is remarkably popular and
| hundreds of models are seen in this.
graceful material that lends itself so-
willingly to the popular summer ef-.
| fects and ‘blends so. well with othr.
, materials used for trimming.
Lots of pleating is seen'in the new
[ models, and the box pleat is espcial-
i ly prominent in sports models.
Plaids are still present, especially
in the sports clothes, hut they are not
So gay as in former seasons. The-
mauve and white plaid is much seen,
for example, and this is indicative of"
the conservative plaid tendency.
Milan straw will be the most popu-
lar straw for the new hats. The
, brims will be considerably wider than
- on other hats and there will be more
trimming, which for the most part is
flat. This straw is seen in all colors
and the trimming often consists of
I cut-out flowers applied in contrasting
. shades. No high or wavy trimming-
‘ for these hats has yet been favored.
| The pastel shades have never been
: so popular, and they will be favored
throughout the spring and summer,
according to the many couturiers:
Whose collections abound with these
f onservative but lovely and distin-
guished tints.
All the blues are smiled upon by
| the greatest couturiers, and there is
no doubt about these—especially navy
i blue and sand color (sable)—remain-
ing extremely good throughout the-
| summer season.
—London,—Skirts are going to be
shorter than ever, so far as London
is concerned. This was revealed at
a dress parade held at Hotel Savoy.
Not a single dress shown—either for
day or evening wear—was cut below
the knees.
Dress materials, it appears, are con.
stantly getting lighter in weight. The
new woolens and silk-and-woolen mix-
tures try to compete with silk crepe,.
There is a very attractive new Eng-
lish material which is called “Angora
stockinette.” It is made of silk and
rabbit’s wool.
The tailored suit, according to all
indications, is fast regaining the pop-
ularity it enjoyed a few seasons ago.
It is featured strongly in the Paris
openings of such important couturiers
as Philippe et Gaston, Agnes, Lucien
Lelong Bernard et Cie, and smart
New Yorkers are adopting its trim
lines for spring. The navy tailleur
especially is faced, although oxford
mixtures in navy and slate also are
popular.
Among the navy suits displayed in-
dividuality with pipings of braid or
satin. Others sponsor the vogue for
tucked treatments on the pockets, or
bordered effects. The oxford mode,
particularly smart with the two-skin
scarf, also is sponsored.
The mannish vogue is now combined
with compose effects. In some the
checks and stripes of the skirts are
used as piping on the coats. Others
are more traditionally mannish, with
skirts of trouser material and two
creases down the front. Many of the
jackets have the masculine tuxedo
collar.
The center closing is a new note
inspired by the fashion for the cardi-
gan. Buttons set close together and
narrow revers give the finishing
touches to some of the jackets at
Macy's.