Bellefonte, Pa,, January 24, 1930, THAT OLD SWEETHEART OF Stella Crane had a maid, but pre- ferred answering the telephone her- self when she was at home, which was most of the time. Calls came infrequently and were welcome—an invitation to go to the theatre with the Smalls or to play bridge at Bess Cooper’s, or to dine with the Fields. Aside from two or three of her hus- band’s business acquaintances, whom he had had at the house for evening conferences, the Fields, Smalls and Coopers were about the only people in New York Stella had met. There was nothing wrong with her or Ralph; they both dressed well and behaved respectably, and Stella played a fair game of con- tract. But they were not asked out much because Ralph, a patent lawyer, did a great deal of work after hours and was anything but hospitable, If you refrain from in- viting people to your house, they are going to invite you less and less often to “theirs. It was hard on Stella, whose life in the city was not what she had ex- pected. Her husband realized this and deluded himself and her with the promise that in the near fu- ture he would be able to afford more leisure, and then they'd repay their social indebtedness and make lots of new friends, and Stella would have no cause to complain of loneliness and boredom, She answered the telephone be- cause the maid had a tendency to confuse names as similar as Gillespie and Hammond; and on this particu- lar morning, the vaguely familiar voice at the other end of the wire began the conversation with the in- triguing challenge. I'll bet you don’t know who this is.” | ~ “You sound like somebody,” said Stella. “Just give me a second to think. I do know. Isn't it Will?” “You win! remember me after all these years.” | “Td have recognized you sooner if I had thought there was any possi- . bility of your being here.” get here, but I made it.” “And how long do you expect to T stay?” | “Not more than a day or two. | It’s just a business trip.” “Well, tell me something about yourself. . Are you married?’ “Not yet.” “I thought I'd have heard if you were,” said Stella, “I guess you knew I wouldn't be.” ! “Why ?” : “I don’t have to tell you that.” “Oh, Will! You're the same old win!” “I wish I was.” “I'd like to see you.” “It’s perfectly mutual.’ . “I'd ask you to dinner, but Ralph's them for a while; in Washington and won't be home Saafice to miss me. { back for till day after tomorrw.’ I had no idea you'd That’ <a A, Fields, Coopers or Smalls had re- lated a rough story or joke which she hadn’t understood or liked or listened to. Of course she was not conscious of this or of the difference in her eyes. She felt she could still arouse a man’s interest, particularly the interest of a man who hinted that he had remained single because he could not have her, Will was more than a little ex- cited. There had heen fifty girls and women in his life since Stella had gone out of it, but none who . had been able to hold him, none who had seemed as desirable as his sweetheart of fifteen years ag: 0, He believed she had still cared a great deal for him when she mar- ried Crane, and he believed that a woman who had cared for him once never could get entirely over it. Look at Fannie Towns, and Ma; Judson and most of the others, 1 he had to do was to whistle and they would come back. Now he was going to meet the only one he had ever really loved and wanted. She had. been easily persuaded to see him, and her husband was out of town, The day would not end with the matinee. He called up Endicott 9546. ‘Bet- ty? This is Will again. Say, I'm sorry about tonight, but I just had a wire from Charlie Prince, from Buffalo, He's getting in at seven o'clock and wants me to meet him and stick around with him all even- ing. No, it’s business; I can’t get out of it. I'll call you tomorrow, and meanwhile don’t forget me.” He and Stella had no trouble identifying each other. diately noted her plumpness, but was glad it was no worse. He ob- served too, the new smile, but charged it to embarrassment, Stel- la saw that his hair was thin and his face bore the marks of dissipa- tion. Otherwise, he was the same old Will, He said they had plenty of time and she must order something spe- cial to celebrate the occasion. “I don't feel like eating,” said Stella. “I just want to talk and hear you talk.” “And I just want to look at you, s feast enough for me.” But the waiter was hovering, and to get rid of him they had to make “Well, it took me a long time to | win: haven't changed a bit,” said 11, after ordering. “I've changed more than you have. m heavier,” “Very little, And look at my hair, or what's left of it.” “I don’t think y:a've lost much— not much.” “I'm not worrying about it, any- way,” said Will, who worried about it a great deal. “It’s too late for me to care whether I'm handsome or not.” “I think you're just as handsome as ever.” “That’s all that matters.” “But I want to hear about you, Will. Are you still with Boyer?” ‘I'm back with Boyer. I quit gave them a They hired me fifteen thousand a year, “I'm not crazy about seeing Ralph.” . five thousand more than my old con- “I know, but—” “Can't two old friends like us get | together and talk? I'm not inviting myself to your place, | tract.” i Fifteen thousand a year was big | ’ | money in Will's eyes; but I wish thousand more than he was getting, it was three you'd have lunch with me, and we "and he didn’t relish Stella’s com- could go to a matinee.” “It sounds wonderful !” said Stel- la. “Let me think” i a bachelor ' ment. “That ought to be plenty for you, with no responsibilities. Fifteen years ago, Ralph and Will If you were married and living in a had been rivals for her love; exactly her love either, not | Place for Will makes nearly thirty thousand and like New York—well Ralph had won that before Ralph appear- We aren't able to save much. We ed on the scene. and though “new” and persistent, and because he was capable of support- she ' don’t spend much either, but it goes. had married Ralph, because he was Food and clothes chiefly A thing’s so frightfully and rent—every- high.” It didn’t occur to Will that she ing a wife, she had never been quite | might have overestimated Ralph's sure that she was as fond of him income as he had his own, and he! ag of Will Since she had become Mrs. she had not been alone with any man except her husband, her den-' “I got tickets for ‘Journey's End.” tist and the elevator operators in! “Oh you'll love it,” said Stella af- various buildings in which she had ter the briefest of pauses. ‘Every- | was not interested in the cost of Crane, | New York living. He changed the ‘su | ject. lived. Ralph was not of a jealous ! body's mad about it, especially the disposition; she thought he wasn’t men.” anyway, She had never given him | cause to feel jealousy, so she couldn’t be sure, ~ She had heard him comment on “You haven't seen it, have you?” “Yes I have, but I don’t mind a “You told me you hadn't seen wives who “went around” with oth- anything.” er men and had gathered that he | disapproved of them, but surely he thought you “I didn’t think you'd pick it out. I. liked musical shows. wouldn’t find fault with her even if r But it honestly doesn’t make any the man happened to be an old difference,” flame and his former rival. Besides, how would he know? lonely. ' “Why, yes, Will be all right.” “That a girl! Tl call for youat a quarter of one.” “That won't be necessary,” said Stella, thinking of the maid. “I'll I guess it will ‘wouldn't have you miss it for meet you at one, wherever you say.” “You name the place. Remember, I'm a yokel.” “It does, too. I'm going to see if And shewas I can’t get something else,” “Please, Will don’t! For one thing, it’s late and I swear I'd just ‘as soon see this again. If it wasn’t so good, I'd let you change. El) e world. There's no girl in it and it's a war play and probably more in- teresting to men than women. but I don’t care.” : “I do. Let me see if I can’t get “Well, the Biltmore, in the lobby, something for “Follow Thru. ” if that suits you.” “Any place suits me, more lobby, then.” “But have you Will I know you?” “I'll, wear shoes.” The Bilt- changed much? + “Oh, Will! You're the same old will!” “What show would you like to see today?” “Oh, anything. I haven't been to one for months.” “All right TI use my own judgment, One o'clock, then, atthe Biltmore.” “Goody-by.” “Good-by.” “Good-by, dear.” Stella’s heart skipped a beat, That “dear” didn’t sound like old friends. It didn’t sound safe, and she knew she was glad he had said it. She dressed carefully and spent a long time in front of her mirror. Tt told her that although she had changed a lot since twetny-four, her age when she and Will parted, she certainly did not look thirty-nine, not within four or five years of it. Her face was unlined and her fig- ure still good almost youthful, she thought, despite the ten or twelve pounds she had taken on as Mrs. Crane, There was not the same sparkle in her eyes, perhaps and her smile was less engaging, more Ritz artificial: it was a smile she had cultivated for use hy know they'd be sold out. “Oh, they say that’s wonderful, but And I really want to see ‘Journey's End’ again; I may get more out of it the second time.” “I wish you'd told me. Maybe we can go to ‘Follow Thru” tonight.” “Don’t let's talk about it any more. ' Let's talk about you.” “That won't be very interesting.” “It will to me. I want to hear all about your business affairs and your love affairs. and everything.” “Well,” said Will, “I’ve done pret- ty well in business; that is, for me, Nothing like Ralph, I suppose, but I'm satisfieG. As for love affairs you ought to know as much about that as I do.” “What do you mean?” “I mean T haven't had any since you.” Now this was the sort of conver- sation that appealed to Stella and would have kept her in her most at- tractive role that of an interested al- most mute audience. Unfortunate- ly the waiter arrived with food and Will was diverted from his “line.” his apoetite for victuals being the one thing powerful enough to make him forget Romance. “These scallops are great!” he said. “Don’t vou like scallops?” “Yes, indeed! T often order them. Y love the way they fix them at the “Ts the Ritz a better place to when one of the eat?” Will imme- | srs a re r—r “I don’t know, I guess they're about the same, only the Ritz is more expensive. Maybé it isn’t either but you think of it as moreéxpen- sive. That's why I ) meeting you there."”. s : “Listen; Fm*-Hotl a rl “Of course not, Will Just the same, I'd feel guilty if you spent more on me than you can afford.” “A man making fifteen thousand a year——" Stella laughed, ‘You're the same old Will! You talk like a millionaire. Why, the men I know, Ralph's friends en a bigger income than Ralph, you i don’t see them spending five or six dollars on lunch. They appreciate the value of money, and that’s what you never did, Will. I hate stingy people, but there's a big difference between stinginess and thrifty ones who get along in ais world.” Will could not boast that he was thrifty, but he did think he had got along and Sella’s theory that he hadn’t would have made him pretty mad if the food had been short of delicious. “You didn’t answer my question,” said Stella at length, “What question?” : “I asked about your love affairs.” “I told you I hadn't any since you ditched me.” “Don’t say I ‘ditched you, Will. It was just—well, I liked Ralph a lot and he was serious, and marrying him meant getting away from that deadly place, And you must admit you couldn't have married anybody in those days. I did care for you, Will, I still do—" She stopped as if in embarrass- ment. She hoped he would sustain the sentimental note and his next remark sounded encouraging. “Not “like yoir used ane “How do you know ?” she said soft- “What > “I won't repeat it.” “I wish you would.” “No. I musn’t.” Will was too intent on his spum- oni to insist. “It will be dark in the theatre’ he thought, “I'll hold her hand and see how she takes it.” “It will be dark in the theatre,” thought Stella, “and maybe he'll call me ‘dear’ again.” Her lecture on economy cost the waiter fifty cents, Will giving him half a dollar instead of a whole one as he had planned. He could not help regarding her as a bit incon- sistent when she vetoed his sugges- tion that they walk to the Henry | Miller, only four blocks away, { “I'm frightfully lazy,” she said, not mentioning the fact that her shoes hurt. i “All right,” said Will, “but if you're going to let me buy a taxi, you've got to let me take you to dinner at the Ritz” | © “I couldn’t think of it!” said Stel- |la. “For one thing, I'd be sure to | see somebody I know. And haven't you business to attend to, people to look up? I musn’t take too much of your time.” “I'll postpone business gets back.” _ “I can’t decide just now.” “You want to be sure you like me.” “It isn’t that. You may know I like you. But there are things to be considered.” v The seats were in the twelfth row “These are rotten seats!” said { Will. “You can’t get good ones at the box office.” “I got these at my hotel” “Well, they're } right. ' You musn’t worry on my account. I ; told you I'd seen it before. We had the fourth row that night, right in . the center, just perfect. Herb Small ' got them through the University Club. He always gets grand seats.” The curtain rose. | “This is the British front, in the war,” explained Stella. “It’s what they call a dugout, where the officers , stay. The whole three acts all take - place in one scene, | “That officer, that lieutenant or whatever he is’ she continued, “he’s i a school teacher in England, I mean he was, before the war. He gets killed later on. It's a terribly de- | pressing play. Lillian Fields cried the night we saw it.” A customer in the eleventh turned around and gave Stella a nas- ty look after which she whispered, | “This young boy he’s a new offi- | cer, he hasn't been at the front be- fore; at least not at this front. He's been transferred or something And the hero, the captain, is in love with the boy’s sister. i ! “Not this captain, I don’t mean,” she went on. “The other captain, the leading man, takes this one’s place. He gets mad when he sees his sweetheart’s brother, He doesn’t want anybody that he knows around pr ly till Ralph course he’s afraid people will find , it out, especially his girl.” ! The man in front of them turned round again and said “Ssh!” in none too friendly a manner, Stella thought he must be ssh-ing someone else. | “The only way he can ‘carry on’ as they call it, is by drinking, so he "drinks hard all the time.” “That man wants us to quit talk- ing © said Will, and congratulated himself on the diplomatic plural. “It’s somebody back of us he's complaining of,” said Stella. “Now when the other captain comes in vou notice him, notice how big he looks. And they say he isn’t really big at all; T mean, off the stage. Some friends of ours the Coopers, they met him at a party and they {say he’s not nearly as big as he looks. He wears some kind of shoes or something that make him look big: T mean. on the stage. You no- tice when he comes in” The theatre was dark but Will seemed to have forgotten the hand- holding test. ‘““The hero the captain, the man that’s in love with the young boy’s sister. he went to the same school the voung bov went to and he was the idol of the school. The hov. the eirPs brother worships him. Of course he doesn’t know he’s a cow- ard and drinks to hide fit. “That other officer there. that voune one he’s a coward. too. and he pretends he's sick so they'll send . Him awav from the front. But the | hero threatens to kill him unless he and mine, men who make ev- quits pretending he's sick. He points a revolver right at him and sa Ydoest’t “buck. up.’ : “I was freightend to - really’ would. shoot him, the night, I saw. it.: I’ don't’ like that part of it at all, and it hasn't anything to do with the rest of the play. but the play would have been too short without it, It's awfully short as it is. It doesn't begin till nearly nine; I mean, at night, and it’s over about half past ten; that’s half past four for a matinee.” : Will wished he had brought a box of molasses : Here's the real captain now, the hero. See how big he looks? And he really isn't big at all off the stage. He's mad at the girl's moth- er being there, After a while the brother writes a letter to his sister and the captain is afraid he'll tell her about his drinkng and so forth. So he wants to the letter and the boy doesn’t want him to, but he says he has a right to censor all mail. Finally the school teacher reads the letter out loud and it’s so complimentary to the captain that bes avhamed of having made him read it, “Isn't the sergeant funny? I guess he’s a sergeant. It makes you laugh just to look at him. They're all English the whole com- pany. I think there are other com- panies playing it put West or some- where, and they're all English, too. And it’s going to be a picture, a talking picture. Do you like talking pictures ?” “No,” said Will. *Or people.” “After a while the colonel comes in and tells the captain . that they want to find out who the Germans are in the trench facing them; that is, the number of ‘the German regi- ment or something, I don’t see what difference it makes as long as they're Germans but Ralph says they always want to know so they can figure out the distribution of the German troops, how they're dis- tributed. So the captain has to send some men over to the German trenches, across No Man's Land, and ‘they're supposed to capture a Ger- man prisoner and bring him back and then they'll know what regiment is facing them, “The captain hates to send any: body because it’s almost sure death, but he’s got to obey orders. He sends the young boy, the brother, the girl’s brother, and that school teacher and the young boy gets a prisoner and the school teacher gets killed. “The funny thing about it is that you kind of wish it was the boy that got killed in place of the school teacher. But the boy gets killed la- ter, “Of course they know what it means to do it and the boy is terri- bly nervous, but still he’s glad of a chance “to do something important, He and the school teacher recite ‘Alice in Wonderland’ before they go; not all of it; just quotations from it so as not to think of what's befre them. That's the school teach. er's way of keeping his mind off danger. Inste ad,of drinking, like the captain. © © bo “You wait till you see how the captain: drinks. - It -must be colored water or téa- or something. If it were real whisky ~he’d fall off the stage. It can’t even be tea or he'd get sick. Do you drink much Will?” ' “I've been on the wagon,” said Will, “but I think I'm going to fall off tonight; maybe this afternoon.” “Why ?” “I don’t know. I just feel like ft.” “I wish you wouldn't, You used to get so silly when you drank.” “I still do.” “But you were kind of funny and amusing, too, And then you usually got very affectionate.” 1 “I'm different now. first; not funny at all brutal and want to fight people, I get silly at whoever is with me, my best friends, in even girls.” “You don't mean really fight them? = “Yes, I do, The reason why I got on a girl, a girl I cared quite a lot for; we went on a party and I had ! about four drinks, and for no reason and knocked her down. It’s whoever .he’ll shoot him. dead-if-he, death that he . ried to his hotel where he immedi- ately called Endicott 9546. “Betty? =*Siy, I-just had another wire from Charlie Prince, He was out a bearing... at: can’t get here till haven't made another date have you? That a girl!”"—Hearst's Inter- national Cosmopolitan. ’ REAL ESTATE TRANSFERS. Trustees of I. O. O. F. 1032, to State College I. O. O. F. Hall Asso, tract in State College; $2,000. Anna Funk, et bar, to Jacob Shearer, et ux, tractin Centre Hall; $4,000. Sarah Vonada et bar, Corman, et al, tract Twp.; $1. John Francies, et ux, to Com- monwealth of Pennsylvania, tract in Benner Twp.; $1,700. Frank L. Baird, et ux, to Marga- ret B. Haupt, tract in Milesburg; $1, W. C. Krader, Adm., to F. P. Royer, tract in Haines Twp.; $600. to D. PF in Haines Albert Dean, et ux, to John Dean,’ tract in Patton Twp.; $1. John . Dean, et ux, to Leah J. Dean, tract in Patton Twp.; $1. Harry A. Corman, et ux, to James A. Fox, tract in Spring Twp.; $175, Robert T. Hafer, et ux, bert Ross Glenn, et ux, State College; $11,200. A. C. Shank, et ux, to D. G. La France, tract in State College; $1,- 000, Pine Grove Cemetery Asso, to J. W. Peters, tract in Ferguson Twp.; $25. : Jacob Cramer to Elmira Guiser, tract in Ferguson Twp.; $1. Evan Jones, et ux, to James E, Pomeroy, et ux, tract in Philips- burg; $1. Ella M., Bottorf to W. R. Shope, tract in College Twp.; $1. Earl H. Peck, et al, to Harry C. Showers, et ux, tract in Walker to Her- tract in ‘Twp; SL Susanna Ishler to Della A. Ishler, tract in Harris Twp.; $1, Susanna Ishler to W. E. Homan, tract in Harris Twp,; $2700. George M. Glenn to Thomas M. Huey, tract in Patton Twp,; $125. Viola ‘Gunsallus, et bar, to John W. Houck, tract in Halfmoon Twp.; $310. Bellefonte Trust company, Exec, to Bond M. Hartsock, tract in Patton Twp.; $5150. E. R. Hancock, Adm. to Charles E. Houtz, tract in Unionville; $920, Harry A. Folmer; et ux, to W. B. Rankin, tract in Bellefonte; $1. W. B. Rankin to Harry A, Fol- mer, et ux, tract in Bellefonte; $1. Fannie E. Borger, et bar, te Earl R. Bordner, et ux, tract in Fergu- son Twp.; $6.500. D. C. Kustenbauter, Edgar G. Kustenbauter, Spring Twp.; $1. et to in ux, tract ...Edggr G. Kustenbauter, et ux, to | I row at all I socked her in the mouth { { D, C. Kustenbauter, tract in Spring Twp.; $1. H. E. Dunlap, sheriff, to First Na- ‘tional bank, ‘tract in State College; $5,260, William J. Mildon, et ux, to Clar- ence Gustafson, et ux, tract in Phil- ipsburg; $1. John C. Fulton, et ux to William F. Stonebraker, et al tract in Tay- lor Twp.; $300, E. R. Hancock Exec. et al to Harry Janet, tract in Union Twp; $1,505. James J. Morgan to Sophia Cona- way, tract in Snow Shoe Twp.; $1. Mary Breon to J, Cloyd Brooks, Then I get tract in Centre Hall; $1,700. H. A.Taylor to T. M. Huey, tract Patton Twp.; $1. T. A. Meyer, et ux to A. E, Mingle, et al tract in Penn Twp.; Harry C. Rothrock, et ux, to Elea- the wagon is becaue I was with nor Gettig, tractin Port Matilda; $1. S. H. Hoy et ux, to Common- wealth of Pennsylvania, tract in Benner Twp,; $16,000. .I happen to be with when I get that | BERT LYTELL IN “BROTHERS” way.” “Then you ought never ything. “That’s good advice, times I just have to. \ And it doesn’t seem right not to and for four months enjoy myself, my first time in New York,” “You certainly don’t call it enjoy- ing yourself, to hit women!” “I do, though. I get quite a cout of it. happened to be there.” i "For to drink : i { 1 i AT NIXON IN PITTSBURGH. Bert Lytell, star of stage and | but some- screen, who for a full year filled the 48th Street theatre, New York, the Erlanger theatre, Chicago, with enthusiastic audiences, by his brilliant perform- ance in “Brothers,” will open for 'an entire week’s engagement at the the sake of those readers who took as his theme the kick | Nixon theatre in Pittsburgh next I don’t mean I pick on Monday night, January 27, in that “because he’s really a coward and of women especially, but this girl just thrilling romantic melodrama. Herbert Ashton Jr., the author, effects of have not seen “Journey's End” and heredity and environment upon twin who hope to, I. will not divulge any boys, one brought up in luxury, the more of its content, but will merely other reared along the water-front, state that there were at least two 'and with such background he de- men they could borrow the captain's gun. “Will” said Stella as they went out, “I don’t believe we'd better have dinner together, I'm tired and you look tired yourself.” “I'm not tired,” said Will. “Even if T was, a few shots of rye will fix me up.” “But I'm afraid. I'm afraid Ralph might come home.” “You said he wouldn't be home till day after tomorrow.” in the audience who wished veloped an absorbing play that teems with excitement, romance, pathos and humor, and affords Mr, Lytell a wonderful opportunity in the dual role that keeps his audi- ence bewildered by the amazingly quick changes from one character to the other. Time and time again ' this remarkable transition is made, “He changes his mind sometimes, He never stays away longer than he has to.” “That's what he tells you.” “What do you mean?” “Nothing at all. But ’'m not go- ing to urge you against your better judgment. Do exactly as you like.” “Well, T really think you'd better send me home. It’s been grand—" “Tl take you home.” “No, that isn’t necessary at all” she said. “And the maid might see vou and wonder.” “All right, Stell’. the maid wonder.” “rl get in this taxi. Good-by. will Tt was wonderful of you to give me such a treat” “I'm the one that got the treat.” “You're the same old Will!” The taxi drove off and Will hur- We mustn't let almost before the very eyes of the audience, and it is a change not only of clothes but of walk and talk; a complete change of personality. Lytell, who has become famous for his characterizations of gentle- manly crooks in the movies, will in “Brothers” do a slightly different part, and one that makes a great demand upon his versatility as an actor, He will be supported by a large Broadway cast including Grace Menken, Clara Palmer, Ben Mac- Quarrier, William Ingersoll, Frank Sylvester, James Seely, Rosemary King, Matt Briggs, Ashley Cooper, Rita Carlyle, Lloyd Carleton, Gene Byram, Russell Rockwell, Irene Shirley, Alyce Rera, Eugene Wil- liams, and Walter Shuttleworth. The production is in a prologue and three acts, and promises to he as great a sensation here as it was at the 48th Street Theatre, New York, and at the Erlanger Theatre, Chicago. tomorrow. You FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. . Such . is Life. Seid He put his arm around her And whispered in her ear:. She listened and then nodded, As he drew her near. Then he gently kissed her And talked in quiet tone— The girlie was his sister; He was asking for a loan, —When and how a man takes off his hat is a subject far from trivial, for the manner in which a man raises his hat indicates at once his place in the “polite” world, There can be no careless imitation of the act of courtesy in the way a gentleman raises his hat. re The up-and-coming American of today realizes that a pleasi per- sonality and good manners smooth the way to many a successful i business deal and a social triumph, So how a man takes off his h and what he does with it on va- Tons Secasions i 4 Sle of those ittle 'S 0 make u ng id Be There are occasions in which a man takes off his hat, and there are other occasions when he only “lifts” his hat. Generally speaking, he takes off or “raises his hat friends and acquaintances and “lifts” his hat to strangers. (The word “tips” is a word not in a ruse concerning hats. It should be avoided, and “takes off” “raises” or “lifts” as the case may be, should be used instead.) The word “touch” is occasionally used, as in the case of one man who “touches” his hat to a man of his own age But for a man to “touch” his hat when he should ' take it off is hat. unmannerly, ‘ He should try to ac- quire a poilte and graceful manner of taking off his hat—mot a cere- monious flourishing manner, or a “dude” manner of “examining the lining,” as it is called and not a “stingy” manner of seeming to point to his hat to show that he has one! A man takes off his hat: 1. When he meets a woman he knows. 2. When he is with a woman or man who bows toa passing woman, 3. When he is with a woman who bows to a passing man or woman. 4. When he takes his leave from a woman he knows, 5. When the flag goes by and when the national anthem is played. 6. When he bows to a clergy- man. 7. Usually when he passes a Roman Catholic church, if he is a Roman Catholic, . 8. When he bows to very old men or distinguished men. 9. When a funeral passes (all Europeans do this and many well- bred Americans.) 10. When he enters the elevator of an apartment house or hotel or club, when there are women in the elevator, 11, Whn he meets a foreigner who raises his hat to him when he bows. 12. When he enters "his office. 13. When he enters a church whether or not there is a service. - 14. When he bows to another man ‘on the street—if he is an old- fashioned gentlemen’ with a partic- ularly courtly manner, A man lifts his hat (that is, he lifts it slightly off his head and re- places it, without bow or smile.) 1. When he passes a woman in a narrow space or on a stairway, or stops to let her pass. 2. When he is accidentally push- ed against a woman, for example in the crush of a street car, He lifts his hat again in acknowledgement. 4. When another man offers a seat in a car to a lady whom he is accompanying. 5. When he asks a lady if he may pass her, as in getting off a crowded car, 6, When he asks a question ora direction or any information of a stranger. 1 7. When he picks up somethi for a woman that she has droppe 8. When he gives information to a woman who, for example asks him a direction, 9. When he does some slight service for a woman, or when he is with a woman who has done him a service. ; —One should consider the pongee suit when planning the spring ward- robe. The little skirt and bolero coat are easily fashioned from in- expensive materials and are jaunty and stylish, — Dead white comes in again for tennis wear and other Southern re- sort clothes, It is more important for evening than any single color. —Spring slips will be longer and often with irregular hemline. The fitted princess slips with wrap- around skirt portion are chic. — Your visiting cards should car- ry your formal name, with no ab- breviations: Mrs, Henry Oliver Burgess If you do not wish to use the middle name omit it altogether even the initial, Initials are not in good taste on visiting-cards. On your letter paper, use either your monogram —V.K.B.—or your address, The printed or engraved name in full and address: Mrs. Henry Oliver Burgess 254 Park Lane, Town, Arizona, is for onlv business letters and professional letters, The mono- grammed or addressed paper is for social use. The form you use on your Christ- mas card depends on the form of the greetings. If it is formal—in the | third person—you use your formal { name. as on vour visiting cards. If | it is informal vou use your informal | name. That is. your name and your ' husband's, For Christmas cards should be sent out jointly by hus. band and wife, whether they are formal or informal. rn es lh oe ir —We do your job work right.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers