Beworra] atc
—_———
Bellefonte, Pa., November 6, 1981.
ARMISTICE DAY.
is a day we decorate our slain;
Gloss with fine words War's gangrenous,
dark stain.
This is the day flags flutter, drums are
rolled—
For heroes are immortal, I am told—
Well, I have smoothed the pebbles, trim-
med the sod,
And mumbled my meek, careful prayer
to God,
And put some asters right
head, *
Trying to believe again that you are
dead.
above your
And I, too, lift my voice in martial
SOng,
And hear them say: “He fell to right
a wrong."
And listen to their praise with solemn
pride.
(But Oh, you are my lonely boy who
died!)
They say: “The dead shall not have
died in vain.”
(So many years under the sleet and
rain!)
They say. “From sacrifice new worlds
shall rise.”
(Your hands, so still, empty of earthly
prize!)
They raise a flag, a cannon booms salute.
(O eyes, deprived of love, O lips so
mute!)
A prayer is said,
still.
(Do you remember dawn's mist on our
hill?)
the soldiers stand so
(Do you remember
bloom?
How the pool sparkles, how nude shad-
ows gloom?
How laughter peals,
stretch at dawn?
How children flash upon the sloping
lawn?)
how the birches
how cool limbs
(Do you remember summer showers at
night?
And healing
blight,
Hunger and thirst and then their blissful
slake?
And the slow dive into the moss-grown
lake?)
tears after a quarrel's
Do you remember strife, and hope,
pain,
And fine collision, and success asain,
And wayward love, and sickening fear,
and touch
Of velvet hands—Oh, do you miss this
much?
and
This is the day we decorate our dead.
This is the day sonorus words are said.
(And is it well with you, dear? Are
you giv'n
Life to match this, in your heroic
heav'n?)
TAXI FARE
Joanna Talbot sat on a bench un-
der the sparseiy leaved trees of the
park and considered the money in
her purse. Seventy-three cents.
No more, no less. But she counted
it again to make sure. Six months
earlier Joanna had thought that
counting money was something you
did as a problem in fourth-grade
arithmetic; since it had been some
time since Joanna had been in the
fourth grade, there was a bare pos-
sibility that she had made a mis-
take in her calculations. So pains-
takingly, coin by coin, she counted
it out and sighed. Still 73 cents.
A quarter, three dimes, three nickels
and three pennies.
“Nor all your sighs can make a
penny more of it,” said a man's
voice. Joanna raised startled blue
eyes to the dark and laughing ones
of a young man who had sat down
on the other end of the bench while
Joanna was engrossed in her fi-
nances.
“Look here,” he went on, leaning
toward her, “do you need an extra
nickel or two for taxi fare? Is
that what all the big business is
about? Because if it is—" he paus-
ed, and his hand moved suggestively
toward his pocket.
Joanna did not answer, but look-
ed him up and down, coolly and ap-
praisingly, taking her time about it.
The man was tall and undeniably
good-looking, with dark hair and
eyes, and very obviously he was of
the world te which Joanna herself
had belonged so short a time before.
She laughed suddenly at the com-
edy of it. Of course he would
think she was pondering over taxi
fare. Her dress, her hat, her purse
—everything about her bespoke mon-
ey. Her dress, simple though it
might appear, had heen especially
designed for her, her hat was an
original model and all the accessories
were in accord, except—and, almost
involuntarily, she tucked her feet
back under the bench—her stock-
ings. For alas! chiffon hose do
not stand the wear and tear of or-
dinary life as well as hats and
shoes—at least not chiffon hose in
that sheer weave thut cost as much
per pair as most stenngraphers re-
ceive per week. And with her
stockings hidden how was anybody
to know that she had only 73 cents
in the world, that she possessed
nothing but the clothes she wore
and that she had that morning been
evicted from her boarding house,
leaving behind as security two
trunks of awe-compelling propor-
tions, but shockingly empty within?
So she laughed. He thought she
was worrying about stretching 73
cents out to cover a taxi fare, where-
as she was wondering how
long 73 cents would buy food for a
healthy girl of 19.
He was heartened by her laugh.
“Evidently taxi fares mean less than
nothing to you,” he said.
“Exactly,” she returned truthfully,
and laughed again. She hadn't been
into a taxi for four months, nor on
a street car for four weeks, for she
found walking cheaper than riding.
A taxi fare would buy her a mam-
moth dinner and the nickel street-
| car fare would, if spent at the prop-
|er place, purchase a so-called cup of
‘coffee and a huge and leathery
| doughnut.
| “Couldn't I—help you?” he asked.
“Thank -you, no,” said Joanna Tal-
bot in her coolest voice. If it had
i
|peen six months earlier, she might
possibly—for she was given to im-
'petuous things like that—have ac-
‘cepted his offer, if she had needed
money for taxi fare. But needing
it for food—that was different. So
| she
believe that the earth revolved on
its axis for her benefit. As
‘the motherless
Talbot, Joanna
with spoiled carelessness.
everything on earth she wanted and
‘a great many things she didn’t want.
Old Jared—he wasn't really so old,
‘but he had been born with an ac-
cumulation of wisdom that made
him seem old while he was yet
young—made his’ money playing the
stock market. He was one of the
men who are pointed out in whis-
pers as a Big Operator,
Figures on the Street. He almost
wrecked the Chicagu Exchange and
they kicked him out. Presently he
bobbed up in Wall Street and created
no end of excitement. He made
millons one day, lost them the next
and stagd a brilliant and success-
ful comeback the following day:
There was, he said, something dead-
ening about success and he liked to
lose for the sheer exhilaration it
gave him.
But whether Jared won or lost,
there was always money for his red-
headed daughter Joanna to have
every glittering wish fulfilled.
Jared was given to violent tem-
pers, and one morning just before
Joanna's 19th birthday he had his
last temper.
fast table. The combination of
burned toast and and insulting edi-
torial was too much for Jared. He
fell into a fury ana dropped over
dead.
anna it was on one of her father's
losing days, and the report of his
death in no wise helped the stocks
he was interested in. In fact, they
hit bottom with a thud, and when
the smoke cleared away Joanna
found herself with $300, thirty-three
trunks of clothes, and not a friend
or relative in the world. There
was, of course, her father's lawyer,
who made sympathetic little sounds
in his throat and murmured that
Jounna ought to get some kind of a
That was what Joanna also decid-
ed, but there is a vast gulf between
deciding to get a job and actually
getting one, particularly when one
has been educated as Joanna had
been, for the sole anc simple pur-
pose of being useless. Joanna knew
enough not to go to a hotel, and
found a boarding house which
thought extremely reasonable, though
‘scracely what she was accustomed
'to. Later she decided that a room
would be cheaper, and moved. For
six months she had been looking for
a job unsuccessfully. She had
talked to dozens of other girls alsc
looking for jobs, and had learned
from them. But she was always
struck by her own incompetence.
“Jever ‘sling hash,?” one girl had
asked her, and Joanna had admitted
that she had never slung anything
meantime wondering what in the
world “slinging hash” was. But the
next time anybody spoke of it, she
knew what they meant.
Six months had passed and Jo-
anna’s money was gone; she had
sold all her clothes to second-hand
dealers, pawned all her jewelry,
and eaten up the money. Now she
had 73 cents and the clothes she
stood in. She simply had to have
a job.
She turned her head and faced
him.
“Cobalt blue,” he said. “I thought
$0."
“What ?" she asked with a puz-
zled frown.
“Your eyes. The whole effect so
dazzled me that I had to sit down
while I made out the details. Do
you object when people refer to
‘your hair as red?”
He was delightfully impudent, Jo-
anna thought, or at least he would
have been if she hadn't been worry-
ing about where her ensuing meals
were going to come from. “It ie
red,” she stated.
«1 knew,” he said delightedly,
“that that's exactly the kind of a
girl you were. Admit out-and-out
that your hair is red. Most girle
with red hair swear 1t's auburn or
'titian or red-chestnut. But I knew
you wouldn't be like that.”
“Facts are facts,” said Joanna.
“Only color-blind persons ever think
my hair is any color but red.” She
really ought to get up and move on,
but she had no place to go until
the young man left. Then she
meant to search through the park
for a want-ad section that had the
Female Help Wanted column intact. |
He went on talkiwg and Joanna
responded. She felt that she
shouldn’t, yet, on the other hand, it
was fun talking to some one of her
own kind after six months of talk-
ing to people who said,
Miss Talbot in that job at all
“I say” said the young man af-
ter a time.
had been a
It must be tea time.
that is—"
seemed slightly embarrassed and at
a loss for words. “I mean—don't
you ° think it's been a long time
since you ate?”
“I do,” said Joanna with emphasis,
before she thought. She was quite
truthful, for she had had no lunch
at all and breakfast had consisted
of one of those miserable cups of
coffee and a leathery doughnut
which were worth not a cent more
than the 5 cents she paid for them.
| Then, of course, you'll have tea
{with me,” he said.
| A few minutes
| facing each other
{and an obsequious
| ering near.
“Cinnamon toast and orange
pene,” said Joanna. She had fleet.
long time since lunch.
Would you—
later they were
across a table,
waiter was hov-
refused.
Joanna Talbot had been reared to
ter of old Jared
ruled her little world
She had chatted and laughed as happily as | that.
one of the
It was at the break- Brea
Very unfortunately for Jo-'
she hi
“No, they!
really didn't think tney could use
“I feel as though it
For the first time he
she
for
tea
Joanna shook her head. “No”.
. come, come. This isn't a
story-book romance, know."
page of every newspaper
father died. No, she could not.
exhilarating
as a cocktail to Joanna, and she
though -she had all the money
the world in her purse.
ha
same party.”
should be enough to hold him.
«And now,” Joanna continued, “I
‘wonder if youll mind if I run
|along? It happens that I've an en-
ement for dinner, and it's get-
was taken aback, but rath-
went outside with her. He hailed
the first taxi that came along and
ted Joanna to enter.
“Where shall I tell him to go?”
he asked. Joanna hadn't thought of
“To the Ritz,” she said. It was
the first thing that popped into her
Then, “Hello, Blaine,” said a quiet head
voice to Joanna's escort, and the
girl felt a little shiver run up and
down her spine. She knew that
voice. She ducked her head, for
the owner of the voice was behind
her, and she wanted to hide her face
when he approached. Ramey Thorpe
‘was his name, and she would have
married him once—long, long ago.
Not long perhaps in actual time—
not a year—yet how terribly long in
experience. Then she had been Jo-
anna Talbot, spoiled child of a mil-
lionaire, and Ramey Thorpe had pe
been a personable young man witha
future, but not enough salary to
support even an economical wife.
They had met and fallen in love,
though young Thorpe would never
admit it, even when she asked him
pointblank. Joanna blushed slightly
at the memory.
“Love you?” Ramey had said in
his cool, quiet voice. “I can't af-
ford to, Joanna. I—Ramey Thorpe
—love you—Joanna Talbot? Likea
t many of the desirable things
of life, I can't afford you, Joanna.
Why, look here, my salary for a
month wouldn't keep you in a week's
taxi fare.
“Dad isn't exactly a pauper,” Jo-
anna had suggested.
But Ramey had flared up at that.
“I might take money from my own
father, but never from my wife's
father. Nor would I permit my
wife to accept an allowance from
him. No, Joanna, I can’t afford to
fall in love with you.” But both
of them knew that he was already
in love with her.
There had been one scene, the
last time they met, which might
have been tragic if Joanna had not
winked back her tears and grinned
It is hard to see the only man you
ever loved go regretfully out of your
life because your father happens to
be a clever gambler with stocks.
But Joanna had speeded Ramey
‘with a smile that deceived neither
of them and from that day to this
she had neither seen nor heard of
m.
“Hello, Ramey,” said Joanna's es-
cort, not too exuberantly.
Joanna kept her eyes on her plate,
but she felt Ramey glance at her
casually, then halt suddenly. “Jo!
Why, Jo!" he cried, and somehow
had his hands around hers. “Jo!
I've looked everywhere for you!”
She disengaged her hands. “Yes?”
she said. If as a millionaire's
daughter she was too expensive for
him to love, how much more so was
she now. For she knew no more
of the housewifely arts, and she
had no wealthy father hovering in
the background as a possible refuge.
The coldness in her voice drew
him up straight, and he glanced
from her to the man he had address-
ed as Blaine. “I'm sorry I in-
truded,” said Ramey in a voice as
cold as her own, and turned and
stalked away.
“So you know Ramey
said Blaine curiously. “And he
calls you by your first name. Jo.
Then your name must be Josephine,”
he haphazarded.
“Perhaps,” said Joanna in a sort
of daze. Ramey had come ‘and gone
in a brief moment. She had never
Thorpe,”
expected to see him again, and now
she knew that the odds were against |
her ever seeing him again. She
wanted to cry.
“ » said Blaine suddenly,
“why try to highhat me? Why don't
you tell me what your name is,
like a good girl?
tea and toast, and surely the least
you can do is tell me who you are.”
She crumbled the toast in her fin-
gers and let it fall to the plate.
She wasn't hungry at all now. The
thought of Ramey seemed to choke
her throat. Ramey, with his dear
brown eyes with the little crinkled
lines of laughter at the corners;
Ramey, whose left shoulder was a
bit higher than his right because
it had been set wrong after he had
broken it in a football game.
anna cherished that knowledge and
shared it with no one but Ramey’s
tailor; it was only one of a score of
things that Joanna remembered
‘about Ramey which made him inex-
pressibly dear to her.
“Sa-ay, don’t I get any attention
‘at all from you?” demanded Blaine.
“Why moon over Thorpe? He isn't
| so much, even though all the women
do seem to go mad about him.” He
paused. “They say he's a woman-
hater, though. Look at me. Here
I am, right at hand. I'm no wom-
| an-hater.
She hated the tone of his voice,
'and looking at him this innocent
little lark became sordid and ugly
to her. She saw Bralne for what
‘he was. Nice enough to girls he
met in the conventional way, but
| all too ready to assume things about
|girls he had met as informally as
{he had met her. He had picked
| her up as he might pick up a gir
‘of any class, and he would boast
about it later to his friends and
| cronies.
| better. Tea!
| “No,” said Joanna, “I can see you
are no woman-hater.”
He put an arm on the table and
leaned toward her. “Now, come
on, tell me where you knew Thorpe
so well, won't you?” His tone im-
plied many things, and Joanna gave
a little start.
“Oh,” she said negiigently, “I met
him at Southampton one year. We
I've bought you
Jo-.
She should have known
ead.
| She settled back in the cushions
and relaxed. Her mind was going
‘round and round. Ramey! Shehad
seen him again, and definitely shut-
tiled him out of her life. But what
else could she have done? Then she
brought herself to with a start and
looked at the taximter. Sixty-five!
But even as she leaned forward to
speak to the driver the meter roll-
ed up another dime. Seventy-five
cents now, and she had only seven-
ty-three in the world, and no pros-
cts. For a moment she debated.
Should she tell the driver to stop,
tell him candidly that she had only
i173 cents, or should she let him drive
on and on? Why not the latter?
It was warm in the cab, and rather
chill outside. She would let him
drive her until he grew tired or sus-
picious, and then tell him she had
no money. She would end up in the
police station, but she had heard
that wasn’t so bad.
“The police matron isn't awful
mean,” said one girl to Joanna a
few days before. “And they give
you a warm place to sleep and
‘enough to eat, and turn you loose
in the morning.”
It failed to occur to Joanna that e
she might be committing a crime.
When the taxi drew up in front of
the Ritz Joanna tapped on the glass.
“I've changed my mind,” she said.
“I want to drive around the park.”
She settled back in the cab and
fell asleep. It was the most com-
fortable bed she had had in weeks.
As Blaine turned from putting Jo-
|anna in the cab he met Ramey
Thorpe, face to face.
“Well,” said Blaine, ‘you're a
moment too late to speak to the
lady.”
Ramey glared, but did not reply
“By the way, Thorpe, just who is |
she, anyway?"
“You had her at tea. You ought
to know,” returned Ramey.
“I picked her up in the park,”
said Blaine.
“You lie,” said Ramey Thorpe
with sudden vehemence.
Blaine stepped back. “No, Ramey,
that's the truth, I swear it is.”
“You lie,” Thorpe repeated, cool-
ly and menacingly. “You lie, and
I'll make you eat your words” He
‘swung his right to Blaine's jaw.
Blaine saw it coming and ducked,
but not quickly enough. The blow
| grazed his head.
“If that's what you want,” he
said, and aimed a left to the pit of
Thorpe's stomach. A crowd gath
ered around, and the two were go-
ing it right merrily when a couple
of bulky policemen interfered.
Blaine’s nose was bleeding profuse-
ly, there was a knot on his fore-
head and one eye and a sickish feel-
ing in his stomach.
“Here, you two, what's all the
racket about?” said the larger po-
liceman.
“Purely a personal affair,”
Blaine hurriedly.
deavoring to show each other a few
of the finer points of the good old
game of boxing.”
“Or, yeah?
your story to the sergeant at the
desk. This here sidewalk ain't no
mat.”
“But he's Ramey Thorpe—"'
said
of Wales, he can't fight on this side-
‘walk. Get that?”
Unceremoniously the two were
shoved into the station wagon that
came in a few minutes.
“Ramey, you had no call to jump
‘on me that way,” said Blaine. “1
told you the truth about that girl.
I don’t think I ever saw her before
in my life until this afternoon. She
was in the park, reading a paper,
‘and I got to talking to her and ask-
'ed her to tea. There was some-
thing awfully familiar about her
face, but I couldn't place her. Why
did you want to
because I said I picked her up?”
“Is that truep” asked Ramey.
“" Ww Ln
I don’t apologize for jumping on
I wish I'd mopped up the
you.
earth with you, for the tone you
used when you spoke about Joanna
Talbot.”
«Joanna Talbot!” cried Blaine.
“Was she Joanna Talbot? The girl
whose father—"
“Yes, said Ramey morosely. That
was Joanna Talbot. I don’t sup-
pose you know where she's staying,
do >
| “She told me to tell the taxi driv-
er to go to the Ritz.”
| “The Ritz," repeated Ramey, puz-
'zled. “I didn't think she had any
| money at all.”
“Probably staying with friends, or
made a loan or something,” said
| Blaine, as the wagon stopped at the
| police station.
They were both booked and their
bail set. Neither had enough cash
on hand for the bail and had to
| telephone. While they were wait-
ing the sergeant ordered them put
in cells.
“It may be all right to leave you
guys out, but I am't taking no
chances, see, till that bail money
‘gets here,” said the sergeant when
| they protested.
| It was more than an hour before
'Blaine’s bail arrived, orought by a
| jovial person who laughed merrily
|at Blaine's predicament.
| Blaine spoke to Ramey through
his cell door. “No hard feelings,
| Thorpe. I apologize to you for the
glumly he paid the check and
bot.” ]
“I apolo too, Blaine,” said DAILY THOUGHT
Ramey. “I was an awful chump.” | +I never saw a moor,
shook hands
I never saw the sea;
Yet now I know how the heather looks,
And what a wave must be
“I never spoke with God,
Nor visited in heaven;
Yet certain am I of the spot
As if the chart were given."
ever since her father’s death
‘the spectacular collapse of his for- Fashion check-up. In one res-
tune. Now he had run across her, taurant where the cheapest cup of
only to lose her again. He cursed coffee costs half as much.
himself for acting as he had whenhe Some of the best looking clothes
met her that afternoon. Of course in the country sit down at those
she had acted shy and diffident— tables. Clothes from Paris and
of what she had done. He clothes from the exclusive dress-
comforted himself with the thought makers along Fifty-seventh Street.
that she must be at the Ritz, though And two things interested us par-
he could not understand just how. ticularly in this fashion check-up.
He had talked with her lawyer, and (1) That sleeves are of paramount
he knew just how little Joanna had. importance in new dresses and coats.
He had tried in every way possible (2) That with all their money,
to locate her, but all his efforts had these women are wearing the same
been in vain. After her father's kinds of sleeves we find in costumes
death she had simply vanished. He in stores whose customers pay 20c
had even gone so far as to insert for their sandwiches and a dime for
advertisements in the personal col- coffee.
umn to J. T., but nothing had come There's a real old-fashioned revival
of them. And now he had found meeting when some of these fashion.
her, and acted a fool. able sleeves get together. The leg
He was silently cursing himself: o'mutton of the 1830's and 1890's
when a friend arrived with his bail hobnobbing with the Directoire tab
money. sleeves fashionable even before 1800.
“Well, well, well, Ramey Thorpe,” And both of them sitting next toa
said Judson Browne, the friend. sleeve with an epaulet ruffle that
“You're the last man in the worlda has alittle of the look of Napoleon's
fellow would expect to find in such day and a little of the look of Ed-
‘barred door, and Blaine departed.
“You'll soon be out, Thorpe,”
“We were en- P
Well, you can tell
“I don't care if he's the Prince.
get so heated up yo!
a place.”
“I wouldn't be here,” said Ramey,
“if that sergeant hadn't been so un-
reasonable about the amount of my
bail. I believe he counted the mon-
ey I had with me and then doubled
it, just to make sure he could keep
me in this exquisitely appointed
cell.”
The bail money was paid over,
and the two turned to leave. As
they turned a strange trio stopped
at the desk. A burly policeman, a
small girl, and an excited taxi driv-
Tr.
“An' then she says she ain't got
no money, an' I says what the devil
do you mean making me drive all
over town all afternoon, wastin’ my
time when I might be drivin’ payin’
customers, an’ she says drive her to
the station, an’ I done so.” The
taxi driver waved his hands. “What
can you do with adame like that?”
“What have you got to say?” de-
manded the sergeant.
“It's quite true,”
calmly “I...”
But Ramey had whirled around
and was at her side. “Joanna!”
he exclaimed “What's all this?”
She stared at him, her eyes a navy
blue. “I can't pay my taxi fare,”
she said. “So I'll have to spend the
night at the police station.”
“How much is the fare?" demand-
ed Ramey.
“Four dollars and ninety-five
cents,” said the taxi driver.
Ramey jerked out his wallet and
handed the man a $10 bill. “Never
mind the change,” he said. “Now,
you don't want to press charges,
do you?”
The driver did not press the
charges, and so Joanna Talbot was
never booked at the station.
Judson Browne had watched events
in stupefaction, with his mouth
mentally agape. Now he stepped
forward. “I'll drive you wherever
‘you two want to go,” he said to
Ramey, but Ramey waved him aside.
«We'll take a taxi,” he said.
He helped Joanna into the first
taxi which came by, and got in
side her. “Where to?” he asked
her.
She shrugged her shoulders. “1
expected to spend the night at the
station, but you've wrecked that
said the girl
lan.
“Blaine said you were at the
Ritz."
Joanna laughed. “On 73 cents
and no baggage? Scarcely.”
“But, Joanna—where have you
been staying?"
“1 was thrown out of my room
this morning,” she said.
“How lucky I found you! Jo-
anna, girl, you asked me once if 1
loved you, and I said I couldn't af-
ford to. I guess you knew that I
did, though, in spite of what I said.
Do you—still care for me?”
“And if I did,” said Joanna,
«what difference would it make?
I'm still just as helpless as I was,
just as useless as a man's wife,
and I'd still be just as big a drag
on you."
He put his arms around her and
drew her close. “Then you do care!
Joanna, I told you once that my
salary for a month wouldn't keep
u in a week's taxi fare.”
“1 don't ride in taxis any more—
that is, I haven't for a long time,
until today.”
“You see. You're getting econom-
jcal. Now tell me that you love
me.”
She pushed him away with a
strength that surprised him. “Yes,”
‘she said, with her characteristic
bluntess. “I love you. I always
have, but I won't let you get chiv-
alrous and me. You said
you couldn't afford me once, and I'm
the same Joanna. Now, stop this
cab, and let me out.”
| He laughed at her. “Never! Jo-
‘anna, when the market went down
| sold short. I made enough money
to do anything I want to do. And
I can afford you now. Oh, Joanna,
dearest!”
She looked up at him, and he
swept her closer to him. “I don't
know, Ramey,” she said doubtfully.
“Markets are so uncertain. Do you
think you could always keep me in
taxi fares?” she was teasing now. |
Listen, Joanna, I took
“Could I?
a big slice of what I made and in-
| vested it in a taxicab company!"—
| Copyright by Public Ledger.
“With a single stroke of a brush,”
| said the art teacher, taking his
| class around the National gallery.
| “Joshua Reynolds could change a
{smiling face to a frowning one.”
| “So can my mother,” said a small
| boy.
| —When you find it in the Watc
| man you know it's true.
|
h-
genie’s.
Double sleeves, too—the kind fash-
jonable in Queen Victoria's day—
are seen everywhere, Double to the
‘elbow with a tight undersleeve.
The basic lines ot lots of sleeves
have changed. Instead of just a
set-in sleeve, this year you can have
sieeves cut in one with the bodice of
the dress or coat, raglan sleeves,
sleeves that start below the shoul-
der joined to an extended yoke sec-
tion, sleeves with deeper armholes,
some of them so deep as to become
the old-fashioned dolman.
Of course all smart new sleeves
aren't revivals of old ones. More
are as new and modern as you
yourself. Vionnet's muff sleeves
with fur appliqued on like cloth and
some sleeves half fur and half cloth.
One of the newest dress sleeves
is long and tight with small buttons
from wrist to elbow. Other long,
tight ones have deep, flaring cu
or shirrings from wrist to elbow. A
new afternoon dress sleeve is of
| fabric from shoulder to elbow with
a big puff of lace below.
—A new stocking has been ad-
vertised which has a tuck at the tof
to fasten the garter to, and sc
avoid runs. Eyelet embroidery has
reached to shoes, some of whick
have embroidered vamps with plair
ks.
To add color to a costume, add 8
| pelt, kerchief, necklace, bag, shoes
scarf, collar and cuffs, or hat rib:
bon, all of the desired color. A
dark foundation dress may be made
to seem like several dresses, with the
‘change of colored accessories whicl
match one another.
High, round necklines are growing
in favor. A small scarf collar is ¢
new detail. Wide belts of crushec
patent leather appear on the new
drsses.
The separate skirt of wool tweec
is worn with a variety of blouses o
contrasting fabric and color. Thi
brown tweed skirt may be wor
with a bright red wool jacket, fig
ured green silk blouse, or a yellov
blouse.
—When putting your shoes awa}
in the closet or packing them for !
journey, slip each into a worn-ou
. stocking. This will protect then
from dust and scratches.
—An ordinary camp stool makes:
fine luggage stand for the guest
room. It may be folded out o
sight when not in use and quickl;
opened out when the suitcase is t
be
i
When baking apples, stuff ba
pana into the hole from which yo
have removed the core, or raisin
‘may be used. Cap the openin
| with marshmallow,
and run down and form a meringue
| Silk handkerchiefs, says th
Baltimore Sun, must be washed a
| carefully as any other silk or the
will turn yellow.
When the cooler weather ai
rives, nuts of all kinds are a we
come addition to the dietary. Ever)
‘one likes the taste of nuts and
study of their composition reveal
their worth as a food.
—In comparing the food value
of meats, eggs, cereals or bear
with nuts the findings are interes
ing. Peanuts, butternuts and a
monds contain mere protein tha
‘any of these food stuffs. Furthe
‘more, the protein is of high qualit;
English walnuts contain more pri
tein than eggs or natmeal but le:
than beef steak or dried beans.
| The mineral content of nuts con
pares favorably with meat and egg
Nuts are a better source of calciu
|and phosphorous than either me:
or eggs. With the exception of p
cans the iron content of nuts
|lower than meat or eggs: Pecan
| which are poorest in protein ar
| phosphorous, are richest in iron.
| Although nuts are lacking in v
tamin C, tueir A content equa
meat, and the B content of walun
and peanuts equals eggs and mee
From these facts the housewi
must realize that when she ad
| nuts’ to any dish the nourishme
|and food value, as well as the pt
| atability, are greatly increased.
| Nut oils are not considered i
digestible, but like all fats th
| take time to digest. Finely cho
ped or ground nuts and nut butt
are more easily digested than nu
in their natural .
| mastication is essential if full val
|is derived from nuts and unless ol
| er children and adults also are wi
ling to do this it is beter to use t
| ground products.