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HERE IS QUICK RELIEF WITHOUT OPERATION Fhe mass obatinass snd longaianding ing eases reapond to this wonderful remedy, which re-creates the chemical balance in stomach, thus ou of istress. Write at once for a free trial package of VON'S PINK TABLETS and again g all wholesome foods ating al Yue pain or distress, Ven Co., Dept. 408-4, 34 Se. 17 Street Easiest of all persons to get along with, Is the man who knows It all You employ but one means, flattery, Easy to darken GRAY HAIR this quick way — — . N. Uy BALTIMORE, NO. 11-1032 Cas —- The Greatest Ever 8 By FANNIE HURST {© by McClure Newspaper Syndicate.) (WNU Service) OR twenty years the woman F known as “Aunt Em” had sold uewspapers In the doorway of a haberdasher’s shop In the theater section of New York's Broadway. A broker who bought papers from her on the fly had nicknamed her that because she reminded him of an “Aunt Em" who had reared him. Like most happy misnomers, it stuck. Aunt Em's real name was— well, no matter. There was some- thing short and stout and matronly about the appellation “Aunt Em.” Something kind and wholesome. The name fitted the little woman in the decent black and the straw poke bon- net which she wore both winter and summer as she sold newspapers to the fiylng world that hurtled past her doorway. Every evening at five, rain, snow, shine, storm, Aunt Em stood shouting her wares In her doorway. When the last theater light blinked out, she wrapped up her loose change in a red handkerchief, tucked under her fold- ing camp chair for that purpose and with her daughter, Wenda, who called for her, marched her way home. In a way, Aunt Em was quite a char- acter about that busy neighborhood. In the quick tide of its ebb and flow she had known great people by sight and hundreds of clerks and petty folk on thelr way to subway and tram nodded Aunt Em their good morrow as they tossed thelr pennies, snatched thelr and ran. That little tucked-In corner in the doorway had yielded Aunt Em twenty years of livelihood. Enough, mind you, to rear Into successful maturity six (some as customers), dailles, a widow, through years so lean, some of them, that the gutters In her face still showed the ravages of pain, de. privation, even hunger, All that was changed now. Five of the six children had left the nest, three sons and two daughters, mar- ried, and were on their own, A fairly prosperous little flock of petty trades people, set up here and there about the great city In such small enter prises as stationer’s shop, 1it stand or notion store. All of them given thelr start, too, by willing, If lean contribu. tions from the old lady's change hand. kerchief, When she was sixty Aunt Em might well have felt entitled to sit back and let those for whom she had tolled through the years do some of the toil. Ing for her. That was what lay heavily on the heart of Wenda, the only unmarried one of the flock. Of course the oth- ers all offered to contribute to the up- keep of the old woman, but somehow, to Wenda, who felt passionately about ft, there was something half-hearted about the profferings of the sons and daughters and the In-laws, In her heart, Wenda felt bitter to- ward these brothers and sisters. It did not seem to twist thelr hearts the way It did hers to see the old woman standing humped In her doorway, shouting. Not that the old woman could be easily dissuaded from her labora. On the contrary, Wenda had oceasion to know that all too emphatically. Aft. er all, on her own earnings as ste nographer at twenty-eight dollars a week, Wenda was well able to take the burden of the labor of long hours, outdoor exposure, to say nothing of the menial aspect of the work, off her mother's shoulders, Night after night, ealling for her mother after theater hours, Wenda ar- gued with her along these lines. Tt was rather an incongruous spectacle to see the girl and the woman hud- dled there together In the doorway. Wenda, who had a pretty, eager sort of face, as if she were smelling at a star, and who was attired In all the mock splendor of the New York office girl, wrapping the old news woman carefully across the shoulders In the knitted jacket she had worn for years and stacking the unsold newspapers In thelr corner of the doorway where, by arrangement, a small boy called for them before sun up. Sometimes Wenda had to admit to herself that It was the sting of the social stigma that went with her mother's occupation, almost as much as the desire to spare her effort, that prodded her on to remonstrance. “Mamma, how do you think a gir! feels having a newshoy for a mother?” “Go along! A newshoy for a moth. er was what kept enough warm milk in your baby bottle to make you what you are” “You're entitled to rest now.” “Yes? My boys and girls got enough struggle to raise thelr own familles.” “I'll never marry. What fellow, the kind I'd like, If I like any, would mar. ry Into a newsgirl’s family? On my salary I could come home evenings to an home with a supper on the table In- stead of having to know my mother is out newshoying!” "You're a good girl, but I'm a good newsboy.” “Don’t you think—a—a girl tn an office, meeting the kinda people I do all day—kinda-