wood Park, near Washington, wealthy New Yorker, despondent. had been Edith Towne Frederick Towne, plicity. He told them Edith's story immediately after the wedding tive comfort by fllusioned, had little self reliance ance. cizes him. Unknown to him, Lucy is jealous of Towne That morning Baldwin Barnes, on containing a diamond ring on The next day Jane was a woman of indomitable courage. Evans. mentally depressed and dis- She asked him to bring in which he severely criti. are in love with each other, She introduces him to Evans, who Edith Towne at her hiding place. He She is inter. Simms CHAPTER VII—Continued ny fo The Towne car was waiting, and Mrs. Follette in a flurry welcomed them. *“‘I don't see why you didn’t ride over with him.” “He hadn't come, ferred to walk.” “What was the matter with you, Evans?” “Nothing much, Mother. I'm sor- ry you were fussed.” He gave her no further explanation. Jane put on her slippers and went off in the great car. And then Ev- ans said, “I'm going over to Hal- lam’s."” “Aren't you well, my dear?” “I want to talk to him.” He saw her anxious look, and bent and kissed her. “Don't worry, Mumsie, I'm all right.” Dr. Hallam's old estate adjoined the Follette farm. The doctor was a nerve specialist, and went every morning to Washington, coming back at night to the quiet of his charming home. He was unmar- ried and was looked after by men- servants. He had been much inter- ested in Evans’ case, and had in fact had charge of it. The doctor was by the library fire, smoking a cigar and reading a brown book. He welcomed Evans heartily. ‘I was wondering when you would turn up again.” He showed the title of his book, "‘Bos- well. There was a man. As great as the man he wrote about, and we are just beginning to find it out.” “Rare edition?’ Evans sat down. “Yes. Got it at Lowdermilk’s yesterday.” “We've oodles of old books on our shelves. Ought to sell them, 1 suppose.” “1 wouldn't sell one of mine.” Hallam was emphatic. "I'd rather murder a baby.” Evans flamed suddenly. “I'd sell mine, if I could get the things 1 want.” “l don't want anything as much as I want my books.” “I do. I want life as I used to live it.” The doctor sat up and looked at him. ‘You mean before the war?" “Yes.” “Good.” “I'm tired of being half a man. If there's any way out of it, I want you to tell me.” The doctor's eyes were bright with interest. He knew the first symp- toms of recovery in such cases. The neurasthenic quality of Evans’ trou- bleshad robbed him of initiative. His waking-up was a promising sign. ‘““The thing to do, of course, is to get to work. Why don't you open an office?” “A fat chance I'd have of getting clients.” “1 think they’d come.” The doctor smoked for a time in silence, then he said, ‘Decide on something hard to do, and do it. Do it if you feel you are going to die in the attempt.” There was something inspiring to Evans in the idea. Hard things. That was it. He poured out the story of the past few days. The awful scene with Rusty. Tonight in the fog under the pines. ‘“Wanted more than anything to drop myself in the river.” He was walking the floor, back and forth, limping to one edge of the rug, then limping to the other, Then Jane came. Little Jane Barnes. You know her, and she told me-—where to get off —said 1 was— captain of my soul—"' He stopped in front of the doctor, and smiled whimsically. ‘Are any of us cap- tains of our souls, doctor?” “I'll be darned if I know.” The doctor was intensely serious, *‘‘Will- power has a lot to do with things. The trouble is when your will won't work—"" #Mine seems to be working on Again Evans was pacing the rug. ‘But that idea of an office appeals to me. It will take a bit of money, though. And it is rather a problem to know where to get it.” “Sell some of the old books. I'll buy them.” Light leaped into Evans’ eyes. ‘It wouid be one way, wouldn't it? and we pre- Mother would rather hate it. But what's a library against a life?” He seemed to fling the question to a listening universe. The doctor laughed. ‘She'll be sensible if you put it up to her. And you must frivol a bit. Play around with the girls.” “I don't want any girls except Jane.” ‘Little Jane Barnes. do.” “I'll say she will.” The doctor, watching him as he walked back and forth, said, ‘The Well, she'll day. program you followed before the war. You haven't happened to keep a diary, have you?” “Yes. It's a clumsy kid.” “That's what we want. every night, and do some of the And he was interested. things the next day that you did then. You will find you can stick closer than you think. And it will give you a working plan." Evans sat down and discussed the idea. It was late when he rose to leave. “It will be slow,” was Hallam's final admonition, “but I believe you can do it. And when things go wrong, just honk and I'll lend you some gas,” his big laugh boomed out, as they stood in the door to- gether. “Nasty night.” “I have a lantern.” Evans picked it up from the porch. When Evans reached home his mother called from upstairs, “I thought you were never coming.” “Hallam and I had a lot to talk about.” He came running up, and enter- ing her room found her propped up on her pillows. “Mother,” said Evans, and stood looking down at her, “Hallam wants me to sell some of the old books and use the money to open an of- fice.” “What kind of office?” “law. In town." “But are you well enough, Ev- ans?” ‘““He says that I am. He says that I must think that I am well, Mother.” “But-"' “Dearest, don’t spoil it doubts. It's my life, Mother.” There was a look on his face which she had not seen since his return. Uplifted, eager. A light in his eyes, like the light which had shone in the eyes of a boy. She found it difficult to speak. “My dear, the books are yours. Do as you think best.” He leaned over and kissed her, lifting her a bit. There was energy as well as affection in the quick ca- ress. She drew herself away laugh- ing, breathless. “How strong you are.” with “Am I? Well, I think I am. And I am going to conguer the world, Mumsie." His exaltation lasted during the reading of the diary. It was a fat little book, and the pages were writ- ten close in his fine firm script. He found things between the leaves—a four-leaved wlover Jane had sent him when he made the football team. A rose, colorless and dry. Florence Preston had given it to him. He dropped the rose in the waste- basket. How could he ever have thought of Florence? Love wasn't a thing of blue eyes and pale gold hair. It was a thing of fire and flame and fighting. Fighting! That was it. With your back to the wall—and winning! For some day he meant to win Jane. Did she think she could be in the world and not be his? And if she loved strength she should have it. He bent his head in his hands his hands clasped tensely. There was a prayer in his heart. His whole being ached with the agony of his effort. “Oh, God, let me fight and win. Bring me back to the full measure of a man." Again he opened the book. Bits of printed verse dropped out of it. Jane had sent him this, "One who never turned his back, but marched breast-forward."” Jane, and of himself as he had once been. He skipped the record of his is growing up. She met me at the station and held out her hand to me. She was differ- some time I didn't dare. ent somehow, but kiss her.” And this: “Jane is rather a dar- But I am beginning to believe that I like 'em fair.” That was when he had a terrible crush on Florence Preston, whose coloring was blue and gold. But it hadn't lasted, and sense of refreshment. He found at last the pages given been admitted to the Wash bar, and had hung out his shingle. **Sat at my desk all the morning. Great bluff. One client received with great effect of busy Had lunch with a lot of fellows—pan- cakes and sausages—ate an armful. Tea with three debutantes at the Shoreham--peaches. Dance at the Oakleys’ in Georgetown, C time. One deadly moment wi butler took my overcoat. Poor peo- ple ought not to dance where there are butlers.” Autumn came: “Jane and 1 went today to gather fox grapes. Mother is making jelly and so is Jane, The vines were a great tangle. Shut in among them we seemed a thousand miles away from the world. Jane made herself a wreath of grape leaves, and looked like a nymph of the woods. 1 told her so and she gazed at me with those great gray C88, : rking rRing the gods were young they must have lived like this—with grapes for their food, and the birds to sing for them, and the little wild things of the wood for company. It would be heaven- ly, wouldn't it?’ She's a queer kid. Life with her wouldn't be humdrum. She's so intensely herself.” “We talked a bit about the war. I told her I should go if France needed me. I am not going to wait until this country gets into it. We owe a debt to France . . .” He stopped there, and closed the book. He did not care to read far- ther. Oh, his debt to France had been paid. And after that day with Jane among the tangled vines things had moved faster--and faster. He didn't want to think of it , . . CHAPTER VIII The evening wrap which Jane wore with her old white chiffon was of a bright Madonna blue with a black fur collar. Jane, as has been said, loved clear color, and when she dyed dingy things she brought them forth lovely to the eye and tremendously picturesque. Frederick's house was a place where polished floors seemed to dis- solve in pools of golden light, where a grand staircase led up to balco- nies, where the ceilings were almost incredibly high, the vistas almost incredibly remote. Frederick, com- ing towards her through those pools of golden light—blonde, big and smiling, brought a swift memory of another blonde and heroic figure, not in evening clothes—but in silver armor-'‘Nun sei bedankt, mein lie- ber Schwan,” Lohengrin! That was it. “A fat Lohengrin, maliciously. Unaware of this devastating esti- mate, Frederick welcomed her with the air of a Cophetua. He was un- conscious of his attitude of conde- scens'on. He was much attracted, but he knew, of course, that his in- terest in her would be a great thing for the little girl And he was interested. A queer thing had happened to him-—a thing which clashed with all his theories, yroke down the logic of his pre- vious arguments. He had fallen in love with little Jane Barnes, at first sight if you please—like a crude boy. And he wanted her for his wife. It almost unbelievable situa- ee she amended, en he might have married. Loveli- richer—of standing. more He as- social could h Here and he could else at the head of | Ise by his sid g0€ NO one is table, no one the big car, no the glamorous ymoon, and the life *h was to follow. And so when young Baldwin had of Edith’ had leaped into T realization of his would Jane And he He had sent Briggs in time the others opportunity. his would see see among alone to have her there before arrived, And now Fate had played further into his hands. ‘I've had another message from Edith.” he told her; “we'll have to eat dinner without them. The fog caught them south of Alexandria, and they went into a ditch. They will eat at the nearest up." “Baldy’'s car always psychological moments,” said Jane. “If it hadn't broken down on the bridge, he wouldn't have found your niece.” **And I wouldn't have known you” smiling at her. “Who would ever have believed that so much hung on so little.” And now Waldron, the butler, an- nounced dinner—and Jane entering the dining-room felt dwarfed by the Gargantuan tables, the high-backed ecclesiastical chairs, the tall silver candlesticks with their orange cane dles. “Your color,” Towne told her. “You see I remembered your knit. ting —"' “I'm crazy about brilliant wools,” said Jane; “some day I am going to open a shop and sell them." But he knew that she would not open a shop. "You were like some lovely bird-—an oriole, perhaps, with your orange and black.” (TO BE CONTINUED) breaks at Prior to the end of the Eighteenth century the use of wheeled vehicles was not general. Says Johnstone in writing of the origin of hackneys: “Roads were few and bad. There- fore people relied mostly on horse- back and walking for transporta- tion. At this time (about 1800) there was in the eastern part of England a breed of saddle horse called the Norfolk trotter., The hackney of to- day is a descendant of this strain. The Norfolk trotter had fast gaits and good endurance, yet from his conformation this conclusion would not be drawn. His head is too coarse, neck short and thick, and he has no height.” The hackneys of today have these same qualities, with the exception of much nicer heads, writes Capt. Maxwell Corpening in the Chicago Tribune. Originally they were sad- dle horses, but now are used most- ly for driving—principally in shows. Great stress is placed upon their manner of going. Much time is de- voted by trainers to achieving an exaggerated high foot action. Their success in achieving this is remark- able considering the breed's heavy forehand and relatively thick, chub- by body. Because of this up-and- down motion the hackney is not fast as compared with our standard-bred roadsters. The process of refining the breed came into prominence with the ad- vent of better roads and the intro- duction of wheeled vehicles. So long as he was used for saddle pur- poses coarseness was tolerated. With the development of snappy little vehicles, smooth roads, and the exaggerated hackney way of going, fashionable folk began to take no- tice. Hackney classes with femi- nine drivers became social events. In seeking to maintain the pace American sportsmen began import ing these cocky little performers, until now no horse show is complete without them. The common reference to “‘road hack" in designating a saddle class is a derivation of hackney. Like- wise the term hack in describing a vehicle, Whitewash Coal for Queen Victoria, Queen of England from 1837 to 1901, was unaware of many ceremonial gestures made in her honor, one of which, says Collier's Weekly, was the whitewashing of the coal for the engine of her pri- use.” Tots Point Out Bad Examples Of Parenthood ® YOUNG INSTRUCTORS may aid dad and mother. Often children’s keen obser- vations may point out unrec- ognized faults in parents. Efforts at fair government always appreciated. By HILDA RICHMOND SEVEN mothers were busily sew- “ ing in the living-room, while outside under the open windows their children played noisily. There had been a call for children’s gar- ments for a large family whose home had been destroyed by fire, The sewing machines raced and nee- dles flashed. Presently the children, exhausted from a wild game, sat down on the grass to rest, and their shrill young voices carried into the living-room at a time the sewing machines happened to be si- lent. “My mother never, never would do such a thing!" were the first words that were heard. “If I had been bad like Jimmy, would have called me home, and if I'd had to be punished nobody would have seen it.” “Mine, too,” agreed three more young critics. “I'm glad my mother doesn’t do things like that,” spoke up a very earnest young voice, “And another thing she never does is to make me sit still when there's company.” “No,” interrupted another, “if 1 come in with my hands and face washed clean and shake hands, then my mother tells me I may be ex- cused to go and play.” “That's the way my mother does. Ruth's mother makes her sit still the whol and it's awful hard.” when she yie time § “Ruth would be as careful as any- body, when there is company, not to get noisy if her mother would—"" “Yes, my goodness! It's hard to git still for an hour and have noth- ing to play with, and that's what Ruth's mc wants her to do. 1 1g about it." heard her y mother is not “Well, I'm } L like Be to choose ¢ er decide what he portant or “My moth about “So does m ** This last was in chorus Long befc in the living-room had « the mc listeni lessly. “I'm afraid they w» on our faults if con open forum,” said one Children Ask Fair Government. “It is d to be praised, and the faults will not hurt versation thers were they “let them," said joing us go hearing of our less their little hear “1 never dreamed keen ot they loyal to us!” “And they are right,” said the hostess. “‘I think it is a shame the way Mrs. Lottey comes out with a switch in her hand to hunt her chil- dren. She won't injure their bod- jes with that little stick, but I'm may injure her oppor- os ts,” said a 14 ¢ ey d An Servers. afraid she tunity to gain their confidence, with her cast-iron methods of govern- ment.” “I'll tell you what let's do,” said another mother suddenly, wishing to prevent further criticism of their neighbor. “Let's give our darling instructors a little treat. 1 have some ice cream in the refrigerator, and it will only take a minute to bring it over.” “Good! 1 baked fresh cookies this morning, and they will go nicely with the ice cream,’ said another. The children were astonished at the feast suddenly spread before them as they sat on the grass, but they were not too astonished to do their part with their hearty young appetites. “Such a surprise!” “Why didn't you tell us?” “May we call to Bob and his sis- ter to come over?” “I'll say this is swell!” Chattering and eating, and drink- ing quantities of pink lemonade, the children continued their picnic until the last drop and crumb were con- sumed, while the mothers, sewing silently, thanked God in their hearts that their little children saw and ap- preciated their loving efforts at fair government, and they humbly asked for more light, more patience and more skill, National Kindergarten Association ({WNU Service.) Ultraviolet Meat Storage Longer storage of meat and other color is made possible by the use of other more usual food preservation practices, Professor Arthur W. Ewell of the Worcester Polytechnic insti tute told the American Society of Re- frigerating Engineers at a recent meeting, according to Science Serv fce. The germ-killing effect of the radiation, now being set to work for bacterial purposes in a dozen dif- ferent fields ranging from steriliz- ing the air in hospital operating rooms to the packing industry, can be attributed to its power of form. ing ozone from the oxygen in the air, Professor Ewell declared. Important Fashions In Sim ple Patterns T HE smock-frock is really a fashion, not just a comfortable maternity dress. It's smart and young and practical, No. 1833 is a version of it that may be worn for afternoon, because the pleats, in both the smock top and the ad- justable slip skirt, give it a touch of dressiness. Make it of flat crepe, thin wool or georgette, Good for a Whole Wardrobe. Unusually useful is the pretty frock for little girls (1836) because it can be made in two ways—with round collar and frills, or with the plain square neckline. Therefore you can make a whole wardrobe own small daughter, simple pattern school cottons, like sham or linen, as well as cl and jersey, are rmart fabrics for it. The Patterns. No. 1833 is designed for sizes 14, 16, 18, 20, 40 and 42. Size 18 re- guires 5% yards of 38-inch mate- rial with short sleeves: 5% wvards with long sleeves; yards for the top of the si New Fall Pattern extra! Send ne NEW patterns, 15 cents EVERY WEDNESDAY NIGHT THE TEXACO AF USEF fi GREAT SHOWS IN ONE 1. A GREAT VARIETY SHOW 30 MINUTES . . . FROM HOLLYWOOD! re Kenny BAKER o Fronces LANGFORD David BROEKMAN'S Orchestra Jimmie WALLINGTON Kon MURRAY, Master-of-Coremonies 2. A GREAT DRAMATIC SHOW 30 MINUTES . . . FROM NEW YORK! Foch Week ~~ MIT PLAYS . . . Wisdom to Despise To despise money on some OC Terence. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers