THE SCRANTON TRIBUNE-FRIDAY, MAY 10, 1899. xxxx 5GK5KKiKUi; Mr. Priestley's Devil. I MRS. ALFRED HUNT, IN ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS'. kOttraJXXXXXXSXXKXSQttSXJKX) They were liaU-coustns a"rt hud boon accustomed to see each other once or twice every year since childhood, for Jtary Maskclyne lived with her raml jnother and aunt at St. llrldgct's, and Kdward Maskelyno generally tpent his holidays nnd vacations there. As time went on, they, with the full consent of their own hearts, became engaged to each other, after which these holl duys were happier than ever; tint when they had been engaged for two years and a half something happened. It was not that they dual relied, It was not that he or he had fallen In love with someone else and had to cenfess the fact, but Kdward Mas kclyne had recognized that so much work of all kinds lay before him that Jie could httve no time to lie In love with Ills cousin or anyone else' for many a year to come. She was In the garden reading when he went to tell her this. She saw him coming, never in her life liad she associated the sight of him. with anything but Increased happiness, ho she put down her book and smiled In anticipation of the Joy he was bring ing with him. "I have come to speak to you rather seriously to you, dear," he said. He did not sit down by her, and his voice was not the voice that she was accustomed to. Nevertheless he was here, and she loved and trusted him, so she only said: 'Oh, Kdward, how an Inter view which began In that maimer used to terrify us whim we were children!" "It's really something serious," ho said: "I've been trying to say It for three days." "Kvcr since you came, then! Sit down and say It now," she said, mov ing a little way to make still more room for him. He did not take the seat she offered him, but stood by her, looking for once .rather awkward. What he had to say made him nervous, hut he was perfect ly calm while he told her that he was very much afraid, that, In Justice to her. their engagement ought to come to an end, as he did not believe he lould possibly be in a position to marry "for many a long year to come." The phrase had presented itself to his mind when thinking It all over by him self, and ho could Ilnd no other to use nw that he was in her presence. 'Hut I Will wait for as many of these ji'ais as you like, dear," she said. "The thought that 1 was compelling you to do to would he a misery to me! You see, Mary, I am by no means sure that 1 shall ever be able to make my way." "You would like to be quite free, you mean?" she said quietly. -Like It! I should not like It at all! How could I? But. I really do believe that it would be better for both of us." "You shall be quite free. We will 1m engaged no longer. Your future must be thought of !" "Atitl yours, dear?" "Oh, never mind mine. I have work to do. My future need not be thought of." Mary!" She could not stand this, and rose In haute to go In; but she forced herself to sit down again, and said rather In consequently. "We shall, of course, not see much of each other after this." "It will be better If we do not, but we can write occasionally." The word "occasionally" cut her to the heart. She snld. almost bitterly, "Oil. no! We must not write." "Not write?" "Yes, not write! You see," the said, with a sickly smile Intended to com fort him, "we should have to make such it complete alteration In our style! No, I shall not write to you, Edwaid, but that won't mean that we are not friends. We shall always be fi lends, of course, and take an Interest in each other; so tell me a little about what you are tiuw going to do and to woilt for, that I may know what 1 ought to take an Interest In." "Oh, nothing new. 1 shall just go on devilling for Mr. Priestley that's what I'm doing now, but you know that al ready, lie Is not very generous with his briefs. But 1 Jare say I shall have more from him In lime." "And then?" asked Maty, very calmly to all appeal ance, but In lier heart there was a sudden uprising of hope that he would say, "Oh, ihen. deaiest Mary, I shall come straight to. you." But what he said was: "Oh, then, of course, I must do my best to get Into parliament, and other things will no doubt present themselves that I shall have to try for. But don't tall; about me, Mary; you don't know how bilteily I feel " "Oh, If you please, Edward, wiy nothing of that kind. All is settled it's no use to talk of such things that aie likely to weaken our resolution. I am going now we an cousins, m I may still call you dear Kdward. flood bye, dear Kdward. 1 shall lead the newspapers and see your successes and no one will rejoice In the-n more than 1 shall." "I had thought " he began, hut she was gone. When he left fur London an hour later he looked up when he passed Mary's window with a vague hope of s ting her face once more. Instead of Mary's sweet young face he saw that of her old iiurs Allonby-u grim, grey-eomplexloiied woman, who looked down on him with such an amount of ooncentarted detestation and contempt that lie could scarcely think of any thing else all the test of the day. "What Is that that thv tell me'."' t.vld the old, old giamlmothcr of HO to thJ old aunt of OS. "Edwaid has broken off his engagement to Mary, and Is going to think or nothing now but making his fortune! It cun't be true! It can't possibly be true!" "I'm afraid It Is," said thu old aunt tlreailly, 'Then all I can suy Is that there Is one thing: of -which our family may honst and that Is of having supplied Mr. Priestly with a perfect genuine devil." Was that Mrs. Philip Molesworth's carrlago at Lewis & Altenby's thop door? It was and she herself was sit ting huddled up In a corner of It, look ing, Impossible, mow 'stern and tfown cnBt than during tli Interview which she had compelled .. to accord her three years ago aft hls engagement to her favorite nlrc Vlary, had been broken iff. She had ,)io her best then to make htm offer to renew It.und when ho had explaned how entirely destruc tive of every hope of advancement an early marriage would be to him, she hud not hesitated to Inform him that though It might have been arrant folly to enter Into such an engagement, It was sheer knavery to break it oft. The words stung him afresh now as he thought of them; but he smiled faintly and bowed to her, nnd In spite of what might prove to be a cold reception, sprang forward, not with Joy at the sight of his uncle's half-brother's wife, but because. In spite of prudence, In spile of everything, his heart never failed to stir within him whenever he saw any one who wns, perhays, able to give him news of Mary Maskclyne. Mrs Philip Molesworth saw that It was his Intention to speak to her, started back, as if In absolute abhor rence of him, put her hand up us If to defend herself from his approach and liefore he had recovered his self possession, gave her coachman the sig nal to drive on, and was gone. Kd ward Maskelyne did not find it easy to recover the hhock of this. It was three years since he had done the thing which she was so bitterly resenting now, and even after the storm and stress of their last Interview she had assured him that she should always remember that she was his uncle's half-brother's wife, and that though she did not wish to see him, she would, as a devout Catholic, strive not to think unkindly of him. Why had her indignation gathered to Itself such an extraordinary accession of strength? "How terribly unforgiving middle-aged female relations can be! Pear Mary forgave mc at once!" he thought. He was disappointed now, as well as hurt, for he had not heard Mary's name for more than a year. He had never been In Ireland since they had parted nnd though his old aunt wrote him a letter now and then, she always studiously avoided naming her niece. His answers to these letters had been generally somewhat short; he had little time or inclination for let ter-writing, but whenever he thought of Mary It was of the sweetest and dearest woman he had ever known, and he was sometimes even pleased to regaid himself as an object of pity for having been obliged to give her up. He had, however, had very iittle time to think of her at all. for ever since hu had last seen her he had been swal lowed up in work. It had not been un profitable work. Thanks perhaps to Mr. Priestley, he had made his way In his profession he had got Into parlia ment, and only the night before had made a speech which had (it was said) electrified the house. He had made the most brilliant speech of the session. Five minutes before he had been a happy man, and now all joy had van ished because an ill-tempered old wo man had looked on him with abhor rence! And yet, far away In a corner, into which he had huddled It was a thing which ho was much too busy to attend to ho hail a conscience, which told him now what It was always try ing to tell him, that he- had done what everyone must view with abhorrence. It wan true, and ho knew it; but Mary had forgiven him, and he thought that everyone else had. Busy men have no time to go about collecting the opinions of outlying members of their family as to their conduct, and now this black-looking woman, who. after all, was only his uncle's half-brother's wife "Maskelyne. my dear fellow, what on earth is the matter?" exclaimed a pleasant old brother M. P. "You ought to be almost off your head with delight, and there you are standing by the kerb-stone us it you were thinking that one plunge Into the dark and sullen river Mowing at your feet would end your misery!" "It's all because my uncle's half brother's ugly old wife has Just cut me dead," said Maskelyne, smiling bit terly. "Hut why in the name of all that's sensible are you not at this moment with somebody's sweet young sister, some girl who Is willing to be your wife. I mean'.' You shouldn't look like that! You should bo thinking of the elrl who loves you uid who at this very moment Is, no doubt, sitting with her cheeks all allame and eyes all aglow, reading what every paper In the country Is saying of you." 'Perhaps I am thinking of her!" "Thinking of her! What's the use of thinking of her'. Ho to her and enjoy your success with her there's no such way of enjoying it as that. By .love! what would I not give to be able to make such a speech as jou did? What would any of us not give? Come along. If you are going to the club. I'll have the distinction of walking with you." "I am going to my chambers." "Not to brood over your half-unde's deceased wife's sister that'H what she was, wasn't It '! passing yoit by with out speaking. 1 hope. Why did she do that, I wonder? No young woman would hnve done It. Farewell!" "Whv did she do it?" Maskelyne be gan to wonder, too, for she wat. rnui-h more bitter agulnst him now than at first, and she had promised, as a de vout Catholic he and all his family were Catholics to try to think kindly of him. "She know, that I am com paratively rich now, 1 suppose, and feels tiiat It's my duly to go back to Mary and ask her to be my wife, and after all perhaps" that Is true," He went to Ills chambers. IVople were waiting for him work was wait ing for him too. He got rid of the peo ple, but had more dltllculty with the work. It had not occurred to him be fore that he was now able to tnurry.. He sat thinking for hours, and mill the burden of his thought was, "What tJiall It profit me If I gain the whole world and lose the one thing that would make life happy?" A half-formed resolution! had altcady found place in his mind, when a letter from Irelanjl was put Into his hand. It had been addressed by a servant, and when he opened it, he wished that she had penned the let ter too, The wilting was most extra ordinary It looked more like a sketch of a quick-Bet hedge In midwinter than anything else. At first lie could seo nothing hut spikes and leallcss branch es darting out here nnd there and everywhere Ir, meaningless confusion; graduully, however, hu began to dis tinguish words, and found that It was from his 03-years-old grandmother, who had not put pen to paper for years, and who even when he wns last hi Ire land had only been ablo to leave her bed for an hour or two dally. After repeated attempts, ho was able to de cipher these words "Kdward, my dear boy, Edward, they do not' want you to he told about Mary, They think that I Itnow noth ing about what goes on; but I do. Mary Ja ill. She has been 111 a long time. You ought to come. Coma! Cornel Come! She has fretted a great deal about you. It 19 serious now very serious, Come." Ho at once sent a telegram to his grandmother: "Expect tne nt half-past ten on Thursday night." The moon was shining with almost the brightness of day when he stood at the door of his grandmother's house. The laRt person whom he had seen When he left it was Mary's old nurse, Allonby, a hard, vindictive woman, whom he had never liked, but who pas sionately loved Mary, and for her sake had schooled herself Into being a kind nurse to Mrs. Maskelyne, and for her sake, too, had doubtless pursued hltn with that look of hatred which even to this day he could not forget. Strange to say, Allonby's face was the first that he saw on his return It looked white and rigid when she opened the door. "You, Allonby?" he aaid, "1 did not expect to see you!" "All the rest are abed, or you. would not," she said, without looking In his face or taking any notice of the hand which, for .Mary's sake, he held out to her. "How Is Miss Mary?" he inquired anxiously. "Miss Mary Is well very well," she answered sternly, as If she thought that he had no right to ask the ques tion. "And my grandmother?" "My mistress Is well, sir. Supper Is laid for you In the dining room, and you are to sleep in the room you used to occupy before, when you came here;" and having thus got rid of all that she thought it necessary to say to him in one breath, shu turned to go. "I shall see my aunt, I hope; It is barely half-past 10." Ho was deter mined not to seem to observe the woman's tone of animosity. "Miss Maskelyne is not here. She took Miss Mary to Dublin a month ago for better advice." "Then Miss Mary is In Dublin, too, I am afraid. They have neither of them come back you mean," he ex claimed, and his spirits fell to zero, for during snmo hours at least he would, perhaps, be left to the tender mercies of the foi bidding woman, tem pered only by such kindness as could be shown by a nonogenarlan. "They havj neither of them come back," she said. "But Miss Mary Is better? You said that she was better." "Yes, I said she was better, and she is." "And she will soon come back here?" As If weary of being forced to reply to the questions of the man she hated, Allonby suddenly tuined her back on him and began to go, but he would not let her have the triumph of departing without giving him an answer. "Allonby, I asked a question and must have an answer. Will Miss Mary soon be back?" "Yes. she will soon he b-iok," she said, without so much as turning round while she spoke; and then ihe left him. He went Into the dining-room, whi'-b, under feminine management, was more of a sitting-room than a dining-room. He had always liked Its old-world as pect, and when he saw It again a bliss ful sense of being once more at home and at rest came ovr him; here Indeed was rest, and here soon would be love and happiness. Hn took up a candle to look at Sir Joshua's portraits of his great-grandfather and grandmother and Llnnell's of his aunt when young, and the Inlaid cabinets and precious china bowls which had never seen toe Inside of any London shop, ut had been brought from China or Japan by sailor-uncles of their fathers. All at St. Bridget's was dignllled and ttanqulllz Ing, and he had left It for London and Its clamor and strife.' He drink some wine and went out by a window Into the garden. By this time the past had him wholly In Its power. He was Mary's and he was happy. He lit his pipe and strolled about. The air was full of fragrance, the heavy-headed roses dropped scented dew on his face If he drew them down to smell t'.sein; migno nette and heliotrope lavished their per fumes unasked; the quiettit'ss was In finitely soothing. Presently he even walked past the garden seat by which he had stood when, as he told himself, he had been such a lu-ute: the rest of his life should be spent in trying o atone for it. The gard.-n was simply delicious the house looked a dungeon, to which he had no wish to tutlre until overpowered by actual fatigue. The niilv light In It that was v'slble cum from the dinlng-rooin, and unstalrs in Mrs. Maskelyne's room was the dull gleam of a night-light, which shone as feebly as the light of ,1'c- shone In her. There was a pleasure In thus stealing an hour or two from a night which was not likely to be blessed by sleep. Dublin was only .'!0 miles off, and It was his Intention to return there next day as soon an he had seen the poor old lady upstairs, and to stay near Mary for at least n week. Work might take care of Itself he had faerlllced. more than enough to work and worldly ad vancement. After he had been m bed some hour a drt'uni came to him. To him. how ever, it seemed a terrible reality. He thought that the door of his room Miwly opened, nnd Allonby came In. She paused for a while on the Dues hold, and then she thrust the door wide open and stood as if waiting for semcone to follow her. Kie long ho heard footsteps, and two men appear ed, carry a largo and heavy black cof fin on their shoulders. "Set It down there at the bed foot, If you please." said Allonby sternly; and having been obeyed, she cutne M might to thu bedside anil looked at him. "You can put him In at once," shu ptilil. "He Is asleep, and will nut wake up. There Is no fear of his doing that." But neither of the men moved. "Don't you hear me?" said Allonby. Impatiently. "Now Is the time to do It! 1 tell you again that he will not be able to wake up." Hereupon Maske,lyue, who felt per fectly uble to hear, see and understand all that was going on. tried to spring to his feet,' but found that he' could not so much as raise his head from the pillow'. The men v.eie coming noiselessly towards him. Allonby was calmly watehiiiff their movements. Once more lie strained every nerve to rise up and resist what was coming-, once mora he found that he could not even move a finger. Then the men came, one to his head and one to his feet, and lifted him Into the coffin, and he felt that his body was cold and stlif as that of a corpse while they did It, and yot his mind was alert. And now Allonby drew near to take a last look nt him as he lay there In his cotlln, and never did any man re celve audi a bitterly, cruel lust look as this of hers. It deemed to cut htm through and through, "That's all!" she said, as she turned nway. "Screw down the lid and get done." Cor the last lime Maskelyne strug gled to move or speak, and succeeded in saying "Mercy!" "What mercy did you show her?" said Allonby, "Oct done, men." Maskelyne heard them begin to fumble with screws. "Mercy!" he said again; but at that moment he was shut off from all light and hope. "He shall have a grand funeral," he heard Allonby say, os if to console the men for what they were compelled to do. "Everything shall be done Just as the family Itself would do It for him. I have seen to all that myself. It Is beginning now there's the 'Miserere.' He almost thought that he did hear the "Miserere." Ho was now alone, and he certainly heard it. Suddenly a loud shriek rang throughout the house, whereufxm his distress became so great that he awoke. It was broad daylight, the mm was shining Into the room. He mechanically looked at his watch; It was nearly 7 o'clock, but and ne siiuiiuereo as n became aware of It he still heard the funeral psalm. The singing seemed to come from out side. He was able to get out of bed, hut barely awake yet, and still much un der the influence of that dream. Thank Ood, however, he was at last beginning to recover the use of his limbs. He drew aside the curtain and, though half-blinded by the light, saw a little group of people. Just turning round a corner of the drive to a point from which they were visible from the house. They looked like peoplo in a proces sionnay, what he saw even seemed to fit on to his hideous nnd grotesque dream. Had it been a dream? Was he dreaming still? For this really and truly looked very like a funeral proces sion. Two boy acolytes headed It; then came young men bearing crosses, with a boy on each side of them, each carrying a candle. Then came a boy with incense and another with holy water, and after them the priest In his bllelc biretta and black and white vest ments. Maselyne's breath became quick. That fiend Allonby had said that all should be done properly, and It was being done properly, for behind the priest walked a group of the Mask elyne tenantry. All came slowly up to the house, and behind these was the cofllu, covered with a heavy black pall. And now the wall of the "De Profun dls" rose and fell, and still Maskelyne, who In the two or three minutes that had elapsed had not had lime to shake offthe stupor of sleep and the horror of this dream which had accompanied It, wondered what could be the signifi cation of this. Was his dream, its dreams sometimes are, to some extent true? Was his grandmother dead, or was that dream still going on? He roused himself! He was not dreaming, and his grandmother, If dead, would have been borne out of the house, not Drought Into It. And then a thought came into his mind that made his heart stand' still. It was Marv whom they were bring ing home! Mary was dead that was why Allonby had said she was well' Knowledge of the whole truth came to him in a Hash Mary had been dead for some days. Mrs. Philip Molesworth that was why she would not or could not speak to him. His grandmother did not know they had kept the truth from her but she knew enough to make her try to do good to Mary by bringing him back to her. He had come buck and ho loved her. and II fainted. No one came near him. He was nothing to any of them at that moment. He lay where lie fell; sometimes half con scious he never knew how long. About 3 o'clock In the afternoon lie went downstairs. He would go as he had come, unseen and unspoken to. How could he speak to them'' How could they speak to him? The trestles on which her coflln had rested were still standing In the middle of the hall. The floor was strewn with fallen white rose-leaves and broken flowers fiom her funeral wreaths and as he looked on them he knew that the rest of his life would be as broken and shat tered as those white flowers. VICTOE AND VANQUISHED. Through the crowded stleets returning, at the ending of the day, Hastened one whom all saluted as he sped along his way; In his eyo a. gleam of triumph, In his heart a joy sincere. And tlio voice of shouting thousands still resounding in his car. Pulsed he 'noatli a stately archway to. ward the goal of his desire, Till !. saw a woman's figure lolling Idly ') the lire. 'I have won!" he ciifil. exultant,; "l have savd ii cause from wreck. Crushed the rival that I dreudetl, set my foot upon liis neck! Now at last the way Is open, now at last men call me great, I am a lender of the leach rs, I am ma- ter In thu state!" Languidly she turned to listen, and de corous was her pieltn.-e. And her cold Patrician features mir rored forth liidlfft rente; "Men ai always acliemlng. MtiUiug for some petty end," slio said; Then, a little yawn supprivtilnK: "What Is all of tills to me" II. Through the shadows of tliu tviulna. as they quenched the sunset glow, Came the other, faring homeward, with dejected step and sluw. Wistful, peciiiifT tnroiigh the darkness. till ho saw, as oft befme. Wlieie a woman stood Impatient at the threshold of the door. "I have lust!" he faltered tulntl.v. "All Is over." with u groan; Then ho paused and gazed expectant at the face beside his own. Two soft eyes wero turned up on him with a woman's tenderness. Two white aims were thing about him with a passionate caress. And a voice of thrilling iniisle to his mutely uttered plea Said: "If only you arn with me, what is all tho rest to mo?" 111. All night hug the people's leader fat In slUnce aloi.e, Dull of eye, with broil- unthinking, for his heart was turned to stone; While the hours passed all unheeded till the hush of night had ceased And the haggard light returning flecked the melancholy cast. i Hut tho other, tho defeated, laughed a laugh of merriment. And he thrust his cares behind him with an Infliilttt centcnt; Hccklng not of plain and power and the smiles of those above, l-'or his darkness was Illumined by the radiance of love. Each had grasped the gift of fortune, each had counted up tho cost, Ami thu vanquished was tho victor, and thu winner he that lost. TUh UooliKAtl. WE MAKE NO PROMISES that we cannot fulfill; we S make no exaggerations concerning values, nor over- ? statements concerning qualities, at b vtiz SALES lw WE GIVE YOU the actual every-day selling price of J V every item and the special selling price for Friday. ? We tell you candidly and honestly that in no other store on any day can goods of equal value be bought for the same money. All we ask is that you come and see for yourself. Friday from 10 until 6 o'clock. Friday Sale Strictly All-Wool Carpets Double extra super and strictly all-wool Ingrain Carpets, in a beautiful range of patterns and colors. Not a yard of similar carpet has ever sold under 6oc. On Friday only 500 Baskets of Groceries, worth $1.61; oa Friday only Each basket contains one pound coffee, worth 25c; one-half pound mixed tea, 25c; 4 pounds oat meal, 12c; one-half pound pepper, 8c; one can corn, 9c; one tomatoes, gc; one can peas, 9c: 3 pounds starch, 15c; one can baking powder, 10c; 1 package I'rospenty Washing l-wder, 5c; 2 pounds prunes, ibe; 1 pack age corn starch. 8c; 1 basket, 10c See them in the window. Friday only Tremendous Offerings of White Nainsooks for Friday The chance of the season. 5,500 yards ot white nainsooks, in small and medium checks. These are mill ends direct Irom the manufacturer, and in full pieces would be worth S cents a yard. Friday High Class Wash Goods Unusually Cheap for Friday Right now, when you need it. And Friday, too, when vou can surely come. Your choice of all our fine I2j4c dress ginghams in newest effects; also our entire stock of I2c and 15c dimities, ail this season's goods, remember. Friday only.... 494 .00 4 h' 8c Cup and Saucer for Sc Large white granite cup and saucer, that al ways .sells for Sc set. Take them on Fri- day only at DC Castile Soap and Wash Cloth 7c Full size cake of Castile Soap, purest kind, wrapped in Turkish wash cloth, worth I2C. Friday yC V. Another Fabulously Low Priced Sale of Fiue Ribbons Miles and miles of pretty ribbons. All of the finest silk taffeta. All colors, in- luding black and white. Newest season's shades. Widths 4 J J and 5 inches. At any ordinary time you'd pay anybody from 25c to 35c yard. On Friday only Friday Sale of Men's and Women's $1,00 Umbrellas Full 26 inch in size. Covered in finest quality of English Gloria, solid paragon frames with steel rods. Fancy curled wood handles some with silver tips. Worjh $1.00 each never sold here under 89c and 98c, Take them away Friday at 15-1 VAaA n b Ladies' Fine Silk Gloves An Offering Extraordinary The "Kayser" brand, known the world over as the very best Silk Gloves. All colors, also black and white. The three button kind. Patent finger tips. Not a pair has ever been sold in any store under ioc. Any shade you want Friday for 41 Handsome White Bureau Scarfs as a Friday Bargain Marseilles pattern. The very newest. Full two yards long and handsome ly fringed. Just the thing for light summer bureau coverings. Worth 18c. Take them Friday only at Ladies' White Muslin Gowns, Empire Style Yery Cheap Made of the very choicest muslin. Cut full. Empire style. Trimmed with ruffles of embroidery. Some have embroidered inserting across corsage. Worth .qc any day. On Fi iday only White Cotton Ribbed Yests for LadiesNewest Goods 12 Vi 33( Cotton ribbed vests. Not the ordinary kind but very wide and narrow. Silk tape and lace at neck and sleeves. Friday only choice. Intervening rows; Never sold under i2jic. Basement Things That Ought to Crowd the Department See window. You'll come then. A car load ot goods for this Friday. Rocking ham Teapots, 1. 2 and 1 quart size, worth 19c to 24c; Yellow Mixing Bowls. 2 to 8 quart size, worth 19c; also a large assortment of 2 quart Pitchers, oval and round Po tato Dishes, Platters, etc., worth 19c. Your choice on Friday Great Sale of Ladies' Fine Oxford Ties See them in window. 400 pairs of line via kid Oxford Ties in black and dark russet. Every new style ol toe English, l.enox, Broadway and Paris Opera last. Kid and vesting tops. Sizes 2i to 8. Widths D, E and EE. Also Com mon Sense toe. None ever sold under i.4S. Many were $2. Your choice Friday Jonas Long's Son: lie 1.00 j -' . v.
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