12 1 JUNE V BY GEORGE \ RANDOLPH / \ CHESTER / \ AND / \LILLIAN / \CHESTW CtwiVM, MR, V PabHcaflMi By apocral arrangement for tlrlfc jwper a photo-drama corresponding to the installments of "Runaway Jooe" nay tow Ik seen at the lead<- 4a< nMrvfcng picture theaters. By ianranfrmeiit made -with the Itntaai Fiku CoqwritiM It is -sot oaly cibk to read "Runaway June" each "weak, bat also afterward to-see roov i*g pictures tthiatratiig oar story SECOND EPISODE la Pttrsiit of tta Ruaawav Bride CHAPTER k UrJBB ruaiaway wiw> led Um 1 chase, weaned to lie lucky, for I tb* traffic opened before her I I lite magic and closed behind her Kbe a wall. As she turned into Oatral paifc it Fifty-ninth street, safe *rae» iaaxaediate ptirsaiJ, the black Va»dytoed bug's car was In a snarl at Fifth-sixth.. As he came out of that rocket he leaned forward, after a look ahead, and s?»oke crisply to his driver. They stopped at the Plaza hotel, and the man, hurrying up the steps, sud denjy paused. With a smile he drew from his pocket a tiny gold watch and opened It. Inside the lid was the pic ture of a beautiful young girl with a handsome eollW. The black Vaadyked man gaaed at the picture for a mo ment in frowning meditation. It was the runaway bride. As he entered the hotel Ned's taxi, with the fluttering white ribbons, pass ed and turned into the park just as June Warner turned out of it at Sev enty-second street, heading for River side drive. At that hour Iris Blethering sat pour ing her voluble sadness Into tho ears of Bobbie in the Blethering home on Riverside drive. She had been school day chum and the bosom friend of June Moore, but now there was no June Moore, only a June Warner, and June Warner might become a stranger. "Itot," observed Bobbie. "How long ,".re tbey going to be gone?" "Three weeks. It's an eternity, Bob ble!" "Hot." said Bobbie. "Why doesn't somebody answer that doorbell?" It had only just rung, and inimedl nlely the hollow Blethering butler came through. He did not return to nnnounce any one, however. Instead the caller rushed straight in and threw herself into the arms of Iris. "June!" Bobbie Blethering stood by and watch ed the tableau for a moment; then ho went to the door and looked, out. "Where's Ned?" he quite naturally inquired. The only answer was a sob. ".lunie," pleaded Iris, "where's •Ned?" "I—l—l left Ned!" June wailed. "I Tan away!" "Aw, I say!" protested Bobbie. "Wbat did he do, dear?" This from Oris. "He—he gave me money!" "He gave you money!" Iris repeated jam mm Tha Biaok Vandyked Man. this numbly after awhile. "Did you *ay he gave y<m money ?" "Yes." June straightened up as she recognized the dlfllculty which lay be fore her. Iris, while a warm and loyal 'frtond, was not exactly a thoughtful ipemon nor a sensitive one and might perhaps not understand the deep eth |lcal significance of what had happened, i ßobble didn't count. "Just after the wedding breakfast mother gave me a purse, and if I had not left that on the library table at home I might not have known my pre dicament until it was too late. When jNed and I were on the train, however, Jl missed the purse. While I was tell- Htng Ned about It he tipped the porter "'Colonial Jack," Border Pedestrian, Visits City "Colonial Jack," who has walked I more than 9,000 miles around the en tire border of the United States', and visited 1.200 towns, was in liarrisbuvg | late yesterday. Cards, which he carries in a wbcel j.Jharrow, have been the means of three SATURDAY EVENING,' ' a dollar la hta nice, cheery way; then he turned around and gnT« me |3o ip Just the same way! Doot you see?" And she shuddered with the recollec tion of her humiliation. "Then I had a dream." went on June, with more vigor, bound now to make them un derstand. "t saw myself being paid for being a wife, as mummy pays the servants and Ned pays his stenogra pher. I saw Ned giving we money as he given it to beggars! I saw myself always holding out my hand for chari ty!" And she was a most pathetic lit tle figure as she upturned her palm. "I couldn't stand it. So I threw down the S3O and slipped off the train and came back." "But you had no money!" said iris. "I got on the train anyhow and sold my watch to a funny old lady." June explained. She paused to remember something—the black Vandyked man who now had her watch. He had bought it from the old lady on tho train, so that June could some day re deem it. That was very nice of hiin. i¥h9lH He Caught Up the Portrait and Press ed It to His Lip«. She bad his card and was reaching for it when she noticed that Iris had gone to the telephone. "You mustn't telephone anybody!" the runaway bride insisted. "You would be betraying my confidence." "But what do you intend to do?" "What about Ned?" Bobbie snddenlj blurted, the thought of young Warner, alone on the train with the honeymoon luggage, flashing on his mind. "Ned's a darling!" And June's lip quivered. "He's an angel! But I can not be a burden to be carried on Ned's back. I shall stay away from Ned un til I achieve my own independence. Then we can walk together hand in hand—in mutual self respect and ac cepting from each other nothing but love! "It is for his happiness as well as for mine," June insisted firmly. "Th« world will not be happy until women walk iu strict equality with men, Iris, dear." She saw by the face of liet friend that cold logic was wasted. Th« two girls walked upstairs, and Iris ush ered her still bosom friend into a cozy little guest room. Meanwhile Ned Warner began to in familiar with the bronze panther oil the overhanging rock in the park and, casting back in his memory, reflected that he must have passed it about five times. But why had June married him't Why had she walked down the aisle of the Brynport chapel with him that morning? Perhaps the black Vandyk ed man was married, and marriage was the only road to June's freedom. He could stand tills train of thoughts no longer. He whirled up Riverside drive, past the very house where June was then talking to Iris and turned his key in the lock of the place which was to have been home. Home! And this was his return! Here were all the furnishings which they had bought together. Here had clustered all his dreams of happiness. It must be his task to find that man! June was still June—and his June! He caught up the portrait and pressed It to his Hps and held it in his arms and sank down by the bed sobbing. At that, moment June and Iris were sitting In the big walnut paneled li brary, and Bobbie wandered in. When lie saw the girls he started back. "Don't go, Bobbie!" called Iris. She walked straight up to him and held out her hand. "Produce!" "What's the price?" he asked. "Oh, a hundred." "How did you gueSs my roll?" in quired the cheerful Bobbie, dragging up a handful of bills with noncbalaui ease, at which June smiled in spite of her embarrassment. She had always been amused at the matter of fact and open way in which these two discuss ed finances. Bobbie counted his mon ey and held back a fragment of it. "Here's your, hundred, and I'm sever to the good." families locating lost relatives, the ar rest of a murderer, an embezzler and other fugitives from justice. "Jack" is really John Aurat Krohn. from New buryport, Mass. lie has a wife and one daughter, Beatrice, dependent upon him. Ills only reason for walkinn around the country Is to regain his health. "Jack" was 42 years old yes terday. lie has written an Interest inn book of his travels and the man>' persons he has met, and tells of the "Oh!" gasped June as the slgnifi rance of the tableau suddenly dawned upon her. Why, they were almost In the same position in which she had icen herself when she was Ned's pite ous Utile liexg.ii'. "Thanks, Bobble." said Iris and turn ed to June. "If you want mure, honey, In your struggle for Independence, come right back, and I'll make Bob ble give it to us." June shrank away. "Oh, I can't possibly take it! I didn't know you were going to ask Bobble!" "Where else do I net it T" blurted the bosom friend. "Bubble's the easi est way." "That's Just it," Juno pointed out. "Can't you see what a beggar n de pendent woman is? Don't you see that If 1 can't accept a gift of money from my husband 1 can't possibly let you accept for me a gift of money from your husband? Don't be angry. Iris, please. I'm fighting for u princi ple" "Oh, Mr. Thomas Hot!" exploited Bubble. "That altitude In at the bottom of the whole thing. Bobble," argued June, with spirit. "Because the man has supported tho woman for ages he ban made himself tho master. That de stroys the woman's self respect, and love dies." "She's a fine kid," said Bobbie hearti ly, "but if she's golug to draw the line on money which lias been banded from a man to a woman she'll have to get it fresh from the mint." "What will you do. June'/" fretted Iris. "If I only had that puree mummy gave me," mused June. "She got that from your father," Bobbie was unkind enough to remind her. "Oh, that was daddy's money," she brightly replied, no trace of concern ou her brow, "and it's the last I can take from them now that I'm married. Iris, couldn't you go out to the house and say you'll send It to me?" "Just the thing!" Iris was bubbling immediately with enthusiasm. "We'll go right out now. Bobbie, call the car." "Tou mustn't let them know I'm here," warned June. "You mustn't let any one know!" Within five minutes iris and Bobbie in the swift little runabout: were head ed for Brynport. In the library June had found a picture of Ned among some other Intimnte photographs, and it was with constant reference to this and amid constant talking to it and constant caressing of It that she penned her important message: My Poor. Dear Boy—l cannot explain in a. letter what happened today. When I am free. Gear Ned. I will make you under stand and torsive. Tou must not try to find your unhappy bride, Jt'NE. CHAPTER 11. DEBBY <ame around the I A I corner °' the Moore house in |f\| all her glory—stiff lavender I I dress with the red posies on it, yellow hat with the green feather, tan shoes and blue stockings. "Howdy, Aunt Debby!" Bobbie Bleth ering, with bis chattel beside him. swung up the drive in bis fast little runabout. June's parents came to the door, John J. Moore in the blue and tan smoking jacket which be had refused to wear until tenderness at June's ap proaching departure had brought him to it, and Charlotte Moore in the gray silk dress embroidered by June's own hands. "Come right in," heartily invited Fa ther Moore, and Mother Moore, with soft eyes, shook Bobbie by one band and Iris by both. "Wo have only a minute to stay," began Iris, starting to talk as they went into the library. "I beard from June," Iris rattled on. Father Moore, in the parlor, came straight over. "She missed her purse," glibly went on Iris, while Bobbie eyed her with ad miration. "She's afraid she lost it. Did she leave it here?" "Right on that table." And Mrs. Moore's eyes sparkled. She took it from a drawer in a desk. "That girl always was careless about money," laughed Mr. Moore as if it were a virtue. Bobbie glanced at Iris. She was as serene as a plate of ice cream. "I'll send it to her," offered Iris, and Mrs. Moore smilingly put it in her band. "Why didn't June wire us?" puzzled father, his fists bulging in the pockets of his gay smoking jacket. "Yes, why didn't she?" Mother's voice was full of anxiety, but as she saw the unruffled expression of Iris Blethering's face she began to bridle. If Junie could wire her friend, why couldn't she wire her mother? "You have such slow delivery out here," promptly explained Iris. "Just what did she say?" Iris cast her eyes to the ceiling and began telling off the words on her fin gers. "Phone mother I can't find my purse Did I forget it? Extremely happy. Bushels of love to all. June." Twenty minutes were all the callers could spare. They drove down the boulevard. A taxieab flashed by them, but they did not notice it. Ned War ner was In the taxi, and he was out and up on the porch before the ma chine had come to a full stop. John Moore answered the bell, and he stood its if petrified when he saw his son-in law's expression. "Have you heard from June?" husk id Ned. "Isn't she with you?" The voice of Moore was strained and tense. Mrs. Moor* came hurrying out, her face ashen. "Junie!" she cried. She ran down to the taxi and peered in through the open window. She came running back many different ways of people in all parts of the United States. Government Is Taking Census of Unemployed With a view to getting a line on the number of unemployed men in the United States, and to help them if possible, the Department of Labor HXRWBBtmO TELEGA !' and caught Ned by the arm. "Where Is my girl?" "Then she Isn't heref gasped Ned. "Coma Inside." John Moore's voice had lost all Its color. He led the way Into the library, "Now, what is all (his about? Why are you here alone?'* "I don't know, June Is somewhere In New York. I was lu hopes you had heard from her." "We did! Bhe telegraphed to Iris that she had lost her purse, iris left here with it to mall it to June." "Then that's where Nhe Is!" There was relief lu Ned's voice. "Hit down,'* said Moore. "Why are you not with her?" "I don't know." There was a choice In Nod's voice. "She loft me on the train—slipped away at B'arnvllle." "She wouldn't do such a thing with out good cause!" declared Mrs. Moore with firm conviction. "What hspponed?" This sharply from Moore. "1 don't understand. She told me she ' lost her purse. I gave her some moti ! cy, and she went to sleep with her bead on my shoulder. I pillowed ber I more comfortably on the seat by and by and went into the smoker. I drop ped In to look at her about every five minutes, and when I came back after we had passed Farnvllle she was gone. She left the money on the seat. Here It is." And be showed them the three crumpled bills, one partly torn. "How do you know she returned to j New York?" demanded Moore. "I saw her. I got off at the next sta- I tlon aud telephoned. The station mas ; ter at Farnvllle reported that he saw | her getting on ti down train. I took an I express aud overhauled her as we came Into the Grand Central station. I saw her leave the station and get Into a I taxi." "You arc holding something back!" Moore charged. "I want to know the truth!" "Yoy have all I can tell you," declar ! Ed Ned. He would not tell them about j the black Vandyked man, and June was Mrs. Warner now. "Will you get your wraps, please. Charlotte?" June's father finally said, and rose. "We are going to Iris. I'll order the car." They were grim and silent as they sped away. While they rode the black Vandyked man, in Sherry's, sat at the end of a long table between a jovial host, with a gray mustache and a ponderous man with heavily lidded eyes and short hair. There were a dozen placed at the table, and wine hissed at every plate, but the others of the party, which in cluded a half dozen vivacious and gay ■ ly gowned young women, were danc | ing. The three men talked in low | tones, their heads bent, together, and ! the black Vaudyked man was the j most silent. Finally he began to talk | and grew enthusiastic, aud presently j he drew forth June's little gold watch. I Then he flashed open the lid. All | three men bent eagerly over it. They i gazed upon the lovely features of the runaway bride, their faces bent close together. They clapped the black Van dyked mau on the shoulder. It was during this time that June Warner, sitting quietly in a corner of the library with Bobbie and Iris and with her mother's purse still in her hand, heard a familiar voice in the vestibule. "Daddy!" She dashed from her chnir In a flash and went upstairs to her room. "Where's Junie?" Mrs. Moore had pushed through ahead of the men. John Moore walk«d straight to Bob bie Bletheriug and shook an awe in spiring finger at that young man. "Where's my girl?" he demanded. Bobbie slowly straightened. "Well, she's here," be said. "What of it?" "I'll tell you what of it!" said Iris. "June has decided not to see any of you just yet, and she won't!" "Iris," begged Mrs. Moore, "what does It all mean?" Iris took two letters from the mantel. She gave one to Ned and one to Mrs. % IP' siPfPjwKßßf HE "Why are you here alone?" Moore. Her husband looked over her thoulder. The letter was addressed to- Dear Daddy and Mummy—l cannot ex plain In a letter why I was compelled to leave Ned. Some day I will make you understand and forgive. Please be good to dear Ned and love YOUR LITTI.E JUNIE. "Here's the man!" shouted Ned, his voice full of sudden fury. lie held a pair of gloves in one hand and a card In the other. "These are June's Rloves. They were lying on the table, and this card was la them!" "They're my gloves!" called Iris, but ami Industry at Washington, D. C., is distributing employment blanks. Jt is proposed as far as possible to find work for the unemployed Blanks were received at the Harris burg Post Office this week and will be issued by Assistant Postmaster Sam uel W. Fleming. Each applicant - must tell his age, place of residence, and trade, if any. He must also give in formation regarding former positions and to what class of work he is best Nrl laughed at her. There was 110 mistaking those datuty, blue embroid ered bita of white kid. "Now, 111 tell you," went on Ned. "This man, Gilbert Blye. whose name I now know for the first time, was with her from the moment she left mo until she came here. He is a tall, blnck Vandyked man, and at Farn vllle he was seen assisting June on the down train. I saw them myself through the car window talking to gether. I want to find Gilbert Blye! Are you hiding him too?" And he turned savagely on iris. Bobble lounged forward. "That'll do, Ned," he warned. "Iris, call June." "Junle!" They heard Iris throwing doora open and running through the hou»e. calling June. Ned darted up the •talra. but in the liall Iris met him with a frightened face. "She is gone!" They all searched for her then, but there was no trace of her. CHAPTER 111. ITjrlnS. GILBERT BI,YB was in IVII shrill voiced converse with a I big green parrot, which, from MJ length and sharpness of nose and height of eye arches, might have been a sister to lier. A maid announced that some one had wanted to see Mr. Blye, and, since he was not at home, would Mr*. Blye care to say where he was? 1-Ie came to New York on an early train. Mrs. Blye rose instantly. She sailed straight into the hall and confronted ?~Vl '' ■' '"*»» Mr». Gilbert Blye Waa In Bhrill Voice Converse With a Big Green Parrot. the five earnest visitors. "Did you say Mr. Blye returned on an early train?" "Yes"." Ned tried not to speak curtly. "I saw him." "I am Mrs. Blye. Is there anything I can do for you?" The lady wan studying the group with a shrewllka penetration. Mrs. Blye began to wor ry herself. Also she began to suspect. That last was her specialty. "If you will tell me the nature of your business with Mr. Blye I may be able to locate him." "I want my daughter!" blurted out John Moore, his lips squaring. "Oh!" And Mrs. Blye's voice rose. "Your daughter!" She glared at them for a moment. "Will you please wait?' 1 she asked and sailed back through the hall. They could hear her sharp voice telephoning. She had called her hus band's club, and they heard her ex claim indignantly, "Where, Sherry's?" She was back, blazing. She had her hat in her hand. "He's at Sherry's!" she shrilled. An electric coupe stood at the door. She slammed into that, turned on the lights and rolled away with as much vigor as was In the capacity of hei machine. Bobbie's runabout darted after her and passed her and then came the limousine with Mr. and Mrs. Moore and Ned. Poor June! It had been hard for het to leave those beloved voices down there in the library, but she had made up her mind very firmly that neither she nor Ned could be happy if she was always to feel that she was a chattel. She ran back to the desk for Ned's photograph, then stepped lightly out on the tiny side porch, jumped down to the little embankment and fled, as light as thistledown, along the side of the house and out at the little grocer's gate. Where now should she go? The apartments, their home, /hers and Ned's! She hurried up in that direc tion, but at the first corner she stopped for an instant and darted over toward Broadway. She had realized three things almost simultaneously first, that they might come out of the Bletb , ering house at any instant and see her; I second, that she had no key and, third, that. Ned might come there. It would be the most likely place for him to go in his loneliness. In fond memory, stopping at the first dark corner, she 'went over each of the dear rooms, furnished just to fit her and delight her—the white and gold reception room, the white and rose drawing room, the white and black library, the white and blue bed. room, the all white kitchen. She saw Ned in every room and herself there. Now flushed and happy she was ex perimenting with the toy range, now they were dining together all alone. She was playfully feeding Ned, and lie was seasoning the meal with stolen kisses, walking clear around the ta ble to get them. They were spending an evening of blissful companionship in the library. She suddenly held her handkerchief to her mouth to choke back a sob. On Broadway she hailed a passing taxi. • •••«•» All was sparkling at. Sherry's, but Gilbert Blye had taken small share in 1 the hilarity. He had risen to go when fitted for. These blanks when filled out will be sent to Washington. LADIES' All) TO GIVE SUPPER The Ladies' Aid Society of the Camp Hill Methodist Church will hold a conundrum supper at the home of Mrs. Robert Hawbecker, Market street. Fri day, February 12, between 5 and 9 o'clock. FEBRUARY 6, 1915. a black eyed young woman, the most vivacious of lb© party, called bim to task for bis evening of secret schem ing. "You're up to some devilment," sbe charged, playfully tweaking his beard. "Come and dance with me." "Sorry, Tommy," he told her, with that queer smile on his lips, "but I've a previous engagement." "She can wait," pouted the girl. Sbe dragged Blye away from the table. "Take my car, Gil!" called the gray mustacbed host. "Certainly," replied Blye, and the three men exchanged a smile. "I'll dance one round with Tommy; then I'll go." Before that round was over, howev er, Gilbert Blye saw an apparition in the doorway, and his face turned cold. The apparition was a tall, angular wo man with a long, high nose and high arched brows, who was trying to bore Gilbert Blye through and through with a double eyed glare of burning feroci ty. He hurried over to his wife. She had shrilled: "Who is that woman?" One lean, long finger pointed accusingly at the vivacious black eyed girl witli whom Gil had been dancing. "I shall explain nothing," said Gil bert. "I'm through:" He left her contemptuously, leaving her stunned by this unexpected revolt. As he went down the steps he heard her shrieking something after him, and he hurried. As he dashed out of the door he ran into a group who were coming In. They were the Moores, the Bletherings and Ned Warner, and he was upon them and past Hiiein and jumping into the luxuriously furnished racing limousine, with the little watch in his hand, before they realized that this was the man they were seeking. "There he goes!" cried Ned. "The scoundrel!" Blye, moving rapidly away, saw the confusion and blamed his wife for the scene, for now she was in the lead of the excited group, which was rush ing toward him. The house o* the Moores at Bryn port was dark when June arrived, the dear old house. It stood back amid the dim trees, with a dignity and beauty which she had never before thoroughly appreciated, and at the gate she hesitated as if, with no one to welcome her, she had no right here. There was a welcome, though, and a joyous one, a loud, hearty one, a se ries of delighted barks from her dog Bouncer. The hole through which he usn. ,y emerged had been found and closed, but he wasted no time on that. He merely came through the window, bringing a part of the sash with him, and here he was running circles around her, leaping at her, crouching, barking at the top of bis voice, doing everything In his power to show her that she was a welcome visitor at this place and in his heart at any hour of the night or day. He had known her very presence from far back in the shed. It was the work of a minute for June to clamber through an unlocked kitch fV :v 3 m / $®N . \ | W \ M ; v - Where Now Should She Go? en window and to rush upstairs, get her maid, Marie, seize several gar ments and drag with her the astound ed servant. "Miss June! Miss June!" cried Aunt Debb.v, out of breath from running, but June only waved a hand at her as the taxi swept out of the drive. A limousine had stopped In front of the house, and a black Vandyked man had alighted. "Miss Moore!'' he called, but June's taxi rattled on. He jumped in his own car and gave the word and start ed in swift pursuit. The two machines were still In sight when the runabout of Bobble and Iris dashed around the circle. "Is June here?" called Iris. "Lawdy, no!" puffed Aunt Debby. "Dat's her goin' yonder!" The runabout was gone with a whiz, and immediately after came the family limousine. "Is June here?" called all three of the occupants at once. "She's just done gone! The gentle man with black whiskers has Just done gone! Mr. Bobbie and Miss Iris has just done gone! Whooh!" Around the corner there rolled an ■ electric coupe. It was brilliantly light ed. and in it sat an angular woman with a high, long nose and high arched brows, beneath which glittered two sharp eyes. "Say!" shrilled the occupant of the electric. Aunt Debby, her broad hand on ber stomach, pointed down the road. KRIK WANTS F. A. M. MEET Erie, Pa., is the latest city to make a bid for the 1915 annual convention of the Federation of American Motor cyclists. Boosters of Erie believe that the East Is entitled to this year's meet, since most of the recent assemblies have oeen held in the Middle West. If the convention goes to Erie, they propose to try to have motorcycle road races substituted for the usual track events. .REASONS GIVEN FOB i DOWNFALL CF BOVS Inmates of Huntingdon Reforma tory Talk of Causes Leading to Their Imprisonment Huntingdon, Pa., Feb. 6.—lt is in teresting to learn to what causes the 959 inmates admitted to Pennsylva nia Industrial Reformatory here dur ing 1913-14 attribute their downfall, as shown by the biennial report of Superintendent T. B. Patton, issued to-day. There are many other statis tics of general interest in the report, which shows the State penal institu tion had a most successful record for the two years just ended. Of the 959 inmates, 578 blamed bad association as the cause of thtir crimes: 195 offered no excuse what ever; 86 blamed intemperance: 55 said lack of employment was responsible; 39 flatly denied their nuilt, 5 attri buted their waywardness to home en jvlronment, and 1 inmate lamented the fact that he had read bad literature, of the "Nick Carter" type. There were fifty different kinds of crime charged against the inmates, whoso ages aver aged 19.13 years. The board of manager of the Re formatory, in their report, call atten tion to the urgent need of legislation concerning the disposition of articles made in the various industrial depart ments of the instutiton. The board points out that many of the products of the inmates' skilled labor could be and should be utilized by other de partments of the State, as is done in many other States. As it is, all ar ticles, manufactured, designed, carv ed. moulded, etc., are destroyed at their completion, with dire waste. This, too, in a sense, is disheartening to the inmates. The inventory returned to the prop erty commission of Pennsylvania, cov ering the property owned "by the State at the Reformatory, consisting of land, buildings, personal property and sup plies. amounted to $1,24 6,706.04. * Runaway June IN Motion Pictures AT The Royal Third Street Above Cumberland Two reels comprising the I FIRST EPISODE ■ j Monday Feb. Bth | Every Monday thereafter for 15 weeks Admission 10c; Children 5c <r \ SEE ■WAY JUNE I In Motion Pictures at THE VICTORIA All Star Cast Every Monday for fifteen weeks —the story by George Randolph Chester Love, Mystery, Adventure, Dollars For the benefit of our pa trons who were unable to see the first episode last Monday, both the first and second in stallments will be shown on Monday, February 8 Norma Phillips Former Mutual Girl in the role of "Runaway June" Admission ... 10c Children 5c
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers