OF INTEREST TO THE WOMEN A GIRL AND A MAN A New and Vital Romance of City Life by Virginia Terhune Van cte Water CHAPTER XXV. (Copyright, 1916, Star Company) Perhaps it is true, as so many men affirm, that women are a mass of in consistencies, f This feminine peculiarity may ac- for the subconscious chagrin that Agnes Morley felt as day after day passed and Philp Hale kept the place that she had ordered him to keep. So strenuously did he obey her mandates that, unless he and she were brought face to face—as occasionally happened when she was coming in or going out—he appeared unaware of her existence. When they met thus, he would bow stiffly. She had told him that he must treat her as he treated other employes. He exceeded these commands, she noticed. She could not know how wretched Philip Hale really was. Now that he and Agnes had quarreled, his resent ment of her tone and manner at the time of his last visit to her did not make him care for her less, but added a keen pain to their estrangement. Besides, he felt that there had been truth in what she said with regard to the ".esults of his recklessness, and the 'jonsciousness of being in the wronjr piqued him. What could she have expected of a flesh-and-blood man? She had been unkind—then he would go as far as she demanded, and try to seem to ignore her presence. He did not acknowledge to himself that he had an idea—common to older : men than he—that to seem to ignore a woman increases her desire to be noticed. Agnes, on her part, decided that Philip could not care much for her or he would not find it so easy to treat! her cavalierly. And the recollection ; that she was not his social equal was like a canker in her mind. Several weeks slipped by, Mr. Hale's 1 cold vigilance relaxed, and he became less formal in manner. Twice he ; thanked his secretary for the care \ and rapidity with which she executed ' certain orders he gave her. You have learned my methods I much sooner than I dared hope you { would," he observed one day. Slie Thanks Him Her heart did not beat faster as It j would once have done at such com- I mendation from Philip's father. She ! thanked him politely and determined ! harder than ever to please him. | When Mr. Hale had left the office I that noon, Joe came in. "Annie Rooney wants to know if you re going out to lunch soon," he said. "She's starting now, and she'll meet you at the usual eating place." j "Very well," Agnes told him, "I will meet her there." But when she reached the street, Annie was waiting for her in the door way of the office building. Agnes ! started as she saw that Philip Hale i was standing there talking to her, his hat in his hand. He did not smile as Agnes came toward the pair, but, with fnf raVC b ° W ' Went on out of the build- j pouLTßy^news Small Flock of Hens Will Help to Reduce the High Cost of Living Convert This Waste Into a Daily Supply of Fresh Eggs By >l. L. Chapman Judge, Breeder and Writer Profitable poultry keeping is not confined to the large commercial egg farms nor to the person who is situ ated on a large tract of land. Small flocks kept in the backyard and fed mostly table scraps are a profitable investment and will keep the family supplied with fresh eggs and an oc casional chicken dinner. One of the most serious problems that, confront the poultry keeper is the high cost of feeding stuff. All kinds of grains are higher in price than they have been for years and as these grains form the larger por tion of the feeding ration on the big poultry plants it requires skillful man agement to make a profit in egg pro duction. W r ith the small flock, which is us ually kept in the backyard, these ex pensive foods are mostly eliminated. What is usually thrown away, in the forms of table scraps, may be used for the bulk, of the food for the fowls. Of recent years it has become a ser ious problem for housekeepers to re duce the cost of living without low ering its standard. The small poultry flock offers exceptional advantages along the lines of economy, since it is possible to convert waste (table scrap) materials into a perfectly wholesome and nutritious diet (eggs and poultry). Convert Waste Into KJSRS Strictly fresh eggs at certain sea sons of the year are a luxury to those who are compelled to go into the.mar kets for their supply. Very often, even after paying excessively high prices, there is disappointment in the quality received. The home poultry flock insures an abundance of fresh eggs for the ordinary needs of the family, and when the eggs can be pro duced by feeding table scraps, the Jerry on the dob • J Copyright, 1916, International News Service T"o /?y JHlobotfl. , SATURDAY EVENING, Annie greeted her, all smiles. "Well," she said, "he sure does treat a girl like a real gentleman ought to, doesn't he?" t "He seems to," Agnes agreed with well-feigned indifference. "He stopped to ask me about some copying I had to do. and that his father told him to get fron me. Gee! j if I could only have the job as his 'stenographer I'd be tickled silly!" | "Does he need a regular stenog rapher?" Agnes asked. "I should think that with all the girls there In [the office he could always get some one of them to do his work for him." "Of course he can!" Annie admit ted rather tartly. "I didn't say I was going to be his stenographer—l just said I'd like to be. You needn't take me up so sharp." "I did not mean to take you up , sharply," Agnes apologized. "Excuse me, please." "Oh, that's all right," Annie re joined graciously. "By the way, I don't ever see him and you talking any more. Why not?" "Because we have no reason to talk," Agnes replied coldly. "I am his I father's secretary, not his." I'raise For Phil "Well, he often speaks to me when 1 he passes by me. and it's always in a | pleasant tone. too. It's never 'Annie.' but always 'Miss Rooney'—just as if ! I was as good as he is." | "As you are," Agnes said involun- I tarily. With each minute that passed she was hardening her heart against Philip Hale. I "Right you are, kid!" Annie agreed, j "I'm glad to see you're getting sense I instead of talking that high-brow junk that you handed out when I first men tioned him to you. Well, here we are —let's go in and feed our faces." That afternoon Agnes had just en tered Sir. Hale's private office to re sume work, when her employer's tele phone rang. As she answered it she recognized Philip's voice on the wire, asking for his father. "He is not in," she told him. "Kindly say to him. please, that the man upon whom I was to call at his place of business in Front street left! word there for me that he could meet j me uptown at 4 o'clock. I will, there fore, attend to other matters before going uptown and will not. be back at the office to-day. May I trouble you to deliver that message? Thank you. Good-by." "Not a personal word," Agnes mused as she hung up the receiver, j "There was no reason why he might 1 not have called me by name or spoken j some little word of friendliness. No body would have been any the wiser. Well—never mind! I don't care!" ] But her heart was suddenly sore and ' a lump was in her throat. A sound of the office door opening made her turn around. Mr. Bain bridge was entering the room. He , closed the door behind him before he j spoke. Then he came toward her, a kind smile on his face. (To Be Continued) saving in this article of diet is well worth considering. It has always been a well-known fact that a few hens will produce a greater amount of profit than larger flocks, and also that each hen will lay a larger number of eggs when kept in a small flock than when run ning with a large uumber of others. This fact has often been the cause of many failures in the poultry in dustry, because unfortunately the majority of persons figure that if the profits on ten hens is ten dollars the profits on a thousand hens will be a thousand dollars. This delusion has led many beginnern upon the rocks of disaster. The average production from a flock of ten hens is about two and one-half dozens of eggs each week, according to the reports given out by the leading egg laying contests in various sections of the world. This estimate was taken from the latest report sent out by the Connecticut Agricultural College Experiment Sta tion and comprises all of the popular breeds of fowls. In these flocks there are no male birds and it has been proven that egg production has not been curtailed by their absence. For a small flock or hens the equip ment need not be elaborate, but the quarters should be comfortable and placed in such position that there will be plenty of sunlight and fresh air always present. While a small run is of great benefit to the birds, it is not absolutely essential. Manv small flocks are kept in their laying house the entire year, and if their quarters are kept clean and sanitary there i 3 very little cause for complaint from neighbors. All fowls delight in a variety of diet. They will grow and thrive bet ter, produce more eggs and keep in better health and physical condition. For this reason tabic scraps with their mixture of bread, meat and vegetables make an ideal ration. It is surprising how much of this food will be con sumed and relished by the hens. Cereals, bread, pastry and crumbs will supply the necessary grain diet in concentrated form, and will pro mote the formation of fat and muscle which insures rapid growth, also fur nishes bodily heat and an excess to ward the formation of eggs. Tailings from steaks, roasts, chops and other meats will supply elements that are directly concerned with the SMART AND LOOSE IS WALKING COAT Simple and Youthful Effect Equally Pretty Made of Cloth or Velours By MAY MAN TON (With ' ' Seam. Allowance) Loose Coat for Misses and Small Women, 16 and 18 years. This is a coat that can be worn loose or with a belt._ It can be rolled open at the neck as it is cn the figure or it can be buttoned up about the throat, con- 1 sequently, it is adapted to walking and occasions of such sort and also to motor ing. Girls are sure to like it for it gives i smart lines and at the same time it is ; simple and youthful in effect. Here, it is made of a mixed cheviot but it could be copied in any cloaking material, serge or bFoadcjoth or gabardine or velours for immediate wear, chinchilla and the heavier cloths for later use. Velours is especially well liked and is especially attractive this season. Navy blue velours with the collar facing and the cuffs of Colonial yellow broadcloth makes a smart combination for the motor and an attractive one, but the yellow must be carefully chosen, it must be true Colonial which is closely allied to buff, not any aggressive shade. For the 16 year size will be needed, 4% yards of material 36 inches wide, yards 44 or 54.^ The pattern No. 9168 is cut in sizes for 16 and 18 years. It will be mailed to any : address by the Fashion Department o£ this paper, on receipt of ten cents. formation of eggs, and nearly every family will have enough of this form of table waste to provide sufficient animal food for a small flock of fowls. Small particles of bone are relished by fowls, and bone is one of the best egg producing foods known to pcultry men. Milk in any form is highly nutri tious and forms an excellent egg-pro ducing diet. When there is sour milk, put it on the back of the stove and allow it to come to a clabbered state, after which it mtty be fed to the hens. Sour milk is more than a food for fowls; it acts as a tonic, and keeps 1 the system in a generally healthy j condition. Green foods is the natural tonic! for fowls, and where they arc allowed free range they eat large quantities j of grass, clover and weeds. Table scraps furnish ample green food, in | the form of cabbage, celery, beet-tops, potato parings and fruit. They help i to digest the more concentrated foods j of grain and meat. Besides being ap petizing green food is a great regu lator and will keep the fowls at their ! best during the period of heavy egg j production. An excellent method of feeding table scraps is to run the various! articles through a meat chopper and j feed them in the form of a warm | mash, especially in cold weather. : Boiled potatoes and other vegetables with scraps of meat and bread will form a well-balanced ration, from which a large supply of eggs is al most certain to result. Grit is essential to the diet of the fowls, and it is surprising how much the flock will consume in one day. It acts as teeth for the birds by grind ing their food in the gizzard. Broken dishes, eggshells and oyster shells may be .pounded into fine par ticles and kept before the flock at all times. Sifted coal ishes is still an other form of grit, and besides act ing as a grit, it supplies a portion of ! the lime for the formation of egg shells. As a dust bath there is noth ing more suitable than sifted coal ashes. The fowls u,e this method of cleansing their body and keeping it free from vermin. KARRISBURG TELEGRAPH SILVER SANDALS A Detective Story of Mystery, Love and Adventure. By Clinton H. Stagg. Copyright, W. i. Watt & Co., International Newt Service. (Continued From Yesterday.) The blind man leffrned closer. His hands clenched at his sides till the veins stood out in great, blue ridges. Now was the time, in instant for the thing to which he had been leading. Colton knew that the mind, in the process of hypnosis, takes its lmpres ! sion like a photographic plate. But it only remembers the stronger lights until they have been washed out by | another and more powerful mind. At j the instant of changing from the ln- I fluence of the woman's mind to nor mal, Sydney would recollect things that the woman hypnotist had work ed to make him forget. little things, a word, a phrase, perhaps, but that was all the problemist needed. Sydney's hands were moving slow ly across his forehead; on his face showed the struggle that was going on in the brain of the body that was asleep. "Another!" Thames muttered. "An other!" His voice strengthened, all the power in him went in the final hoarse whisper: "My God, another!" "The girl said that!" Colton spoke sharply. "The girl said that!" "The girl " Sydney Thames seemed vainly trying to remember something. "Yes golden hair something wrong hand —right." "I know, Sydney, I know. She cut her right hand on a wineglass, Syd ney." "Yes " The mumbling ceased. j Sydney Thames lay still, but it was only to gain strengtn to speak again. "The crow!" It was almost a shout. "She said that! The crow. Only a feather! The crow knows! A feather, only a feather! Hurry, Ruth! A feather from Rameses. No time a feather, girl!" Colton's hands relax jd. A great sigh came through his tight-shut teeth. "Sydney Thames! Sydney Thames!" The name, reiterated over and over, seemed to calm the man on the bed. His breathing came regularly again. Colton's face was almost touching the face of his secretary; he seemed to be peering into the closed eyes of Syd ney Thames through the folds of the wet cloths that covered his own dead eyes. Once more Sydney Thames stirred. His eyes opened slowly. "Thorn," he murmured weakly. "Thorn!" Colton raised his head. "Go to sleep, Sydnej'." His voice was very gentle and the man on the bed closed his eyes like a little child. The blind man arose. A fervent "Thank God!" crossed his lips; then the old lines of weariness came back. He touched the watch in his pocket, j Midnight. The fight there in the dark . bedroom had been going on for two hours! He tiptoed out of the room ! softly, down the stairs to the library. | He took another ilring of brandy, a ' stronger one this time, and he did not | even feel the fire of it. His fingers found the empty chessboard. They I felt loose sh :ts of paper. He picked j them up and ran his fingers over the I backs of them. They were the notes j Shrimp had made of the crow's words. Throughout the afternoon and even i ing the crow had repeated nothing j but its one sentence: "Poughkeepsie! Poughkeepsie! George Nelson! Wait er! Age twenty-seven!" There was not a letter, not a sylllable but those words. Strange that the crow had such a small vocabulary. Why hadn't it picked up other phrases in its years of association with the woman? Was it the crow that had been the mouth piece of the silent clairvoyant? Colton's hand went to his breast pocket. His fingers felt a rough, folded paper. "No human hand can unlock It. From out the dead dynas ties " was that the old man had written as he waited for death. That was The telephone bell tinkled. That drove everything else from his mind. With a single motion he pulled the instrument toward him and lifted the receiver from the hook. "Hello!" he called. Hero was the thing he had been awaiting! The bit of evidence that he had forced others to put into his hands! The voice that came over the wire was hoarse: " 'Lo, Mr. Colton. This is Beldon of the district attorney's staff. We've got the waiter! He's up here at the Twenty-seventh Precinct. Hustle up and get a line in him!" "Right!" There was eagerness, tri umph in tha blind man's voice, and the snapping of the receiver on its hook came with the jamming down of the button that summoned his big black car. He grabbed his stick and coat and ran from the door. He jerk ed open the front door and rushed down the steps without even taking the trouble to see that It was closed tightly after him. The car swung around the corner out of the garage. The blind man ran into the street and jumped to the running board be fore the frightened Michael-could stop the machine. "The Twenty-seventh Precinct!" ordered Colton loudly. "Hustle!" The car fairly leaped to its best speed. Colton swuns nimbly Into the tonneau. It raced uptown, and Col ton, all the nervousness suddenly gone, leaned comfortably back on the cushions and let his whole weary body relax. He took off the bandage he had not waited to remove, and let the cool night air fan his burning eyes. The car pulled up before the green lighted precinct station. Colton spoke to the driver. "How long did that take?" he want ed to know. "Not more'n ten minutes, sorr," ahswered the chauffeur, with a touch of pride. "All right! Back as fast as you can!" Michael's face flashed his surprise before lie turned, but he knew the blind man too well to question. "Stop at the corner above ■ the house!" ordered the problemist. Back they raced. Colton jumped from the car as }t slowed on the curb, whispered an order to Michael, and ran to the shadows of the house along the sidewalk, and up the front steps of his own house. The front door was closed. He turned the lock silently and made his way soundlessly to the library. He listened a second at the doorway, then entered. His nostrils had caught the faint odor of Egyptian incense, his ear had heard the sound of a sudden move ment In the corner of the room. He closed the door behind him, and the lock snapped sharply. He heard a quick-drawn breath as tho intruder realized that escape was cut off. Two steps took him to the desk and the light switch. One hand fumbled In the heap of chessmen beside the board. Ho turned to the corner where he knew was the Intruder. His hand was held out. On the palm glinted a piece of wineglass with a spot of blood on Its edge. "Pardon me," he said suavely. "Is this what you came for?" His ears caught the fall of a col lapsing body. He jumped to the cor ner. His hands felt the slight form clothed In man's rough clothes. One hand jerked away the cap, and his fingers felt the long, flowing hair It had concealed. He knew that It was hair of finely spun, burnished gold, and on his white face was a grim smile of satisfaction. CHAPTER XIII The Lure of the Feather As quickly as It came, the smile went, Colton bent over, his strong arms lifted the girl tenderly. He car ried her to a couch at the other side of the room and laid her down. From the small bedroom next to the library, that he sometimes used, he brought a handkerchief soaked in cold water, and gently bathed her face and wrists and hands, feeling the adhesive plaster bandage over the cut finger. The girl's eyes opened, she stared up at the blind man blankly for an in stant. Then fright came. The problemist seemed to know the moment the eyes opened. Perhaps there was some slight movement of the body; perhaps it was some subtle sixth sense he had been given to re compense the loss of sight. He spoke quietly as the girl returned to con sciousness. "Lie quiet," he commanded softly. "You can talk when you have rested a bit." "The piece of wineglass I broke," she faltered. "You know?" "Yes. My fingers felt the warm stickiness of the blood on it, and I have been holding It. I knew that when the tlma came it would prove your identity. lam blind, you know." "Blind?" He could feel her gaz ing into his deep brown eyes that held no look of their deadness. He did not wear the disfiguring blue-smoked glasses now, and the eyes seemed to glow In the white, strong face. "Your doubt is not surprising," he remarked dryly. "There are several hundred persons In New York who re fuse to believe that lam blind. There are several hundred more who know me by sight, and wno have talked to me for years, who do not suspect such a thing." "So you are the man!" The falter ing was gone from the voice; it had a sudden hardness that was wholly foreign to the girl Colton's secretary had described the night before In the restaurant. "You are the man who Is trying to put us into prison!" "Not us," he corrected, and his words were stern. "Why did you come home so quickly?" she demanded. "Because I knew that there would be some one here whom I wished to see," he answered frankly. "You knew " "That some one wanted the crow badly enough to risk anything for its possession." He finished the sentence for her. "And you pretended to rush away so that you could come back here and trap me?" she said scornfully. "I didn't expect you," he said, very seriously. "I expected another. The movement you made as I entered the door told me that my visitor was a woman. You crouched in sudden fear. A man would have made a dif ferent sound as he moved to a posi tion of defense. And the man I ex pected would not have carried the strange odor of that curious Egyptian perfume." "He couldn't come! He hasn't " She stopped as she realized what he had tricked her into saying. "But he let you come!" "I'm going!" she declared. "I'm going back." The hand that rested on her shoul der was so light that she had not even felt its touch until she started to mo\e, then it held her with a gentle firmness there was no resisting "You are typically feminine," he said. "You don't realize the serious ness the penal code attaches to en trance with Intent to steal." J '.!?f ou ' re S°ing to have me arrest ed? she stammered. He shook his head. "I'm going to listen to your story." The blind man felt her whole body stiffen; his sharp ears heard the click of her firm white teeth as they snap ped together. "I won't tell you a thing!" "There are ten thousand police looking or you, to force you to talk," he asserted dispassionately. If he expected to frighten her, he was mistaken. "I know it," she answered, and her sneer made the voice grating. "I wouldn't tell them a thing to implicate any one. "You wouldn't have to!" the blind man said sternly. "You are one of the murderers of that man in the restaurant!" 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Second, it is particularly destructive to the germ of Pyorrhea. Yet it is per fectly safe, containing neither injurious chemicals nor hard grit. Avoid Pyorrhea and decay. Get Senreco from your dealer SjjjL today. In large tubes, 25c. Send 4c to Senreco, 304 Walnut Street, Cincinnati, Ohio, for liberal-sized trial package. VSl""® See your dentist twice yearly \ | fif Use Senreco twice daily Uff /J\\ jy The tooth paste that REALLY CLEANS V# \ In her tone and eyes and the hands working at her sides there was horror. "In the eyes of the law you are a murderer!" A moan came from her lips, and the sharp breaths sobbed through them. Suddenly she raised herself on her elbow and stared into his face. "I a murderer?" she cried. "I?" A nod. "That dead man was my father!" The words seemed to take all her strength, and her slight body fell back on the couch. "I know it," Colton said slowly. "Your hands and the dead man's have the same hereditary formation. But I also know" —the sternness came back "that any one who deliber ately plots and lays careful plans for the committing of a cold-blooded murder is as guilty, in the eyes of the law, as the person whose hand strikes the fatal blow!" "He was not murdered!" she cried passionately. "They are all lies! Lies! The newspapers are filled with lies!" "The slashed wrists?" questioned the blind man. "The unmistakable evidence of arteriotomy?" "He commanded It!" Again there was faltering. "And you obeyed?" "No! No! I did not!" "You merely sat at the table, where you could see that the commands had been carried out?" the blind man went on relentlessly. "Yes yes." The affirmatives came in a steadier voice; wonderfully steady. "That was my duty: my duty to my dead father!" Colton rose from the couch and walked slowly across the room. At his desk he took out his cigarette case pulled the tobacco from a cigarette end, and held it poised between his long, slim fingers. He heard the groan of the couch springs as she suddenly sat up; but he made no move toward her. A strange girl, she baffled him continu ally. The things he had said to make her talk, to tell him things that ha must know, had only made her strong er in her fight against him. Weak, for a moment, he recognized the strength that was now behind her words, even when her voice faltered. He must handle her differently. "I want the crow!" she cried, com ing back to the object of her visit with a doggedness that amazed him. Trapped, helpless, her liberty at stake, perhaps even her life, she was fight ing for the thing that had brought her to the house in the night—a thief. "Suppose I haven't it?" Colton seemed wholly engrossed with hia cigarette. "You must have it! You said you had it!" She was sitting on the edge of the couch; he could feel her eyes again. "Admitted that I said I had it!" Ha put triumph and gloating in the words. "But consider the words as a trap to bring one of those I sought to my house. My blindness does not allow me to shadow, or follow, you know. I must be clever enough to bring those I want to me." "A spider in its web!" she cried scornfully. "Exactly!" He seemed pleased at the comparison. "You must have it!" she averred. "You found a feather in the room at the hotel!" "Did you hear me say that?" he asked significantly. "No. I " "Some one who did told you," he finished. "You found the feather!" she re peated, determined not to be tricked into further admission. "Yes," he admited. "I found it where you had dropped it. I also found a golden hair!" The words brought the girl to her feet. "I wasn't there!" "In the suite, you mean?" "Where you found the feather," she parried. (To Be Continued.) 3
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