NEW FROCKS FIRST
IN WOMEN'S LIFE
I
"To Wear the Clothes of the
Moment, to Be in the Pic
ture, to Present the Proper
Silhouette. We Women Are
Sacrificing Our Beaujty, Our
Comfort, Our Individuality
and Good Taste."
By Mr*. Wilson "Woodrow
Spring! The season of strawberries,
new frocks, daffodils, asparagus and
love!
I go about the world asking ques
tions. I have asked many women of
all ages which item in the list given
above is the supreme necessity.
Without exception they gave new
frocks the first place/ love the second,
and opinion was about equally divided
between strawberries and daffodils as
the third.
What does a man know about temp
tation anyway? Less than dust to him
are those advance-season frocks be
hind the shimmer of plate glass. And
■•i'hy are they always more alluring
this year than last? How faultlessly
the skirts hang on those hipless, wax
goddesses! How me.rvelously the coats
fit their perfect thirty-six proportions!
In imagination we see ourselves
walking the streets their living repli
cas. And then we look at the crowds
of women about us, and we immediately
shoot the dizzying chute from Olympus
to Avernus, from romance to realism.
When men murmur in our ears the
confidential revelations of a misspent
life they always say, "I admit 1 drink
too much, but it would be impossible
for you to understand the uncontroll
able craving that comes over me."
t ncontrollable (.'raving Come* Four
Time* Every Year
That "uncontrollable craving" is just
what we do understand. We experience
it about four times a year, when the
Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter
frocks are put on view.
A woman's desire for pretty and sea
sonable clothes is a perfectly normal
emotion. But that emotion has been
so pampered and overdeveloped and
overstimulated and overindulged that
we are In the grip of a universal hys
teria.
I will draw a picture for you and
you will admit that it illustrates a
common experience in the life of every
woman. You have been doing a hard
day's shopping. You emerge from your
last store dissatisfied, dog-tired, your
nerves frazzled, realizing that there are
probably many days of the same sort
before you ere you will be able to get
your wardrobe properly assembled.
And then as you take your fatigued
feet and discouraged soul homeward
you meet a Sister of Charity. How you
envy her. A serviceable, picturesque
uniform for life, and no care for the
morrow's fashions,
A business or professional woman is
expected to do the same amount of
work as a man in a similar occupa
tion, and to do it as competently. But
the truth is we do not have the same
■mount of time. Also we waste twice
amount of energy.
Why? Because the average man can
meet all of his engagements of what
ever nature, whether business or social,
in two suits, his day and evening
clothes; and the slight changes which
are made in them from season to sea
son are matters for his tailor to both
er over, not for him.
I'd like to know any woman who can
do the same.
A woman friend of mine who is in
an occupation where it is necessary for
her to meet many people under vary
ing circumstances tried to solve the
problem. Her wardrobe was to consist
of tailored suits and blouse 3 for day
wear, and one evening gown to be
worn for a whole season.
It all seemed perfectly simple and
ineffably peaceful. But when she be
gan appearing at luncheons, teas and
the various afternoon affairs in her
severe street clothes instead of the
chiffons and velvets she had hitherto
worn, and when her unchanging even
ing frock began to be noticed, her
friends became solicitously sympa
thetic and she discovered that the Ju
nior was all about her that her busi
ness was failing and that, threatened
with financial disaster, she was doing
lier best to retrench In every way.
The fact of the matter was that she
had doubled her earning that year. But
wlio would believe it? To practically
all women prosperity Is just another
way to spell clothes —a welter of them.
Women's clothes! Every one is aware
what a tremendous part they play so
cially and commercially on the stage
of the world. But the moral effects of
this dominant obsession of the femi
nine mind have not yet begun to be
calculated.
It is incontestable that in order tf
buy a hat or suit of later fashion than
the one they possess, quantities of
girls go without sufficient and nour
ishing food; and women with husbands
whose incomes do not permit of much
outlay on dress will skimp on the fam
ily table, or fuel supply, or recreations
in order to keep up with the general
standard of dress and the constant and
bewildering changes of fashion.
The sentimental view usually taken
of the causes which drive women to
the streets for a livelihood is not borne
out by the facts. Statistics shaw that
a large percentage of these women be
come what they are because of a pas
sion for finery.
The clothes question offers a vast
opportunity for the woman of wealth.
She sets the example and the pace.
With the great designers and tailors
and dressmakers of the world at her
service, she should have achieved beau
ty, simplicity and sanity in her apparel.
She has not done so. She has merely
precipitated Bedlam. Of course, cer
tain fashions appear now and again
which are beautiful, but they are never
permanent. They are cast aside as rap
idly as those which are ridiculous and
bizarre.
To wear the clothes of the moment,
to be in the picture, to present the
proper silhouette, we women are sac
rificing our beauty, our comfort, our
Individuality and good taste. And we
don't stop there. We are sacrificing
pleasures, games, amusements, travel,
lectures, music, books, etc., because we
haven't the money to spend on these
things and on clothes too. And in
many cases we also sacrificing other
people, those we love the best.
There is a little group of English
writers who are Insisting upon a uni
form for women as unvarying in type
as the clothes worn by men. Nor does
that necessarily mean ugly clothes.
Many uniforms are beautiful. A nurse's,
for Instance, is charming.
Standardised Nulla Could Be Made
Cheaply
One of these advocates of uniform
ity In dress who has apparently studied
the question from all sides, suggests
that should consist of an
indoor suit with a hat, and an evening
gown, al of fixed types. Mrs. Midas
and her maid would be dressed exactly
alike.
He asserts that these suits, if stand
ardized' and never varied, could ba
THURSDAY EVENING; HAKRISBURG rfSjjflg TELEGRAPH APRIL 19, 1917.
The Scribb Family—They Live Right Here in Harrisburg—By Sullivan
| HEWS " A .PICTURE II HUT, HO* | " FOHI I I T. HELLO - f"
THE;
I Wr ° m l K MTjJr m VP mH te- UI6HT, I'LL BE
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a.w"! S*J .ii|i !iSK' VSS:JIir uatns-l
TOB HAULIN'SWiTOUT?? H A V ' Xxtorm
turned out very cheaply and that all
women would then find the total ex
pense of their clothes amounting; to
about $l5O a year for a complete new
outfit. A thrifty woman could, of
course, save on this by making hers
last as did our grandmothers' best
black silk.
It sounds like the millenium. To
be as well dressed as any one else,
no matter who! I am almost per
suaded.
But —the fixed type of hat? I don't
see how one could live all one's life
In a fixed type of hat. And the fixed
type of frocks would be intensely be
coming to about one-third of the wom
en the world, while the other two
thirds of us would probably be snatch
ed away by the farmers to be used
as scarecrows. The uniform plan, if
it has its- advantages, also has its
drawbacks.
Nevertheless, although I frankly ad
mit that I adore prety clothing. I do
believe that we women have got to
free ourselves from this tyrannical,
mental preoccupation, this modern hys
teria which makes raiment the end and
aim of existence, before we shall really
begin to live in the wider, truer, more
joyous sense. Will you write and tell
me what you think about it? T am
anxious to know how women feel on
this subject.
XO SHORTAGE IN JAM
London, April 19.—Manufacturers
of jam, marmalade and condensed
milk are exempted from the latest or
der of the food controller limiting the
makers of articles for sale during this
year to 40 per cent, of the sugar used
by them in 1915.
PROTEST SUNDAY LABOR
London, April 19. —A strong protest
against Sunday labor has been made
to the heads of the Anglican church
by the Lord's Day Observance Society,
a body with a considerable Influence in
this country.
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1 Author of "WHISPERING SMITH" 2
ICcpjrifbt BOBS)
(Continued)
SYNOPSIS.
CHAPTER I—On Frontier day at Sleepy
Cat, Henry de Spain, gunman and train
master at Medicine Bend, is beaten at
target shooting by Nan Morgan of Music
Mountain. Jeffries, division superinten
dent, asks De Spain to take charge of the
Thief River stare line, but he refuses.
CHAPTER ll—De Spain sees Nan danc
ing with Oale Morgan, Is later derisively
pointed out to Nan on the street by Gale,
aivj Is moved to change his mind and ac
cept the stage line job.
CHAPTER III—De Spain and Lefever
ride to Calabasas Inn and there meet
Gale Morgan with Deaf Sandusky and
Bassoon, gunmen and retainers of the
Morgan clan. Morgan demands the dis
charge of a stage driver and De Spain re
fuses. De Spain meets Nan but falla to
overcome her aversion to him.
CHAPTER IV—Sassoon knifes Elpaso,
the stage driver, and escapes to Morgan's
gap, the stronghold of the Morgans. De
Spain. Lefever and Scott go In after him,
and De Spain brings out Sasson al'ne.
CHAPTER V—He meets Nan, who de
lays him until nearly overtaken by the
Morgans, but lands his captive In jalL
CHAPTER Vl—Sassoon breaks jail. De
Spain beards the Morgans In a saloon
and Is shot at through the window. He
meets Nan again.
CHAPTER VII—He prevents her going
Into a gambling hall to find her Uncle
Duke and Inside faces Sandusky and Lo
gan, who prudently decline to fight at
the time.
CHAPTER VIII—De Spain, anxious to
make peace with Nan, arranges a little
plan with McAlpln, the barn man, to
drive her out to Morgan's gap. and while
waiting for her goes down to the Inn to
get a cup of coffee.
CHAPTER IX—ln the deserted barroom
he Is trapped. He kills Sandusky and
Logan, wounds Gale and Bassoon and es
capes, badly wounded.
CHAPTER X—Bewildered and weak, he
wanders Into Morgan's gap and is dis
covered on Music mountain by Nan.
CHAPTER Xl—Nan. to prevent further
fighting, does not tell, but finds out from
McAlpln that De Spain had really been
trapped and had left his cartridge belt
behind when he went Into the fight at the
Inn.
McAlpln, the situation now in hand,
took his time to it. He leaued forward
in a manner calculated to invite confi
dence without giving offense. "Miss
Nan," said he simply, "Henry de Spain
was here, with me, sitting right there
where you are sitting, in that chair,
not fifteen minutes before that fight
began. I told you he never went down
there to fight. Do you want the proof?
I'll tell you—l wouldn't want anybody
else to know—will you keep it?"
Nan seemed indifferent. > "Girls are
not supposed to keep secrets," she said
obstinately.
Her narrator was not to bo balked.
He pointed to the coat-rack on the
wall In front of them both. "There la
Henry de Spain's coat. He hung it
there Just before he went down to the
Inn. Under It, If you look, you'll find
his belt of cartridges. Don't take my
word—look for yourself."
Giving this Information time to sink
In, McAlpln continued. Nan's eyes had
turned, despite her Indifference, to the
coat; but she was thinking more in
tently about the belt which McAlpln
asserted hung under it. "You want to
know what he did go down to the hotel
for that afternoon? 1 happen to know
that, too," averred McAlpln, sitting
down, but respectfully, on the edge of
the chair, "First I want to say this: I
worked for your Uncle Duke five
years."
He paused to Rive Nnn a chance to
dispute the statement If she so desired.
Then, taking her despairing silence as
an Indorsement of his position In giv
ing her a confidence, he went on:
"Henry de Spain Is dead," he said qui
etly. She eyed him without so much
as winking. "I wouldn't tell it, if he
wasn't. The boy's dead. And he was
always talking about you. It's God's
truth, and since he's dead it harms no
one to tell it to you, though I'd nevei
breathe it to another. He was fairly
gone on you.
"You don't have to knock me down,
Miss Nan, to put me wise about a
man's being keen on a girl. I'm a mar
ried man," declured McAlpin with
modest pride. "lie thought all the
time he was fooling me, and keeping
covered. Now, that afternoon he came
in here kind of moody. It was an an
niversary for him, and a hard one—the
day his father wns shot from am
bush—a good many years ago, but
nary one of us had forgot It. Then
he happened to see your pony—this
same pony you're riding today—a
ctandlng back there in the box-stall.
He asked me whose it was; and he
asked me about you, and, by jinx 1 the
w-ay he perked up when I told him
you were coming In on the stage that
afternoon ! When he heard you'd been
sick, he was for going down to the
hotel to get a cup of coffee—for you!"
McAlpin, like any good story-teller,
was already on his feet again. "He
did It," he exclaimed, "and you know
what he got when he stepped into the
barroom." He took hold of De Spain's
coat and held It aside to enter his
exhibit. "There," he concluded, "Is
his cardridge belt, hanging there yet.
The boy is dead—why shouldn't I tell
you?"
Nan rode home much more excited,
more bewildered than when she had
ridden over. Strangest shock of all
that this man of all other men should
profess to care for her. She had
shown anger when McAlpin dared
speak of It; at least, she thought she
had. And she still did not know how
sufficiently to resent the thought of
such audacity on De Spain's part.
This was, to say the least, a further
awkward complication for her feelings.
She already had enough to confuse
them.
CHAPTER XII.
Nan Drifts.
Without going In to speak to Gale,
whom Bull l'nge, his nurse, reported
very cross but not hurt much, Nan
left her packet for him' and rode
home. Her Uncle Duke was In town
sne had the house to herself, with
only Bonita, the old Mexican serving
woman, and Nan ate her late supper
alone.
The longer she pondered on De
Spain and his dilemma—and her own
—the more she worried. When she
went to bed, upstairs In her little
gable room, she tossed on her pillow
till a resolve seized her to go up again
to his hiding place and see what she
could see or hear —possibly, if one
were on f6ot, she could uncover a plot.
She dressed resolutely, buckled on
a holster to her side, and, slipping a
revolver—a new one that Gale had
given her —Into It for protection, she
walked softly downstairs and out of
doors. The night air was clear, with
a three-quarter moon well up in the
sky. She took her way rapidly along
the trail to the mountain, keeping as
much as possible within the great
shadows cast by the towering peaks.
Breathing stealthily and keyed to a
tense feeling of uncertainty and sus
picion, Nan nt length reached without
adventure the corner of the ledge
where she had first seen l)e Spain,
and there, lying flat, listened.
Hearing only the music of the little
cascude, she swept the ledge as well
as she could with her eyes, but It was
now so far in shadow as to lie in im
penetrable darkness. Hardly daring
to breathe, she crept and felt her way
over it with her hands, discovering
nothing until she hud almost reached
De Spain's retreat at the farther side.
Then her heart stopped In an agony
of fear—underneath the overhanging
wall she heard voices. De Spain had
confederates, then, and had tricked
her, after all.
But a moment later this explanation
failed to sntlsfy her. The mutterlngs
were too constant and too disconnect
ed —it dawned on Nnn that this must
be delirium. She could hear De Spain
throwing himself from side to side,
and the near and far feounds, as if of
two voices, were explained. She crept
nearer.
He was babbling in the chill dark
ness about ammunition, urging men
to make haste, warning them of some
one coming. Nan listened to his rav
ings, overcome by the revelation of
his condition. She told herself he must
die if he remained longer unaided, and
there were unpleasant possibilities, If
he died where he lay. She did not want
to pity or to help him, she convinced
herself; but she did not want his death
laid to a Morgan plot—for none of his
friends would ever believe De. Spain
had found his way alive and alone
to where he lay.
All of this Nan was casting up In
her mind as she walked home. She
had already decided, but without
realizing it, what to do, and was will
ing to assume that her mind was still
open.
Toward daylight of the morning, De
Spain dreamed he was not alone—thai
a figure moved silently In the faintness
of the dawn—a figure he struggled tc
believe a reality, but one that tricked
his wandering senses and left him, at
the coming of another dny, weaker,
with falling courage, and alone.
But when he opened his eyes later,
and with a clearer head, he found food
and drink near. Unable to believe hl&
signt, he fancied his wavering senses
deceiving him, until he put out his
hand and felt actually the substance
of what he saw. He took up a bottle
of milk Incredulously, and sipped at It
with the caution of a man not unused
to periods of starvation. -He broke
eggs and swallowed thera, at Intervals,
hungrily from the shell; and meat he
cached, anlmal-Uke, In nearby cran
nies, and, manlike, in his pockets.
He was determined, if she should
come again, to Intercept his visitor.
For forty-eight hours he tried cat-naps
with an occasional sandwich to keep
up his strength. Nan returned un
seen. and disappeared despite his
watchfulness. A new supply of food
proved she had been near, but that it
would be hard to time her coming.
When she did come, the third time,
an Innocent snare discovered her pres
ence. It was just before day, and De
Spain had so scattered small obstacles
—liandfuls of gravel and little chips of
rock—that should she cross the ledge
In the dark she could hardly escape
rousing him.
The device , betrayed her. "I'm
awake," announced De Spain at once
from his retreat. When she stopped
at the words he could not see her; she
had flattened herself, standing, against
a wall of the ledge. He waited pa
tiently. "You give me no chance to
thank you," he went on after a pause.
"I don't need any thanks," she replied
with calculated coolness. "I am hop
ing when you are well enough you
will go away quietly in the night. That
will be the only way you can thank
ine."
"I shall be as glad to go as you can
be to have me," rejoined De Spain.
"But that won't be thanking you as I
am going to. If you think you can
save my life and refuse my thanks as
I mean to express them—you are mis
taken. I will be perfectly honest. Ly
ing out here isn't Just what I'd choose
for comfort. But if by doing it I
could see you once in two or three
days—"
"You won't see me again."
"No news could be worse. And if
I can't, I don't know how I'm going
to get out at nil. I've no horse— £ou
know that. I can't stand on my foot
yet; if you had a light you might see
for yourself. I think I showed you my
gun. If you could tell me where I
am—"
He halted on the implied question.
Nan took ample time to reply.
"Do you mean to tell me you don't
know where you are?" she asked, and
there was a touch of vexed incredulity
in her tone.
De Spain seemed unmoved by her
skepticism. "I can't tell you anything
else," he said simply. "You couldn't
have any idea I crawled up here for
the fun of It."
"I've been trying to think," she re
turned, and he perceived in the hard
ness of her voice how at bay she felt
In giving him tho least bit of infor
mation, "whether I ought to tell yon
anything at all —"
' "I couldn't very decently take any
unfair advantage after what you've
done, could I?"
XTo Be Continued)
7
THE HONEYMOON
HOUSE
By HAZEL DALE
By Hazel Dale
Janet, as she followed Mr. Lowry
out of the offices, felt a little unlike
her usual self. For one thing she was
sorry that she had been forced into
a personal relationship with a stran
ger. That seemed too bad somehow,
when she had hoped to keep the re
lationship between herself and Mr.
Lowry entirely impersonal. There is
something about a luncheon engage
ment, although it is frequently dis
guised under the stern heading of
bu&iness, that is very Informal. Janet
felt somehow that Mr. Lowry was hop
ing that their engagement was not
to be formal, and yet there hadn't
been a thing for her to do but accept
gracefully.
Mr. Lowry had, in fact, not asked
her at all. He had simply announced
that it was luncheon time and had
taken it for granted that as long as
Janet had no engagement It was the
most natural thing in the world for
her to take lunch with him.
Seated opposite him in the coxy lit
tle restaurant where he had led the
way, Janet listened to the rather elab
orate luncheon that he ordered with a
sinking feeling at her heart. She had
hoped that they would just snatch a
bite and rush back again to the of
fice. Somehow Janet felt that she
was doing wrong. She feit that Jarvis
would not exactly approve. And yet
Jarvis had taken Karen out to lunch
last week, and she had thought noth
ing of it. But that was different. All
through the several courses Janet wor
ried about it, until Hnally Mr. Lowry
remarked that she was not very talk
ative.
"I guess I'm too hungry," Janet re
turned.
And then as though to put her mora
at ease he returned to the fascinating
topic of her stories, which immediate
ly restored Janet to her former confN
denee that after all she was keeping a
business engagement.
If Janet had but known it, Mr. Low
ry was entirely too clever to allow
Janet to suspect that he had been very
much taken with her. He was willing
to go slowly, and in Janet's case he
knew that he would have to be cau
tious, but he was the kind of a man
who had always known just what he
wanted and exactly how to get it.
The confused after thaughts that the
luncheon had left in Janet's mind con
tributed not at all to her peace of
mind. She knew that she had had an
excellent lunch, and that she had talk
ed a great deal. But after she reflect
ed on it she was conscious that she
had not accomplished very much from
a business standpoint.
She knew that Mr. Lowry had seem
ed much taken with her work. That
he had asked her to try to have some
thing to submit to hini in a few days.
She knew, too, that she would be back
on the Chrolcle the first of the week,
and that the visits to the offices of "The
Children's Hour" must not be made
around lunch time. Already Janet was
unconsciously aware of the fact that
Mr. Lowry admired her aside from her
talent for writing stories that he
might find adaptable.
The studio was littered with papers
when she arrived. Jarvis was sitting
before an easel hard at work, but he
held out his arms when Janet appear
ed on the scene, and Janet snuggled up
to him for a moment.
"I have news for you," she breath
ed.
"Something else to tell me that I
have a talented wife," he said, teas
ingly.
"Nothing that you haven't heard,"
she returned. "Sir. Lowry sent for
me this morning, that's all."
"Oh, he did; what did he have to
say ?"
"Asked me If T would like to do
some stories for him."
"Anything definite?"
"He asked me to have something for
him to look over as soon as possible."
"That's fine, dear. Perhaps I mis
judged the man."
Janet winced, although she was
quick to answer. "Oh, you did, Jar
vis, 1 am sure he is splendid. I think
you will like him after you know
him."
■"You think you know him, then?"
Jarvis' voice was inquiring, but he
went on painting deliberately.
"Yes, 1 think I know him better
than I did."
"You must have had quite a long
conversation with him."
"Well, you see he didn't send for
me until just before lunch and when
he discovered it was so late there
was nothing for him to do but to
ask me to have lunch with him."
"And so you did?"
"TMd what, dear?"
"Have lunch with him?"
"Why, yes: there was nothing else
to do without offending him. And,
Jarvis, I am to lose the position this
week, so I feel that I couldn't sacrifice
the chance for some stories. You un
derstand, don't you, boy?"
Jarvis painted on steadily. It was
the first time that Janet had over
stepped his advice, and the knowledge
rankled. •
To Be Continued •
RI'SSIA WATCHES IMPORTS
Petrograd, April 19.—The Minister
of Finance is preparing new regula
tions governing certificates to accom
pany foreign-made goods imported
into Russia, intended to prevent the
entry of goods from countries at war
with Russia under the guise of goods
from neutrals. Where goods are im
ported through agents the certificates
of origin must show the real man
ufacturer.
PLAN METAL BUREAU
London, April 19.—One of the topics
to be discussed at the forthcoming
conference of representatives of Great
Britain's colonies is a proposal to es
tablish a government department of
minerals and metals for the purpose
of developing the mineral resources of
the Empire. A branch of the depart
ment will be a bureau of mineral in
formation which will supply facts as
to all mineral deposits in the British
Dominions.
THEY NEED IT—WE DONT
Stockholm, April 19.—America sent
to Sweden more than 10,000,000
crowns more In postal money orders
than it received from Sweden In 1916.
The excess in Sweden's favor was
more than 4,000,000 crowns mora than
in 1915. and approached the figures of
J 1913, the last normal year. Money
I orders sent from America to Sweden
In 1916 aggregated almost 11,000,000
crowns.