g jfl| divd all the Emiki EBfc HUMILIATED IN SEARCH FOR HOME > Woman Writes of Discour- : agement Suffered 011 Weary Hunt By Mrs. Wilson Wooilrow I have a letter from a woman this morning which interests me, not so j much for the individual experience j it details as for the peculiar state of j public opinion which is responsible j for that experience. She complains of the humiliation j and discouragement to which she has j been put in the search for a habita-j tion for her family, consisting, be- , sides her husband and herself, of 1 three children. The prelude is more or less fa- j miliar. It deals with that weary hunt! for an apartment, suitable in price, location and interior arrangements, which is one of the recurring night mares of the city dweller. We all know that long "forced march;" we've taken It. Wo start out with | high hopes and a carefully prepared | list of addresses in the morning, and we drag ourselves home in the even- [ ink spent and footsore, that "little gem of a place" on which our heart is j set having constantly evaded us like j a vanishing mirage. In the end we take not what we want, not what we | have pictured, but something that we think will serve. Tills woman had gone through all the usual preliminaries. She had found the place. The real estate agent had accepted her as a desirable tenant. Then suddenly she discovered that a gulf yawned between her and her prospective home. There- were "children in the family." Kellcction on Community Calling It self Christian She, therefore, takes up her pen in bitterness and rebellion. Why, she; asks, should she be made to feel as if she were a pariah and her | motherhood a disgrace? She argues i logically enough that since her cir- j cumstances permit her a home in the 1 house and in the neighborhood that appeals to her, it is a distinct hard- ! ship to be denied it on any such i grounds. The best environment she. can afford, she insists, is proper for j the sake of her children. She feels that she is entitled to claim this for herself and faqiily; and that their right to it should be questioned or I prohibited she regards not only as a j personal injustice but also as a harsh reflection on a community calling it self christian and civilized. Poo- ' :t)y! It is a condition which ! co outs her and not a theory; and no wonder she feels resentful. After reading her letter my sym pathies were deeply stirred. 1 called : up an agent I happen to know on the telephone. After listening to him for ten minutes my sympathies were, if j • anything, more deeply stirred. He assures me that there are j quantities of delightfully located apartment houses, with both reason able and unreasonable rent rates, which not only accept but welcome children. "Of course," he went on, "there | Fashions of To-Day - By Mav Manton TJ'VERY woman is on the • ISShf I j outlook for a new and pretty negligee at this sea- Jr*"* .ym£ son and this one in coat style sjy ' s l ' ie vef y latest'to have ap peared. As a matter of course you can wear it with or without / il t ' ie but the girdle always /fit H *1 \ makes a pretty finish, also, if '4i k\ I y°H want just a coat, you can 7 f /TiA \ J j omit the skirt or the flounce YA ll C jJL and use the upper part only. V \ ie - P rett y Oriental silks and V \ fabrics of such sort are in great \ V V\> ' — demand for negligees and are \jwl7 y In found in such lovely colors that ttJwf 11 they are especially well adapted /nfQfcL- ll =Jlw to l ' ie use " This one ' s ma de of // I// HnT i what we know as Corean crepe ///iffl 1/\ I tJU ' n °>' stcr w h*te and the lines /ill I 'l Ji i 'li represent simple running stitch /Mm.] n in pale green silk. It is essen / 111 ' I VII //II ! tially Summer-like and it is so / 111 /' i/II I simple that it can be run up in I ill ill 3n ' lour or two ' I v| ! II j For the medium size will be I Hi j II / S v tv needed, 5 5 8 yards of material 36 VsaH j 1 11 ]\ ' nc h es wide for the entire neg f. ffiTTit '' gec ' or ' 2 '* y ai "ds for the coat 940iT(\ lIU Jll The pattern No. 9404 is cut ) /WIP |l in sizes or 3&. 38 or 40, 42 or / /i'i ,' II 44 bust. It will be mailed to 1/ 11 ji IM any address by the Fashion W Li I ll 1 Department of this paper, on ** receipt of fifteen cents. DO YOU KNOW WHY--- Some People insist on Talking So Loud r Ofawn tot .mis paper B; Fisher ' ' a 7 /i '// ~s\ i ( SMS? i ms%&sri <k- —j _z i —^KJ!S ,i s'?p 9HH ' ' G °° D K^ v£>J>S ' J ° S ✓ ismmsm . • - , a MONDAY EVENING, THE NEBBY NEIGHBORS They Live Here in Harrisburg T ~~i " . : =T : ■ ___ ( ~ "£7 ,l#u , * I — 'I ft u'wVj ! safe SfjOTTA fttP 31MW & J# ILL GET A I AT LAST*!!' ALL TUtTIME- —THt (, \ V BAD FALL HBfr, 1 JjJ D 0 [_Jo° o 0 n TfEl^" 0 L. , °o | — op""^ 9 are houses which bar children; but would you deny some refuge to the people who lecture and write maga zine articles on Child Welfare, or frame statutes prohibiting Child Lrfibor, or compose educational treat ises with countless plans for the training and informing of tender minds? They can't be disturbed with the romping hubbub of 'Hop and 'lling Around a Kosy.' They've got to preserve Jhe detached out look. . "In some cases, too." he confided, "the 'So Children' slogan is merely a tactful excuse. I had to fall back on it myself a week or two ago," he laughed with a touch of chagrin. "Contrary to the usual custom, the man of the family was out house hunting. He looked over what I had on hand apd was soon suited. One of those affable clear-sighted busi ness-like fellows who know exacily what they want and exact no more than their due. we soon reached an agreement. His business references were unimpeachable, and his person al address all that could be desired. I accepted a deposit from him, and congratulated myself on securing such a tenant. "But the next day he brought his wife and kids around to look over the place. Ye gods! I immediately ex plained that 1 had made a mistake; it was a fixed rule of that apartment house not to take children. "And then," he continued, "you must remember that all classes of persons have to be accommodated. There are a large number of tenants —crotchety, you may call them, but still entitled to their ideas—who sim ply will not live in a house that har bors children." "Thank you extremely," I said, and hung up the receiver. AVith full sympathy for the lady in her dilemma, and also an apprecia tion of the agent's point of view, I must confess that the situation had | its humors. It is to laugh to think of us New j Yorkers, who should be inured to any kind of noise, objecting to the laugh- ' ter and wails of exuberant child-1 hood. But here is a strange anomaly of nature. X have always noticed that < the cliff-dwellers who protest most j loudly against children in the house i are particularly fond ol" mechanical j musical instruments, human and otherwise, and birds and beasts no-1 torious for their vocal powers. Who that has dwelt upon the' heights—apartment heights—is not familiar with that feathered fiend, the parrot, singing his one monoton ous tune over and over again for! hours at a time? And jußt as the listener's nerves are about to give way under the strain he drops this to croak. "Polly wants a cracker," five hundred times without stopping and then winds up the remarkable accomplishment with a series of whistles which for shrillness would ! put a calliope to shame. Oh, the pets of our friends and I neighbors! 1 can recall at the mo-1 ■nent a singularly loud-mouthed and i profane cat, the darling ot' a woman ■ across the cour . He had the habit, of sitting on the fire escape at night i until the dawn broke, indulging in , a continuous and hair-raising mono logue. Xo lady should have had to' listen to such language; itwas so sul phurous that I am sure he must have > been a reincarnation of one of the 1 worst pirates that ever sailed the Spanish Main. And the dogs! I love dogs, es pecially in the country, where theyj can run in the open. 1 always feel sorry for them cooped up in a city: apartment. Nevertheless, I have sev- : eral warm friends among house! dogs, and also several enemies—little beasts that yelp at the top of their voices when 1 am trying to talk and drive their needle-like teeth into my new slippers, and worry my ankles. I own to being a music fan. Duuing the musical season 1 am always flat broke in'time and money. But "my daughter, who sings" and the same record played over and over again day after day have driven me from more than one apartment. "Live and 1-et Live" Should Be Apartment House Motto But If the motes in our neighbors' eyes sometimes offend us—the cats and dogs and .iazz melodies that they love —we ought not to forget that beam in our own. I seem to recall occasions when the thumping of my typewriter has evoked vigorous pro test from the floor below. Jt could hardly be otherwise where people of different tastes .and ideas and predil ection* are so closely hived together. "Live and Let T.ive" should be carved over the door of every- apartment house, house. And who has a better right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness than the kiddies? Granted that baby carriage tracks across the rugs and tiling of a marble foyer do not im prove its appearance; and that said pails, teddy bears and headless dolls detract somewhat from the stately calm of uniformed Jamaicans and tubs of palms. Granted that the top drum and tin trumpet are anathema to sensitive ears. Still, just try to imagine what a solemn, dreary, cheerless, hideous world this would be without them. So, whatever may be said on the other side, I am inclined to share in the indignation of my correspond ent. There should be no house in N'ew York, not one, where either the grumpiness or its tenants or the splendor of its fittings should serve as an excuse to bar out the sunshine of childhood. The best we have is none too good for these, our citizens of to-morrow. The children are here among us now, and if we, the people with whom they must live, cannot, in the midst of our own selfish comfort, find in our hearts the welcome they j so confidently expect, then it is time j for us to look to our own moral and spiritual condition. For them all places should be 1 temples, all seasons summer. HARRISBURG lifißV TELEGRAPH © NAN of ® MUSIC MOUNIMN By Trdnk tl. spearm<3i\_ Author of Whispering Smith. ' ■ cov-aiowr & cKABLts sons (Continued.) With the first peep of dawn, and with his men facing: him in their saddles, Lefever made a short ex planation. "I don't want any maai to go into the gap with me this morning under any misunderstanding or any false pretense," he began cheerfully. "Bob Scott and Bull will stay right here. If, by any chance, De Spain makes his way out while the rest of us are hunting for him, you'll be here to signal us—three shots, Bob—or. to ride in with De Spain to carry the rest of us out. Now, it's like this," he added, addressing the others. "You, all of you know, or ought to know—everybody 'twix here and the railroad knows—that De Spain and Nan Morgan have fasten ed up to each other for the long ride down the dusty trail together. That, 1 take it, is their business. But her uncle, old Duke, and Gale, and the whole bunch, 1 hear, turned dead sore on it, and have fixed it up to beat them. You all know the Mor gans. They're some bunch—and they stick for one another like hornets, and all hold together in a fight. So I don't want any man to ride in there with me thinking he's going to a wedding. He isn't. He may or may not be going to a funerarl, but he's not going to a shivaree." Frank Elpaso glanced sourly at his companions. "I guess everybody here is wise, John." "I know you are, Frank," retorted Lefever testily; "that's all right. I'm only explaining. And I don't want you to get sore on me if I don't show you a fight." Frank Elpaso grunted. "I am under orders." John waved his hand. "And X can't do anything—" "But talk," growled Frank Elpa so, not waving his hand. Lefever started hotly forward in his saddle. "Now look here, Frank'." He pointed his finger at the object ing ranger. "I'm here for business, not for pleasure. Any time I'm free you can talk to me—" "Not till somebody gags you, John," interposed Elpaso moodily. "Look here, Elpaso." demanded Lefever, spurring his horse smartly toward the Texan, "are you looking for a fight with me right here and now?" "Yes, here and now," declared El paso fiercely. "Or, there and then," interposed Kennedy, ironically, "some time, somewhere, or no time, nowhere. Having heard all of which, a hun dred and fifty times from you two fellows, let us have peace. You've pulled it so often, over at Sleepy Cat, they've got it in double-faced, red-seal records. Let's get started." "Right you are, Farrell," assented Lefever, "but—" "Second verse. John. You're boss here: what are we going to do? That's all we want to know." "Henry's orders were to wait here tilt 10 o'clock this morning. There's been firing inside twice since twelve o'clock last night. He told me to pay no attention to that. But if the whole place hadn't been under water all night, I'd gone in, anyway This last timo it was two high-powered guns, picking at long range and, if I'm any judge of rifles and the men probably behind them, someone must have got hurt. It's all a guess— but I'm going in there, peaceably if 1 can, to look for Henry De Spain; if we are fired on—we've got to fight for it. And if there's any talking to be done — * ' "You can do it," grunted El paso. "Thank you, Frank. .And I will do it. 1 need not say that Kennedy will ride ahead with me, Elpaso and Wickwire with TOmmie Meggeson." Leaving Scott in the trees, the lit tle party trotted smartly up the road, picking their way through the pools and across the brawling streams that tore over the trail toward Duke Mor gan's place. The condition of the trail broke their formation continu ally and Lefever, in the circum stances. was not sorry. His only anxiety was to keep Elpaso from rid ing ahead far enough to embroil them in a quarrel before he himself should come up. Half-way to Duke's house they found a small bridge had gone out. It cut off the direct road, and, at Elpaso's suggestion, they crossed over to follow the ridge up the val ley. Swimming their horses through the backwater that covered the de pression to the south, they gained the elevation and proceeded, un molested, on their way. As they ap proached Sassoon's place, Elpaso, riding ahead, drew up his horse and sat a moment studying the trail and casting.an occasional glance in the direction of the ranch-house, which lay under the brow of a hill ahead. When Lefever rode up to him, he saw the story that Elpaso was read ing in the roadway. It told of a man shot in his tracks as he was running toward the house—and, in the judg ment of these men, fatally shot—for, while his companions spread like a man in front of him, Lefever got off his horse and bending intently over the sudden page torn out of a man's life, recast the scene that had taken place, where he stood, half an hour earlier. Some little time Le fever spent patiently deciphering the story printed in the rutted road, and marked by a wide crimson splash in the middle of it. He rose from his study at length and followed back the trail of the running feet that had been stricken at the pool. He stooped in front of a fragment of rock jutting up beside the road, studied it a while and, looking about, picked up a number of empty cart ridge shells, examined them, and tossed them away. Then he stralght ed up and looked searchlngly across the gap. Only the great, silent face of El Capltan confronted him. It told no tales. "If this was Henry de Spain," muttered Elpaso, wlien Lefever re joined his companions, "he won't care whether you join him now, or at 10 o'clock, or never." "That is not Henry," asserted Le fever with his usual cheer. "Not within forty rows of apple trees. It's not Henry's gun, not Henry's heels, not Henry's hair, and thereby, not Henry's head that was hit that time. But it was to a finish—and blamed if at first It didn't scare nie. I thought j it might be Henry. Hang it. get down l and see for yourself, boys." Elpaso answered his invitation with an inquiry. "Who was this fel ! low fighting with?" i "That, also, is a question. Certain ly not with Henry de Spain, because the other fellow, I think, was using soft-nosed bullets. No "white man does that, much less De Spain." "Unless he used another rifle," j suggested Kennedy. "Tell me how they could get his | own rifle away from him if he could fire a gun at all. I don't put Henry I quite as high with a rifle as with a revolver—if you want to split hairs j —mind, I say, if you want to split : hairs. But no man that's ever seen him handle either would want to try to take any kind of a gun from him. Whoever it was," Lefever got up into his saddle again, "threw some ; ounces of lead into that piece of rock j back there, though I don't under j stand how anyone could see a man ! lying behind it. I "Anyway, whoever was hit here lias been carried down the road, j We'll try Sassoon'n ranch-house if they don't fire.on us before we get I there." In the sunshine a man in shirt | sleeves, leaning against the jamb, - stood in the open doorway of Sas ! soon's shack, watching the invaders las they rode around the hill and i gingerly approached. Lefever recog , nized Satt Morgan. He flung a greet i ing to him from the saddle. Satt answered in kind, but he eyed j the horsemen with reserve when they I drew r up, and he seemed to Lefever I altogether less responsive than | usual. John sparred with him for information and Satterlee gave back nothing but words. "Can't tell us anything about De I Spain, eh?" echoed Lefever at : length. "All right. Satt, we'll find I somebody that can. Is there a bridge i over to Duke's on this trail?" j Satt's nose wrinkled into his nor mal smile. "There's a bridge—" The report of three shots fired in the dis tance, seemingly from the mouth of the gap, interrupted him. He paused in his utterance. There were no fur ther shots and he resumed: "There is a bridge that way. yes, but it was j washed out last night. They're block ed. Duke and Gale are over there. | They're pretty sore on your man i De Spain. You'd better keep away ! from 'em this morning unless you're looking for trouble." Lefever, having all needed infor i mation from Scott's signal, raised his | hand quickly. "Not at all," he ex j claimed, leaning forward to em phasize his words and adding the full : orbit of his eye to his sincerity of ! manner. "Not at all, Satt. This is all j friendly, all friendly. But," he | coughed slightly, as if in apology, ! "if Henry shouldn't turn up O. K., we'll—ahem—be back." None of his companions needed to be told how to get prudently away. At a nod from Lefever Tom mie Meggeson, Elpaso and Wickwire wheeled their horses, rode rapidly back to the turn near the hill and, facing about, halted, with their rifles across their arms. Lefever and Kennedy followed leisurely, and the party withdrew leaving leaving Sat terlee, unmoved, in the sunny door way. Once out of sight. Lefever led the way rapidly down the gap to the rendezvous. Of all the confused impressions that crowded Nan's memory after the wild night on Music mountain, the most vivid was that of a notice ably light-stepping and not ungrace ful fat man advancing, hat in hand, to greet her as she stood with De Spain, weary and bedraggled in the aspen grove. \ A smile flamed from her eyes when turning at once, he rebuked De Spain with dignity for not intro ducing him to Nan, and while De Spain made apologies Lefever in duced himself. "And is this," murmured Nan, looking at him quizzically, "reully John Lefever whom I've heard so many stories about?" She was conscious of his pleasing eyes and even teeth as he smiled again. "If they have come from Air. MAY 7, 1917. "The Insider" By Virginia Terhune Van de Water CHAPTER XXXIV My conversation with Tom had given me food for much thought. 1 found it difficult to talk as cheer fully as usual with Grace as she and I ate our supper together. "You are not displeased, are you?" she asked at last. , Her timid question brought me to a realization of my taciturnity, and I smiled as I assured her that I was not at all displeased. "I was only thinking hard," I ex plained. That I must not indulge in the luxury of "thinking hard" just now was clear. The duty of the moment was to look after .ity small com panion. But when I had assisted at her undressing and had seen her comfortably into bed, my thoughts returned to Tom and what lie had told me. They would have Mowed naturally into that channel even had Grace not asked me, as I tucked her into bed, when her father would be back. "I do not know," I said, truth fully. "Some time to-night, I sup pose." "Won't he come up and kiss me?" she questioned. "If he gets homo early enough he will," I evaded. She tried not to look too sorrow ful at losing her usual evening talk. Impulsively I bent over her, and, putting my arms about her, kissed her tenderly. "Dear little girl!" I murmured. She clung to me and pressed her Hps again and again to my clieek. "I do love you!" she declared. "I love vou and Dad best of every body." I recalled the words when I was alone in my room with leisure to ptfnder to my heart's content. The child loved me and her father "best of everybody." Although, she was fond of her aunt, sh© did not seem to care enough for her to warn be with her: for her brother she had little affection. Xot Heart-Broken Her brother! Her half-brother, I should have said. I could fancy the loving, passionate lad promising the dark-eyed mother, whom he so strongly resembled, that lie would never let his father forget her— never! Why had she pleaded thus with a mere child- —a little boy who knew nothing of the world or its facile memories? Had she feared that her husband would marry some one who would not be kind to this, her only son? Had she, perhaps, some idea as to who the second wife would be? Tom had said that his father had met the woman he afterwards married during the last Summer of the lirst wife's life. Then my speculation focused themselves upon Brewster Norton's second wife. As Grace was like her, she must have been small, dainty and fair, entirely unlike Tom's mother in appearance, and probably in character also, since she had "never liked" her step-son. One would think that the lad's De Spain—l warn you," said John, "take them with all reserve." "But they haven't all come from Mr. De Spain." "If they come from any of my friends, discredit them in advance. You could believe what my enemies say," he ran on/then added ingen uously, "if I had any enemies!" To De Spain he talked very little. It seemed to take but few words to ex change the news. Defever asked gin gerly about the fight. He made no mention whatever of the crimson pool in the road near Sassoon's hut, (To Be Continue.) motherless condition would have warmed her heart toward him. And how much reticence there was with regard to her! Perhaps her sister had shown such reluctance to talk of her because the wound made by the young: mother's death was so deep that it still ached and throbbed. Then I reflected that Brewster Norton's manner was certainly not that of a heart-broken widower. In deed, he seemed to get a good deal of pleasure out of life. Tired at last of my fruitless sur mising, I prepared for bed. I had heard Tom go up to Ills room soon after dinner. I hoped that he was asleep by now. The maids had with drawn to their quarters# at the rear of th house. As Maggie passed my door T asked her if Mrs. Gore was in bed. "No, ma'am: she'es sitting up, ! reading," she replied. "She says there's a. hook she wants to finish, and that 1 am to go to bed. I've got everything fixed for her for the night." t So Mrs. Gore was still up and awake, I mused as I put out my light and got into bed. Perhaps she was waiting up to see her brother in-law when he came home. Why— the thought awoke me suddenly— why had Tom been angry at his fa ther's going up to Connecticut? More Mystery I moved impatiently. That waa none of my business. I would try to sleep. I was physically com fortable. The bed I lay on waa soft; the sheets were of fine linen; the blankets light yet warm. I had all the comforts that the daughter of a millionaire might have. Why need I trouble myself about the mys terious affairs of the family with | whom I was living? Surely I was | most fortunate in being where I was. I would speculate no longer. By the time I had reached this j decision I had sunk into a natural and delicious sleep. How long I slept I do not know. I was suddenly aroused from slum ber by a noise that made me sit up, startled. It was the sound of some ! one sobbing. Switching on the light, I jumped up and hurried across the room to the nursery door. In hero all was dark and silent. I stood for a moment by Grace's bed and listened to her regular breathing. Then I laid my hand on her forehead and found that it was cool and slightly moist. All was well with the child. The noise that had disturbed me did not penetrate here. I returned to my own chamber and listened intently. Once more I heard muffled, but violent sobbing. It came from the room directly be | neath mine. That was Mrs. Gore's , room. She must be In trouble of some kind—probably very 111. Thrusting my feet into my slip ! pers and throwing my blanket-wrap j per about me, I ran out Into the hall and started down the stairs to the lower floor. I (To Bo Continued) Daily Dot Puzzle 3 n ~ 25 24 *2l • 26 • ' 2o 27 *'9 * *8 .9 2 ? 16. 17 * 3o I •! *, * I 1 33 ' .4 ' <34* 6 * • • * • 9 f B " 37 Jl 49. *64 JL v • 9* * s ° y. •62. •5, "So .A "Ji 0 | 4 4J. * s 5 1 1? -44 f 4 11
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