20
Pi ReadiisJ all Itv farcJkl Pj
HER LOSS IS
RED CROSS GAIN
This Woman Gave $1 to Cause
Everytime She Gossiped
About Anyone
By MRS. WILSON WOOPROW
Dora and I had luncheon with a
man friend of ours yesterday. The
three of us -were sitting about the
table, talking of the things of the
moment. One of the charms of to
day is that it always offers us an
entirely fresh line of goods, and the
great interest of living lies in the
knowledge that to-morrow's assort
ment will be quite different. Hence
tlie almost poignant value of that
phrase, "Daily newspapers are pub
lished every day."
We had been talking about things
really worth while, and then sud
denly one of us asked. "Has either
of you seen Alicia lately?"
That began it. In a moment our
heads were together and we had
chucked Alicia into the gossip mill
and were grinding away industri
ously.
Presently I looked about the res
taurant. Except for the few tables
where a man and a maid were gaz
ing into each other's eyes, forget
ting to eat their perfectly good food
—which in these days is the true
gauge of love, since not to devour
the last scrap whe nevery bite is
worth its weight in gold seems
criminally wasteful —except, then,
tor those under the thrall of the
grand passion, little groups sat with
their heads together, all, all en
gaged in dissecting the absent, who
were given no opportunity to pre
sent their own cases.
Bits of conversation floated my
way now and then. "I consider her
entirely to blame; she knew all
about him before she married."
From another direction I caught:
"Yes, they say that he is going
from bad to worse;" and from still
another: "Oh. my dear, she never
draws a sober breath."
Scandal to right of us. scandal to
the left of us, volleyed and thun
dered.
Dora suddenly broke off in the
middle of a most interesting story,
a look of dismay on her face. Then
she slowly opened her purse and
drew from it a fresh one-dollar bill.
Still with the corners of her mouth
drawn down, she folded it up and
put it in another compartment of
her bag. We watched this singular
performance with deep interest, and
Henry, who is an inquisitive soul,
made bold to ask:
"What's the answer, Dora? Why
this cryptic ceremony, and also why
the rueful countenance with which
you accompany It?"
"I've reason enough to look dole
ful," she returned. "That's a fine.
1 began the new year with a vow
to give a dollar to the Red Cross
every time I caught myßelf back
biting and gossiping. It was surely
a lucky day for that organization
when Isrmade that vow. I'm not a
welcher, you know, If I say I'll do a
thing, I do it. But I tell you. It
keeps me practically strapped,. And
I never thought of myself as a
scandalmonger beitire, either. It's
bedn an awful revelation."
"Oh, don't take it so seriously," I
urged. "I've always said that you
bear false witness against your
neighbor as little as any woman I
know."
"That's no comfort." She was
still downcast. "The checks I have
to send to the Red Cross are more
convincing than any kind words you
can say. It makes me furious!" She
sat up energetically. "Here I am,
sacrificing my summer wardrobe and
all kinds of things I had planned to
do, but can't afford now, because all
my spare money has gone to pay
fines. And all on account of a
trivial and worthless habit. Well,"
she shut her mouth quite grimly,
"I know one thing, I am going to
overcome it or go broke trying."
Henry looked at her with a tol
erant smile. "Why go against na-
Compensation
Act Blanks
For the convenience of law
yers and small corporations
we have arranged in book
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The Telegraph
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Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1917, International News Service —*— —*m By
YoU BRUTE.-XOO ] f BYCOLLV- l T7OO OOTVT TALK f WOULD YOU T7 QH' I G Ssl a //,r T
NEVE* THINK OF CM*TFORer CARE IF I DIED! LIKE THAT-
-f-E Wirri V 1 ? ou: 1 it > ID * I WOULDN'T [ THROW CUVf
\ W- .. -J <CRAZV BE CRAZY -• MP HAT \ /Wll cr few W
FRIDAY EVTCTnNG. HARRIBBURG tfSffo TELEGRAPH MAY 11, 1917.
THE NEBBY NEIGHBORS They Live Here in Harrisburg By Sullivan
I-FOC TiIt.TENTHTIMt"I ( T'AINT.fAINTjiSIIM **,SW—'VOU DON'T rt - |T Fmo ~X f ■ f HEtIO.ENIPIOYMENT BUKAU f
• ISAy (15 PRONOUNCED > THE RIGHT WAY J ™ Nfi W ( OUT WHO'S RlfiHT ' NOl?ft O'BRIEN- 171 , THIS'S THt NEBBY NEIWOK- [
I JOFF-ER !'. r( TO SAY IT IS / NAMES !! OUT - It W 0 RK? LUS A FRENCH MAID RIGHT *7 „
~ M 30FF-REE ) ITS 70FF-ER j 1 —l _j—-' IK 1 "} j AWY YES, ONE Tt|AT 7
J, * y FRENCH
ture?" he inquired. "Women were
born to gossip, as the sparks fly up
ward."
This got on my nerves. "Bosh,
Henry!" I exclaimed. "Men gossip
as freely and as often as women.
Your clubs. My word! Let me Quote
to you from a recent poem by Ella
Wheeler Wilcox: 'Then there were
tales from club and smoking-rooms,
the submarines of gossip bringing
some name down.' "I think." I went
on. "that when it comes to tittle
tattle about people, it's an even
break between men and women,
horse and horse. The only reason
women are accounted the worst of
fenders is because they have had
more time to waste on it."
"But we can't always be talking:
'Shakespeare and the musical
glasses,'" protested Henry. "The
proper study of mankind is man,
and the most interesting things
about him are his follies and foibles.
I'll offset Ella Wheeler Wilcox with
Emerson: 'Blame is safer than
praise. As long as all that is said
against me, I feel a certain assur
ance of success. But as soon as
honeyed words of praise are spoken
for me, I feel as one that lies un
protected before his enemies."
"You're like the Devil when he
quotes the Scriptures for his own
purposes," I retorted.
"Oh. well, have it your own way,"
he shrugged his shoulders. "Only
I'm disappointed. You two were
rather amusing when you were
shredding our friend. After all, we're
only poor, weak mortals, and you
know what a pitiable thing human
nature Is."
He had flicked me on a raw spot.
"My dear Henry," I returned, "I
freely admit that as you sat here
a few moments ago, gossiping with
two women and eagerly adding your
mite to the general destruction, you
were a rather contemptible object,
but I also know that if something
big had been required of you at that
same moment you would have been
right on the spot.
"Some day when the history of
our world's war is written in retro
spect," I continued, "men will urge
their- sons to read, it and, shaking
their heads, sadly will say, 'Ah,
there were giants in those days! A
greatness in human nature, a race
vision which has vanished from the
earth in these degenerate times.'
"The truth is, that men and wom
en are great the moment it is re
quired of them to be so. Daily the
papers record marvelous deeds. A
week ago I was poring breathlessly
over the story of a thrilling con
flict in the air and suddenly I burst
out laughing. But my laughter was
touched with awe. for the account
said, quite casually. 'The airman
saw the other biplane coming to
ward him and hid behind a cloud.'
It sounded like a page from myth
ology. It might have read. "Phaeton
drove the horses of the Sun across
the mountains of the moon.' and
have been equally commonplace.
" 'So nigh Is grandeur to our
dust. A hospital vessel Is struck by
a submarine and goes down; the
crew and the wouniled stand at at
tention while the sick are lowered
into the lifeboats. I go out to take
a walk and pass the recruiting sta
tions; young men with all their lives
before them are offering to embark
on the most uncertain adventure
possible, and are facing square,
'That old, grim hazard, Glory or the
Grave.' The Premier of England
tells of the enthusiasm with which
his countrywomen undertook to re
pair flawed shells, knowing that
they took their lives in their hands
when they did so.
"Human nature a pitiable thing!
In all the history of the world there
has never been a time when, 'There
came that voice without reply: 'Tls
man's perdition to be safe, when for
the truth he ought to die,' that this
Ignoble, weak and miserable human
nature has not nobly, strongly and
fearlessly responded.
"The Insider"
By Virginia Terhune Van de Water
CHAPTER XXXVII.
Tom had been back at school for
some days when my birthday came
around.'
No reference had been made to the
anniversary since the night when
Mr. Norton had asked me on what
date It fell. 1 supposed he had for
gotten all about it.
1 found myself at this period oc
cupying in the household a less
formal position than I had held for
the first month or two of my pres
ence here. The fact that I ate my
meals at the family table made a
difference in my own sentiments,
and, I felt sure, a subtle change in
the feeling of the entire menage.
Mrs. Gore was forced to accept me
as an equal; the servants regarded
me more as a superior than when I
was only Grace's governess.
Twice during the week following
Tom's departure my employei
brought friends home to dinner —on
the first occasion, one man; on the
second, two men. In both instances
he introduced his guests to me as
he might to any woman in his home.
He did not speak of me as his
daughter's governess, but rather as
one of the family. I wondered if
these strangers considered me a
relative of Mr. Norton's, as had his
business acquaintances on the night
when ITiad played hostess for him.
Mrs. Gore gave me no chance to
preside as hostess how. She always
took her place at the head of the
board and bore her share of the
conversation. I was secretly glad
she did this. It releived me of much
responsibility.
On the night before my birthday,
I went up to my room as soon as
dinner was over. I sypposed that
Mr. Norton was going out or would
spend the evening reading in his
den.
Twenty-two To-morrow
I did not want leisure in which
to muse on the past to-night. A
year ago my father and I had cele
brated my birthday quietly to
gether. He had known that he
would not be with me much longer,
but he had been unusually cheer
ful. I knew It was for my sake
that he smiled and talked, and I
felt as if my heart would break.
Now, as I thought of the mor
row, when I would be twenty-two
years old, a sense of depression as
sailed me. There was nobody to
whom my birthday meant anything.
I would not let myself break down
and cry, so, to tight away sad mem
ories. I began to rea<.
A light footfall sounded In the
1 hall and my employer's voice called
my name. I opened the door. He
was standing there waiting.
"Will you," he asked in subdued
tones, "come . downstairs for a few
minutes? 1 have told my sister
that 1 want you to try over a piece
| of music I brought home this aft
ernoon. That is reason enough for
your coming, and it is, moreover,
the truth."
"Very well," I agreed. "I will
come."
I was not surprised at his request,
for frequently of late he had asked
me to go into the drawing-room
after dinner and play for him. I
was not a skilled performer, but I
loved music, and I played well
enough to please him. Usually Mrs.
Gore was present at such times.
To-night she had gone to her room.
When I descended to the draw
ing room the music was on the
rack of the piano and my employer
was waiting for me. I sat down at
once and ran over the dainty frag-
ment—a song from one of the musi
cal successes of the season.
"It's pretty, isn't it, even if it is
so light," I commented when I had
finished it.
Something to Say
He was standing by the piano,
and nodded. "Yes, it's pretty. But
it was only a ruse to get you down
here for a few minutes. I have
something to say to you."
His manner was grave, yet he
smiled. "To-morrow," he remarked,
"is your birthday. Had you for
gotten?"
I shook my head.
"And did you fancy that I had?"
he queried. Then, as X did not an
swer, he went on:
"I know you thought I had. But
I remembered the date perfectly. And
I want you to give me a little
pleasure in celebration of the day."
"What?" I asked, mystified.
"I went to-day to a certain large
shop where I have an account," he
explained. "I told the head of the
cloak department—l have her card
here—that you would come to-mor
row and be fitted for a certain even
ing cloak I ordered for you."
"Oh, no," I gasped. "I can not let
you do that."
"But you will, child," he insisted,
kindly but firmly. "And," he hurried
on, -"I also selected a little evening
dress for you—a fluffy and lacey
kind of thing—that will just suit
you."
"But, Mr. Norton, it's impossible,"
I exclaimed. "I can't accept such
gifts from you!"
"Why not?" he demanded. Then
as I was silent—"Why not?" he re
peated. "Look me squarely in the
eyes and give me a good reason why
you should not?"
I did not know what to say. I
was overwhelmed by his kindness.
If I resented his gifts I would seem
ungracious. But had I a right to
let him give me such things? Yet
on what ground could I refuse?
"They are but birthday presents
to you," he said.
"But they are so handsome," I
began.
His laugh checked me. "Do you
mean that you fear I cannot afford
to give presents of that kind? Dear
child, if I wanted to give you a
present of jewelry costing ten times
as much I could do it and not miss
the money. But I do not ask you
to accept Jewelry—only such gifts
as 1 might give my own daughter—
if I had one."
As I looked into liis smiling eyes
I knew all my arguments must
sound foolish and childish and yet
that I ought to protest. But even
as I summoned courage to do so I
found myself wondering just what
the new dress and new cloak were
like.
(To Be Continued)
LIVERPOOL COMMENCEMENT
Liverpool, Pa., May 11.—On Sun
da yevening the baccaluareate ser
mon to the 1917 class of the High
School will be delivered by the Rev.
Percy Boughey in the United Breth
ren church. The commencement ex
ercises will be held in the United
Brethren church on Wednesday
evening. Miss Irene Coffman will
deliver the salutatory on "The Spirit
of America." Miss Elizabeth Coff
man will deliver the valedictory on
"A Woman's Part in the War." Dr.
C. H. Gordinier, of the Millersville
State Normal School, will deliver
the address. Prof. John L. Hain, of
Marysvllle, is principal of the school.
© NAN of ®
MUSIC MOUNTAIN
By frank 11. Spearmaiv- *
Author of \Vhispern\g Smittv,
—* .COPJTUWT <u<AaUi KKtonm jons
(Continued.)
CHAPTER XXVIII.
We Spain Rides Alone
lie had ridden the trnii but a short
time when it led him in a wjde
angle backward and around toward
Calabasas, and he found, presently,
that the men he was riding after
were apparently heading for the
stage barns. In the north the rising
curtain had darkened. Toward Sleepy
Cat the landscape was already oblit
erated. In the south the sun shone,
but the air had grown suddenly cold
and in the sharp drop De Spain real
ized what was coming. His first
thought was of the southern stages,
which must be warned, and as he
galloped up to the big barn, with this
thought in mind he saw, standing in
the doorway. Bull Page.
De Spain regarded him with aston
ishment. "How did you get here?"
was his sharp question.
Page grinned. "Got what I was
after, and c'm back soon'r I expect
ed. Half-way over to the gap, 1 met
Duke and the young gal on horse
back, headed for Calabasas. They
pulled up. 1 pulled up. Old Duke
looked kind o' ga'nted and it seemed
like Nan was in a considerable
hurry to get to Sleepy Cat with him,
and he couldn't stand the saddle.
Anyway, they was heading for Cala
basas to get a rig from McAlpin. I
knowed McAlpin would never give
old Duke a rig, not if he was a-dyin'
in the saddle."
"They've got your rig!" cried De
Spain.
"The gal asked me if I'd mind ac
commodatin' 'em," exclaimed Bull
deprecatingly, "to save time."
"They headed north!" exclaimed
De Spain. The light from the fast
changing sky fell copper-ocolored
across his horse and figure. McAlpin
followed by a hostler, appeared at
the barn door.
Bull nodded to De Spain. "Said
they wanted to get there quick. She
flg'erd on saving' a few miles by
strikin' the hill trail in. So I takes
their horses and lets on I was headin'
for the gap. When they got out of
sight, I turned 'round —"
Even as he spoke, the swift-rolling
curtain of mist overhead blotted the
sun out of the sky. <
De Spain sprang from his saddle
with a ringing order to McAlpin. "Get
up a fresh saddle horse!"
"A horse!" cried the startled barn
boss, whirling on the hostler. "The
strongest legs In the stable, and don't
lose a second! Lady Jane; up with
her!" he yelled, bellowing his orders
into the echoing barn with his hands
to his mouth. "Up with her for Mr.
De Spain in a second! Marmon!
Becker! Lanzon! What in h—l are
vou all doing?" he roared rushing
"back with a fusillade of oaths. "Look
alive, everybody!"
"Coming!" yelled one voice after
another from the depths of the dis
tant stalls.
De Spain ran into the office. Page
caught his horse, stripped the rifle
from its holster and hurriedly began
uncinchlng. Hostlers running through
I the barn called shrilly back anfl
forth, and De Spain springing up the
stairs to his room provided what .he
wanted for his hurried flight. When
he dashed down with coats on his
arm the hoofs of Lady Jane were
clattering down the long gangway. A
stable boy slid from her back on one
side as Bull Page threw the saddle
across her from the other; hostlers
• aught at the cinches, while others
hurriedly rubbed the legs of the
quivering mare. De Spain, his hands
on McAlpin's shoulder, was giving
his parting injunctions, and the barn
boss, head cocked down, and eye's
cast furtively on the scattering snow
flakes outside, was listening with an
attention that recorded indelibly
every uttered syllable.
Once only, he interrupted: "Henry, ;
you're ridin' out Into this thing alone .
—don't do it."
"I can't help it," snapped De Spain j
impatiently. ■
"It's a man killer."
"I can't help it."
"Boh Scott, if he w's here, 'ud
never let you do it. I'll ride wi' ye
myself, Henry. I worked for your
father—"
"You're too old a man, Jim—"
"Henry—"
"Don't talk to me! Do as I tell
you!" thundered De Spain.
McAlpin bowed his head.
"iteady!" yelled Page, buckling the
rifle holster in place. Still talking and
with McAlpin glued to his elbow, De
Spain vaulted into the saddle, caught
the lines from Bull's hands, and I
steadied the Lady as she sidestepped
nervously—McAlpin following close
and dodging the dancing hoofs as he
looked earnestly up to catch the last
word. De Spain touched the horse
with the lines. She leaped through
the doorway and he raised a back
ward hand to those behind. Running
outside the door, they yelled a chor
us of cries after the swift-moving
horseman, and. clustered in an ex
cited group, watched the Lady with
a dozen great strides round the Cal
abasas trail and disappear with her
rider into the whirling snow.
She fell at once into an easy
reaching step, and De Spain, busy
with his reflections. hardly gave
thought to what she was doing, and
little more to what was going on
about him.
No moving figure reflects tlie im
passive more than a horseman of the
mountains, after a long ride. Though
never so swift-borne, the man look
ing neither to the right nor to the
left, moving evenly and statueliHte
against the sky, a part of the wiry
beast under him, presents the very
picture of indifference to the world
around him. The great, swift wind
spreading over the desert emptied
on it snow-laden puffs that whirled
and wrapped a cloud of flakes about
horse and rider in the symbol of a
shroud. De Spain gave no heed to
these skirmishing eddies, and for the
wind, he only wished it might keep
the snow in the air till he caught
sight of Nan.
The even reach of the horse
brought him to the point where Nan
Fashions of To-Day - By May Manton
t ROMPERS have become
such accepted garments
for little children that
pretty ones are needed every
day. Here is a model that
can be made with a collar or
with a round neck and with
long or with short sleeves, and
you will find it good for gingham
and materials of hard service
that are desirable tor morning
and also for the pretty white
dimities and cotton crepes that
are used for afternoon rompers.
White dimity made with round
neck and short sleeves and with
cross stitch worked in blue or
pink on the neck and sleeves is
T For the 4-year size will be
needed, yards of material
m, 36 inches wide with yard
jNaj for the trimming.
jsJj The pattern No. 9394 is cut
in sizes from ato 6 years. It
will be mailed to any address
by the Fashion Department of
this paper, oq receipt of tea
cents. .
had changed to the stage wagon. I
Without a break in her long stride,.
Lady Jane took the hint of her
swerving rider, put liar nose into the
wind, and headed north. De Spain,
alive to the difficulties of his venture,
set his hat lower and bent forward
to follow the wagon along ,the sand.
With the first of the white flurries
passed, he found himself in a snow
less pocket, as it were, of the ad
vancing storm. He hoped for nothing |
for the prospect ahead; but every |
moment of respite from the blinding j
whirl was a gain, and with his eyes,
close on the trail that had carried I
Nan into danger, he urged the Lady
on.
When the snow again closed down
about him he calculated from the
roughness of the country that he
should be within a mile of the road
that Nan was trying to reach from
the gap to Sleepy Cat. But the
broken ground straight ahead would
prevent her from driving directly to
it. He knew she must hold to the
right, and her curving track, now be
coming difficult to trail, confirmed
his conclusion.
A fresh drive of the wind buffeted
him as he turned directly north.
Only at intervals could he see any
trace of the wagon wheels. The
driving snow compelled him more
than Once to dismount and search
for the trail. Each time he lost it the
effort to regain it was more pro
longed. At times he was compelled
to ride the desert in wide circles to
find the tracks, and this cost time
when minutes might mean life. But
as long as he could ho clung to the
struggle to track her exactly. He
saw almost where the storm had
struck the two wayfarers. Neither,
he knew, was insensible to its dan
gers. What amazed him was that a
man like Duke Morgan should be
out in it. He found a spot where they
had halted and. with a start that
checked the beating of his heart, his
eyes fell on her footprint not yet
obliterated, beside the wagon track.
The sight of it was an electric
shock. Throwing himself from his
horse, he knelt over It in the sts*m,
oblivious for an instant of every
thing but that this tracery meant hei
presence, where he now bent, hardls
half an hour before. He swung,
after a moment's keen scrutiny, into
his saddle, with fresh resolve. Press
ed by the rising fury of the wind,
the wayfarers had become from
this point, De Spain saw too plainly,
hardly more than fugitives. Good
ground to the left, where their hop
of safety lay, had been overlooked
Their tracks wandered on the open
desert like those who, losing cour
age, lose their course in the confu
sion and fear of the impending peril.
And with this increasing uncer
tainty in their direction vanished De
Spain's last hope of tracking them.
The wind swept the desert now as a
hurricane sweeps the open sea,
snatching the fallen snow from th
face of the earth as the sea gale,
flattening the fae of the waters,
rips the foam from the frantic
waves to drive it in wild, scudding
fragments across them.
(To Be Continue.)
WORKMAN'S HAND CRUSH F,D
Hummelstown, May 11.—Hjalmar
Petersen, living in Poplar avenue,
was badly hurt wlien he was struck
on the hand by a sledge hammer
while at work in the Rutherford
shops Wednesday night. The hand
was crushed. He was taken to the
Harrisburg Hospital, where the
wound was treated and antitoxin in
jected. Later he came home and is
now under the carc of Dr. TJ. R.
Shaffer.
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