jjJBI SHREW TAMED IN REAL LIFE Read How a Little, Inoffen sive Man Turned Tables on His Wife The Taming of the Shrew is a classic. T " e Taming of Petruchio re mains to be written. But I was a wit ness to its accomplishment once in real life; and what I didn't see my-; self the shrew told me. I was living in a remarlcably well-managed, small hotel in a re mote western town. The man of the house was a gentle, Inept, vague soul who, having successively failed j in many different business ventures, surrendered the helm of their bark to his wife and placidly accepted the role of boarding-house landlady's husband. It was a sinecure beside which the proverbial fifth wheel of a wagon stands as the symbol of usefulness and busy diligence. After the manner of women, his wife apologized for him on the score of ill-health, and tried to represent him as an indispensable adjunct to the establishment. How she would ever be able to manage without him. Mrs. Landlady said, she didn't know. And this in the face of the fact that she couldn't even send him to the butcher's with an order and be sure that he would not forget it on the way. His sple function in life seemed to be to eat three hearty meals a day and between times prowl around the house with a tack-hammer in his hand which he never, by any chance, put to use; or else to tinker with the hot water pipes until they sprung a-leak and the plumber had to be sent for. Then one day a departing boarder left in his room some modeling clay, and the husband, either through en nui because of his purposeless exist ence or with some dim artistic im pulse stirring in his soul, laid hands on it and bore it away to his attic chamber. There in secret he toiled over it with his inexpert, clumsy fingers un til finally, after many attempts, he evolved a rude bust of his wife, the likeness being suggested by the comb in her back hair. He worked feverishly to get it done in time, and then, thrilling with pride over his creation, he car Fashions of To-Day - By May Manton t r T" , HIS is to be essentially a I Summer of dainty dresses and it will, of course, bring a demand for dainty under garments, here is an ideal one. The petticoat is shapely, yet generously full and the little corset cover can be made as it is here with straps over the shoulders or with armholcs and a round neck. In this instance, a fine nainsook with trimming of filet lace makes the petticoat, but the skirt is straight and if you like, you can make the lower part of flouncing as well as the corset cover while the upper part of the petticoat is of plain material. There is a sug gestion for that treatment in the back view. Crepe de chine is good for under-garments too, and washable satin is liked this season so that tftere are a variety of niaterials from which to For the 16-year tize will be needed, yards of material 36 inches wide with 3 yards of wide banding and 9% yards of lace, 2 yards of narrow banding. The pattern No. 9072 is cut in sizes for 16 and 18 years. It >072 Combination Undergarment for w be mailed to any address Misses andl Small Women, by the Fashion Department of Price is*ceatZ" this P 3 !**' ou receipt of fifteen d cents. Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1917, International News Service By McManus j j ( \ 7 1 r/ \ r y — \ DDNTITELL 'L ) , S>POTE ' M <OlNci TO OON'T PRA\ FER |v>E 1 ,T *S> -M.THEAD- f ° L LOOK,NC| 4NENTO OVER >OME CARtV 1 FOR TOU NOW- WAIT TlLu I MONDAY EVENING, THE NEBBY NEIGHBORS They Live Here in Harrisburg By Sullivan ried the bust down to Mrs. Land lady as a surprise, to her upon her birthday. The moment of the presentation { was not propitious. She was deep in a dispute with a radesman about his bill, the cook had struck, a check! given her by a recent lodger had come back from the bank marked N. G., and the boiler, running true to form, had sprung a new leak. The futility of that bust, as he tiptoed into the steaming kitchen and set it before her on the table, piled high with unwashed dishes, was the last straw. With one sweep of her arm she sent it crashing to the floor; then, in a crescendo of wrath, she voiced her opinion of a man who would permit his wife to slave lier life away while he occupied his time with such dilettante trifling. She shifted the years for instances of his incompetence. She unpadlock ed her mind and heart and drew out secret boards of resentment and de spair. She unrolled a panorama of his shortcomings and ineptitudes. At first the man wavered and seemed inclined to flee. Then he straightened up and, without at tempting reply or recrimination, faced the bursting shells unflinch ingly. At last, when she had lost her voice and was dissolving into tears, he took her by the arm and, with a row air of authority, put her out of the kitchen. "You're a little upset this morn ing, my dear," he said quietly. "Let me take hold here." The flrst thing he did was to get a broom and sweep up the scatter- Ed fragments of his bust. Theft he; dealt diplomatically with the cook and the bill collector, attacked the unwashed dishes and generally evolved order from chaos. From that time he was the head | of the house in all that the phrase implies. The same perseverance and determination that he had given to the wretched bust, no longer mis-1 guided, he brought to bear upon the management of the house. He sup plemented and reinforced his wife; theirs was an ideal specimen of; teamwork. The business, which had been wobbly and uncertain, was now on an even keel and forged steadily j ahead. In other words, the man had ' found himself, or was brought to himself. It is an incident which X have always remembered because of its psychological interest. On the face of the returns, it would appear as if his wife's out burst was the immediate cause of his redemption. It gave him the necessary jolt to rouse him from his mental lethargy, just as paraly tics, bed-ridden for years upon learning that the house is afire, have recovered their powers of lo comotion and raced madly for safety. I have even heard it argued that the natural inclination of the male is toward indolence and repose, and that if it were not for the con stant prodding of his mate he would drift rapidly back to the blanket and a state of lazy sav agery. By that logic, to Xantippe must go the credit for the philosophy of Socrates. Of course, everyone has seen more than one tiny woman hold a hulking colossus of a man in ab ject subjection, solely because of the needle-thrust quality of her repartee. But I do not believe that such mosquito tactics ever stirred I a man to great endeavor or brought out the latent strength of his character. Nagging is one thing, though, and an occasional thunderstorm, when the domestic weather needs clearing, is quite another. And, by the way, why do people always speak of a "nagging woman?" Some of the most persistent and annoying naggers I have ever encountered have been men. Most women are potential shrews, just as most men are potential brutes. And as there are certain primitive types of women who can respect and adore only the men who I beat them, so there 'are certain lazy savages of men who can be stimu lated to effort only by the poison of the serpent tongue. Yet for the normal human being I believe, with St. Paul, in "a more excellent way." In the case that I have cited above, I have my own pet, particu lar theory. Apparently the worth less, ineffectual husband was shaken out of his shiftlessness by the unex pected explosion on the part of his long-suffering wife. But please remember that this was her first outburst. For years she had covered up his delinquencies and ha.d extolled him as a paragon of competence and ability. We all thrive on praise and re spond to it. I do. You do. May it not be. then, that the long course of her encomiums reacted on his nature, making him believe himself the man of force and character which she persistently presented both to him and to their world; so that when the opportunity came for him to exem-! plify thebelief she had implanted, he rose to it. We are all so ready' with our "judicious criticism'' and our "righ't eous indignation." And we are so sparing of our pleasant thoughts and pleasant words, so forgetful that, "To understand all is to forgive all." Don't you agree with me? HARRISBURG TELEGRAPH © NANoT o MUSIC MOUNTAIN By frank 11. Spearmaiv- , Author of \Vhis.perii\g SmitK, cOP-mr&wT- cjwbles satmat jaii (Continued) Quartering against the mad hurri cane, they drove and rode on until the team could hardly be urged to further effort against the infuriated elements —-De Spain riding at inter vals as far to the right and the left as he dared in vain quest of a land mark. When he halted beside the Aragon for the last time he was a mass of snow and ice; horse and rider were frozen to each other. He got down to the ground with a visible effort, and in the singing wind told Duke his plan and purpose. He had chosen on the open desert a hollow falling somewhat abruptly from the north, and beneath its shoulder, while Morgan loosened the horses, he scooped and kicked away a mass of snow. The wagon had been drawn just above the point of refuge and the two men, with the aid of the wind, dumped it over sidewise, ma king of the body a windbreak over the hollow, a sort of roof, around which the snow, driven by the gale, would heap itself in hard waves. Within this shelter the men stowed Nan. The horses were driven down • behind it, and from one of them De Spain took the collar, the tugs and the whiffletrees. He stuck a hitching strap in his pocket, and while Morgan steadied the Lady's head, De Spain buckled the collar on her, doubled the "togs around the whiffletree, and fastened the roll at her side in front of the saddle. Nan came out and stood beside him as he worked. When he had finished she put her hand on his sleeve. He held her close, Duke list ening, to tell her what he meant to try to do. Each knew it well might be the last moment together. "One thing and another have kept us from marriage vows, Nan," said De Spain, beckoning at length to Morgan to step closer that he might clearly hear. "Nothing must keep us longer. Will you marry me?" She looked up into his eyes. "I've promised you I would. I will promise every time you ask me. I never could have but one answer to that, Henry —it must always be yes!" "Then take me, Henry," lie said slowly, "here and now for your wed ded husband. Will you do this. Nan?" Still looking *-'s eyes, she an swered without arprise or tear: •Henry, I do take you." "And I, Henry, take you. Nan, here and now for my wedded wife, for bet tor for worse, for richer for poorer, from this day forward, until death us do part." They sealed their pact with a silent embrace. De Spain turned to Duke. "You are the witness of this mar riage, Duke. You will see, if an acci dent happens, that anything, every thing I have—some personal prop erty—my father's old ranch north of Medicine Bend-—some little money in bank at Sleepy Cat—goes to my wife. Nan Morgan de Spain. Will you see to it?" "I will. And if it comes to me— you, De Spain, will see to It that what stock I have in the gap goea to my niece, Nan, your wife." She looked from one to the other ot the two men. "All that I have." she said in turn, "the lands in the gap, everywhere around Music moun tain, go to you two equally together, or whichever survives. And it' you both live, and I do not, remember my last message—bury the past in my grave. Duke Morgan tested the cinches of the saddle on the Lady once more, unloosed the tugs once more from the horse's shoulder, examined each buckle of the collar and every inch of the two strips of leather, the re enforced fastenings on the whiffle tree, rolled all up again, strapped it, and stood by the head till De Spain swung up into the saddle. He bent down once to whisper a last word of cheer to his wife, an<J, without looking back, headed the Lady into the storm, CIIAPTKR XXX Gambling With Death Beyond giving his horse a safe headway from the shelter, De Spain made little effort to guide her. He had chosen the Lady, not because she was fresher, for she was not, but because he believed she possessed of the three horses the clearest in stinct to bring her through the tight for the lives that were at stake. He did not .deceive himself with the idea ho could do anything to help the beast find a. way to succor: that in stinct rested wholly in the Lady's head, not in his. He only knew that ii.' she could not get bacn to help, he could not. His own part in the ef fort was quite outside any aid to the Lady—it was no more than to reach alive whatever aid she could find, that he might direct it to where Nan and her companion would endure a few hours longer the fury of the storm. His own struggle for life, he real ized. was with the wind—the roaring wind that hurled its broad sides of frozen snow In monstrous waves across the maddened sky, challenging every living thing. It drove icy knives into his face and ears, paralyzed in its swift grasp his muscles and sinews, fought the stout flow of blood through his veins, and searched his very heart to still it. Kncouraging the with kind words, and caressing her in her grop ing efforts as she turned head and tail from the blinding sheets of snow and ice. De Spain let her drift, hoping she miKht bring them through what he confessed in his heart to be, the narrowest of chances. He bent low in his saddle under the unending blasts, fie buffeted his legs and arms to fight off the fatal cold. He slipped more than once from his seat, and with a hand on the pommel tramped beside the horse to revive his failing circulation, there would come a time, he realized, when he could no longer climb up again, but he staved that Issue off to the last possible moment of endur ance, because the Lady made better time when be was on her back. When the struggle to remount, had been repeated until nature could no longer by any staggering effort be made to respond to his will, until his less were no longer a part of his be numbed being—until below his hips he had no body answerable to his commands, but only two insensible masses of lead that anchored him to the ground—he still forced the frozen feet to carry him, in a feeble, monstrous gait beside the I-ady, while he dragged with his hands on the saddle for her patient aid. One by one every thought, as if congealed in their brain cells, desert ed his mind—savo the thought that he must not freeze to death. More than once he had hoped the insens ate fury of the blizzard might abate. The Lady had long since ceased to try to face it—like a stripped vessel before a hurricane, she was drifting under it. De Spain realized that his helpless legs would not carry htm farther. His hands, freezing to the pommel, no longer supported him. They finally slipped from it and he fell prostrate in the snow beside his horse. When he would cry out to her his frozen lips could mumble no words. It was the tight no longer ol a man against nature, but only of an indomitable soul against a cruel, hateful death. He struggled to his feet only to fall again more heavily. He pulled himself up this time by the stirrup strap, got his hands and arms up to the pommel, and clung to It for a few paces more. But he fell at last, and could not longer rise from the ground. The storm swept unceasingly on. The Lady, checked by the lines wrapped on his arm, stopped. De Spain lay a moment, then backed her up a step, pulled her head down by the bridle, clasped his wooden arms around her neck, spoke to her and lifting her head, the mare dragged him to his feet. Clumsily and help lessly he loosened the tugs and the whiffletree, beat his hands together with idiotic effort, hooked the mid dle point of the whiffletree into the elbow of his left arm, brought the forearm and hand against his shoul der, and with the hitching strap lashed his forearm and upper arm tightly together around the whiffle tree. He drew the tugs stiffly over the Lady's back, unloosed the cinches of the saddle, pushed it off the horse and, sinking into the snow behind her, struck with his free arm at her feet. Relieved of the saddle, the Lady once more started, dragging slowly behind her through the snow a still breathing human being. Less than an hour before it had been a man. It was hardly more now. as the Lady plodded on. than an insensate log. But not even death could part it again from the horse to which De Spain, alive, had fastened it. (To Be Continued) DEPORTING BEI.GI ANS AGAIN Havre, France, May 14. lnform ation officially received by the Belgian Government is to the effect that all males between the ages of 15 and 65 in the Belgian province of Luxem burg have been deported for work in France and Germany and the neigh borhood of the frontier. The instruc tions say that the burgomaster, teacher and notary in each commune may remain there. A census of women also has been taken, and they have been divided in to three categories. The first, compos ed of the ablebodied, who will be compelled to work In the fields, re placing men; the second, mothers with infants, who will be allowed to remain at home, and the third, the others who will remain at the disposition of the German authorities and whose mis sion is unknown. In the census no distinction has been made regarding social standing. •MAY 14, 1917. The Honeymoon House By HAZEL DALE When Karen stopped on the threshold of Dick Armstrongs studio expecting to find a gay sup per party gathered, and instead making the discovery that she was the only guest, she stood for a few minutes looking into Dick's blue eyes. She realized in a minute that things had reached a crisis in her relations with Dick, and the way that she conducted herself at this time might mean everything to her. Of course she could not know that Dick himself felt a queer some thing under ills usual guy manner that he could not explain, a feeling that he quickly smothered as some thing absurd. Karen Mikal was no different from hundreds of women he had known. Ho could make her care if she didn't already eare a little for him, and what did it mat ter, anyway: her caring was the least of his thoughts. And yet, was it? If Dick had stopped to think at all. he would have seen that her caring meant more than he wanted it to mean. Karen decided in a minute not to play the innocent role. Dick's eyes as he met hers had been too full of meaning. She stood against the closed door and looked at him evenly. "Well?" she questioned coolly. Dick threw back his handsome head. He had but one idea at that moment, to touch this girl, and he walked over to her deliberately and caught her up against him. Karen knew at that moment, if she never knew before, that she loved him, loved him as she had always known she would love some day, but to admit of it for a single distant now would end everything. She did not struggle, simply re mained passive. Dick turned her face up to him roughly and in the darkness found her lips. There was a moment, a long moment, and then he raised his head quickly. "I love you! Do you hear? 1 want you!" Karen said nothing. "Don't you care at all?" Dick burst out. "I have looked at you at times when I could swear you did." The girl's attitude was disarming and he slowly released her. Two feelings were fighting for domi nance in his heart. One was an ir resistible desire to crush her in his arms, to force her to admit that she cared; the other was surprise at her attitude of nonresistance. He had expected her either to instantly sur render or to struggle against him, and he had been met, instead, with absolute indifference. "I'll make him care," the girl was saying fiercely to herself. "I'll make him humble for once, and if I can't do it he won't have me, no matter how much I want him." Again they stood facing each other, each with the memory of that one wild moment uppermost. "You know I want you," Dick burst out, his voice a little un steady. "Yes, I could hardly help know ing that," Karen said evenly. She was no longer the girl she had been that afternoon, dressing for her lover; fearful of the hot look in his eyes, she was another girl, remote, different, a stranger to herself. "The stage setting is so oerfect and the hour so beautifully timed," she con tinued, a hard little note creeping into her voice. Dick continued to stare at her, and she met his eyes with her own inscrutable and cold. "What made you think I loved you?" she questioned. "It doesn't matter," said Dick ruthlessly, "whether you care or not. T do." "Oh, and my feelings aren't sup posed to count at all," Karen said, forcing a soft little laugh. "You'rs all wrong. Dick; even you will ad mit that." "You don't know what it is to care, do you," he said quickly. "I don't believe you have it in you." "Oh, but I have," interrupted Karen. "You see, you haven't much to offer, Dick. I am waiting for the real thing. I don't think ot love the way you think of it. When a man loves me it won't be a com fortable kind of love, it won't b a love that he can tire of whenever he likes; he will have to give me a great ileal to measure up to what I can give him." Karen laughed again and turned away. "And now, Mr. Dick Arm strong. if you are quite sure that I am not what you thought me and If the amusing little play is qult finished I'll be going home." Dick was furiously angry, hli conceit had been given a hard Jolt Even his sudden impulse to ust force was swallowed up by the fact that with all of his sureness, and his success with women, the on woman that he wanted to care had laughed at him. He made no eftorl to detain her when Karen crossed over to the door and opened It. Th next minute she was flying down the stairs, her one thought to gel home. She had met the enemy and conquered, but how was she t< keep up hostilities when she loved him? (To bo continued.) MUST U-BOAT CHASER LAUNCHED IN NEW YORK Washington. I> C„ May 14. Th first boat of the navy's fleet of sub marine chasers has just been launched at the New York Navy Yard, it wai announced last night, and the second will be launched at the New Orleani Navy Yard in a few days. Keels oi both were laid April 1. Many others of the 110-foot motot craft are Hearing completion and wll ! be put into the water within a few weeks. Private builders and navy yards an rushing construction, so that a larg< number of the vessels may bo avail, able soon for coast patrol work and attack on submarines. TO SALVAGE U-HOATS' PREY Amsterdam, May 14. The probleri of salvaging ships sunk by submarinei is solved, according to the Hamburgei Fremdenblatt, which says that Ger man naval engineers have perfected i process of raising ships from the bot tom of the sea. Details are withheld except that specially equipped salvagi vessels will lie employed and that thej will be able to operate even in storm] weather. The Fremdenblatt, which, as an ex ample, puts the value of the shipi sunk In February alone at what it i-alls the moderate figure of SIBO,OOO ■ 000, says that their number and fa > utile position in most cases foi raising, guarantee for many year, after rtie war plenty of work and I rich profit. Daily Dot Puzzle 21. .2.0 -i ' lr "j- JI 1 hjki i) } St. I % 'n 7( * 49 So ' . ' ,S Mi V (i .' A ' *'3B * i Vi % - I 5 ift * 5
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