18 i| The Real j| II Nan U By \\ i: FRANCIS LYNDE :[ ! 1 IllaitMtlom by IRWIN MYERS j ! ' Copyright by Chas. Scribner's Sons (Continued) "T suppose by that you mean that you'll quit nefore you will consent to open up on your record'.'" he assum ed. "You've guessed it," said the man who had sealed the book of his past. Again Williams' took n little time. It was discouraging to have his own and the colonel's prefiguring as to Smith's probable state and standing so promptly verified. "I suppose you know the plain in ference you're leaving, when you say a thing like that'.'" Smith made the sign of assent. "It leaves you entirely at liberty to finish ' out the story to suit yourself," he admitted, adding. "The back numbers —my back numbers—are my own, Mr. Williams, I've kept a file of them, as everybody does, but I don't have to produce it on request." "Of course, there's nothing com pulsory about your producing it. But unless you are what they call in this country a 'crooked' crook, you are standing in your own light. You have such a staving good head for figures and finances that it seems a pity for you to be wasting it here on an un dergraduate's job in cost-cutting. Any young fellow just out of a technical school could do what you're doing in the way of paring down expenses." The cost-cutter's smile was mildly incredulous. "Nobody seemed to be doing it be fore I came," he offered. "No." Williams allowed, "that's the fact. To tell the plain truth, we've had bigger things to wrestle with; and we have them yet, for that mat \ ter —enough of them to go all around \ the job twice and tie in a bownot." 1 "Finances?" queried Smith, feeling jsome of the back-number instincts fctirring within him. \ The chief engineer noddtd; then he looked up with a twinkle in his closely set gray eyes. "If you'll tell me why you tried to kill Burdell the other day, maybe I'll open up the record —our record—for you." This time the cost-cutter's smile ■wan good-naturedly derisive, and it ignored the reference to BurdelT. "You don't have to open up your record—for me: it's the talk of the camp. You people are undercapital ized—to boil it down Into ono word. Isn't that about the way it sizes up?" "That is the way It has turned out; though we had capital enough to begin with. We've been bled to death by damage suits." Smith shook his head. "Why haven't you hired a first-class attor ney. Mr. Williams?" "We've had the best we could find, j but the other fellows have beaten us ] to It, every time. But the legal end of. It hasn't been the wholo thing or the biggest part of It. What we are need ing most is a man who knows a little something about corporation fights nnd high finance." And at tills the engineer forgot the Smith disabilities real or inferential, and went on to explain In detail the peculiar help lessness of the Tiinanyoni company as the antagonist of the as. yet un named land and Irrigation trust. Smith heard him through, nodding when the tale was told, "It's the old story of the big fish swallowing the little one; so old that there Is no longer any saving touch of novelty in it," ho commented. "I've been wondering if there wasn't something of the kind In your back ground. And you say you haven't any Belmonths or Morgans or Rockefel lers in your company?" "We have a buncji of rather badly scared-up ranch owners and local people, with 'olonel Baldwin in com mand, and that's all. The colonel is a fisliting man, all right, and he can M'IOO! as straight as anybody, when you have shown him what to shoot at. But lie is outclassed, like all the rest of us, when it comes to a game of financial freeze-out. And that is what we are up against, I'm afraid." "There isn't the slightest doubt in Daily Dot Puzzle 9. „ •0 l 0 • 7 - 6 * ' IS \Z -z'j f 14-* ~ ' t •>b I Z ? 1 • • cn // 8 4a> *s+ £l, £3 *-Q • ' v #M S 7 . * 4 ° 24. £5 t . 41 4i * #52 ' ii* ' ' 5a < 3 ' W X.WH <* u4 ' 27 45 46 23* .35 * V' 3l jn£ oNc;t> TO t>ELL 1 Ya y \S. xou kissed ME rT\ V BEEN THE. <;UY y rn AT THE BOOTH- IM HERE I <*ET RID OF ALU I DON'T AH!HA" | / The Honeymoon House By HAZEL DALE By Hazel Dale After Karen Mikal's affair with Dick she felt as though the world were too small to hold all her joy. Running into the Honeymoon House one afternoon to confide her happi ness, she found Janet with a wet cloth fastened over her head lying down in the big studio. It was so unusual to find Janet like this that Karen immediately ex claimed about it. Janet, who had answered the knock at the door her self, answered with a return of her old spirit. "I've had a real adventure, my j dear, and I feel quelled and subdued ! and very much the woman to-day." j "Tell me about it," Karen answer- | ed eagerly, deciding to wait to teli j about her own happiness. , | "But first I want to tell you that! Jarvis and 1 know all about you." 1 Janet said, hugging Karen delight-! edly. "Dick has been here, and he j told us all about it—at least, ail | about the fact that you are going [ to be famous as a great actress. He j didn't tell us much about yourselves, | but such a change in Dick I have ; never seen. He seems to have lost all of his arrogance." 1 Karen blushed delightedly. "But [ I did want to tell it first myself," | she mourned. "And I could have ! managed it, too, if it had not been i for the fact that T have been so busy arranging for the play and get ting jny part and finishing up some work for Mr. John Armstrong, and, oh, doing something every minute, Janet. But tell me about yourself." i "Well, mv dear, it's a thing I never ] dreamed of happening. If another girl had ever told mo about it I j should have thought it far-fetched. ! You know what 1 think about indp- j pendence and so forth. Well, last i night, Jarvis was out on an assign ment, and I was lonely, so Neva | Hart and I went to a play. On the \ way home after 1 had left Neva a j man began to follow me. Of course j I was annoyed, you know how any woman feels under the clrcum- | stances. "I knew, too, that it wouldn't be j very pleasant to be followed into' the apartment, so after he had fol- j lowed me for two blocks I stopped! suddenly, and turned around to look j at him. He Just stared at me, and I j said, "See here, are you following j me?" Karen was 'too much absorbed to j even put in a question, she simply' the world about that," said the one who had been called In as an expert. "What I can't understand is why some of you didn't size the situation up long ago—before it got into its present desperate shape. You are at the beginning of the end now. They've caught you with an empty treasury, and these stock sales you speak of prove that they have al ready begun to swallow you by lit tles. Timanyoni common—l suppose you haven't any preferred—at thirty nine is an excellent gamble for anv group of men who can see their way clear to buying the control. With an eager market for the water —and they can sell the water to you people, even if they don't put their own Kscalante propect through the stock can be pushed to par and be yond, 'as it will be after you folks arc all safely frozen out. More than that, they can charge you enough for the water you've got to have, to finance the Kscalante scheme and pay al the bills; and their Investment, at the present market, will be only thir- i ty-nine cents in the dollar. It's a neat I little play." Williams was by this time far past remembering that his adviser was a DO YOU KNOW WHY--- There's More Than One Way to Win Fame ? Drawn for this paper ißy Fisher SMOKE: FERN* MS V<. SPOOR ? J^BOUT JT- ,„O \ .N?O EE THE NAHESFTFCE WR I H , SSC? d of * D^__N^ d .seyw^K 0 "^ followed everything that Janet was saying with intense interest. "Of course, I thought it would put him to flight, but, instead, lie simply stepped up to me and said in a crisp tone of voice: " 'You just come with me, young lady. You're too young to be out alone at this time of night. We'll see what they say at the Night Court about young women who speak to men in the street.' " Janet stopped for about a min ute. "Really, Karen, when 1 think of last night it seems just like a nightmare, all of it. Could you be lieve a thing like that would happen to anvone like me?" '•'Well, of course, for a minute I was terrified, but then I began to be indignant, and I kept getting an grier every minute. But I did man age to think. I saw that he was an officer all right, and I knew that if 1 went along peaceably there wouldn't be a fuss, so I asked him to let go of my arm, and 1 went with him." Karen's eyes were filled with hor ror. "You let him take you to Night Court?" The Night Court to Karen was a place too horribly unspeakable to mention. She shivered at the thought of it. It meant a place of utter degradation, the shame of which a girl never recovered. "You see, I know Miss Brown down there," Janet explained. "She is a great friend of Jarvis and the most wonderful woman I know. Well, when we got down to the place, I let the man get me inside, and then I said to him quietly: "Would you mind taking me right to Miss Brown? I think you are going to regret this evening's epi sode more than you can say.' " "Janet. I don't see how you did it. I should have fainted away on the spot." "I didn't know I could do it my self, until I realized I was in a tight place. You should have seen that man's face when Miss Brown put her arms around me. Why, he just wilted away; he looked frightened to death. Miss Brown came home with me in a taxi, and Jarvis was home when we got there, and Karen, he cried, it was awful, everything was awful, and I feel like the most effeminate of women. I don't think I shall ever venture out alone after dark again as long as I live. It's the most horrible blow to my pride. I don't feel a bit like an independent woman now." (To be continued) man with a possible alias and t>re sumably a fugitive from justice. "Can't something be done, Smith? You've had experience in these tilings; your talk shows it. Have we got to stand still and be shot to pieces?" "The necessity remains to be dem onstrated. But you will be shot to pieces, to a dead moral certainty, if you don't put somebody on deck with the necessary brains, and do it quick ly," said Smith with frank bluntness. "Hold on," protested the engineer. "Every man to his trade. When I said that we had nobody but the neigh bors and our friends in the company, I didn't mean to give the impression that they were either dolts or cliuck leheads. As a matter of fact, we have a pretty level-headed bunch of men in Timanyoni Ditch—though I'll ad mit that some of them are nervous enough, just now. to want to get out on almost any terms. What I meant to say was that they don't happen to be up in all the crooks and turnings of the high-finance buccaneers." (To Be Continued) "The Insider" By Virginia Terhune Van de Water ■ CHAPTER XLIV "I will be down in a few minutes," I told Mrs. Gore when she left iny room. "I must wash my face and hands and brush my hair first." "Do not change your dress," she advised. "I can't," I reminded her, "for, you see, I have not unpacked. 1 have listened to your interesting talk instead." "She smiled constrainedly. "Thank you," she murmured.' "I hope you will try to forget much that I said. I just wanted you to understand about these rooms. I was sure you would be interested in them if you did. And I knew that if you under stood you would ask no questions about them. My brother is very sensitive in speaking of my poor sister. I wanted to spare him the pain of answering any questions." "I see," I rejoined. "I certainly would not think of asking him about such a private matter as his wife's illness or death." When she had gone, I sank upon the couch on which she and I had been seated, and reviewed, bit by bit, the conversation we had just had, I supposed that she had spoken truly when she said that it would bo painful to Brewster Norton to speak of his dead w r ife—the mother of his favorite child. Yet she knew me very little if she fancied that I would ask my em ployer any questions about these rooms—as to who had formerly oc cupied them, and for whom they liad been so daintily furnished. And if I had asked, why need she dread my doing so? I had never supposed that she was so fearful of having' her sister's husband wounded. Then a sudden idea assailed me. Was she afraid that Tom might have told me something against his stepmother? She had probably noted that he and I were on pleas ant terms and wanted to prevent his saying to me anything disparaging of his father's second wife. Well, she would never learn from me that Tom had criticized her. His conli dences were safe with me. She had tried to insure his silence by advising me not to allow him to talk of the dead woman. It was not well, she had intimated, for young people to dwell on sad things. She had also exacted from me a promise that I would ask no ques tions about her sister. It was all a puzzle to me. But it was none of my affair. A Puzzling Query Having returned to the point at which I had been at the beginning of my talk with Mrs. Gore. I arose and got ready for dinner. No, I would make no inquiries with re gard to Grace's mother. She had not died here. I was not superstitious, yet I was rather glad that this pretty room had not witnessed her demise. How and where had she died, anyway? Then realizing that I was asking of myself the very uqestion that Mrs. Gore had requested me to re frain from asking anyone else, I shopk myself free from these futile conjectures, got ready for dinner, and ran downstairs. Mrs. Gore was certainly an excel lent manager. In the few hours be fore our arrival she and the s%r vants liad made the house look as it it had been lived in for a month. To be sure, the entire building: had been opened, cleaned and set to rights by the wife of the farmer whose cottage was within the Hill crest grounds. But Mrs. Gore and her assistants had unpacked table linen and silver and had added to the place the homelike touch that only those who live in a house can give to it. I paused at the foot of the stairs as 1 came down, and looked about me and into the open door of the dining room, noting the beauty of all the appointments. As 1 stood thus, I heard my name spoken soft ly. Turning, I saw my employer beckoning to me from the rear of the huge hall. "Come here," he said. "I have something to show you." The back door and veranda were like those at the front of the house, hut at the back the honeysuckles and rambling roses ran riot as they did not. at the more heavily shaded front of the building. "I just want you to see how love ly this is, and to smell it," Mr. Nor ton said as I joined him. "Come oil outside." I followed him out upon the ve randa, and together we stood and looked and listened, drinking in the beauty of the early evening. The sun had set and the whole world was bathed in a soft pink after-glow. The air was sweet with flower-scents; the brook rip pled musically only a short dis tance from where we stood; from a tree in the orchard at the side of the house a robin whistled, then was still. "Ah!" I sighed, ecstatically, "How heavenly It all is!" "You like it?" he asked. He was standing close to me and I answered frankly: He Takes Her Hand "Of course I like it. You must know that, Mr. Norton." "I must know it," he said, gravely. "Dear child—please try to feel that this is home." ' Indeed 1 shall," I rejoined, try ing to speak in a matter of fact tone and starting toward the door. But he detained me by taking my hand. "I wanted just a minute alone with you on this first evening here," he said, "to wish you the happiest summer of your life. It promises to be a happy one for me, my dear, because you are here." "Oh—thank you!" I acknowledged the words with a laugh that would not sound as natural as 1 wished. "I am sure everybody must be happy at Millcrest." "I have not always been happy here." he muttered as he dropped my hand. "But," with a gesture that was actually defiant, "I mean to be happy this summer—or know the reason why!" "I hope you may be," I said sin cerely. "I will be if" but he got no farther. For at that moment Tom came around the corner of the house. "Oh, here you are!" he exclaimed. "Miss Dart, come out on the front lawn and see the new moon. If you look at it over your right shoulder you will have good luck for the rest of the month." "Good!" 1 ejaculated. "Show It to me immediately!" By the time Tom and I had looked at the new moon and returned to the house dinner had been an nounced, and Mrs. Gore and Mr. Norton were awaiting us in the dln ingroom with Grace, who had been allowed to sit up for dinner on this, the first evening at Hillcrest. (To He Continued). SEES END OF WOMEN'S SKIRTS Will Probably Wear More Comfortable Garments After War By MRS. WIIJSON WOODKOW The occupation or sport must have its appropriate garment. That's as necessary a corollary as the hour and the man. And now that women are mobilizing In practically every state In the union for agricultural work, there is much agitation over the sort of garments which shall properly fit the woman and the task. The popular vote is for overalls, and the manufacturers of these use ful and bucolic garments are already busy trying out designs. When the Maud Mullers of this silmmer rake the meadows sweet with hay, they will probably do so free of the incommod ing and hampering skirt. I wonder if this is the beginning of the end, if in a few years the skirt will be on the dust heap along with the Chinese shoe, and the wasp-waist ed corset, and the veil of the woman of the zenana. The prophets have been predicting it for several years. I think it was just before the war that there was an interview in one of the London papers with Paul Pol ret, the great French designer. He said that he had just finished two de signs which he foresaw would be uni versally adopted by women in about ten years. He had had these designs duly certified by his attorney and placed under seal for the period tat ed, in order that his prediction might be verified. Then to his interviewer he showed copies of the designs. In the first, the skirt separated at the knee into trousers. In the second there was no compromise with skirts. The trousers were slightly fuller than those of men but unmistakably trous ers. "t will not predict fashions," M. Polret Is quoted as saying, "for I dis own fashion. 1 believe only in influ ences. If you ask me what is the transcendant influence to-day, I reply that It Is the wind of emancipation passing over women." I don't keep cjippings or note books; they add so much to the clut tering lumber of life; but I did (lie this prediction, just to see if time would bring It to pass. 1 fancy, too, that M. Polret had been sedulously observing the straws which have long been showing the direction of that wind of destiny. If you will gaze at the pictures in some old fashion book of the nineteenth century you will see that the lady on horseback presented a flowing, billow ing silhouette which, according to the ideals of the period, was indicative of a graceful femininity. But Heaven help her, if she attempted to negotiate a "trappy" country in the teeth of a high wind. A long, white ostrich feather waved from her hat. and the black velvet skirt of her habit almost swept the ground. Imagine being pitched off and finding yourself all tangled up In those velvet folds. Ladies thus panoplied must have been content to amble along at rocking-horse speed, or else have been unexcelled trick riders. Nevertheless, Victorian "mod esty" demanded It. But this so-called modesty In dress Is purely a matter of custom as well as of geography. The thoughts of women were widened by the process of the suns, and the bicycle appeared. It called for the divided skirt. Women also found that If they were going to do any hard riding It was safer to ride astride; hence, the long coat and breeches. The trailing, velvet skirt became not only effete but obsolete. Daily the sports clothes of women more nearly approach those of their brothers, and when it comes to air planing. there is no difference be tween them at all. The necessities of war are creating new standards, a new outlook, prac tically a new era. The woman with the hoe. if not exactly at our door, is certainly in our backyard. There is no time for the discission of dis tinctions of sex. The need of the mo ment Is results. The work has to be done as rapidly and efficiently as pos sible: it is quite immaterial whether men or women do it. As for the clothes worn during the accomplish ment of these tasks, all any one asks is that they shan't Impede or retard the worker. The smock and the short skirt have' been popular for amateur gardening— a sort of preliminary or preparatory stfep toward the overalls, which will be almost a necessity for real farm work. Did you ever weed in your garden, and prune and plant and fuss about happily with a trowel and a pair of scissors and a watering-pot. and not come into the house later with your skirt a sight? I never did. That pesky skirt positively dabbles itself in the wet soil. You shovel earth all over It. The watering-pot upsets itself upon it. and you rise up from your labors in a shocking mess. Women will simply flock to join the great agricultural army of the coming summer. In fact, they are already doing so. Feyr occupations make so strong an appeal to them; for women are born gardeners. They leve nothing so much as watching and tending growing things and coaxing them to grow faster and llower more abundantly. It's the fol lowing out of the maternal instinct. X know some women land-owners who manage their own farms very suc cessfully, and there would be a lot more devoting themselves to the soil Fashions of To-Day - ByMayManton else may W come, whatever else may go, the chemise gown will remain throughout the sea son, and a very charming, gen erally becoming and attractive garment it is. This one is made JpS. with a separate guimpe and 4- here, the guimpe is of Geor • 1 gette crepe while the gown j itself is made of charmeuse | [ satin. If you want a simple • | morning gown, you can follow \J the suggestion shown in the back view and use serge over crepe de chine. If you want an evening gown, you can make short sleeves and you can use Georgette crepe forthe blouse with any silk or satin for the gown. The banding shown is embroidered but baby Irish lace tinted to harmonize with the silk is smart. For the medium size will be needed, yards of material 36 inches wide for the gown, i/i yards for the guimpe por tion with 3V£ yards of banding for the skirt, fl yards for the girdle and yards of lacefor )J J .•( IfTW The pattern No. 9387 is cut AfJ u-A 387 11 in sizes from 34 to 42 inches bust tjbf I 111 measure. It will be mailed to yy (JJjlj any address by the Fashion De- partment of this paper, on re -9387 Chemise Gown, 34 to 42 Dust. C cipt of fifteen cents. Psice IS cents. If they hadn't always been relegated to the butter and eggs side of th< industry. And the prospect, of be coming a real "hand" on one of th great, modern farms with their vast fields of wheat and corn, and the com plicated and fascinating machines i! use on them, is enough to give anj woman with the love of the greai out-doors in her a thrill. Woman is a practical creature, very On the farm as elsewhere, she li going to wear the garments best suit ed to the work she has In hand. Manj of the Englishwomen are plowing planting and harvesting their crops ii breeches; and Mother Grundy, undei the stress of hunger, is throwing n< fits at the spectacle. Tn time of war when the nations feel the necessity of utilizing all their resources, nc one is bothering much about that oii catch-phrase, "the silent influence ol woman." With a possible shortage of food staring us in the face, the price of onions and potatoes above rubies, and other commodities taking to themselves the wings of the dove, the fireside gives precedence to the farm. There are those who assert thai this use of breeches for sport and ol overalls for farm work is but th harbinger of what we may expect in correct dress for women in the near future. I would not be regarded as reactionary. It is purely for aes thetic reasons that I express a doubt whether so sweeping a change of fashion would succeed in materially brightening the corner where we are. Skirts may be an outworn badge ol sex, as some of the modern writers insist; but the do cover a multitude of shins. Remembering this, one feels inclin ed to take the other side of the fenc, and echo to our threatened draperiei Lear's plea to Cordelia.: "Stay a lit tle!"