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► Maria Thompson Daviess
* Author of 'The Meltinf
* of Molly"
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* Copyright. 1915, by th® Rellly * '
I Brltton Co.
I__ ♦♦♦•♦♦♦♦♦♦■
(Continued)
"Well, get to It all," commanded
by uncle, the General Robert. "Get
vouchers you spend and pay
with state department checks. Don't
Mow in a fortune, you young spend
thrift, you. but also remember that
the state of Harpeth is one of the
richest in America and knows how to
show France real hospitality."
"That state of Harpeth has shown
that hospitality to one humble youth
of France, my Uncle Robert, who has
a great gratitude," I made answer to
him as I laid my cheek upon the
sleeve of his coat, which was of a cut
in the best style for gentlemen of his
age. Try as hard as Robert Carruth
ers will, he cannot force that Rob
erta. marquise of Grez and Bye, at
all times to refrain from a caress to
tbe uncle whom she so greatly loves.
"Clear out, sir! Depart!" was the
response I got to that caress. But al
ways that wicked Roberta, -marquise
of Grez and Bye, finds in the face of
her relative something that assures
her that she can so venture at a later
time.
And as I turned away from that
coldness on the part of my august
relative I found a glow of warmth
for my reviving in the eyes of my
beautiful Gouverneur Faulkner, who
held out his hand to me as I started
to the door for that departure com
manded me.
"Blood brothers never doubt each
other, Robert," he said to me as with
one hand he grasped my right hand
and laid the other on my arm above
my bandage over the wound Timms
had given to me, which was now al
most entirely healed.
With the quickness of lightning I
laid my cheek against the sleeve of
r-TSKf-y.'
if"* wm
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2, S. 10. 25 and SO 1%. cotton bags.
last Summer
Millions of
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JSu kn
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This Summer
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V
•UCMCANI
_j|
A TIC FRANKLIN ,
I - sum nnmtQ ct Vl
PHLADCIPMA PA. !
(WEDNESDAY EVENING, HARRISBURG Q£goS& TELEGRAPH 1 AUGUST 15,1917.
Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1917, International News Service - By M
|J V VHAJt) THE MATTER- ] T ~ Y I V DIDN'T I "''ELL VQO TO I WUZ l ~ *1 \t>Oß SH/ife HA*> A
ffi-.l ARE YOU ASHAMED \ jfo. Ijj WELL"FOR f%\ KEEP J "WATERTHE LAWri EARLY I e>R\tS<,\N' OUT V/ELLI DISPOSITION JOVT
TO BE bEEN LEWIN' S <POONEVb IET: J TODAY- I'LL t>TAY HERE C THE MObE - ( wp UK6 myjFFl
his coat in exactly the caress I had
given to my uncle, the General Rob
ert, and then did depart with an
equal rapidity.
"Can you beat him. Bill?" I heard
my uncle, the General Robert, de
mand as I closed the door.
"Impossible!" was the answer I
thought was returned.
And from that audience chamber
I went quickly and alone in my good
cherry to Twin Oaks, was admitted •
by Bonbon, whom 1 instructed not in
any way to allow that I be in
terrupted. ascended to my own
apartment and seated myself in a
large chair before the glowing ashes
of a small fire of fragrant chip twigs
which kind Madam Kizzie had had
lighted against what she called a
"May chill" during my toilet of the 1
morning. Above me from the mantel
shelf that Grandmamma Carruthers
looked down with her great and no
ble smile, while the flame in her eyes
seemed to answer that in my soul as
1 communed with myself.
"What is it that you will now do, j
Roberta, marquise of Grez and'
Bye'.'" 1 asKea of myself, with a
slight shaking of my knees in their ;
cheviot trousers, "it is hardly pos-,
stble that you will escape trom re- j
vealmg your woman's estate to this ,
Frenchman ot your own class. Here |
all mistakes ot a man's estate are i
forgiven you and laid to the fact of
your being an alien, but that Lieu
tenant Count de Bourdon will ask j
questions of you and perhaps has a j
knowledge of your relatives and'
triends—indeed, must have. Also al- |
ready that wicked Madam WWtWOrth.
entertains suspicions of you. What
is it that you will do?"
And after I had asked myself for |
a secona time that question 1 sat!
and looked into the eyes of that'
Grandmamma Carruthers for many
long moments and had an argument
with niyseii. Then 1 answered to her .
as 1 rose to my feet so that my eyes 1
came more nearly on a level with
hers:
"Xo Madam Ancestress, born of:
her whom not an Indian or a tierce :
bear could Irighten away from her!
duty of protection to those of her ai- !
fections, 1 will not liee. I will stay
here by the side of my uncle, the
General Robert, and my great chief,
that Gouverneur Faulkner, to tight
tor their honor and to protect France
, irom robbery. Then, if 1 be discover
ed and can do no more for them, I
! will go from their presence quickly ;
!in the night and be lost in the j
trenches of France beiore 1 am de
! tamed. And, if it be that 1 am not
. discovered before all is mane well
i concerning those mules tor transpor
tation of food to the soldiers of
France, then I will still go. away to
the battlefields of France before it !s
discovered by all who have gi en af
fection to Robert Carruthers that he
is a—lie. 1 will leave love tor me and
for France in all of these kind hearts
which will comfort me when 1 fight
tor the republlque or live for her
during long years. 1 grieve exceed
ingly, but 1 go!"
1 leel a certainty that if I should
continue to be an American man tor
all of the days I may live, to that
threescore and ten age, 1 would
never be able to gain in any way
even a small portion of what my
fine Mr. Buzz Clendenning calls
"hustle." I went at his side for the
three days which intervened between
the news of the arrival of that Lieu
tenant Count de Bourdon and that
actual arrival in what seemed to me
to be the pace of a very fleet horse
or even as the flight of a bird. And
as fast as we went from the arrange
j ment of one detail of entertainment
'to another the beautiful Madam
i Whitworth went with us, with her
eyes of the flower blue very bright
with a great excitement. I was glad
! that in all matters it was necessary
that my flne Buzz also consult with
her, and thus I was not exposed to
any of her wickedness alone,
j And In my own heart was also a
' great excitement, for It seemed to
' me that 1 was lighting a great battle
for France all alone. All day I could
see that that Mr. Jefferson Whit
worth and the other men of wealth
who with him were seeking to be
robbers to my country were first in
consultation with themselves and
then with my uncle, the General
Robert, and also the Gouverneur
Faulkner. Would their powerful
wickedness prevail and be able to
force a signing of that paper on the
gouverneur? Was that In their pow
er? I asked myself, and In my igno
rance I did not know an answer and
had no person to demand one from.
There was no ease of heart to me
when the days went by, and I was so
at work with my Buzz that I had no
time for words from my Gouverneur
Faulkner or glance from those eyes
of the dawn star. I could only mur
mur to myself:
"Viva la France and Harpeth
America!"
CHAPTER XII.
'lmmediately I Come to You!"
And so the time passed until the
morning upon which the same rail
road train which had brought young
Robert Carruthers down l Into the val
ley home of his forefathers, arrived
with yet another son of France and
his secretaries and servants. All were
in attendance at the station of ar
rival, from the secretary of state, the
General Carruthers, who in his large
car was to- take the Count de Bour
don to the gouverneur's mansion for
immediate Introduction, down to
good Cato In a very new gray coat
and a quite shiny black hat.
iTo be Oontlnuedi
All's Well That
m Ends Well M
The Story of a Girl Artist
Woman Who
By JAVE McLEAX
"Oh, for Heaven's sake," said the
older woman, crossly, "don't have
her in here; it makes my head ache
just to hear hergo on. Besides, no
one has a right to be so happy."
"You don't really mean that," re
turned the other occupant of the
room. ,
"Yes, I do, Marian. She seems
happy about everything, and just
because she is, things are constantly
going her way. It's disgusting."
"But be fair, Ray. You know she
does her work. You know the
frieze she did was excellent. You
don't think that just because the
child is'happy the heads of the com
cern would pay her money, do you?"
"Oh, 1 don't know," returned the
other. "Don't chatter Marian. If
you want to rave about the girl, go
somewhere else to do it."
If Marian Foster had been more
sensitive and had not known Ray
Long so well, such a remark would
either have hurt or angered her.
As It was, she had roomed with the
older woman tor two years and
liked her, in spite of her tempera
ment, which made Itself obvious i'.i
various unpleasant ways. But when
she was herself there could not be
a more attractive person to know.
She was generous to a fault, always
glad to hear other people's troubles,
but for some unaccountable reason
had taken a violent dislike to Flo
Carter, a girl who had come from
the West and was rooming in the
old studio building in lower New
York.
Flo Carter was very young, but
she had decided talent. She lacked
the variable thing called tempera
ment herself, and therefore failed to
recognize it in others. Marian loved
the perennial good nature of the
girl, but Ray, who was older, called
her bright talk silly chatter and
hated to have her enter the room.
Ray Long worked insatiably and
generally undermined her good
health by close application to such
an extent that when she was finally
forced to stop for rest, her nerves
were badly unstrung. One of these
reactions set in a week after the
preceding conversation, and Ray
had been left to herself for two
long days, while Marian sojourned
in the country on a long promised
visit. She had offered to forego the
pleasure, but Ray had insisted that
she go. The quiet which had
seemed so desirable a thing had be
come, after two days of it, more
nerve racking than any amount of
noise. Ray, lying on the couch with
nothing to do, wished wildly that
someone would drop In on her. The
old building was strangely atill.
however, and hour after hour passed
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Who Made a Friend of a
Disliked Her.
> without a "hello" from anyone. |
| Just as Ray was about to drag her-i
self up to fix a bite to eat on the
i tiny stove, the door was softly push- 1
I ed open and a friendly voice said,!
j "May I come in?"
For a moment Ray was tempted j
!to say something disagreeable as
she invariably did when Flo Carter!
appeared. But the idea of talking)
to anyone at all checked the im
pulse and instead sne turned wear-1
ily on her pillow and said, "Come
in."
Flo Carter pushed the door open!
wide enough to admit herself and!
a covered tray that she carried. She
looked very sweet in her rumpled
pink linen smock, and her cheeks
were very pink.* Ray looked at her
enviously. Inwardly she thought,
; "X suppose that girl has been work
ing all afternoon, and it agrees with
i her. Why does my work have to
I bring me a racking headache and i
! jiggly things before my eyes?" Out
! wardly she said in her usual frigid j
manner, "What have you there " !
"I fixed you a bite to eat. Marian J
j said that you were feeling so miser-1
I able, and that 1 wasn't to run !
land bother you, but I fixed soinej
I broth for myself, and I have some
! soft shell crabs. Do you like them'.'"!
Ray nodded, rather ungraciously,
and the girl proceeded.
I "I'll put the tray right here, and
' run back upstairs. Is there any-!
j thing else I can do for you?"
Ray, with a touch of color steal- j
ing into her face was regarding the j
tempting tray. She was dying to ;
! eat, but more than anything else,
she was dying to talk. It meant |
sacrificing her pride, but the price >
was worth it, and she said more
humanly.
"Don't go away, stay and talk to■
1 me for a while.
Flo Carter opened her eyes wide,,
but quickly understanding the fact]
that the woman was lonely, she
dropped down in a chair nearby and 1
drew the little table with the tray
close to the tumbled couch.
Ray ate hungrily, and forgot her
i troubles. Flo Carter was almost I
1 silent. She was afraid of chatter-:
i ing, and so she sat studying the
work about the large studio room,
i! It was Ray who started the con- •
1 versation, and after that the two;
women talked for more than an j
' hour.
Ray discovered that Flo Carter
could do more than look pretty and
be happy. She was a very worth
while woman with a clever active
brain, and Flo Carter discovei%!d
that her thoughtfulness had won
her another friend, a friend she
could value. Every cloud has its
silver lining, no matter how dark
and gloomy the day.
Potato Bread—Straight
Dough Method
TO MAKE FOtm ONE-POUND
LOAVES
3 pounds boiled and peeled po
tatoes.
2H pounds bread flour.
Ilevel tablespoons salt.
3 level tablespoons sugar .
2 cakes compressed yeast.
4 tablespoons water.
Wash thoroughly and boll In their
skins about 12 potaoes of medium
size. Cook them until they are very
tender. Drain, peel, and mash them
while hot, being careful to leave no
lumps. Allow the mashed potato to
cool to S6 degrees F. or until luke
warm. To 3 pounds (3 solidly pack
ed H Pint cupfuls) of the mashed
potato, add the yeast, which has
been rubbed smooth in a cup with S
tablespoonfuls of lukewarm water.
To get all the yeast, rinse the ctip
with the remaining tablespoonful of
water and add this also to the po
tato. Next add the salt, the sugar,
and about 4 ounces of the flour (1
scant half-pint of sifted flour). Mis
thoroughly with the hand, but do not
add any more water at tnis stage.
Cover the mixing bowl to avoid
the formation of a crust on top and
place out of the way of drafts to
rise, where the temperature can not
fall below SO degrees F. or be much
higher than SO degrees F. Where
the housewife has no thermometer
she should see that the dough In
all the risings is kept moderately
warm, but not up to blood heat. Any
water used In mixing the dough
should be moderately warm, but by
no means hot. This sponge. If kept
at the proper temperature, should,
after two hours, become quite
light.
To this well-risen sponge, which
now will be found to be quite soft,
add the remainder of the flour,
kneading thoroughly until a smooth
and elastic dough has been formed.
The dough must be very stiff, since
the boiled potato contains a large
amount of water which causes the
dough to soften as it rises. Do not
add water to the dough unless It is
absolutely necessary to work In the
flour. Set the dough back to rise
again—temperature at about 86 de
grees F.—until it has trebled in vol
ume, which will require another
hour or two. Then divide the dough
Into four approximately equal parts,
reserving a tiny lump weighing 2 or
3 ounces for an "indicator." Shape
the sample into a ball and press it
into the bottom of a small tumbler
with straight sides. The glass should
be slightly warmed. Note the vol
ume of the ball of dough in the
tumbler and mark the glass at twice
this volume.
Mold the four portions Into loaves
and place In greased pans which
have been slightly warmed. Place
the tflass containing the "indicator"
beside the pans and let all rise, un
der proper temperature, until the
"indicator" shows that it has doub
led In volume. Then place the
loaves in the oven and bake In a
Rood, steady heat (400 degrees to
425 degrees F.) for 45 minutes.
To test oven. Where no oven
thermometer Is at hand, a conven
ient test will be to put a teaspoon
ful of flour In an earthen dish In the
oven. If this flour becomes light
brown evenly throughout in 5 min
utes' time, the oven is right for
bread baking. If the flour scorches
in that time, the*oven is too hot. .
Don't MIH Any Step
—/
NO CLOTHESPINS IN CHINA
The American housewife carries
around a big bag of clothespins every
Monday. The Chinaman twists two
clotheslines together and thrusts the
corners of the washing between the
two strands, where they are held as
firmly as clothespins ever held them.
The introduction of clothespins will
not help the Chinese, and even such
revolutionizing products as the sew
ing machine, the electric light and
the phonograph, which give to Ameri
cans leisure, evenings of good read
ing and grand opera at home, may
even mean longer hours of toll for
the Chinese, or unwholesome pleas
ures when the work in finished. La
borsavlng devices are for those who
can use spare time to advantage, but
are a curse to those whose spare time
is spent in idleness or worse.—Chris
tian Herald.
MAID OF OHI.EANS ANNEXED
More annexations. This time the
German victim Is Joan of Arc. Yes,
the Germans are actually claiming the
patron saint of France as a fellow
countrywoman. They have acquired
large quantities of statuettes and
images of the Maid In the French
towns which they still occupy. In
one case, at least, they ordered a
manufacturer to make duplicates of
his casts. The Frenchman was as
tonished, and asked the reason of this
devotion. "Oh." was the reply, from
a Bavarian officer, "Joan of Arc Is
not French, since she was a Lor
rainer, and Lorraine is German. Cer
tainly she prayed to heaven for the
success of our arms, for they are di
rected against her mortal enemies,
the French, who delivered her up.
; and the English, who burned herl"—
London Cbronlcl*.
WE TALK ABOUT
' COMMONPLACES
Group of Three Has Some
thing Truly Great
About It
By Mrs. Wilson Woodrow
We talk about the eternal com
monplaces, but is there really any
thing commonplace in the world?
St, Paul had one of the most pro
found, rich and varied minds which
has ever illumined the ages. He was
many men in one —the great the
ologian, with "the Law" at his finger
ends; the subtle casuist, splitting
hairs with the Greek philosophers;
the master of verbal expression, who
condensed the meaning of one of the
most elusive of words into definition
clear and clean and accurate as the
stroke of a sword.
"Now faith is the substance of
things hoped for; the evidence of
things not seen."
He was the mystic who ascend-'
ed into the third heaven; the great
poet who wrote the thirteenth chap
ter of First Corinthians. And yet
when St. Peter rose above the law
and perceived that there is nothing
common or unclean, one wonders
if he, in his moment of vision, had
not penetrated the beauty and mys
tery of life more deeply than his
vastly more brilliant contemporary.
These were just some of the re
flections which came to me the other
day when I nut at luncheon In a
hotel restaurant. There was a little
group of three at a table near me —
the father and the mother, and the
son in the uniform of an aviator.
From the scraps of conversation that
I could overhear, the parents had
come to town to meet the lad. He
had already seen service and was
going back to the front.
They bore all the evidence of be
ing plain, well-to-do people on the
shady side of middle age. The wom
an was of the austere, repressed
type. Her carefully brushed suit was
of no particular cut; her prim, plain
hat was of the vintage of several
years ago and In its pristine fresh
ness had certainly not been an ex
treme model."
Fashion's siren call had fallen on
deaf ears as far as she was concern
ed, and she had never even had to
resist the lure of pretty clothes. You
could imagine her going into the
village emporium and saying: "I
want a plain, tailored suit. Some
thing that will last me several years
—and not too expeilslve. I want good
wearing material; I don't care any
thing about the style."
And then fancy follows her to the
village milliner's.
"No, I don't want any of those
fussy shapes; just a plain everyday
hat. Not any flowers, they are? so
perishable and they fade; and no
feathers, they are too fussy. Just a
bow or two of ribbon, very quiet and
—not to expensive."
She was a' thrifty body, one who
rejoiced more over one penny saved
than over ten thousand spent. There
was about her a sort of an aura, an
agreeable one, of spotless kitchen
and fragrant linen closets and
shelves with orderly and shining
rows of pickles and preserves upon
them.
Imagination failed at the thought
of her being the life and soul, of any
party; but, if not exactly popular,
she would always hold the admira
tion and respect of the neighbors.
She was plainly horrified with the
prices on the menu, and when her
frugal order was filled, she looked at
it and shook her head a bit, as if
about to murmur: "So little food, so
much to pay." She ate her meal
disapprovingly, bit was careful not
to leave even a crumb on the plate.
Whether she wanted it or not it
would have • been sinfiil to waste
anything that had cost so much.
The husband was stout and
stodgy and matter-of-fact, but pros
perous. You seem to see brdad, well
farmed acres behind him and to feel
that his safe and sane investments
were drawing good Interest.
The son was a tall, handsome
lad, stunning in his khaki uniform.
The family did not talk; a few brief
questions, a few repressed answers.
They evidently considered conver
sation during meals as unnecessary
and even frivolous. If there WHS
nothing actually had to be said, why
talk?
A commonplace picture, lacking
In color and charm and emotion, and
yet, looked at Just as a picture, It
was full of sentiment and feeling.
For twice, at different momenta, I
saw both parents look at the boy.
He did not see them, his eyes were
on his plate. But oh, the pride on
the father's face! This was not only
his son who sat there beside him,
it was the spirit of his own youth,
glorified.
In his prosaic, plodding young
manhood, he had cherished his own
dreams of adventure. But the Im
pulse was not strong enough, the
dream not sufficiently vivid to push
him beyond the confines of routine.
Yet the spirit which had been weak
In him was strong In the boy. The
boy had embarked on the greatest
adventure of all the ages—the con
quest of the air. He was realizing
as a fact, that desire which has
haunted the imagination of men
from primitive times—to fly.
And the mother. Those chilled
steel eyes of hers—the boy had in
herited them—showed that she was
not of that race of mothers describ
ed by George Ade in one of his ex
quisitely humorous "Fables in
Slang" in the August Cosmopoli
tan—
"The mater had not raised Er
skine to be a soldier; she had raised
him to be a lounge lizard."
But when chilled-steel eyes soften,
that is a revelation. One felt ,sure
that she had never had any romance
In her life. It was impossible to
imagine her murmuring: "Time was
when life gave us kisses, moonlight
and roses and June."
It was probable that she had mar
ried her husband because he asked
her and It was the sensible thing to
do. He was a steady, reliable man
and was laying by money. And he
had asked her because she was n
good housekeeper, a girl of sterling
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qualities and had a nice bit of prop
erty besides.
The marriage had turned out
well; she has been content with her
lot, wouldn't have had things differ
ent —but here was her boy. He was
the springtime which she had miss
ed. He was to her the expression of
that beauty and romance which lies
deep in every human heart. She
loved him so that her eyes ached
when she looked at him. and her
heart swelled with pride at the
splendid youth and spirit of him,
and broke with agony at the thought
that he was daily and hourly to
risk his life. He was all her joy of
the present and hope of the future.
For him she and her husband had
saved and scrimped and managed
and planned. And he had chosen tho
newest and most hazardous profes
sion in the world, and had gone Into
the service to help win the war for
America.
Commonplace! There was some
thing so fine, so truly great about
the three of them, that I felt proud
to be sitting in the same room with
them.
5