[[jfij Readirv| ike KxmiKj Jjflffc
f The :
| Daredevil ■
t 3jE •
♦
* ► By
► Maria Thompson Daviess •
* Author of 'The Melting
* of Molly"
: *
* Copyright, 1916, by th Reilly * '
* Brltton Co.
(Continued)
I heard the great'railway train ap
proaching:, which was perhaps to
bring me ray dishonor, and I drew
those tears back into my heart and
stepped forward to the steps of the
car, from which I could see a very
slight and short but very distinguish
ed looking Frenchman about to de
scend.
"I thank the good God I have
never before encountered htm," I
said ill my heart as I stood In front
of him.
".Lieutenant the Count de Bour-1
don. I make you welcome to the state 1
of Harpeth, In the name of my uncle,
the secretary of that state," I said
to him in the language of his own
country as I clapped together my
heels and gave to him the bow from
the waist of a French gentleman
who is not a soldier. "Will you per
mit that I lead you to that uncle?"
"Many thanks, monsieur, is it Car
ruthers I name you after your dis
tinguished relative?" he made an
swer to me as he returned my bow .
with first one of its kind and then a '
military salute.
"Robert Carruthers, sir, and at
your service." X made answer to him j
with a great formality. And as I
spoke I saw that he gave me a glanqc j
of great curiosity and would have I
asked a question, but at that moment j
my uncle, the General Robert, stood |
beside us.
"I present to you the General Car- i
ruthers, secretary of the state of 1
Harpeth, Monsieur the Lieutenant |
Count de Bourdon of the Forty- J
fourth chasseurs of tho republic of J
France," I said with again a great j
ceremony and a very deep bow.
"I'm mighty glad to welcome you j
to old Harpeth, count. How did you !
make the trip down?" said my uncle, I
the General Robert, as he held out
his large and beautiful old hand and j
gave to the Count Edouard de Bour- j
don such a clasp that must have been;
to him most painful.
"I thank you, monsieur the secre
tary of Harpeth; my Journey was of
great pleasure and comfort," were
the words which he returned in very j
nice English.
"Then we'll go right up and see
Governor Faulkner at the capitol be- j
fore lunch, count. If that suits you," j
my uncle, the General Robert, said 1
with a very evident relief at those
words of English coming from that;
French mouth. "Here's my car over
this way and this is Mr. Clendenning,
who'll look after the rest of the !
gentlemen in your party and bring
them on up to the capitol."
"Monsieur," said the Lieutenant
Count de Bourdon, with another bow
and then a quick recovery as he saw
that he must take the hand of Buzz,
held out to him in great cordiality.
These handshakes of America are
very confusing to those of Europe, j
I saw a great laughter almost to j
explosion in the eyes of my Buzz at
the very little man who had such a;
great manner, and I made a hurrying
of him and my uncle, the General!
Robert, to the large car standing be- j
side the station.
"I will precede you in my cherry," i
I said, as I saw both the gentlemen
seated together upon the back seat
of the large black machine.
"No. you don't; you take your seat
right in hero with us to be on hand
if an/ bridge of this international'
conversation breaks down under the;
count nnd me," answered my uncle,
the General Robert, with stern coin-;
mand.
"Is it that the young M. Carruthers
had an education In France?" asked
the lieutenant, the Count de Bour
don. "He has the air of French—i
shall I say youth?" And as he spoke
again I saw a gleam of deeply arous- 1
ed interest in his eyes which made
my knees to tremble in their tweed
trousers.
"Born there; son of my brother, 1
who died at the Marne," made an-'
swer to the question my uncle, the
General Robert.
"It is now that I make a remem
brance. That Capitaine Carruthers
was the husband to the very beauti
ful Marquise de Grez and Bye. In
her youth I was her friend. 1 did not
know—" But as the Lieutenant, the
Count he Bourdon was making
this discovery, which sent a thrill of
fear into the toes of my shoes, the
car stopped at the main entrance of
the capitol, and halfway down the
long flight of steps stood his excel
lency the great Gouverneur Faulkner
of the state of Harpeth waiting to
receive the guest who came on a
mission to him from a great land
across the waters. Until I die and
even into a space beyond that I shall
take that picture of magnificence
which was made by my beloved
Gouverneur Faulkner as he stood In
the May sunlight with his bronze
hair in a gleaminng. I thought him
to be a great statue of Succor as he
held out both of his hands to the
smaller man who had come from a
stricken land for his help.
"Le bon Dieu keep of his heart a
friond of France." I prayed as I
watched those hands clasp as my
uncle, the General Robert, made the
Introduction.
And all the long hours of that long
day were as dreams of sadness and
fear to me as I .went about the many
duties of entertainment laid upon
m. At luncheon at that club of Old
Hickory I sat opposite the small
Frenchman who sat on the right
hand of my Gouverneur Faulkner,
and opposite to me sat my uncle, tho
General Robert. No business was in
discussion at that time, but I could
see those eyes of French shrewdness
make a darting from one face to an
other, and ever they came back to
me with a great puzzle, which gave
to me terrible fear. To all the plans
for his entertainment he gave an as
sent of delight, and for that two
days' Journey down Into the gracing
lands of the Harpeth valley he had
a great eagerness until told that It
was to be undertaken upon the mor
row.
"Is It not that we will be occupied
on the morning of to-morrow with
the signing of those papers of Im
portance, your excellency?" he nak
ed. with a grave annoyance which
was under a fine control,
ITo be Continued.] ,
Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1917, International News Service By
I WELL-IVE DONE 1 ,v, , [ vIT UNTIL | OTOVER j OOT m, NOT. CAME I<C I HIT j ~
ME. DUTY- WE J. JfR6-lUU COME BACK ) „ ■ ! ' I "S.-roKkSMT-ITSTo.EI<HT r J / ' 1
JOINED THE tfXTVE DONt C<^/ E RED VATH METAL* 1 ! W >CCU A N ' OUR VCXJ OOC.KT kl^al
ARMXJ bOMETHN<i: S FOR BRAVHR>r - . L- > COUNTRY ■ \ L HT? Mfl 11
All's Well That
M Ends Well ss
By June McLean
We had been talking of weddings
and trousseaux. There is something
about early summer that is conduc
tive to such things, as every woman
knows. Gwen Davidson had been
married, and her wedding was the
topic of conversation, particularly as
it had been so very elaborate, and
the bridesmaids had been chosen
from our own little crowd.
Gwen had just come home from
her honeymoon and had invited ua
all over to tea and to see the wed
ding presents the day before. Now
our little crowd, Edna, and Fay and
Carol and I were gathered up in
Kay's little living room where, over
tea and sandwiches and woinan'3
talk, the subjeet of weddings had got
beautifully under way.
Fay had been married just a year
ago, and as the rest of us were still
heart-whole and fancy free, her
wedding and Gwen's were bound to
be compared. Fay was tall and
what men call adorable. She married
an artist and was content, nay,
more than content, eager to live as
he liked best. When we went up to
see Fay we lounged on comfortable
couches and let our eyes wander
over queer pictures, and watched
two kittens playing on a white bearl
rug, and enjoyed an atmosphere of
air and space and a life uncluttered
with trlval worldlly accoutrements.
Fay had disappointed us all by
being married without the "bunch."
She had slipped off with the man she
loved and had been married in a
quaint old chapel lighted with blur
red stained glass, and that was all
there was to it. Of course. Fay was
just the kind of a girl to do a thing
of this kind, but after we had time
to think it over, we realized how
sweet it was, and Fay was Ideally
happy. There was a radiance about
her love that was most unusual .
Fay was working the samovari
and we were all drinking Russian
tea one cup after another.
"Did you ever in all your life see
such wedding gifts?" asked Edna
solemnly.
Fay looked up. "Weren't they
exquisite? All that silver and glass
were wonderful enough, but, oh, the
linens! I certainly envied her those."
"Oh, nonesense. Fay; you received
plently of lovely things," I main
tained stonily.
"Yes," seconded Carol, "your gifts
were Korgeous, considering the fact
that you had no wedding."
"I wonder if Gwen had that large 1
wedding just for gifts?" suggested!
Carol shrewdly.
We all considered. Then Fay
spoke. I
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"When I saw all those wonderful
gifts, I was Just green with envy,"
she confessed. 'U wished I had had
a wedding, but when I remembered
the wedding itself, I was glad that
Rolf and I had things Just as they
were. Gwen's wedding was an event
not only to herself, but to all her
friends.. For one thing, it was per
fectly ridiculous to invite so many
people. The apartment was so
crowded that no one could have a
good time."
"That was what made people say
things," said Carol quickly.
"Did they things," asked
Fay. "I'm just trying to judge Gwen
fairly. If you understand what I
mean, girls, it all lacked holiness."
There was. a moment's silence. In
voluntarily each of us was trying to
visualize the look In Fay's eyes as
she stood alone with Rolf before the
quiet little altar and took her vows
Somehow Gwen had romped through
hers. And Gwen's eyes had looked
weary, and her manner was nervous.
We all felt then as If we would have
given anything to have seen Fay
married. And then in the midst of
our confidence Gwen herself dropped
in. She sank into a chair and asked
for tea. She seemed more like her
self than she had been since her
wedding and Fay spoke up laugh
ingly:
"How nice of your to come, dear,
just like old times. We girls haven't
seen you this way for so long."
"We were Just talking about your
wonderful gifts," said Edna bluntly.
"Thank Heaven, it's all over,"
Gwen said drawing a long breath.
"I wasn't natural for a single mo
ment from the first time that I began
being fitted and the plans for the
wedding started. 1 hated it, girls.
It was all dreadful to me, the noise,
the closeness, the sacrifice of every
thing in order to have gifts sent us.
"Oh," she said passionately, turn
ing to Fay, "you were the sensible
one. All of the people who loved
you sent you gifts that were really
Kifts, not forced presents. And you
had a real ceremony with all the
sweetness of giving yourself to the
man you loved with no one at all
there.
"I'm sure I don't know what I'm
going to do with all those things
either, doing my own work and liv
ing simply. Somehow I wish I could
do it all over again and have things
different."
And Gwen sighed again, and we
all stole looks at each other, and
Fay went over and put her arms
around Gwen, and we dropped the
subject.
• HAHKBSBtTRG tfSfSb TELEQICAPrZ
Mrs. Wilson Woodrow's Article on "Marriage"
Problem Posed by a Clear-Headed and Capable Young Woman, Who Finds Herself Much Admfred and Ap
preciated by Men, But Complains That None of Them Proposes. She Wants the Right Man to Seek Her
Out, But Men Never Do the Courting—Read the Story of Ruth, and See
By Mrs. Wilson Woodrow
B,v Sirs. Wilson Wocxirow.
I ran through a batch of letters
' lying on my desk. They were all
j written in feminine hands, and dealt
i principally with one subject—mar
riage. Some were from women who
1 had found out that the way up the
| church aisle is not necessarily the
road to happiness. More were from
1 young girls who blithely prefer to
; believe that it is.
The problem of the latter class is
' hieily that of the old receipt for
; cooking hare; how first to catch the
j hare. The problem of the former
j is what to do with the beast after
| it has been caught. For meek and
• rabbit-like as the average fiance
; may appear, marriage makes fi
magic which transforms him into
; something entirely different.
I Diana, the huntress, sallying forth
I upon her quest, spies a bunny which
! suits her fancy hopping along in gay
j bachelor freedom. Maybe she cap
' tures him in one of the snares which
she is an adept at spreading. Maybe
he merely sees her shining self and
follows. But' once a captive to her
| golden spear, she begins to discover
| about as many different kinds of
i creature in him as the blind men
i when they began their famous ex
| amination of the elephant.
I With just plain rabbit she would
know very well what to do, but con
fronted by an animal who appears
at one moment a lion and the next
a mouse, at one moment a barking
dog and the next a lordly chantleleer,
she Is at a loss whether to roast,
bake, stew or fricassee him or serve
him with fine herbs.
Good Looking, Capable and Sympa
thetic, She Sees So Wooer at Hand
•The problem of the maidens still
believing the old fairy tale formula
for "living happy ever afterwards"
j is simple.
They stand before life's shop win
dows like the children at Christmas
! time, and pick out the things they
i want. "I choose a home of my own,"
! they say, "a husband and kiddies."
I They write their letters to Santa
j Claus telling their desires and then
j when thly wake on Christmas morn
| ing and find a well-filled stocking,
| but nothing in it that they have
j asked for, they are naturally dis
appointed.
I recently published a letter from
j a girl of twenty-one who was un
; happy because, although longing for
! "a home of my own, and all that
| goes with it," she saw no chance of
1 a husband anywhere upon her hori
: zon.
She must have touched a respon
j sive chord in many feminine hearts,
I for I have received a quantity of let
: tors in regard to it. There was a par
j ticularly clever and Interesting one
| from a girl of twenty-seven.
She describes herself as good-look
ing and attractive, and earns an ex
cellent salary. Her plaint is that love
has never come her way.
Unlike the girl of twenty-one who
pictures a dearth of men in the vil
lage where she lives, this girl knows
hosts of them —business men and
professional men, successful ones and
struggling ones. They tell her all
about their affairs, business and sen
timental: their hopes and their am
bitions; they confide their secrets and
seek her advice and counsel; even the
the little office boy says: "I love to
talk to you, I always learn some
thing." Everyone tells her what a
wonderful girl she is. What a devoted
daughter and admirable friend, and
they can't understand why she has
never married. She cannot under
stand it herself.
She writes, "I'd marry a man on
twenty-five dollars a week If I loved
him. If he is the kind of a man I'm
looking for, he won't stay on twenty
five. He'll make good. I want a man
who has the 'stuff' in him, who can
appreciate the real things of life; a
man who will lead me to heights I
cannot reach alone. I want a home in
the suburbs and kiddies. I want an
open fireplace and easy chairs, and
guest rooms where people will feel at
home. I want my husband to be a
leader, and I want to help him take
an interest in communal affairs. I
want to help those who need help if
it's only to give a word of cheer."
"What's the matter with the men.
Mrs. Woodrow? Can you tell me?
Are they afraid of women who have
ideals and who will be helpmates to
them? They marry the selfish, help
less creatures and leave the real
women behind. After they are mar
ried and it is too late, they awaken
and see what they might have had.
"All the married men I know tell
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Optometrist* Opticians
Eyes Examined (No Drops) I
Bdslncer Glasses as low as |l, I
me how happy I will make some
man. I can cook and sew and wash
and iron and, crochet and embroider
and play the piano and converse. But
where is the 'some' man? I almost
believe the men want the women to
do the courting. But I cftn't do it. I
want a man to come after me and
show that ho wants me."
This girl's letter shows her to be a
woman above the ordinary. She is
possessed of brains and heart and
vision; she has intelligence, but with
all her knowledge she has failed to
get understanding of the masculine
nature. On that ground the "selfish,
helpless creature," to whom she re
fers so contemptuously, can prob
ably give her a handicap of three
shots to one, and then run pool on
her.
Tlie Idea of Being Hubby to "Mrs.
Chairman'' Doesn't Hit Him
Man, she should understand, is a
tremendously conventional creature,
and the simile of the sturdy oak and
the clinging vine, trite though It be,
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1 ■ 1 'v. 1 ' T~ Ti <~ ri ~ rn —■-
■is qo deeply ingrained in his con
sciousness that it could not be de
stroyed with dynamite. On that pro
position, fifty of them out of fifty
will run absolutely true to form.
The bachelor's idea of domestic
bliss is an easy chair before the
fire, with something pink and fluffy
in his arms. And there is nothing
that appeals to him in being toted
around to village improvement so
cieties and posing as thte husband of
Madame Chairman.
This girl of twenty-seven is
straightforward and honest. She is
capable and lets it be known; per
haps she appears as a little too
capable. Men delight in that sort
of women, as a friend; they like
to discuss their problems with her,
as she says, and they seek her ad
vice; but no man desires to play
second flddlo in his own home. He
wants to think he holds a monop
oly of the brains and executive abil
ity and leadership of the family.
In proposing, nine men will say,
August 16, 1917
"Little girl, I want to take care of
you," to one who says, "I want you
lor my comrade and equal partner,"
and the one man probably doesn't
really mean It. He Just says It to
please the girl.
It is only after the honeymoon
that capability and cleverness are
regarded as a value; before that
time sentiment is the one best bet.
Sentiment and Just a hint or de
pendence.
This girl of twenty-seven is clear
headed, competent, helpful; but the
same might be said of one's lawyer,
and there is not much sentiment
about a consultation with one's law
yer.
Men Do the Courting? They Only
Think They l>o It
It's a pathetic little sigh of hers,
"I want a man to come after me
and show that he wants me."
If she waits for that, she will
probably wait all her days In lonely
spinsterhood. It la like the copy
book axiom, "True merit will al
11
ways receive recognition." Wher
as the truth is, that if one wants
recognition or anything else,
whether it be a raise in salary or
a Job or a new frock or a motor
car or a husband, one has well,
to go after it sounds a little crude;
let us say, put oneself in the way
of It.
Men do not "do the courting;"
they never did. They only think
they do. Let these girls who won
der "why love never comes their
way" read the Bible story of Ruth.
That is an admirable exposition of
successful feminine tactics. She de
cided upon her man, the best catch
in the neighborhood, and purely by
the exercise of her woman's wits she
won his devotion.
A woman of strength and char
acter and capability, Ruth yet play
ed the game according to the im
memorial rules. She appeared to
Boaz as a poor little dependant thing
looking to him for protection and
kindness, and at the same time she
made herself as beautiful and at
tractive as possible.
Then, when she luyl aroused his
Interest, she began to raise obstacles
between them. There was another
man who had a prior claim. There
was this, and there was that. But
every difficulty only made Boaz more
determined to win her. s
No doubt she said afterward: "Oh,
yes; Mr. Boaz was a most persistent
suitor. He fell In love with me at
first sight, and he would let nothing
stand in the way until I finally con
sented."