" When a Girl Marries" By ANN LISLE A New, Romantic Serial Dealing With the Absorbing Problems of a Girl Wife By ANN LISLE CHAPTER CXLVI (Copyright, 1919, King Features Syn dicate, Inc.) "Don't call Terry—yet," said Betty, shyly. "I want to talk to you first." " Then I'll get all comfy in a chair," 1 replied, rising from my kneeling posi tion by the bed, which I kept fearing I'd joggle and so disturb the bandaged right arm lying in a strange mechanical "cradle" above the coverlet. "Oh, Betty, dear, I'm so glad I remembered Miss Moss. Tony made me by playing de tective and asking Jeanie where she'd met you first." "You clever Princess Anne —to fig ure that Miss Moss is my 'friend in need.' " murmured Betty, with shin "Your friend in need—l wish 1 bad been to be that friend, Letty B." I answered, remembering what Bettv had called herself the time she helped me buy Virginia's house Present —the very day I had first reached out humbly asking for the friendship I had once been too stupid to take. Bettv must also have remembered. For a minute she lay quite still, smiling at me wistfully. Then she spoke, with a husky little catch in her throat: "I asked you to promise that if you ever needed a friend you'd come to Betty B. And now it's Betty who needs the friend, and you've come—so far— to me"— Her voice trailed off. and in another minute my splendid, brave, proud Betty was sobbing for all the world like a tired little girl. 1 slipped to the floor at her left side and pillowed her head against my heart, smoothing her soft hair and murmuring to her as if she were my own little sick girl. After a minute or two Betty lay still and then a muffled voice spoke: "I'm so tired. Anne—so tired!" "I know, dear," I answered. "You've borne the pain and the fear all alone. I used to see you press your hand to your lips and wonder." Betty sighed and snuggled closer. "It was vanity." "You big baby! You regular woman, you!" I replied. "But I'm sure it was more than that. The pain"— "It was awful, Anne !" Betty shud dered. "That scar burned like fire, and it seemed to be dragging my fingers back and twisting up my arm. I couldn't brush my hair sometimes. And 1 kept thinking if I lost the use of my hand—l used to put it to my lips to cool the pain." "The pain's gone, dear. And your arm's going to get well," I said. Betty's long gray-green eyes flashed me a quick, but intent glance. It made me realize how strangely our parts were reversed. Here was comforting, brave, self-reliant Betty as if she were a hcdpless little girl instead of the splendid woman she had always shown herself to be. But in spite of my consciousness GOOD NEWS We have just received many new arrivals in spring garments for women and misses. These handsome spring garments will be on sale tomorrow at spe cially low prices. Remember this: Our expenses are low and we can sell high class ready to wear for less. Convince yourself of this fact. Inspect our lines and compare them with those of high-priced stores. New Spring Suits $25.00, $29.00, $35.00 and up In serge, Poiret twill, tricotine, mixtures, checks, and so on in stunning new models. New Capes and Dolmans $15.00, $19.50, $25.00, $29.50 Very exclusive models in all the new novelty cloths in Sil vcrtonc. Crystal cloth, Poiret clotli and Tricotine. Other Capes and Dolmans $35 to $45 New Georgette Waists $4.95 and $5.95 These are values that will introduce you to our new store. If you want to see something excep tional in waists this is your opportunity. All the new spring shades, such as sunset, league blue, white, flesh, and bisque. New Skirts Have Arrived We have been selling skirts rapidly. As soon as new ones comes in they are.sold. We have many new arrivals for Wednesday in Plaids, Tricolettes, Satins, and all the novelty silks. Sr. f/{ARRISBURG.PA. TUESDAY EVENING, of the almost night-mare queerness of it all. I know this was my chance to score an important point, so I went on relentlessly. "Betty, now that you see how well your arm is being taken care of, don't you see also how wrong it Is to worry over the other things that have been—such stumbling blocks to you?" "I try not to think, Aline. But it's hard lying here. And I know now I'm a coward, too—about pain. So that makes it seem all the worse my driving poor Atherton into the war by. telling him what I'd do if I wer e a man. He didn't want to go— and he had to because he knew I'd displse him " "Now listen, dear," I interrupted gravely, "Atherton Bryce died splen didly. You gave him a chance to go like a man—with his airplane for a funeral pyre. Not just drooping of sickness, drying miserably, rusting. You made him a hero —that's what you did for him!". '"You think that, Anne? Really?" "I know it, Betty B. There's a man you were square with. And 1 know how square )' ou can ' ,e some people. "Are you scolding, Anne? I'm sick, you know. Scolding from you hurts." "Yes, I'm scolding, dear. You can be square. You were with the man who is dead" "And you think I'm not—with Ter ry?" whispered Betty, burrowing her Hushing cheek in my shoulder. "Not with Terry. Not with Betty," •I replied. "How do you mean. Anne?" "Why, dear, you love Terry. And you aren't brave enough to risk life again. You're living in a gray-ghost world of pain and remembering. And Terry's out in what ought to be sun light, but what is all darkness be cause he's so lonely for you." "Oh, Anne—don't, don't! I can't bear it! I told you once that I al ways hurt the people I love —that friendship was the best. Kver since 1 saw Terry tumble down that hill in No Man's Land with shell and flame back of him, I've felt as if I'd seen my poor Atherton falling— falling in his flaming car. It was an omen." "Well, if it was an omen," I ven tured daringly, "I can only inter pret it to mean that Terry was saved for you—and the other, not being meant for you, had to go, Betty, omens are silly—stupid. It's all so long ago, can't you forget and start over?" "No! I've tried." "Tried! Betty, you're a selfish wo man after all. You aren't big enough and brave enough to ask your friends for help, because you'd rather play Lady Bountiful. It wasn't remember ing Atherton th.-t kept you from Terry, it was being stupid and proud and afraid about your arm." "Anne !" "Yes," I went on pitilessly, "But Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1918. International News Service - By McManus (D SWELL A>TAO RANT In a*t- N ISO WILL- I.' 11 BY4OU.Y-THE I DON'T THINK. t>Q - II WHV ] H % wcAßccoiN, fine- vtvtoo ' 9 I WANT YOU TO KEEP —>r p==r~ EATtN T WITH YOUR { \ |l 'T ~ off "j—' you play Lady Bountiful to everyone J except the man who loves you so i tenderly, so—gloriously that you owe i him everything. You let Terry starve 1 In the dark, because you aren't brave , enough to take what you want. Your j arm's going to be well now. But even if it weren't, don't you know j how Teriy would love taking care j of you?" "Anne! Anne—you hurt!" "I know, dear—but it's true; all i true." I held her close and said no more. | A little clock ticked in the silence, ) and a window curtain rustled against ! the sill. "Anne," whispered a meek little! voice at last, "you might get Miss j Moss and take her for a walk—and i tell Terry I'm alone. But would you mind powdering my nose first? I j think I've been—crying a little." j (To lie Continued I . , DAILY HINT ON FASHIONS illL I "j'- m A SMAIIT GOM'N WITH NEW i STYLE FEATURES 2788—This attractive model my be developed without the tunic portions. The waist has a fitted lining to which skirt and tunic are joined. Taffeta, duvetyn, voile, gabardine, tricotine, serge, satin and linen could be used for this model. The pattern is cut in 7 sizes: 34, 36, 38, 40, 42, 44 tind 46 inches bust measure. Size 38 requires 5 1-2 yards of 4 4 inch material. With of skirt at lower edge is about two yards, with plaits extended. A pattern of this illustration mailed to any address on receipt of 10 cents in silver % or stamps. f Telegraph Pattern Department For the 10 cents inclosed please send pattern to the following ad dress: Size Pattern No Name Address City and State GRANDMOTHER KNEW There Was Nothing So Good for Congestion and Colds as Mustard But the old-fashioned mustard plaster burned and blistered while it acted. Get the relief and help that mustard plasters gave, without the plaster and without the blister. Musterole does it It is a clean, white ointment, made with oil of mus tard. It is scientifically prepared, so that it works wonders, and yet does not blister the tenderest skin. Gently massage Musterole in with the finger-tips. See how quickly it brings re lief —how speedily the pain disappears. Use Musterole for sore throat, bron chitis, tonsilitis. croup, stiff neck, asthma, neuralgia, headache, conges tion, pleurisy, rheumatism, lumbago, pains and aches of the back or joints, sprains, sore muscles, bruises, chil blains, frosted feet, colds of the chest (it often prevents pneumonia). 30c and 60c jars; hospital size $2.50. EMI &ARRISBURG TELEGRAPH LITTLE TALKS BY BE A TRICE FAIRFAX | There's an espect of the life of : many young girl wage earners that li wish all mothers would consider. I It's the homelessness of living at! 1 home. j The homelessness, I mean. of | living with parents who, absorbed! i with other anxieties, haven't real-; | ized that a self-supporting girl needs! I more than a room to lodge in and! j food to eat. j The homelessness of always hav-l ling to make way for the other! | members of a sellish or tumuitousj I family, of never being able to in-i ! vite one's friends, or to receive calls' j l'roni young men. Does this sound like a simple and, | shallow grievance on the part of jthe hundreds of young girls who wistfully give it expression? To my mind, it's a very serious one. The plain truth is that a girl who, contributes to the maintenance of a household, as these wage-earning! girls do, isn't treated squarely when ' i she isn't given the privileges of a ' : home. She knows this herself. In many! cases, she's on the point of leaving! home because of it. So Ithink it is, 1 time that mothers faced the ques-! tion too. To be sure, mothers are usually I overworked. We all know that. Anil' the claims of the younger children are very pressing. So it's quite natural that they should lose the sense of i-esponsibility for sons and daughters who seem old enough to take care of themselves. Mothers' Problems Mothers know that flats are usually too small for the families! that live in them, and so are houses. I Days are too short evenings seem scarcely to exist at all, and fami lies make greater demands than any presents could possibly grant. Tn the face of all these grim facts, is it still the parents' duty to sacrifice the family sitting room to anything so frivolous as a young daughter's social life? Frankly speaking. I think It is. For part of the time, at lest. And! T think mothers would agree with me, if they once carefully thought the thing over. J The eighteen-yer-old-wage-earner ! works longer hours than she should, i except in a few fortunate cases. The hour or two that she might be out doors she lias to spend tn train or subway. When evening comes, she needs recreation almost more than she needs food for sleep. All the youth in her cries aloud for it— that youth that all day long has to pretend it's a grown-up machine Her parents, even though they may! work much harder than she. cannot possibly need a normal social life las much as she needs it. The needs lof youth are imperative. Something goes wrong if they're not granted. This is just as true of boys, if it weren't for two things. One is, that It's possible for boys to get their ; social life away from home. And the other is, that it is particularly | a girl's business to keep herself | strong and normal with steady ,| nerves and good vitality, because learning that weekly pay-envelope ! doesn't comprise the meaning of life j for her. Some day she'll be a I mother. And a girl can't be the right kind of mother unless she's sound and strong. So, looked at from this Daily Dot Puzzle ?IT 7 28 " ( $ 'to' 2 * "Is "X .3aiW 2 i 2 ' s • 5 '3B .347" S* k 4* *35 • b ' - * • 19 54* 57 a & 18* .8 7 . • x, . 55 17. *lo' • *• *• ,?• 1: . ft 4 /5 4 * * 40 ~ 4S• # 44 ' • *42 Draw from one to two and so on I to the end. f point of view alone, don't vou see how important it is that she has her i J recreation? liat Home Menus I This is, in fact, an argument that! ■ i know most mothers will respond I I to. They wouldn't have thought of! jit in this light before, but now that! j they do see It as it is they'll con \ j trive the family life so that thei eighteen-year-old girl stenographer! I can have a home in the only real I ; sense. That is, have her friends I i come to see her. , There are. as it happens, plenty i jof other arguments in favor of granting home privileges to the girl' i who hoards at home. There's one in particular that's rather forcible. If a girl is spirited and resolute, strongly conscious of her individual, , rights, you can't really deprive her: except temporarily, of the social life: she needs. She's going to get it, j i anyway. ' If her own family doesn't give' .her the space and the time to lead? her own life. She'll live somewhere! j else. She doesn't in the least want! ito do this. It's a dreary business at! j eighteen finding a home for oneself, ' Hut she feels that she is being forced' | to. I She feels, in fact, just as the fol-i ! lowing letter reveals. It is one of: many voicing the same burden' Don't for a moment think of it as a j solitary case. "Do you think it advisable," asks I this wage-earner, "for a girl of! almost nineteen to leave home when conditions have become almost in tolerable? My mother seems to, j think that my whole life should | consist of my work, and begrudges) me amusement of the most innocent kind. My home is not open to my friends. If I go out with them, which is, not often, I have to meet them outside, or at their homes, and I imagine they wonder why I do not invite them to my home. "And as for having a young man call—that is beyond the question. I have to refuse the hospitality of my home to the men I meet in business and who want to know me socially and I have too much self-respect to meet them outside. I/ongs for Girl's I.lfe "I'm getting to an age when I am no longer a child and long for a girl's life. I have thought of leaving; home and living at the Y. AV. C. A..j but I am earning only SIG a week i I and am afraid of facing the world i with that amount. "What shall Ido?" You see it's only the most rea | sonable and conservative social life i that these young girls ask for tliern i sglves. You are almost sur|vw-il jat their tolerance and good sense Jit's perfectly obvious that they are ! not going to abuse any freedom jthey secure. They are not reck less, moon-coveting, children. They ! are young women, preniatuurely !j steadied by their experience of the I workers' world, and what they are .j asking for is really only life itself, ' Can't you give it to them ? Persuade father that even though Ihe likes peaceful evenings he isn't I after all, entitled to all the peace i that one household can supply, and | that, besides, it's good for htm to igo out occasionally. And it's good j for you to go out with him. Tou | know it's what you secretly like i better than anything. And as for the young 4 fry, they oughtn't to be anywhere but studying their lessons or in bed. Tou can arrange it all if you seriously make an effort to. Give eighteen-year-