"When a Girl Marries" By ANN LISLE A New, Romantic Serial Dealing With the Absorbing Problems of a Girl Wife By Ann Disle. CHAPTER CXCIV. "When I got back to the Waldorf. I found Jim waiting for me in a | mood of the utmost nervousness and irritability. t "Anne. I've a telegram here for you—but I've more than a half mind not to let you see it," he began. "From Neal?" 3 interrupted cergtlV, •'Neal? Now why under the can opy would he be telegraphing you. No, it's from Terry. He wants you j to come down there. But -we re en tertaining the Cosbys to-morrow, night and I can't have you traipsing, off now," snarled Jim. I "Whv does Terry want me. ij asked, though I was afraid I knew the answer. Jim took his hand out of the pocket where it had evidently been clenched over Terry's telegram. He took the yellow paper between the lingers of both hands and began jerking at it to restore it to shape. After a minute he gave me the crumpled looking sheet, and press ing it down on the table, I read: "Betty's arm comes out of cast to-morrow. Doctor has told me. J Come at once. Know you won t [ fail us. Terrance Winston." j "The first morning train's about 11, isn't it?" I asked. "There's a new train on at 10. I looked," explained Jim, "and then to save you the bother, I telegraphed for you." "There isn't a train to-night? I questioned. "To-night?" asked Jim. refusing j to meet mv eye. "W liy, you aren t going 'till Friday, Anne. You can't. I said so in my message." "I can't go—to Betty when she needs me?" I gasped. "Oh, come now —be reasonable, Anne. That cast can come off Bet tv's arm without your being there to| make a hullabaloo over it. She's got Terry and a doctor or two and a lew nurses to do all the cheering. You're giving a party Thursday night—to my biggest clients." j "But you don't understand. Ive ! got to go." j "Sure I understand. You always think you've got to do pretty much anything but what 1 want you to. > Now vou listen to me, Anne. I'M running this. Y'ou can chase down] there Friday, if you want to be at every one's beck and call. And that s a whole lot more than most hus bands would stand for." "Jim, you don't understand." I j gasped. "It's—it's serious. There] won't be any cheering when Betty's j arm comes out of the cast. She isn't going to be able to use it." "She isn't going to be able —Betty —lame? Crippled?" asked Jim un der his breath, almost of himself. "Does she know?" His eyes challenged mine for a moment and then dropped away to fix themselves appraisingly on his stiff ankle —the , ankle that always dragged a bit when he walked. "No," I whispered briefly. My moment had come and I knew it. "How could Terry keep It from her!" mused Jim. "He didn't know," I confessed. "He didn't know? She didn't] know. What's all this mystery? Sounds as if you know all right." "I do. Miss Moss made the doctor tell me. "Why didn't that fool doctor tell Terry?" demanded Jim. "He wanted to. but I stopped him. I said—l remember my exact words • —that I'd tell whomever had a right to know. And the doctor said he'd count on me. And I decided that Terry had a right not to knov- " "How did you come to decide to play—Fate?" Jim's voice was cold—colorless— accusing almost. "They'd had such a good time winning through the happiness. You said they were ghost-hunting, re membering Atherton Bryce. Well, IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM Did You Whistle? \ As sure as you drank a bottle ot Whistle you understand why this festive name is so appropriate. KHBB9SSB£SSE9BE9E "It's cloudy in the bottle" Yes, there is pep in every drop and it W\ is sold by every drink shop. It is a W\ pure food drink that delights old and VV\ young, sick and well, rich and poor, \v\ because it provides the sugar energy that has made Americans the wonder of the world. Instead of serving "big feeds" serve Whistle. Serve it often, for it is relished as often as served. Whistle is sold in bottles only —just Whistle" For Sale Everywhere H DISTRIBUTORS WHISTLE BOTTLING CO. 1901-3 North Sixth Street Bell Phone 3300 IIARRISBURG, PA. Dial 2237 IHII TUESDAY EVENING, t dlrrjsburo tfm&fi TELEOKXPH* MAY 13, 1919. I that very morning Miss Moss told me she'd been his nurse, and he wasn't good enough to tie Betty's shoe-strings. .They thought then Betty was going to be all right. It wasn't 'till after Terry had per suaded Betty to marry him next day that I heard about the unexpected complication and her ha\'ing only one chance in a hundred." "And did you think Terry wouldn't marry her—if he knew?" "I knew he would just the sam,e, Jim. But he'd be pitying her then instead of just loving her. And I thought she'd feel the difference." Jim went on with his pitiless questioning: "And suppose when the day came and they found out—suppose then they resented what you'd done, didn't forgive you. Suppose they judged you without waiting for you to explain how you dared make their decisions?" "I had to risk that. .Tim." T cried. "Don't torture me with any more ouestions. I can't tell you how I love Betty and want her friendship. But I thought if I had to pay that to make her hnnpy, T'd bear it. And I thought maybe you'd stand by, maybe you'd make them ree that I meant to do the right thing." (To Bo Continued.) Advice to the Lovelorn Which Would He Have Chosen? Dear Miss Fairfax: I am twenty and engaged to a young man. I love him, but his fam ily do not seem to approve of his marrying me because we differ in religion, and there is another girl whom he has known for ten years, and he has told his mother he used to love her. Whenever I speak to him about this, it seems to me he be comes downhearted and likes to drop the subject. Now this girl does not live near New York. Do you think, if she had lived in New York, he would have become engaged to her instead of me? Is it because he sees me more than he does her that he became engaged to me? A READER. I don't believe anyone could an swer your question satisfactorily— whether, all things being equal, the young man would have married the girl in his home town or you. Pro pinquity is certainly a valuable ally, and you have that on your side, and the young man asked you to marry him instead of the other girl. Why not accept the facts as they stand, make the best of them, and not torment yourself with morbid questioning? As far as difference of religion is concerned, that must be settled by one's own conscience. Feuds over one's belief in God have al ways seemed to me a misinterpreta-! tion of His doctrine of divine love. : A Difference in Ages Dear Miss Fairfax: I am twenty-nine and have been going about with a man twenty-one for eight months. Recently he asked me to marry him. Our friends say there is too much difference in our ages. Please help me to decide this matter, as I know 1 shall never care for another person in the same way. R. DE B. This question has been discussed so many times in this column that jit seems almost superfluous to re ' vive it. Contrary to the prospec tive opinion of one's family and friends, marriages where the wife i is several years older than the hus band are among the happiest -on record. Of course, congeniality of tastes and interests plays a large part in the happiness of such unions and you will he safe in marrying the young man if you have more in common than just being in love— if you both care a great deal for music, for instance, or if you are interested in welfare work or your church, or something of that sort. Candidly, I do not think the differ ence In your ages is great enough to constitute a barrier. \ i uoni uene\e anyone couiu an swer your question satisfactorily—• ! whether, all things being equal, the j young man would have married the ! girl in his home town or you. Pro | pinquity is certainly a valuable ally, .' and you have that on your side, and the young man asked you to marry j him instead of the other girl, j Why not accept the facts as they , stand, make the best of them, and | not torment yourself with morbid ! questioning? As far as difference of religion is concerned, that must be settled by one's own conscience. Feuds over one's belief in God have al- I ways seemed to me a misinterpreta tion of His doctrine of divine love. A Difference in Ages Dear Miss Fairfax: I am twenty-nine and have been going about with a man twenty-one for eight months. Recently he asked me to marry him. Our friends say i there is too much difference in our | ages. Please help me to decide this | matter, as I know I shall never care I for another person in the same way. R. DE L. ; I This question has been discussed ;so many times in this column that iit seems almost superfluous to re '' vlve it. Contrary to the prospec- J tive opinion of one's family and | friends, marriages where the wife i is several years older than the hus band are among the happiest -on ' record. Of course, congeniality of ; tastes and interests plays a large part in the happiness of such unions • and you will he safe in marrying the young man if you have more in 1 common than just being in love— if you both care a great deal for • music, for instance, or if you are interested in welfare work or your ! church, or something of that sort, i Candidly, I do not think the differ ence in your ages is great enough to , constitute a barrier. Bringing Up Father - " t *- - Copyright, 1918, International News Service /- McManus ( OO ARE DEAR HO IN THE I THOUGHT I WAS MA<,o MUCH ABOUT bO I SENT FOR A , . Vrvi DOCTOR! SICK - HERE - >OO V—- „ y. BETTER LAV JLi I wN THE LOVE GAMBLER By Virginia Terhune Van de Water CHAPTER 111 j For an instant David Do Laine! held his breath. What a fool he j had been not to forsee this question! "Your name?" Mr. Leigh ton re peated. David started, as if aroused from a train of thought. "I beg your pardon!" he ex-j claimed. "I was thinking of some- | thing else. My name —my name is j David." He paused. Suddenly he remem bered his middle name, which he had suppressed for years because he disliked it and because it had seemed to him so ordinary. He was ! thankful for it now and spoke it without a quiver. "David Smith," he said. "Smith," Mr. Leighton echoed with a gleam of amazement. "N'ot hard to remember, is it? I shall, ot coursd, call you by your last name. As to pay—suppose we start with j thirty-five a week?" "Very well, sir," David agreed. "And now the address of the man | to whom I am to write about you, j Mr. Leighton I With a set face, David gave Mr. ; Carey's address. There seemed to be no way of escaping it. J Ilis mind worked fast as he j walked from the building in which were Mr. Leighton's office. He was engaged as chauffeur by the father of the girl his aunt had wanted him to marry! At least he supposed this was her father. His aunt told him that her favorite was the only child of a wealthy widower. From what Mr. Leighton had let drop. Miss De laine's description and his remarks tallied. If so, this was some adven tUA bright idea came into his mind, and he went into a stationer's shop and bought a pad of paper and some envelopes. Then, as the day was not cold—in spite of lowering clouds —he sat down upon a bencn in City Hall Park and wrote at length "to his friend. He explained why he must get a job. He felt safe in doing this, as Mr. Carev was too poor to think that David was hinting for a loan, or a gift. David knew also that Mr. Carey approved of one's making his own way in spite of all ob stacles. eut he was not quite sure what the elderly man would think DAILY HINT ON FASHIONS I I / iw lj' 'j iia A PRETTY SUMMER FROCK 281 C—This is a charming model, especially for slender figures. It is Just the thing for organdy, dimity, voile and crepe, and will require little trimming excepting a smart sash or belt of bright ribbon. Dotted Swiss, with collar of organdie or net edged with Val. lace, and a sash of Chinese yellow or liberty red, would be very attractive for this style. The pattern is cut in 4 sizes: 14, 16, 18 and 20 years. Size 18 will re quire 6>4 yards of 27 inch material. The skirt measures about 2 yards at the foot, with plaits drawn out. A pattern of this illustration mailed to any address on receipt of 10 cents in silver or stamfcs. Telegraph Pattern Department For the 10 centa inclosed please send pattern to the following address: Size Pattern No Name Address City and State of using an assumed name. So he tried to explain his reasons clearly David Explains "My aunt left me her money on condition that I marry a certain lady whom I have never met, but who lives in this city," he wrote. "Of course nobody but a cad would consider such a proposition. I fancy that my aunt has mentioned me to this young lady, and I do not want to run the risk of her discov ering my identity should I happen to be employed by one of her ac quaintances. That does not seem probable, yet stranger things have happened. Moreover, my aunt's family name must not be used by a common chauffeur—which is what I shall be. If I am foolishly par ticular, forgive me and grant my request because of your unfailing friendship for my father's son. "My would-be employer is writing you to ask if you can recommend one David' Smith. That's me. A chauffeur may say "me" instead of "I." may he not? Anyway, as you know, my middle name is Smith—so I am not lying. If you can consci entiously recommend David Smith, pray do so." The clouds had been getting thicker, and one heavy rain-drop fell on the sheet of paper as David signed his name. "Perhaps toe dear, old chap will think that this is a salt tear," he mused ruefully. "Well, here goes— anyway!" Enclosing the letter in the envel ope, he addressed this, then hurried to the post office where he affixed a special delivery stamp to the epistle before mailing It. "I bet that beats S. G. Leighton's query by some hours," he reflected. Then, as it was beginning to rain briskly, and as he had on his only suit of civilian clothes, David turned up the collar of his coat and ran to the nearest subway station. A Good Dinner He reached his room after only a slight sprinkling, for the house in which he had his hall bedroom was not far from the subway. Once here, he realized that he was hungry; that he had had noth ing to eat since breakfast, and that it was now three o'clock. However, he would wait until late in the afternoon before sallying forth again. Perhaps it would stop rain ing by then. But at six o'clock it was still raining, so, changing from his civil ian clothes to his old uniform, the young man walked out to seek his dinner. At the rotisserie near the corner he got a hot meal—a better one than ho would have taken had he not been pretty sure of securing the position as Samuel G. Leigh ton's chauffeur. Dinner ended, and the inner man satisfied, David De Laine was seized by a sudden impulse. He would take a trip to the house of his pros pective employer, have a good look at It and see what It was like. The house he sought was not far from Central Park, and David ap proached It curiously. It certainly gave every evidence of being the home of a wealthy man. Aunt Jeanne had spoke sev eral times of the wealth of Desiree Leigliton's father. Strolling slowly by the big house David gazed at the windows. Sud denly he uttered a low exclamation and stopped in his walk. Against the lighted interior of what he supposed was the drawing room he saw the outline of a girl ish form. Only for an instant did 'it linger, while the hand was lifted to draw down the shade that a careless servant had forgotten to lower. The lace curtains marred the sil houette. and Davy passed on. Could that be Desiree Leighton, he won dered. Then, calling himself a fool, he retraced his steps to his hall room. To Be Continued. Banks Distributing Canning Books Now Washington, May 13.—Announce ment that the war has made the banks of the country headquarters lor information on "how to produce food f. o. b. the kitchen and what to do with it after you have pro duced it," is made by the National War Garden Commission. Litera ture on gardens and canning has teen placed at financial institutions by tho cimmission for the public benefit. "One would scarcely think three vears ago of geting a canning book form a trust company," says the commission, "but now the compa nies have thousands of them for dis tribution on request. Tho books have been delivered by the War Garden Commission to tho hanks which see in the victory gardener a good citizen and a good customer." Manufacturing concerns, railroads, business houses and, other industrial enterprises are co-operating in the victory garden drive of the War Garden Commission. A SYMPATHETIC MAW "Don't you sympathize with the people who complain of high prices?" "I do," answered the food profiteer. "It shall never be said that I was lacking In sympathy. I sympathize with them a great deal, and If I had my way I'd fix things so that I could sympathize with them twica as much." Boston Transcript. LIFE'S PROBLEMS ARE DISCUSSED Why is a friend? . That is a question 1 have been pon-1 dering over quite a bit in the last week, because, to borrow a phrase from the stock market, there seems to be a decided bull movement in friendship just at present. Is it the Spring, I wonder—that name less longing, those wayward uncertain yearnings which come with the year s awakening—that is responsible? In the I emotional unrest which seems charac-1 teristic of the season, especially in | youth, does one instinctively turn toward the quieter and less tempestuous haven as a refuge? However that may be, I only know that for the past fortnight my corre spondence has centered practically about that one question—the need and desire for a true friend. And, by the way, there is a peculiar have never yet seen any adequate ex psychological phenomenon for which I planation. Receiving letters as I do from all parts of the country and from all sorts of people, why is it that over any given period of time the bulk of, them should all be in similar tone and concerned with the same subject? It is said that in mail order houses and in other places where the daily grist of letters is heavy, the same pe culiarity has been observed. One week the post will bring nothing but a suc cession of "kicks," while the next week will be signalized by an equally un broken string of compliments; or, for one seven days the correspondence will touch exclusively on one phase of the Arm's activities, and for the next seven days upon another and entirely differ ent one. And I will bear testimony that in my own case the majority of the letters which come to me during any certain period follow a single trend or are of i identical character. So in one week I will have only the problems of the lovelorn ; in another, those of the mar -1 ried; in another, those relating to par [ cnthood, or to business, or to the fam- I ily; and so on until the whole gamut of social relations is covered. ! To say as a reason for this singu larity, that such or such a subject is ! in the air, is simply to beg the question. ! There must be some law to govern and i account for the circumstance ; but what ! it is or how it acts is. I confess, be- I yond me. I However, to return to the point with I which I started. I have been struck by I the fact that for the past week or so, the prevailing demand in all my letters has been for friendship. In almost every one I open I run across this ques tion: How can I make friends? The answer is of course, as with everything else: Go where friends are made. . , You can't expect to turn out watches in a plough factory, or to bore for oil on Broadway, or raise artichokes in the desert. Friendship is a plant horn of pro pinquity or attraction between people who have a common aim or common interests. You can't go out and, hailing the first passerby as he goes hurrying about his business, expect to make him your friend. You must show him where the association you offer will be to his own advantage and benefit. Nothing for nothing is an invariable ruin through out the universe. For whatever you get you must pay in some form of coin or another. And just as a man with all his lofty spiritual and intellectual possibilities comes from the dust of the earth, so friendship, which on occasion has shown Daily Dot Puzzle 2 . Z • 21 * 26 20. ' 4 5X f 15 1 * 16 • . .*. • * z # 7 I' I A | i *\ • 7 28 I • • • ,V ' A 15 14 15 1 7. *6l a •4° > % 3| 58 * -. 54 • 55 46 s7# • * 5a • • 50* *55 I * s 4 *'-?***• * s- r ' • 4l> *\\. *37 43 ' * •46 * 4 '4*. '*° Draw from one to two and so on to the end. itself capable of the most exalted de votion and self-sacrifice, infallibly traces its inception to self-interest. We become friendly with others be cause we expect to gain something from them, either in advancement or enjoy ment. or help of some kind; and unless those others see something in it for themselves they require or are indif ferent to our advances. There must always be a quid pro quo. You must give in order to get. So friendships are formed in schools and colleges, on the athletic field, be tween people in offices and factories and stores, on railroad trips and ocean voyages, in clubs and lodges and guilds and societies and neighborhoods wherever persons are thrown together and may gain something from each other toward a common aim or object or interest—and often these friendships surviving the exigencies of the moment become of the truest and most enduring character. •A wide complaint I have found among many of my correspondents is that they have no field of the sort, no place wltere they may meet and become ac quainted with congenial associates. In view of this phase of the question, it will be interesting to note the develop ment of the project now afoot to turn the saloon —the so-called "poor man's c l u b"—into community centers, real clubs for both men and women. But, no matter what the opportuni i ties, one thing is certain: you cannot sit back and expect friends to come to you. Y'ou must give of your heart and soul and self. By a paradox friendship horn of self-interest reaches its true estate only when self-interest is forgotten. SURPRISE BIRTHDAY PARTY Blatn. Pa., May 13.—A pleasont sur prise was given Mrs. Edward C. Dill man on Thursday evening, when a number of friends gathered at her OVEN BAKE^B^NS \ take the weight | off the family A&, at l \ pocketbook With meat so high, and not so j good for us anyway, what a $ boon to have a food so rich, so I good, so nutritious and so easily | prepared as Heinz Baked Beansl One of #Ae <57 Varieties Heinz Baked Beam with Pork and Tomato Sauce VMWSHHA He ' nl B * ked Pork