"PF/ien a Girl Marries"
By ANN USLE
A New, Romantic Serial Dealing With the Absorbing
Problems of a Girl Wife
CHAPTER CCXII.
When I got to the door to answer
the ring that had startled mo out of
Jim's arms and away trom the kiss
ithat would have meant so much to
me after the long weeks he hadn't
seemed to know I was on earth,
there stood Val Cosby's French maid.
"Madame send me for ze dish,"
she said. "She say 1 shall take away
ze dead wood and say some live peo
ples come, unless you prefair to
sleep ver' airly."
Jim came to the door of the din
ing room as sh% spoke, and I knew
he had heard every word. He looked
at me quizzically in the moment I
hesitated before replying. I didn't
want to displease him again, and in
a flash I remembered that a little
while earlier he had spoken of send
ing for the Cosbys. I wanted to be
alone with him and see 1f 1 could
recapture the tender mood that had
flickered back to life. But I wasn't
brave enough, though, to venture his.
displeasure by slighting the Cosbys.
"Mr. Harrison was just speaking
of telephoning to ask Mr. and Mrs.
Cosby down," I said. "So we'll let
you be our messenger after you've
collected your dead wood."
Jim stood in the doorway for a
moment smiling—then he disappear
ed into the living room. In a flash
J knew I had chosen wrong. Again
I must appear to Jim like an icicle
afraid to melt in its own warmth.
There wasn't anything I could do
now, so I followed Helena into the
dining room and helped her pile the
soiled and empty dishes into her
basket. When we had finished, I
slipped a dollar into her hand, and
something mocking in her smile told:
me Val Cosby's maid was trained toj
expect larger tips than mine. Thisj
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TUESDAY EVENING,
evidently was my night for blunder
ing. So when Val Cosby and her
husband came, it was not amazing
that the first thing I said brought
the crease of anger between Jim's
brows.
"The dinner was wonderful, deli
cious. And it was so tactful of you
to feel that we'd like being just
together for our first meal, better
than being invited out."
"Oh, then perhaps we're not tact
ful to come, now. You probably
wanted to go on being just togeth
er," said Val in a hurt, troubled
tone, which Jim seemed to think
called for masculine intervention.
"Not by a jugful!" he cried
"We're old married, and a little of
that 'alone together' stuff goes a
long way. A cozy meal and then
call in the neighbors and start the
phonograph."
"Oh, have you one?" cried Val,
smiling at Jim from her long eyes
and cheering up at once. "I'd love
to dance."
"We'll have one to-morrow—sur
est thing you know, little girl," re
plied Jim.
Lane Cosby chuckled.
"That's right, spoil her—every one
does. How about a go at bridge
now?"
"Oh, lets!" Val clapped her hands
■ —-looking like a pretty child rather
than the sophisticated woman she
generally appeared.
"I don't play," I confessed quickly,
afraid that Jim would start apolo
gizing for me if I didn't explain
myself.
"Oh, you don't want to do any
thing we want," Val complained,
with what was intended to impress
the men as childish petulance. "You
do want to be alone with Jim, and
what wife wouldn't? Come, Cosby,
we'll have to find other playmates—i
though we do know so few people.
That reminds me, Anne, aren't you
going to begin introducing me to
your friends soon?"
"Why, you know ever so many
more people than I do right this
minute," 1 said. "I never could get
a crowd together like the one you
had at your dance."
As I finished I noticed the queer
expression with which Lane Cosby
Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1918, International News Service - # '- Bg McManus
llEiiisr|isji | || • |^|i
was regarding me. If it weren't
too absurd, I'd say it was uneasy—
pleading. But it changed to one of
relief as Val replied:
"Oh, those people! Business ac
quaintances. My dear, big, brown
bear hasn't had time to meet the
people his little Val wants to know.
But of coursfe —if you don't want to
bother, Anne, I'll not say another
word."
Her tone of loneliness, mingled
with resigned sweetness, made me
feel hopelessly in the wrong, a very
■ungracious creature, and I cast
about in my mind for a way to make
it up to Val.
"We're going down to spend the
week-end with dear friends—Betty
and Terry Winston," I cried with
delight. "They're charming and I'll
arrange to have you meet Betty at
lunch if she can come in one day
next week."
"Terry Winston? Not Captain
Winston of the Hertfordshire fami
ly? Oh, he's terribly swagger and
good looking, I've heard. I'd love
meeting him," cried Val, gliding
over my suggestion that she meet
the feminine portion of Terry's fam
ily and seeming unconscious of the
frown that had gathered on Jim's
face.
"Terry's a fine chap and very
much in love with his wife," he said
with priggishness that might have
been funny if I hadn't known it in
dicated a jealously I couldn't possi
bly think funny.
Val kissed the tips of her fingers
to space and flashed out:
"Oh—wives! I'm a little home
breaker, aren't I, Cosby?"
Lane C'osby's face went dead
white—he looked old and shaken.
Val studied him for a moment
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through narrowing eyes. Then in
a moment the mood of childish
mischief vanished and the languid,
sinuous, creamy-voiced Val came to
take the madcap's place.
She went over and sank down next
to her husband on the big couch
that stood in front of the fireplace.
She didn't touch htm, but I could
see that he felt her presence and
that it soothed him. But it seemed
for the moment as if she were' ac
tually older than the husband who
] was reputed to be her father's age.
j As .Tim watched them, I saw
I again the glint of jealousy in his
:eyes. From the moment she came
I into the room Jim's eyes had not
I left Val's face. They seemed to be
! questioning her all the time. Ques
tioning her of their own accord, as
|if they were separate from Jim and
Ihe couldn't help what they were
doing.
When at last their visit ended,
Jim turned to me suddenly with
that air of being a pal that I had
once thought would make me happy,
"Cosby looks old and ghost rid
|den, doesn't he?"
j "There's some mystery there," I
I replied. "He adores Val and she
, seems to pity him. That makes me
sorry for him, too. Aren't you?"
| Jim stared at me strangely for
a moment. But he didn't answer.
(To Be Continued.)
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
feels she is kept dow.\
DEAII MISS FAIRFAX.
I work as a stenographer and give
my whole salary to my mother ex
cept what I need. But my mother,
who is conservative, believes I should
stay at home evenings. She, seldom,
if ever allows me to go to a dance
where she thinks there will be others
present than my near relations or
friends .and in this way you can
easily see that I am more or less de
prived of the company of new ac
quaintances. There is a canteen near
my home where I have registered my
name, but fearing that my mother
would not allow me to go. 1 gave my
friend's address instead of mine.
Within a week or so they will notify
me to be present at one of the dances
and I would like very much to go but
am afraid to approach my mother to
ask her to allow me to go out that
night, especially to a place where
there will be uniformed men present.
DISCOURAGED.
I have written so often on this sub
ject that it is hardly necessary to re
ipeat my opinion that a girl who works
for her living ought also be allowed
to play—under proper guardianhsip.
I hsould tell my mother what I did
in regard to the canteen, as it is a
mistake to begin deception even in
innoceitt things like going to a can
teen. I hope your mother will be
more liberal with you.
COOI, RECEPTION TO A SOLDIER
DEAR MISS FAIRFAX:
I have come home from France
with the A. E. F. and after arriving
|at camp was given a pass. I immedi
ately went to see my sweetheart, on
arriving at her home and seeing her,
she acted very indifferent. After
spending the evening at her home,
she said I could call on her the next
time I got a pass.
This strikes me as a mighty cool
reception to receive from the girl
|vou love, after being away from home
for a year. T am very downhearted
about the afTair and sincerely ask
your advice.
I agree with you that you received
pretty cool reception from the girl,
and if she doesn't treat you with
more cordiality the next time you
call I'd try and forget her definitely.
Any girl with a spark of human na
ture or patriotism would find it in her
heart to be kind to a boy who has
just ccme back from France.
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Draw froiu one to two ami so on
to tlie end.
THE LOVE GAMBLER
By Virginia Terhune Van de Water
CHAPTER XII.
"Please, ma'am, the car is at the
door."
Norah made the announcement to
her mistress who stood in front of
her mirror fastening on her hat and
: veil.
"And, please ma'ams," the girl
added impulsively, "Smith looks aw
ful tine in his new uniform."
Desiree Lcighton started slightly.
"Uniform? You mean his livery,
! Norah."
"Oh, yes ma'am—that's what I
meant. What with us all seein' the
soldiers, and worryin' about them
so much these days, 1 said 'uniform'
without thinking. But Smith does
look very nice in his livery. I
couldn't help but notice it.
Desiree regarded the girl thought
fully. It was quite unlike Norah to
speak so freely. She had been in
the Leightons' employ for over a I
year, and she had never commented
upon the appearance of their former
chauffeur. Desiree had supposed
that Norah had flirted with him in
a mild way—but had not detected
her doing so. It was plain that
Smith had impressed her more than
his predecessor had. She liked the
girl and did not want to snub her.
"I am glad if the new livery looks
well," Desiree remarked gravely.
"Yes'm —he —I mean It does. It's
a blue color —very dark, you know
—like the linings of the big car.
And his overcoat has a fur collar.
It's very different," with a giggle,
"from that old army coat he's been
wearing. I suppose the poor fellow
borrowed that off of some soldier
friend."
"No, it was"—Desiree began, then
stopped, remembering that her fath
er had assured Smith that outsiders
should not be told of his having been
in the service. What a ridiculous
promise to exact and make!
"Pes, ma'nia?" Norah was wait
ing, expectant.
Praise From Nora
"Nothing," Desiree said. "I am
glad Smith has a good-looking coat."
"He had it over his arm," the girl
went on. "I guess he thought it
was too mild to put it on, and was
afraid to leave it in the car when
he come up the steps to ring the
bell. He sure looked nice."
A swift suspicion seized Desiree.
"Did you tell him so?" she de
manded.
The girl colored. "Why, yes.
ma'am, I did," she replied. "When
I opened the door for him I told
him he looked nice."
Desiree did not smile. "Were I
in your place, Norah," she warned,
"I would not talk freely with a man
whom I knew as little as you know
Smith."
"No, ma'am, I meant no harm by
it."
"And thqre was no harm in it;"
the young mistress admitted, relent
ing. "But I only suggest that you
be careful about such things."
She went downstairs, wondering
at herself. Why should she object
to her maid's complimenting her
chauffeur on his appearance? Did
she fear that the girl would care for
this man,' or was she afraid that the
man would take advantage of the
girl's foolishness?
Indignantly, she denied mentally
the latter suggestion. Smith was a
respectable fellow, she was sure.
Then why might not Norah laugh
and talk with him?
Although given to self-analysis,
she could not detect just why she
did not want her maid to talk to
Smith. She felt somehow as if it
was not quite fair to Smith himself.
Perhaps he was above the ordinary
servant —but. even so, he had, of his
own volition, taken the place he now
held. Then this must be the kind of
a position for which he was fitted.
Water seeks it's level.
She felt slightly disapproving of
Smith as she rehearsed in imagi
nation the conversation between him
and Norah. She would not have the
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girl's head turned by a man who
would never care for her.
So she nodded rather stiffly to him
as he touched his hat on opening
the car door for her. Then she di
rected him to drive her to the Red
Cross rooms. After which she lay
back on the cushions of the car and
tried to think of sensible things.
Yet her thoughts would wander
and her eyes would stray to the fig
ure on the driver's seat. Norah had
not exaggerated in saying .that he
looked "fine" in his livery. Of
course Desiree told herself, that was
because Stafford and Company knew
how to turn out a stunning outfit.
Whatever they did was done well.
Cassidy—the former chauffeur—had
worn Stafford's clothes—but he had
not been as tall and well built as
Smith—--and he had looked only
fairly well. The clothes had been of
the same handsome material as
Smith's—yet—
She shook her head impatiently.
Why should she, Desiree Leighton,
be wasting good mental faculties
drawing comparisons between'
James Cassidy and David Smith?
Surely there were other and more
important matters on which she
ought to be thinking. What was
wrong with her this morning?
The trouble was that Smith
looked like a gentleman. Now she
knew where the perplexity and
puzzle lay?
Well, that was nothing to his cred
it. He had been born looking like
that, she supposed, and his military
training had taught him to carry
himself well.
She was glad when the car drew
up in front of the Red Cross rooms.
She was in a very bad humor with
herself, and, perhaps, also with
David Smith.
As she alighted from the auto
nvibile. a girl stopped, and address
ed her cordially.
"Good morning, mV dear! lam
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going in here to work, too. I am I
glad we met."
"Good morning!" Desiree held j
out her hand, and the small hand
bag she carried slipped from her
wrist to the ground. '
Her chauffeur sprang forward to
pick it up. As he did so, his eyes
fell on the initials done in gold let
tering on the bag.
They were "D. L."
(To Be Continued.)
5