" When a Girl Marries"
By ANN USLE
A New, Romantic Serial Dealing With the Absorbing
Problem of a Girl Wife
CHAPTER CCLXIII
•Copyright, 1919, King Feature Syn
dicate, Inc.l
As s?e drove up the circling road
that leads from the gate of Mason
Towers to the ports cochere at the
left of the house, we noticed Evvy's
blue car standing at the front steps.
"Maybe she was coming to town
to get me," said Neal in a voice
that suggested he was whipping him
self to an enthusiasm he didn't feel.
"Pretty late for that, isn't it
dear?" I asked without taking deep,
thought of the matter.
"Guess it is."
Then Neal leaped out, swung me
and his bag out of the car, and was
just at the point of pressing his
finger to the bell when I cried.
"See if the door's open, first. It
ought to be, here in the country.
And we might as well have a real
surprise party." „
The screen door gave at Neal s
first touch, and so we crept in like
two conspirators. Through the
corridor to the living room we went
without finding Evvy. The house
lay cool and silent, shuttered and
brooding, hidden away from the
copper sun of late afternoon. We,
tiptoed along, stifling our giggles
and feeling very young and mis
chievious.
"I'll bet she's in the little Summer
house," whispered Neal when the
conservatory and the breakfast
room had joined the rest of the
floor in refusing us Evvy.
So we ran along the corridor to
the little house where Val and I
had found Evvy with Neal the night
she announced her engagement. As
we approached we heard the click
of ice in a glass and Evvy's voice—
throaty, provocative, unmistakable.
"Some one with her," said Neal
to me; then he called:
"Evvy—surprise party! Guess
who's here!"
And then we stepped over the
threshold of the sweet-smelling,
vine-hung Summer house. For a
second my eyes refused to adjust
themselves to the outdoor glare.
Then I saw Evvy on her feet by a
chair her hasty movement had evi
dently overturned. She was stand
ing straight and taut and looking
with a queer, stained expression at
her companion, who was rising from
a chair at the farther side of the
rustic table around which the Sum
mer house was built.
I turned my head and met Jim's
eyes.
Jim! My Jim! Alone with Evvy
Mason at her country place. For a
moment I trembled, tortured beyond
thought of faith by a burning rush
of the old jealousy. This was the
second time 1 had surprised them!
How they must have laughed be
fore —how they must be laughing
now! Ilarsh. and ugly I felt laugh
ter well up in my own throat. And
then, as if they were hands to touch
me gently, I became conscious of
Jim's eyes on my face —on my very
soul it seemed. His eyes were in
tent, desperately earnest, they seem
ed to be waiting for what I would
do.
I walked across the Summer
house and lay my hand on Jim's
shoulder. His hand went up to take
it.
Then Evvy broke the silence.
Turning to Neal, she cried in high
strident tones that bore no resem
blance to the throaty, purring voice
I had always heard:
"What are you doing here, Neal!
I thought you were coming out to
morrow with mother."
"Anne stopped for me. We drove
out in her little car —to surprise
you," replied Neal with emotion
that astonished me. Did he care for
Evvy, after all? *
"To surprise me!" laughed Evvy
curtly. "Well, you did. What are
you going to do about it?"
"Take my sister home!"
Neal's voice rang out and he
started toward me with boyish
concern for what he thought I was
undergoing. But strangely enough
I was undergoing nothing of what
he thought. Jim's eyes—the touch
of Jim's hand had told me that I
had nothnig to fear or to resent,
that there was a reason for his
being here and that the reason
would satisfy me completely. At
Neal's words Jini turned and looked
at Neal—smiling as if he were
waiting for something.
"I'll take Anne home, Neal. Per
haps you owe Neal some explana
tion of our tete-a-tete, Evvy," he
added carelessly, "We'll run along
and leave you to—straighten things
out."
As he spoke, his arm slid about
my shoulders and I leaned close
to him, expressing silently, the love
and faith I felt.
Evvy studied us sneeringly for a
moment—then she flung her arms
out in a gesture of fury.
"So you've been making a fool
of me again, Jim Harrison. Per
haps you staged this whole thing.
You've been playing with me just
as you did before. I wish I knew
what it is you want of me—so I
wouldn't have to do it this time.
Well, run along—run along, you
two. I wish you joy, you and your
trusting wife."
"Evvy!" cried Neal. Y r ou're speak
ing to my sister! And it isn't Anne
who has—offended you."
At this Evvy turned on him with a
look of utter scorn.
"You fool," she said. "You young
fool! Jim Harrison has you twisted
around his finger, too. Here! I've
had you twisted around mine long
enough."
She jerked her engagement ring
~7m her hand and flung it on the
bible among the glasses and plates.
Then she turned on Jim, shaking
with rage:
"1 hate you;" she cried. "I only
I could show you how much 1.0,te
.o,te you. Why did you call me back
Cgain? And now you stand there
M®*nting your love for Anne in my
i*:e! Why don't you say something?
Why don't you explain your fiickle,
philandering nature? Perhaps you
think I'd take you back again some
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SATURDAY EVENING,
day. But I won't—l'm through!
You've made your choice of your
angel-faced wife. You may stick to
her for all of me—and I'll throw in
her sweet baby brother for luck."
Then she rushed out of the Sum
mer house.
We could hear her flying feet on
the pebbles of the path, and then af
ter a moment the chug-chug of a
motor.
I looked at Neal. lie seemed sud
denly old and tired. But he didn't
| appear to be noticing Evvy's de
parture, nor yet the ring sparkling
on the tea tray.
Instead he was watching Jim and
me with brooding, troubled eyes.
To lie Continued.
Advice to the Lovelorn
By BEATRICE FAIRFAX
SHE WON'T "MAKE VP"
Dear Miss Fairfax:
About a year ago a young lady
and I had a quarrel, for which both
were to blame. I wrote a letter of
apology, but received a very sar
castic reply.
This young lady and I are always
meeting, us we have the same group
i of friends, and as this is embarrass
-1 ing, I should like to be on speaking
I terms with her again. However, I
am afraid to try, for fear of a repeti
! tion of the snub I received in the
j first place. PUZZLED. (
Why not attempt a light, airy tone i
of banter with the young lady, since
she will not accept your apology
seriously. When girls act this way
it is usually because they "care,"
though often they fail to recognize
this symptom, and keep right on
playing they are "mad." If you
succeed in breaking the young lady's
proud reserve by making her laugh,
I believe you will have no further
trouble.
SHY WITH BOYS
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am seventeen, and really I do
not know whether I am good look- |
ing or whether it's my ways that at- I
tract the male sex. I am a steno- |
gruplier, work all day and work in |
my father's store at night, which he I
does not want me to do. He wants |
me to go out and enjoy myself, as |
I have ever so many invitations.
When I go out with girls I can have
a lovely time back and forth to work. I
I do not go out very often. Now,
Miss Fairfax, mother scolds me and
calls me a regular house hermit.
Can you advise me fiow to overcome
these ways of mine, as I could have
a fine time if I wanted to.
PUZZLED.
Y'our lack of conversation when
you are with young men doubtless
comes from self-consciousness and a
lack of poise. The only way to over
come this is to go out until you
overcome your timidity. Accept
some of these various invitations
and do not think so much about
yourself.
TO PLEASE HER PARENTS
Dear Miss Fairfax:
I am going about with a young
man whom 1 do not love at all, but
am doing so to please my parents,
whom I love very much. I have
known another young man I do
like, but my parents object to him
because he is only making $25 per
week. The young man they want
me to marry is well established in
business. 13. M. P.
Years ago when women were
pawns on life's chess board, they
married for a home, to please their
parents, to take care of some wid
ower's children—everything, appar
ently except because they were in
love, or to please themselves. Nowa
days women don't marry to be ac
commodating. If they are in love
with a poor young man, and he is
worthy, they work too and help him
along.
Daily Dot Puzzle
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23 6 1
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36
39 fr 13 V
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Draw from one to two and so on
to ihe end.
I Bringing Up Father Copyright, 1918, International News Service - By McManus
1 I f - S.HKE WHAT ARE I i -WE . I A KNOW - ROT I HAVE
THE LOVE GAMBLER
By Virginia Terhune Van de Water
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
Copyright, 1919, Star Company.
The noise continued. Not only did
whistles screech, but horns were
blown by excited pedestrians, songs
were sung, loud cheers were shouted,
automobile horns screamed and
growled, and there were reports like
the firing of pistols caused by flood
ing automobile mufflers.
Over all the blue sky stretched
and upon all the golden sun shone.
Anyone who was in New York on
that afternoon in early November
will never forget the experience.
Through the masses Desiree
Leighton threaded her way, jostled
and pushed, yet indifferent to the
press. She was in a state of ex
altation that made her move as one
in a dream.
She had not appreciated until
now how tense had been the strain
of the past months. Boys whom she
had known since childhood had
gone overseas —many of their names
had been on the casualty lists. She
bad tried to keep calm, tried to take
such things for granted. She had
done so much war work that her
father had warned her that she was
wearing herself out. She knew bet
ter. She felt that if she did not
work she could not stand the emo
tional intensity of the anxious
months.
And now it was all a thing of
the past. Some of the boys would
return; others would come back
only in spirit. No wonder tears
mingled with smiles on the faces of
men and women to-day!
Down one side of the avenue she
went, almost to Madison Square,
then walked uptown on the east
side of the avenue.
Not far behind her strolled David
DeLaine, although she did not sus
pect his proximity. She had told
him to go where he pleased. She
was allowing him an abundance of
time to see what he wished, then
return to the car and await her
coming.
The boisterous throng increased
in volume. At Fiftieth street De
siree was almost turned around by
the mass of humanity flowing up
and down town. Pressing onward,
she found herself in front of St.
Patrick's Cathedral. Many people
were passing through the wide
open doors. She followed their ex
ample.
David Prays
The darkened and quiet interior
was in sharp contrast to the noisy
avenue. Here the sounds of horns
and shouts came as from a distance
and served to accentuate the solem
nity of the place. The sanctuary
lamp glowed like a watchful eye
down the great aisle.
Treading softly, men and women
crept in and knelt. Desiree Leigh
ton passed up the aisle and fell on
her knees, her face buried in her
hands. She was trying to put into
words the prayer that surged up
from her heart, but all she could
whisper was: "Oh Lord, it's over!
it's over!"
She did not know that her chauf
feur was kneeling near her saying
the same words with a different
meaning.
For weeks there had lurked in
David DeLaine's heart the hope that
he might yet get back to France to
help bring about the great finish
Now it had come without his being
there.
"I was not even fighting when
I got my wound," he mused, gloom
ily. "I was only driving an am
bulance. That was something, to
be sure—but I wanted to keep at
it. If the war had lasted I would
have been able to go back—l am
sure I would."
Then there came to his mind the
thought of what a continuation of
the war would have meant to the
thousands of men, women and chil
dren all over the world. And silent
ly he pleaded for pardon that he had
put his own longing before anything
else. A prayer without words rose
from his heart—a prayer of thanks
giving that the hideous carnage had
ceased.
What did his personal regrets
mean but that he had been an un
grateful selfish beast. And he
prayed for forgiveness. As he rose
from his knees he saw Desiree.
There was a light on her face that
made him catch his breath. He
knew that she had been weeping
yet there was a moved smile on her
lips. To the man she looked beauti
ful.
A Little Comradeship
Impulsively and unconscious of
what he was doing, he held out his
hand to her.
Without an instant's hesitation
she put her hand into his.
"I've been thanking God," she
whispered. "I know by your face
that you have been doing the same."
"Yes," he said, softly, "I have—
and asking pardon because I was
not more thankful."
She regarded him anxiously. "Not
thankful?" she repeated. "Why
Smith, what do you mean?"
I am thankful now," he assured
her. "Only at first I wished it had
lasted a little longer—-so that I
could go back and get in it. But
please, if you do not mind, do not
let us talk about it! I know I was
quite wrong."
"I understand," she said quickly
"You wished you could go back. I
am so sorry for you!"
Then, as she met his eyes, she
flushed deeply and drew her hand
BULRRISBtrRG TELEGRXPH
from his grasp. She had scarcely
been aware that he was still hold
ing it. She had forgotten that this
man was her chauffeur —not her
friend.
"We must be getting home," she
said in a practical tone. "Mr.
Eeighton may be worrying about
me."
As they reached her car, a news
boy hurried by, calling an extra.
Smith repeated his words to Dc
siree. "lie says the armistice is not
signed after all," he said incredul
ously.
The glow faded from the girl's
face. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "That
must be a mistake."
"Of course it is," he assured her.
"If its not signed now, it will be
very soon."
"If it is not signed, they are still
fighting," Desiree said, adding
passionately—"l do not feel as if I
could bear that!"
(To Rc Continued.)
Little Talks by
Beatrice Fairfax
Have you a little Apache in your
home and are you pained and
grieved that no one loves it? And
if you own this child Apache, please
do not make the situation worse by
saying the sulks, uprisings and
general unmannerliness are due to
little Algernon's not being very well,
or because little Clarisse is so sensi
tive and high-strung that she must
not be judged by the same standards
as other children.
. This does not exonerate the in
fant Apache, it only lands you in
that droll classification the neigh
borhood wag insists on calling:
"Wild mothers I have known."
And you may be sure that what
ever adverse fate overtakes your
spoiled darlings in after life, i,t is
you that will be held strictly ac
countable and not the eccentrici
ties of the child's genius, which
very probably he has not got after
all.
So when Clarisse succeeds in
focusing the attention of the en
tire room on herself, by reason of
her ill behavior, don't discuss her
unmannerliness as if it were the
abstraction of a Newton, or the
punctuality of a Kant.
It does not seem that way to the
company; you may prove this by
studying the sickly smiles—if they
happen to be ladies. While the
Male Bird may sometimes cough
violently or dash into an adjacent
room on imaginary errands, or do
other semi-violent things to relieve
his fury.
For the child Apache doing a
war-dance, making faces, show
ing off or otherwise being insuf
ferably conspicuous is an object that
only a mother can love.
The Gentle Art of Pleasing
I have often wondered why a
mother who spends hours embroi
dering scallops on her little daugh
ter's flannel petticoat should utterly
neglect to instruct her in the art of
good manners. No one can be so
stupid as not to realize that the
greatest asset anyone can possess
is that of being able to produce an
agreeable impression.
Money, brains, accomplishments,
even the family claims of an arch
duchess or a Colonial Dame pale
before the simple charm of an
agreeable personality. And yet
mothers —fond, devoted mothers, too
—withhold the secret of this talis
man from their children.
They will sew. scrimp and save
to make a selfish' girl look better,
while nothing on earth could make
her look better but having the
grouch in her disposition pulled, or
her ingrowing selfishness eradicated.
One can understand how parents
who have had no advantages what
ever themselves, may turn out
hoodlum children lacking in the
most rudimental elements of good
breeding loose on the community:
but when men and women who are
gently bred themselves permit their
children to trample on the comfort
and peace of everyone who is unfor
tunate enough to come within their
range, the mystery is inexplicable.
Rlindncss of Devotion
The answer is, of course, the titter
blindness of parental devotion.
Some parents indeed appear to take
a secret pride in the unruliness of
their nffsp'-ing and tell stories of
how Mr. X and Airs. Y no longer
come to the house on account of the
behavior of the children.
Arnold Bennett in his collection of
social studies of this country men
tions this peculiarity of American
juveniles. He speaks of the half
pained children who sit under tables
and listen to themselves being dis
cussed. while their parents beg them
to come out and speak to the com
pany.
I remember one evening during
the course of a call coming upon
one of these table stow-a-ways. As
we were shown into the living room
"little Cathleen" made a dash for
the table. I supno'-ed at first the vio
lent heaving of this piece of furni
ture was due to spirit communica
tions. but no, the fond mother as
sured us it was "little Cathleen,"
who was ro shy, sensitive and gen-
erally exquisite that she could not
bear to meet strangers.
Table Rooked I,lke a Ship
During the call mother entreated
"little Cathleen" to come out and
shake hands, but there was no re
ply from the sensitive one only
more heaving on the part of the
table. Conversation was restric
ted entirely to the sensitiveness of
this little girl; meanwhile the table,
laboring like a ship in a storm
told that the subject of discussion
was not unconscious of her impor
tance.
Finally a man present literally
tore from the doting mother the
topic of "little Cathleen," and be
gan to talk of something rational.
This was too much for the sensi
tive recluse: she could not stand
the absence of the spot light for a
moment. We noticed an apparent
earthquake under the table, and
she made a dash for the door. My
impression of her was that she was
about nine feet high. I afterward
learned that "little Cathleen" whom
I had supposed to be two or three
years old, was really thirteen.
I have always taken a firm stand
against corporal punishment for
children, but there was a flickering
moment when "little Cathleen" al
most won me over to the side of
the slipper.
All children can he taught to
speak courteously; it is not al
ways easy to take the time to do
this, but it can be done, and it is
so much more necessary than scal
lops on their flannel petticoat 3,
birthday parties, moving picture
treats and even the revered dancing
school itself.
For a boy may get through life
without learning how to dance the
one-step, but he won't get Through
life if he has bad manners—unless
he has a million or two, and then
they will pass for eccentricity.
SACREI) HARMONY
"There may be union sacree, or
sacred harmony, in the Reichstag,"
said Senator Vardaman, "but when a
minority Socialist talks to a Panger
man, or when a Catholic Centrist
talks to a Conservative, the dialogue
reminds me of Mrs. Spink.
"Mrs. Spitrk was ushered into a
friend's house for an afternoon call
by Jane, and, as she stood in the
hall, a voice called softly down front
somewhere above:
," 'Jane, if that's Mrs. Spink I'm not
at home.'
" 'lt is Mrs. Spink,' the caller
shouted, 'and she's mighty glad to
hear it."—Detroit Free Press.
DAILY HINT ON
FASHIONS
A PRETTY GOWN FOR MANY
OCCASIONS
2892. This is an excellent model
for figured and plain voile, for or
gandie and foulard, crepe de chine
or georgette and satin. Other com
binations of material are also de
sirable. Net and chiffon would
make this a very attractive dance
frock.
The Pattern is cut in 3 Sizes: 16,
18 and 20 years. Size 18 requires
6V4 yards of 44 inch material. The
skirt measures about 1 V 4 yard at its
lower edge.
A pattern of this illustration
mailed to any address on receipt of
10 cent in silver or stamps.
Telegraph Pattern Department
Fcir the 10 cents inclosed please
send pattern to the following
address:
Size Pattern No
Name
Address
City and State
Life's Problems !
Are Discussed
By MRS. WILSON WOODROW
Dr. Robert Burton, the author of j
the famous "Anatomy of Melan-1
choly," writing in his commonplace ;
book or diary away back in 1620, j
lei's of a patient who came to him j
to be treated for a distemper.
"Hear you his case," says the I
Doctor. "My fine sir is a lover, a i
Romeo, a Pyramus. He walks seven !
years ' disconsolate, moping, be
cause ho cannot wed his miss. The J:
man is mad; delirat; he dotes. All
this while his Glycera is rude, spite- I
ful, not to be entreated. She is |
churlish, spits at him. In conclu- i
sion, she is wedded to his rival.
"The lover travels, goes into for- I
eign ports, perigrinates; sees j
manners, customs not English; con-I
verses with lying travelers, monks, |
hermits, cattle peddlers, Egyptians, i
satyrs, semi-viri, apes, monkeys, |
baboons, artificial curiosities, the'
Pyramids, the tomb of Virgil. By j j
the time he has finished his course i
seven other years have expired, and j
he taketh ship for home, only to find j
that he is disenthralled, manumitted.
"He wonders what so bewitched
him when he sees his former mis
tress, who is now a widow with
children. He can have her for the
asking; but no such thing. His
mind is changed. He had liever eat
ratsbane, aconite. His humor is to
die a bachelor.
"In this temper of celibacy seven
more years are consumed in idle
ness, sloth, world's pleasures which
satiate and induce weariness. When,
upon a day, behold a wonder! Love
returns. The man is as sick as ever,
walks with his hand in his bosom, :
TF YOU are a Motorman you've I j ■
A got to have strength and energy kli- | * 00
both physically and nervously.
You use up a lot of it every trip. i . wf> _ _ IL Da^h
Nature thought of you when she j 1 Iffxl IBK
put so much that is good for you i 1 fE\lf|l|l liig"^l^^
into the whole wheat grain, and j Itfjsl |
Kelloggs give it to you in Krumbles. I WH EAT I
Krumblds is all wheat—kernel and bran- llfcu? 1 ! 11l n cAnV TO EAT I
cooked, shredded, and toasted, ready to eat j R ■
Our "Waxtite" package saves all the aroma I bib,. I T u|S sI&N£ ruRE 1
and flavor and the splendidly healthful qual- k 1 T HA> - 1 j I
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Tell your grocer you want Kellogg's Shredded A' *
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Krumbles is made in the same kitchens aa w 1 rniOGOW®'*^^^^Veuni
Kellogg's Toasted Corn Flakes j R I
KELLOGG TOASTED CORN FLAKES CO.
Batik Creak, Michigan
AUGUST 2, 1919.
moping, with his breath wheezy and
| asthmatic from overmuch sighingr
All this while the widow is forward,
coming, ready to jump into his
mout.h But her he hatetli; thinks
her ugly, old—Jezabel, Alecto and
Tlsiphone all in one.
"That which drives him mad, dis-
I traded, beside himself is something
I which is not, and can never be—
| the image of his mistress as she
was and as he thought her in for
|mer times. It is this which tor
i ments and frets him.
"This Caprichto then cometh to
me to be cured. I counsel marri
age with the lady, together with
milk diet, herbs, aloes and wild
parsley, good in such cases. He
flies out in a passion, ho, ho! and
falls to calling me names—dizard,
ass, lunatic, moper, bedlamite. I
smile in his face bidding him be
patient, tranquil; but to no purpose.
He still rages until he burseth a
bloodvessel.
"Yet is there nothing strange in
this," observes the Doctor. "In the
dog days men are commonly af
flicted with such vapors arising from
the overheating of the blood."
And these are the dog days!
"Thar or tharabouts;" for I never
yet know anybody who could tell me
just exactly when that luridly-named
season commences or how long it
lasts. It is supposed to be the sul
try period of July and August, when
the dog star, Sirius, is coincident
with the rising of the sun; but the
usual rule is to apply the term to
any continuous stretch of hot
weather between Independence and
Labor days.
According to the old-fashioned
idea, it was a - season when dogs
were more apt to go mad, and this
impression istill persists, although
science has definitely shown that
rabies is as much a disease of win
ter as of summer.
Nevertheless, it is beyond ques
tion a barking, biting, snappy,
I scrappy time, with the surly crab
and the rampant lion ascendant in
7
the Zodiac, and lines of influence
extending from them—as is por
trayed in that graphic picture in
the front of the almanacs—directly
to the liver and the spleen of matt.
On these accounts it is a good
time to Keep cool and to attend
strictly to one's own knitting. We
are all on edge, unwilling to be
touched either mentally or phys
ically, and bristling up like a paw
cupine the moment any one does
so. Even the wisest advice, as
Doctor Burton found, is not well
received when the temperature
stands at eighty in the shade.
Arguments, especially family dis
cussions, should be laid away like
the flannels and the furs in cam
phor until the return of cooler
days. Chaffing and teasing, too,
particularly if the victim is sensi.
tive or thin-skinned, should be
rigidly taboo.
Jiemember, also, that is is the
so-called "Silly Season." Like Dr.
Burton's patient sighing over the
vanished maiden of his youth, we
are all prone in the summertime
to give way to exaggerated and
extravagant whims and notions.
Sometimes these sweep multitudes
of people like an epidemic. But
criticism or ridicule only serves to
Irritate and often to aggravate the
symptoms.
Politics, religion, personal corn
ment and "pieces of one's mind,"
like unripe or overripe fruit and
heavy food, are good things to
avoid so long as Sirius is on the
job.
BRUISES-CUTS \
Cleanse thoroughly—
reduce inflammation
by cold wet comprae- /SwC
let —apply lightly, without fajWK
friction— J.£j
VICE'S VAPORUSIIII
•YOUR BODYGUARD"-30f. 60MT25-