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I I XvXvX-X-X-X-X-:-X-X-X-X-:*X\-X-X-:-X-X
I HYPNOTIZING TERRY I
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$ By JANE OSBORN. •>
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, It was Terry Bell telephoning from
j the girls' dormitory. She was in great
distress, and, like Terry, she had put
off the dreadful hour as late as she
could, and then, again like Terry, she
had come to the Delta Alpha men to
i help her out.
Terry ought never to have taken
that philosophy course, and Morton
Nairne told her so over the 'phone.
But that didn't help matters then —
just twelve hours before the examina
tion came off. The worst of it all
was that Terry was taking a mini
mum course, and if she didn't pass
that philosophy examination it would
mean no degree and another year at
college—disgrace.
Terry's voice trembled charmingly
as she told Morton, and Morton's
large heart beat fast and bravely as
he promised to help her out.
Terry had turned to her notebook,
only to find it in hopeless confusion.
! She had asked some of the girls in
the dormitory to help her. but they
were too busy to hear her. Doctor
Dorkay's philosophy was a course at
which even the bluestockings trem
bled. How could Terry expect to do
it all the last day, without the books
. and without good notes —pretty little
I light-hearted Terry?
So she telephoned to the Delta Al
pha house and asked whether she
might borrow one of the men's note
books —just for an hour.
A half dozen Delta Alpha men
were interested in Terry's plight at
once. Each one was willing to help
her, although each one secretly felt .
that help would be useless. As a re
sult of this general sympathy Tom
Hinton, Leland Smith and Morton
Nairne awaited Terry beneath the
campus elms at the appointed minute.
Terry came creeping through the
shadow, hatless and heavily coated.
Morton was the spokesman. Mere
work by herself would do no good.
It was too late. So he, they—Tom,
Leland and Morton —had decided to
help her, to tutor her at the eleventh
hour, although each man ought to
have been studying for himself. It
was against the rule for them to be
at the girls' dormitory, quite as de
fiant for her to come to the Delta Al
pha house and equally lawless for her
to be on the campus unchaperoned at
that hour.
However, the three Delta Alpha
men led Terry to the seclusion of a
boathouse on the lake. Morton had
the key and he had also remembered
to bring candles for the lantern.
Terry sat on the only chair. Smith
read the notes, Hinton read the refer
ences to the text books and Morton
applied the information as if actually
ramming it into Terry's helpless
| brains.
It was one o'clock when Smith
turned the last page of his note book
and Terry, with cheeks flushed with
excitement and eyes heavy with sleep, j
j fairly staggered from the boathouse
to grope her way stealthily into her
dormitory corridor.
"I am so sleepy," she murmured as
she said good night to the men.
"No sleep for you, young lady,"
warned Morton. "You have only be
gun to work. Your case is hopeless,
but it is up to you to go into your
little room and study four hours
more." Then as the three men start
ed back to the fraternity house, Mor
ton said: -
"What did a girl like Terry ever go
to college for, anyway?"
Terry Bell took the examination
and so did her three devoted tutors.
But Terry, took it in a daze, unper
turbed and: apparently unruffled.
"Poor little, girl," whispered Morton
to her as they made their way out of
the classroom to the campus. "But
don't worry. Men ndverjlike girls that
are all brains. Tell you the truth, I
wouldn't care for a girl that could
pass that examination. You are not
cut out for philosophy. You ought
to —" .
"What?" coaxed Terry with that
teasing, helpless tone of hers.
"You ought to be on a pedestal with
some chap like me worshiping you.
That is the kind of girl you are."
*******
It was a week later and the Delta
Alpha men were spending their last
evening together before disbanding for
the summer.
"Have you heard the news?" asked
Leland Smith. "The news about Ter
ry Bell?"
"Yes," said Tom Hinton, beaming.
Tom has just consulted the bulletin
board in the registrar's office to find
his examination ratings. "I call it a
case of hypnotism, pure and simple."
"Morton is a wonder," remarked
Leland, "if he can hypnotize a girl
like Terry Bell into consenting to
marry him."
Tom Hinton's smile changed to
gloom as he manifested his surprise I
in a long, low whistle.
"I hadn't heard that." he said.
"What I referred to is the fact that
Terry Bell got the highest mark in
Dorkay's exam, and you and I and
Nairne came out near the middle.
You see, we each of us projected all
we knew on the blank of Terry's
mind, and so she knew as much as
the three of us put together. But I
don't see why she chose Morton. I
proposed myself a few days ago."
"Shake, old man." consoled Leland
Smith. "I proposed the day of the
examination. But Morton wins this
time."
(Copyright, 1915, by the McClure Newspa- i
per Syndicate.)
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I PURSUING POLLY I
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By IZOLA FORRESTER. $
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Peter sat up, ran his fingers through
his towsled hair and beamed at Pol
ly like a benevolent imp. "I don't
see what you want to rush off to New
York for. You won't make good, Pol
ly. You girls think after you've sung
in the choir in a dinky little town like
Waneota all you have to do is get up
on a stage and be a prima donna
I quicker'n scat. Buell says— '*
"I don't care to hear it, Peter."
"What on earth have you got against
Buell Abbott? Rising young lawyer,
and. by jimmy, he will rise sure
enough. He's going up in an aero
plane."
"For pity's sake!" exclaimed Mrs.
Wadleigh. Polly looked at Peter with
doubt and suspicion in her eyes and
the time table in her hand.
"He is. I heard him talking to
some fellows at the post office, and
he said he'd just as soon go as not."
Polly went out of the room with
her nost tilted at rather a scornful
angle. It was quite like Buell to say
such a thing in Pete's hearing to be
sure it reached her ears and would
i make her worry about him.
Polly decided that nothing could
ever make her worry or trouble her
self again about Mr. Abbott. She
was not interested in his goings or
comings, or ascensions for that mat
ter. Safe in her own room, she stood
before the oval mahogany-framed
mirror, and looked at the face that
stared so haughtily, so uncompromis
ingly, back at her. The eyes were
very blue, startlingly blue, with dark
, lashes and eyebrows, and her hair,
too, was dark. Polly liked to take it
and pile it high on her head, with a
few loose curls at her temple and
ears, like a picture of the Empress
Josephine she had cut from a maga
zine and pinned on the wall. It was
a pity someone had not planned an
1 opera around Josephine, she thought.
She would have loved singing arias
of defiance at some stocky Napoleon.
Buell was rather stocky. Tall, but
broad shouldered, and rather inclined
to take things too easy. Yes, that
was exactly the whole trouble, Polly
'decided for the hundredth time. He
didn't have a thrill of romance or
temperamental excitement in his
whole make-up.
It had always seemed natural for
Buell to be her sweetheart, natural
for him to ask her quite casually one
evening a few months ago, "Which
side of the railroad track do you
want to live on, Polly, after we're
married?"
That was the way Buell proposed,
spoke of the divine fire of love in his
heart. And it was Buell all over.
Polly had rebelled from that min
ute. She did not select her favorite
• side of the track either. She told Mr.
Abbott that she thought of running
down to New York and studying for
grand opera. And Buell had stared
, at her for a minute in utter amaze
ment before he had actually laughed
at her and chuckled.
"You're not, really, Polly?"
"Oh, but I am," insisted Polly. "I'm
going next week."
All during her preparation for the
trip she thought of him until by the
time she took the train for New York
she almost relented and called him up
to say good-by. Somehow he seamed
rather noncommittal and not half so
anxious as she had expected.
It was around Poughkeepsie, half
way down the Hudson, that Polly no
ticed the other passengers watching
something from the windows, some
thing very exciting. "When she looked
out she saw hpvering over the river
a flying ship' l)ke - a great bird."
Straight", down it came toward the
racing train. As it passed them," the
engine.emitted a shriek of salute, and'
the people, called from the windows
and platforms, waving caps ahd hand
kerchiefs; but Polly drew back into
her own seat, with wide, almost fright
ened eyes. Over the telephone Buell
had told her last of all:
"Remember our favorite song,
'Loch Lomond,' Polly? Well, listen to
this, and it's a promise—
' You take the high road and I'll take
the low road,
And I'll be in Scotland before you.'"
Now she knew what he meant. Slow,
easy going, unromantic Buell had
chosen the most sensational route to
follow and overtake his swetheart on
her journey after fame and fortune.
Outdistancing the train, the aeroplane
alighted at Tarrytown, and when the
express pulled in Buell stood smiling
on the platform, his hat off, bowing in
response to the greeting cheers.
As soon as he had found Polly he
shook hands laughingly and settled
down into the seat beside her.
"I've told the other chap, Chapln,
he can go back without me," he said
calmly. "Made pretty good time,
didn't we?"
Polly looked at him with a new
expression of admiration in her wide
eyes.
"I don't see why you ever did such
a wild thing, Buell," she said help
lessly.
"Don't you?" he replied cheerfully.
"Well, I had to catch you before you
reached Aunt Eudora, didn't I? Now,
as soon as we reach New York I can
explain matters to her, Polly, and
well be married at her house and
go back to Waneota."
Polly smiled. Some way her con
templated career was fading like the
aeroplane vanishing behind them in
the blue sky.
"I suppose I must, Buell," she said.
(Copyright, Ifls. by the McChirs Newspa
per Syndicate.)
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1 * MME OF HEARTS I
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y By CLARISSA MACK lE. K
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kVe •V%V#®eVVVAVA # A # A*.* •••••••• # t ••>
••••• V#VVAV#
The Willow Plate Tea Room was
a cozy little bungalow with gayly
striped awnings and verandas set
with many little tables, and a great
room inside all done in blue and white,
with a border of willow-pattern plates.
The growling purr of a high-powered
motor came through the open case
ment window. It slowed down and
stopped at the gate of the Willow
Plate Tea Room.
"Oh. bother!" pouted Elsie, as she
went into the little kitchen and re
turned to the room to discover a soli
tary man seated at one of the white
enameled tables. He was far from
being an ill-looking specimen of mas
culinity, although his clean-cut fea
tures were sternly set. He did not
glance up when Elis placed a glass of
water before him,
"You may bring me," he said de
liberately. "a poached egg on toast,"
and, turning away his head, he looked
out of the window.
Elsie hesitated and then marched
stiffly off to the kitchen. Once there
she shook her fist at the back of the
unoffending stranger.
"Poached egg! And it's the one paiy
ticular thing that I can't make!" she
groaned.
Three trips she made into the tea
room—once to set tempting pats of
butter and the pot of tea before the
patron, again to serve him with thaj
burned bit of toast on which tnu|
sprawled the yellow, leathery-looking
egg. The third trip was in answer to(
his summons.
"Please bring me another egg,"
said in a tone of polite weariness.
"This one seems—er —er —rather over
done."
Elsie Wayne always remembered
that August afternoon as a perfect
nightmare of eggs that refused to to*
poached and of endless trips into tba
tea room to present her trophies t<*
the grim-visaged young man at th*
table.
Invariably he waved her offering*
j* away, always with that look of bored
patience.
From a distant table Elsie brought
the plate of pink-and-white heart- -
shaped cakes. These delectable mor*
sels were favorites with Mrs. Burton'*
patrons.
"Those look very tempting," he 8&1<$
smoothly. "You did not make them."
"On the contrary, I did make them/l
she affirmed spiritedly.
- "Indeed?" His tone was amused-
He picked up the top cake and torok*
it in two.
"A broken heart," he said in a must
ing tone. "Easy to break, but lmpo*[
sible to mend."
"It is not worth mending— heart*
are all alike," she said, and, gather
ing up his dishes, she disappeared
kitchenward.
She cleared a place on the table.,
set the egg poacher in its receptacl*
of boiling water, broke an egg into
it, closed the lid and carefully toasted
a slice of bread.
She almost shrieked with joy when
she laid the buttered toast on tho
little blue platter and slipped the
pinky, white-filmed poached
flecked with pepper onto the toast.
She had achieved a triumph. If
was even more beautiful than any|-
thing Susanna had ever accomplished.
The kitchen door swung
| her little young form; in her out
stretched hands she carried the silver
tray and set before him the perfect
poached egg.
| • "I think I've discovered the knack
of doing it," she said.
1 r j "That's good," he said.
r "Hadn!t you better eat it white it'*
hot?" she suggested.
He proceeded to eat slowly, Elsie
„ watching each morsel as it vanished ;
• between his well-cut lips. 1 <"■
"Is it good?" she would afift, and 1
always he nodded. When the blue
platter was cleared he looked up sud
denly.
"Once upon a time I was engaged
to marry a girl. She was studying
domestic science, and I thought I
knew something about cookery; I'v*
camped a lot. She couldn't manage
a poached egg, though. We quar
reled."
"Ah!" cried Elsie, pulling the cake
plate away from his restless fingers.
! "You have broken another heart!"
"Are hearts so precious?" he asked.
A tear fell from her eyes and
splashed on the cracked heart cake.
"Tears will mend a broken hearts
he said, taking Elsie's hand and hold
ing it closely.
"Oh—Dick!" she sobbed softly.
"I'm sorry we quarreled," he whis*
pered; "that's why I came. Mrs.
Burton telephoned she waa going
away and you were to keep shop tor
her—and I couldn't stay away!"
"But the motor races— *
"Pshaw!" Taking her other hand.
"I believe I can make a perfect'
poached egg now, Dick," she smfle^ 1
through her tears. "You shall
them every morning for breakfast."
"Heaven forbid!" he groaned trag
ically.
"Why?"
"I loath 'em! Don't ask me why-
I sent you back with your dreadful
samples, darling! I just wanted tb*
exquisite pleasure of ordering yo*
around—because —" He paused to •
kiss her.
"Why?" she asked again.
"Oh, because I know I shall bf
your slave the rest of my life!" k* -
asserted.
(Copyright. IS 15, by the McClure New*?
paper Syndicate.)