1 IN lINSENT LETTER 1 fi if gj By SUSAN E. CLAGETT. |[J < Jim Chapman started as the front door slammed, then he muttered In ex< asperation: "To think I should have come to this from a little touch of fever! Nerves! I thought I had no nerves." As a matter of fact, It had been a severe attack of typhoid, with so lln- Bering a convalescence that his physi cian ordered him to return to the empty old house in New England that liad been his boyhood home, if he wished to regain his strength. To ,the last he had protested, but •without avail, and now he had been in toe New England village for a week, literally confined to the house, as he .had broken his ankle upon his own doorstep. • Seated In his sitting room he looked helplessly around as doors and window .blinds banged. "Where in the devil is William? That fellow Is never where he's want ed. Ill—" "Will I answer?" a pleasant voice asked, and without waiting for a reply m blue-gowned figure crossed the room, tiastily secured the blinds and closed the windows. "I saw William ahead of me as I "was blown through your front door. He had something in his arms that was giving him trouble. Here he is. Good gracious I" Jim turned his head as his man came Into the room carrying a kicking, aqiilrmlng bundle, which he put hastily down. "Sure, Mr. Jim, I hopes you'll never send me again for such a little tiger cat," "I ain't no tiger cat," came with a, suppressed sob from the small being <m the hearth rug. Jim looked at the child with curi ous resentment, but Miss Hill, who' had been listening In undisguised amazement, came forward. "Of coursei not, dear. Jim and William were Just! trying to be funny." As she talked; «he had removed the child's wrapsj and now lifted her to her lap. "Oh! I want my daddy. I want, tny daddy! ,He didn't call me 'tiger, cat*" and the child burrowed her head In the lace at Miss Hill's throat. The two grown-ups looked at each' other In silence as she sobbed herself Into a heavy sleep. Then only did' Kate Hill speak. "What Is it all about, Jim?" He silently handed her a letter andi she read: "Dear Jim: When this reaches you I will have passed Into the unknown! country. Because of the closeness of ©nr friendship I am sending you the delight of my heart Her mother lSi dead, and she has not a relative In the : world. I leave a little property that Is well invested, sufficient for her needs. Am too tired now to write more. Yours, TOM." "Poor little walf!" she said softly, *1 would take her home with me, but. I am going away this afternoon. I ! can help you, however. My housekeep er's sister has lost her child. She needs a home and will suit you. I will send her over." "Thank you. Did you say you are* going away? The thought that I 1 should find you when this confounded ankle lets me get about has been the one comfort I have had throughout this lonely week. We used to have, some pleasant days together, and I hoped we might return to them. I will be your neighbor for many months,; and the sooner we forget the years that lie between now and then the better." "We will talk about it when I come back," she replied evasively. She stood beside him for an Instant laughing down Into his gloomy face. Terhaps, Jim, I may not stay as long as I had Intended," she said, and with these words she left the room. To his surprise she returned within ten days; returned in a storm that broke in torrents of rain as she neared Jim Chapman's gate. As on that first day, she ran up the walk and Into the bouse. Looking Into the sitting room, she saw Jim move slowly toward the window. On the floor the child was gathering up stray leaves of what looked like a manuscript, and In her lap was a bundle of letters. Kate turned to Jim with a smll6: "It is to be hoped Mrs. Grundy has been driven to the back of her house by the storm, else my reputation may suffer. To be blown twice within a fortnight through your doorway, Jim, Is certainly food for gossip." "I want the pretty lady to read to me," a small voice Interrupted. "Read this," she said persuasively, holding out a letter. Kate picked the child up and took the letter from her. "Why, this is ad dressed to me," she exclaimed. Jim gave a start and glanced toward the drawer of his library table. He turned to Kate In explanation. "That letter was written years ago, and I have often wondered why I re ceived no reply. Why it was not mailed I do not know, but chance has thrown it into your hands. Read it, and give me the answer to the ques- I then asked." He turned to the window, looking with unseeing eyes out Into the storm. She was silent so long that he at last turned to her. Holding the child close, she looked at him with shining eyes. "I have been wishing I had received the letter when It was written, for we have lost five years of happiness." {Copyright, 1317, by the McClure Newspa per Syndicate.) 1 ACROSS THE STREETI! jj By ISABEL FROST. ||j "One of the joys of living in a city Is not knowing or caring who your next door neighbor is, and equal IndifTerenc* on his or her side." Jean poured tea with her customary air of absorbed nonchalance. "Now, where I came from everyone knows all about you. It's simply ter rible. You never feel grown up. I'm nineteen and nobody called me Misa Ashton, not a single person. They just said Bab, or that Ashton girl. And be cause I wanted to break away by my self and do something in the world they •—well, they didn't approve." Hartley eyed her curiously from his place on the high window seat. What a queer, self-sufficient little wanderer she was. It was quite as If a very young, adventurous kitten had started off to see the world by itself. It was mighty nice of Jean to get her under her wing, he thought. Jean was al ways doing that sort of thing, opening the doors of her Ninth street studio iWlde to all heart wayfarers who need ed cheering up. He could not measure up all that her faith and comradeship ihad meant to him during his own up hill fight in New York. Perhaps the only thing about Jean he did not like was that she herself never seemed to need help from anyone. He would have loved to know she needed him; that his presence and companionship were a strength to her; that she even missed him when he failed to show up for a few days. As It was, she merely gave him the usual smile and happy greet ing, and went on with her work. It was a week later when he got the tickets to Savelll's muslcale. There was a splendid 'cellist and a good soloist, a young soprano who sank folk songs. He thought Jean might like to go. But instead she told him over the 'phone that she was too busy, and asked if he would mind taking Bab. The kiddle was lonely and rather at sea. said Jean. ' That was the beginning, and he went on sullenly at first, then Indignantly, believing It was all Jean's fault. Bab enjoyed going around with him to the 'exhibitions and little studio teas im mensely. She was pretty and exuber ant, tantalizing and whimsical. One day she came up to Jean's studio rather white and discouraged. "You know I'm not earning anything at all, not a cent," she said suddenly. "It's funny how little one can live on ihere, Isn't It? I hate spaghetti and cereals. Mother was the most wonder ful cook you ever saw. I don't see how people starve In garrets and paint 'or write masterpieces." Jean did not take her seriously. It was so usual to say you are not mak ing money, and only meant you were not earning the hundreds you had hoped to. The morning of the fourth day a phone call came from Miss Mllligan, the landlady across the street. "You're little Miss Ashton's friend, aren't you? Well, she's pretty sick, and if something isn't done the doctor says she's got to go to a hospital right away. It's pneumonia, he says, and she hasn't been eating regular." Jean stood in the middle of the floor, thinking quickly. Then in five minutes she had called up a good nurse, her own doctor, and had made arrange* ments for bringing Bab over to her own cozy suite of rooms. When Hart ley came down at noon she met him at the door with her finger to her lips. He listened in silent wonder as she told him what she had done. "But your work—" "Never mind my work. We've got to feed her up qnd put her on her feet again. Go and send a telegram to her mother for me. Answer that phone, will you, while I write this?" Hartley obeyed, and turned from it to her with a curious smile. "There's somebody downstairs from Haines Falls," he said. "He wants to know If you know where Miss Ashton Is. Isn't she from Haines Falls?' Til see him." Jean went down the winding staircase quickly, and met the tall, anxious-faced youngster waiting there. "I got a letter from Bab —from Miss Ashton —last night," he said brokenly. "We were engaged, you know, and she broke It, but she wrote me she was on the last lap, and she didn't care what happened she was so hungry and sick. So I came at once to take her home. I wondered If you'd fix It so we could be married first" Half an hour later Jean left the two together In the darkened room, Bab, her eyes bright with fever, but con scious and holding fast to the big boy's ! hand. Hartley sat i,n the studio on the window seat waiting for her. She went to him; her eyes rather tired now ttpt the nerve-strain was over. "I'm going to let him take her home as soon as she can travel You don't know how guilty I feel, Wade, tt» have let her live right across the street and get Into aich a state. I thought, of course, you were looking after her If you were in love with her." "Who said I was?" "You did, over in the square." "I said I was in love." "Well?' "Jean," he said softly, despairingly, "Jean, can't you see anything; can't you understand anything at all?" The nurse stepped to the door for something, but after one glance retreat ed noiselessly. There is such a thing as professional discretion. (Copyright, 1917, by the McClure Newspa per | HITS AND FACES j| ftj ;J<| By EARL REED SILVERS. |<J fit*"*" * i#i •■■•"•"•■■•■ • »'•«■ » »■■«•-»••»-•>-»—« V Estelle Williams played with an ivory paperweight on the mahogany desk of the writing room. "Harold Smythe is coming to spend the week-end in Glenwood," she in formed Dorothy Hunt. "We're going to £ive a big dance on Saturday eve ning." "You are?" Dorothy showed little Interest in the person of Harold Smythe. She had heard so much about him since Estelle's visit to Miami that she had formed an unreasonable dislike for him. But her opinions counted little in the Williams household; she was only the orphan daughter of the sis ter of Mrs. Williams. It had been hard for her. Of the same age as Estelle, she was as differ ent from her cousin as black is from white. In the first place, she had big, blue eyes, which gave a hint of pathos, and which made the men who looked at them want to protect her from some harm which they felt was im pending. She had skin like the soft est velvet, and cheeks the color of a pink rose. Estelle's eyes were colorless, al though she considered them hazel. Her skin, In spite of frequent applications of the latest modern appliances, re fused to be anything but rough. But her father was a millionaire, and her mother had social aspirations. They had met Harold Smythe at MlamL and Harold had casually men tioned the fact that he intended to come East in the summer. An invi tation and acceptance had followed, and the time had finally arrived for the much-talked about visit. On Friday morning Estelle, waiting for the big touring car to carry her to the station to meet the guest, found Dorothy sitting on the front porch. "Do you wish to ride to town?" she asked graciously. "Yes, I would like to go." Dorothy arose and took the front seat of the car, while Estelle sat In state In the tonneau. The former wore a sunbon net of light straw, which had cost 75 cents In the village store; the latter was decked in a silver creation which was purchased in New York for $5O. They reached the station Just as the train was pulling out. Estelle leaped from the car and greeted a good-look ing, well-set-up young man who was standing on the platform. She did not bother to Introduce Dorothy, and the auto started off for the ride to the Williams mansion. The girl In the front seat could hear them chat ting noisily. She liked Harold's voice. When they had reached the house and alighted from the car, however, Estelle paused a moment to introduce the other girl. "My cousin, Miss Hunt," she said lightly. The visitor took Dorothy's hand and gazed Into her blue eyes. Then he for got all about his hostess and every thing connected with her. "I—l didn't know Estelle had a cousin," he gasped. "Will you be here for the week-end?" "Yes." The one addressed smiled at his evident confusion. Harold turned to Estelle, who was watching with anxious eyes. "I think that I shall have a wonder ful time," he announced. "Things are Just fine here." His eyes returned to Dorothy. Mrs. Williams came forth and met Harold. When the guest had been shown his room, Estelle called her mother to one side and talked earnest ly In guarded tones. Dorothy saw Mrs. Williams nod her head decisively, and then Harold appeared again. "If you would like to see the place," Estelle suggested, "I will show you around." "That will be fine." He turned to Dorothy. "You're coming, too, aren't you?" he asked. M I —I'm afraid she'll be busy," Es telle interposed. "She's sort of a housekeeper here," she added cruelly. Dorothy's eyes flashed angrily. "I haven't anything to do," she said rather defiantly. "I'd love to go." For the remainder of the morning they explored the beautiful estate. But It proved to be a rather trying time for Estelle. Try as she might, she could not secure the visitor's atten tion. When she told him of the depth of the shaded lake, he looked into the depths of Dorothy's eyes. So as soon as they returned to the house Estelle held a brief consultation with her mother, and at luncheon Mrs. Wil liams made an announcement. YThe painters are fixing the cottage at Avon," she said to Dorothy, "and I believe that we ought to have someone there to look over the work. So you will go to the shore this afternoon and stay until Monday." Dorothy nodded; she saw instantly the plan to get rid of her, but she was helpless. So at two o'clock she started for the shore. Just one hour later Harold tele phoned to New York, leaving the phone with a most dejected look. *Tm very sorry," he said, "but it will be absolutely necessary for me to go to New York this afternoon." They protested, but all in vain; and the big touring car arrived at the station in time for the four o'clock train. While Estelle waited outside, Harold walked to the ticket office. "Give me a single trip ticket to Avon," he said. (Copyright, 1917, by the McClure Newspa per Syndicate.) |! A HERO'S CUE | *l • a Kf' 1 • >♦< By SYLVIA TURNER. jg "Heroism," said Doctor Marley at the dinner table, 'is largely a matter of accidental coincidence, and a certain excitable reaction, mental, of course, wherein the hero feels irresistibly im pelled to act in accordance with the exigencies of the moment." There was a silence at the tables where Mrs. Bardwell's paying guests took their evening meal. But Frances glanced up with a little laughing glance at Roland, and Miss Brockway gave vent to an audible sigh. Opposite Frances sat Williams, absorbed as us ual in his own thoughts, and eating too fast. "Do you agree with this, Mr. Wil liams?" asked Miss Brockway, tact lessly. "Yes," said Williams, without par ley. "No man is a hero who sets the stage and acts a part. It is purely In voluntary." After dinner, as usual, he avoided the congregation of kindred souls out on the front steps and in the double parlors. Roland always Joined them, but Williams went on up to the back room they shared in common and went after his engineering books with a cer tain savage avidity. It was late when he finished, about 11:30. Roland came up. He spoke of the new moon and of Frances' dancing. "Some girls are merely spectacular, but she has soul and Intellect," said Roland. "She is not exactly what you'd call beautiful, Tom, but she's tantalls ing and Interesting. Did you know she was from Kentucky, too?" Williams nodded his head imperson ally. It was far into the night when he wakened with the muscles of his throat taut and stinging. When he opened hit eyes he faced a gun-metal colored mist. Making for the window in a quick dive, he opened it wide, drew in the keen air deeply and turned around to rouse Roland. Williams wasted no time, but splashed water in his face and told him to get out in the halls and rouse the people, while he found the source of the fire. "Ring in an alarm," he called, as he slapped a Turkish towel out of cold water and held it around his face and nostrils in the downrush through the halls. And from then on until he was fished out unconscious from the sub cellar by the firemen, Williams dropped out of mortal ken, but Roland die covered involuntary heroism. He was in his pajamas with a raincoat thrown hastily over them, going from door to door rousing the slumbering boarders. Also, he went to the corner and turned In the fire alarm, rather dazedly. And when he came back he met the full contingent of Mrs. Bardwell's house hold coming downstairs with their most precious belongings clasped in their arms. Frances stood out on the front steps. "Have you seen Mr. Williams any where?" she asked. "The firemen are coming, aren't they?" "Oh, yes," Roland assured her, hap pily. "I have just turned in the alarm. I don't think it's dangerous yet, though. Only, of course, the smoke. We might all have been suffocated." "That's what they are saying," an swered Frances. "It was good you wakened in time." Now right there was Roland's chance, and he missed it because the doctor spied him and hailed him as a hero. So did Miss Brockway, almost fainting on his shoulder. So did each and every one of the survivors, indi vidually and severally. He had roused them and saved their lives. Roland almost believed It himself. Then came the engines outside and the firemen. And Clarence, the colored waiter, emerged from the basement en trance gasping and the bearer of tid ings. a boiler of clothes done got left on de laundry stove," he explained, "and Mister Williams he'B down dere In de smoke right by de furnace. He put de fire out all by hlsself." Two stalwart firemen bore Williams up out of the laundry in the subcellar. It was a bad anticlimax. He was un conscious and blackened, and his hands were burned and his eyebrows and hair were singed. And while everyone wor ried and tended to him Frances turned just once to Roland and asked: "And you forgot him?" "Frances, I Just this minute got back from sending In the alarm —" "This minute?" Frances' eyebrows raised. "What an instantaneous re sponse the department gave you. You might have told someone that he was down there, you know —there was time while they were praising the hero." And when Williams opened his eyes and said quite anxiously and impul sively before everyone: "Frances!" 'Tm here, Tom." She went over to the big couch where he lay and gave him her hands, even with Miss Brock way's eyes upon them. "Everybody safe?" "Everyone," she assured him. "It was only that blamed laundry sfove," he muttered, "but the smoke got me by the throat —" The doctor turned around and softly left the parlor. After him went Miss Brockway and Mrs. Bardwell, and the rest, last of all Roland, and left the two from Kentucky alone. The ex-hero was silent, and In the front parlor there was silence, too, un- II Frances came out with a little hap py smile on her face and wee smudge )f black on her cheek. ICopyrlght, 191 r, by the McClure W—iw per SynCcaleJ COMMANDS ARMORED CAES ON EASTERN LINE COMMANDER LOCKER-LAMPSON Commander Locker-Lampson is in command of the British armored cars and trench mortar sections that are helping the Russians combat the ad vantage of the Austro-Germans In Ga licia. A GENERAL SURVEY OF THE WAR The London district was again raid ed Sunday night—the second time in twenty-four hours —by German air men. There is a circumstantial but unconfirmed report that one enemy machine was brought down. While there was a bright moon there also was a slight mist and the raiders were Invisible to persons In the streets, but from the sounds of the anti-aircraft guns In action the in dications were that the raiders were moving over various quarters of the district. Eleven persons were killed and 82 Injured In Saturday night's air raid and nine killed 42 injured Sun day night, it is announced officially. The material damage was not great. Four groups of German airplanes at tempted to attack London In the raid, but most of the machines were driven off. Bombs were dropped in the northeastern and southeastern dis tricts of London and at various places In Kent and Essex. The British are maintaining their new line in Flanders strongly. The main battle was in the neighborhood of Cameron House, south of the eastern extremity of Polygon wood, where the Australians are pressing the Germans hard. The situation as a whole is virtually unchanged. Northwest of Zonnebeke heavy fight* in# continues in the region of the ele vations which dominate a consider able extent of territory. From the British standpoint the situation re sulting from the new offensive is ex ceedingly satisfactory. The ridge over which the fighting is now in progress. is virtually all that separates the allies from the plains of Flanders. Although the official German com munications lately have been claiming British defeats or discounting the ad vances made, the desperate resistance of the Germans Is an Indication of the vital significance of the recent allied gains. German officers taken pris oners admit the seriousness of the sit' uation for their country. In their offensive operations of the past three days General Cadorna's troops have taken 2,019 prisoners, th« Rome war office announced. Words of praise were being shower ed on the members of the American engineering unit who showed so much coolness when German airmen bom barded their barracks. , Although the bullets from the ma chine guns riddled their houses the men were safely tucked away in the dugouts and seemed to enjoy their first experience under the fire of the enemy. The barracks attack was not the first time the members of the engi neer contingent have been under fire. As a matter of fact they are getting hardened to the sensation of being shelled. Thiß is especially true of the railroad pioneer regiment. Enemy aviators have repeatedly attempted to bomb nocturnal trains under charge of Americans transporting supplies to French sectors. WANT LA FOLLETTE OUT His Ouster From Senate Asked by Minnesota. Discussion is going on at the capltol over the petition that was received In the senate for the removal of Senator La Follette. Although the request was promptly referred to the committee on privileges and elections it was said it would not die there. The matter is considered of great importance. It was the anti-war utterances of Senator La Follette of Wisconsin at St. Paul recently during which he con doned the sinking of the Lusltania, which culiminated in Senator Kellogg of Minnesota offering the resolutions adopted by the public safety commis sion of Minesota, of which Gov. J. A. A. Burnquist is chairman, calling for Mr. La Follette's expulsion. Along with this resolution was another, to the same effect, passed by the Wesh burn Loyalty league of Washburn, Wis 35 TAKEN IN I. WJf. RAID Bill Haywood and Kis Aids Arrested In Chicago 166 NAMED IN INDICTMENTS Grand Jury Returns Blanket Indict ment Charging Nationwide Conspir acy to Hamper Government. Formal return of a blanket indict ment charging a nation-wide conspir acy to hamper the government dur ing the war was made in the United States district court in Chicago, against 166 leaders of the Industrial Workers of the World. Arrests speedily followed the re turn. Almost before the court pro ceedings had reached the state of the discharge of the jury deputy marshals were on their way to the local I. W. W. headquarters in automobiles, donated and driven by women, and quickly re turned to the federal building bringing prisoners with them. In the first hour 35 men were thus haled into the marshal's office and later were questioned by investigators for the department of justice. Among *.ha to be taken in custody was William D. Haywood, secretary of the national organisation of the I. W.-W., who .wa» questioned Sept. 5, when the headquarters of the I. W. W. in vari ous cities were raided by the govern* ment. An explanatory statement Issued by the government attorneys who have directed the investigation of the sedi tious conspiracy, the crime of which the men named in the indictments art accused, said: "The prosecutions are under sec tions 6, 19 and 37 of the criminal code and under the espionage act. Only loaders in conspiracies or those per sonally culpable in connection with the preparation of crimes against the United States are included as de fendants "The astounding feature which stands out at the conclusion of the in vestigation and which is well calcu lated to make patriotic persona shud der with alarm is found in the dis closure of the number of men enjoy ing the protection of the government who are so far unmindful of social du ties and obligations as to openly ad vocate the most vicious forms of sabo tage, particularly in industries en gaged in furnishing war munitions." To permit the sure arrest of the in- ( dieted men no hint of their namea was permitted to escape during the court proceedings, which occupied only a few minutes and cdnsiated of a state ment from the foreman of the federal grand Jury that its labors had completed, the handing of a bulky sheaf of indictments to the clerk of the court and a few brief words from Judge Evans thanking the jurors for their saorifice of time and effort and assuring them that they had done their duty as citizens, a duty which the court said was "quite as Important a* any obligation which rests on a cit izen." Taft's Son Will Wed. Oharles P. Taft, son of former Prea* ident and Mrs. Taft, will be married on Saturday to Miss Eleanor Chase oi Waterbury, Conn. LIVE STOCK AND GRAIN Pittsburgh Cattle—Prime, $13.25@14; good, $l2 @l3; tidy butchers, $10.50011.50; fair, $809.25; common, $6.5097.50;. heifers, $609.75; common to good fat bulls, $6.5008.71; common to good fat cows, $4@8.60; fresh cows and spring ers, $40090. Sheep and Lambs —Prime wethers, $11.25(3)11.75; good mixed, $10,250 11.25; fair mixed, s9® 10; calls and common, $5 @7; heavy ewes, $701O;i spring lambs. $12012.75; veal calves, $15.50(8)16; heavy and thin calves, $7 @11.50. Hogs—Prime heavy and heavy mix ed, $19.40<0>19.50; mediums and heavy yorkers, $19.25019.60; light yorkers, $18.25018.50; pigs, $18018.25; roughs, $17.50018.50; stags, $15016. Cleveland Hogs—Heavies, $19019.15; mixed, $19019.10; yorkers, $l9; pigs, $17.50 017.75; roughs, $17.50017.75; stags, $15.50. Sheep and Lambs—Choice spring lambs, $15.60016.50; fair to good, $14.50015.50; common, $8014.50; choice sheep, $9.50011; culls and common, $5OB. Calves —Choice, $15.60016.25; fals to good, $14015; heavy and common* $9012. Cattle —Prime shipping steers, $ll 012; good to choice, $9.50010.50; good to choice butcher, $8.5009.50; fair to good, $7.500 8.25; common to light steers, $6.5007.25; good to choice heifers, $7.5008.50; choice fat butcher bulls, $7.2508.25; bologna bulls, $607; choice fat cows, $708; fair to good, $5.5006.50; canners and cutters, $505.50; milch cows and springers, $6OO 90. Chicago. Hogs—Bulk, $18.65019.45; lights, $18.35019.45; mixed, $18.30019.60; heavy, $18.25019.55; roughs, $18,250 18.45; pigs, $14.40018.10. Cattle —Native beef, $7.25017.25; western steers, $6.40015.25; stockers and feeders, $6.25011.25; cows and heifers, $5012.50; calves, $10015.75. Sheep Wethers, $8.90 0 12.50; lambs, $l3OlB.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers