tfHE FULTOfl COUNTY NEWS, McCONNELLSBURO, PA. line GEORGE DARR McCUKffiON LUSTRATIONS COPYiCHX 0 DOOO, VAD 8YNOPSIS. 1 Ch in Ilia New York home of James Brood, Ml son, Fn'ilerli', receives a wireless from him. Frederic tell Lydia Des mund, his fiancee, that tlie messHR-e an nounces hla father's marrlatrp, and orders Mr. Desmond, the housekeeper and l.ydln's mother, to prepure the home fur an Inimeillute home-comlnn Urood and hla bride arrive. Hhe win I'rederlc's Ilk Inn at first meetlnic. Urootl allow dislike and veiled hoHtlllty to Ills aon. I.yilla and Mr. Urood mot In the Jade-mom, where l.ydla work a Hrood's secretary. Mr. Brood la Ktunlrd by the appearance of Kunjnb, ltrood's Hindu servant. She make chuntrcs In the household and (ruins her huhhund's consent to end Mr. les mond and l.ydla avvuy. Hha f.isrlniite Frederic. She begins to fear Hanjub In hi uiauTiny ttppt-urunccs uml disappear ance, and Frederic, remcmlwiins' hi father's Kant Indian atorle und firm he. lief In miiKic, fear unknown evil. Han Jab perform feat of magic fur Iawes and ItlKK. Frederic's father, jealous, un justly old r hi Hon from the dinner table a drunk, lirood tells the story of ltun J.ib'9 life to his Rural. "He killed a wom an" who was unfaithful to him. Yvonne flays with Frederic's Infatuation for her. Her husband warns her thut the tlilnK must nut Ko on. Hhe tolls him that lie still love lit dead wife, whom he drove from hi home, through her. Yvonne. Yvonne play with Urood, Frederic and l.ydla as with figure on a chess board. Brood, madly Jeulous, tell l.ydla that Frederic I not his son, and that he has brought him up to kill hi happiness at lie proper time with this knowledge. Frederic takes Lydla home through a heavy storm and spends the night at her mother's house. Ills wavering allegiance to her Is strengthened by a day spent with her. Yvonne, over the phone routes Frederic's Infatuation for her again. l.ydla sroes to beg ltriwd not to tell Frederic of his unhappy parentage, but Is turned from er purpose. Frederic, ut dinner with Iawes and Rlggs, Is seized with an Im pulse of filial duty, and under a queer Im pression that he Is Influenced by ltanjab'a will, hunts up his father, who gives him the cut direct. CHAPTER XV. A Mother Intervenes. Long past midnight the telephone In the Desmond apartment rang sharp It, Insistently. Lydla, who had Just fallen asleep, awoke with a start and at bolt upright In her bed. A clammy perspiration broke out all over her body. She knew there had been a catastrophe. : She sat there chattering until she beard her mother's door open and then the click of the receiver as it was lifted from the hook. Then she put her fingers to her ears and closed her eyes. The very worst had happened, the was sure of it. The blow had fallen. The only thought that seared her brain was that she had failed him, failed him miserably In the crisis. Oh, tf she could only reclaim that lost hour of Indecision and cowardice! The light In the hallway suddenly smote her In the face and she realized for the first time that her eyes were tightly closed as if to shut out some abhorrent sight. "Lydia!" Her mother was standing hi the open door "Oh, you are awake?" Mrs. Desmond stared In amazement at the girl's figure. "What Is It, mother? Tell me what bag happened? Is he " "He wants to speak to you. He Is on the wire. I I His voice sounds very queer " . The girl sprang out of bed and hur ried to the telephone. "Don't go away, mother stay here," she cried as she sped past the white clad figure In the doorway. Mrs. Des mond flattened herself against the wall and remained there as motionless as a statue, her somber gaze fixed on her daughter's face. "Yes, Frederic It Is I Lydla. What la it, dear?" Her voice was nigh and thin. His voice came Jerking over the wire, sharp and querulous. She closed her eyes In anticipation of the blow, her body rigid. "I'm sorry to disturb you," he was aying. "but I just bad to call you p." The words were disjointed, as If he forced them from his lips one by one In a supreme effort at coher ency. "Yes, yes it's all right. I don't wind. You did right. What Is it?" "I want you to release me from my promise." "You mean the promise but, Fred dy, I can't release you. I love you. I will be your wife, no matter what has happened, no matter " "Oh, Lord, Lyddy it Isn't that! It's the other the promise to say nothing to my father " "O oh!" she sighed weakly, a vast wave of relief almost suffocating her. "He has made it Impossible for me to go on without " "Where are you, Frederic?" she cried, in sudden alarm. "Oh, I'm all right. I shan't go home, you may be sure of that Tomorrow will be time enough." "Where are you? I must know. How can I reach you by telephone" "Don't be frightened, dear. It's got to be, that's all. It might as well he eaded now as later on. The laHt straw waa laid on tonight Now, don't ask questions. I'll see you In the morning. Good-night, sweetheart. I've I've told you that I can't stick to my promise. You'll understand. I couldn't rest un til I'd told you and heard your dear voice. Forgive me for calling you up. Tell your mother I'm sorry. Good night!" "Freddy, listen to me! You must wait until 1 Oh!" He had hung up the receiver. She heard the whir of the open wire. WHY DOG'S NOSE IS COLD Being Crowded Out of the Ark I a Pretty Story, but Not Science's Explanation. When your faithful old dog pokes hla nose Into your band, even your af fection cannot prevent a little shiver, because the nose Is so cold. Why 1 It? When the body of a dog la so warm, why should this one spot be dif ferent from all the rest of blm? The old fable tells us that when 1 15 WHITE 'WALTERS There waa little comfort for her In the hope held out by ber mother as they sat far Into the night and dis cussed the possibilities of the day ao near at hand. She could see nothing but disaster, and she could think of nothing but her own lamentable weak ness in shrinking from the encounter that might have made the present situ ation Impossible. She tried to make light of the situation, however, prophe sying a calmer attitude for Frederic after he had slept over his grlevauce, w hlch, after all, she argued, was doubt less exaggerated. She promised to go with Lydla to see James Urood In the morning, and to plead with him to be merciful to the boy she was to marry, no matter what transpired. The girl at first Insisted on going over to see him that night, notwithstanding the hour, and was dissuaded only after the most earnest opposition. It wag four o'clock before they went back to bed and long after five before either closed her eyea. Mrs. Desmond, utterly exhausted, was the first to awake. She glanced at the little clock on her dressing-table and gave a great start of consterna tion. It was long past nine o'clock. While she w as dressing, the little maid sen-ant brought In her coffee and toast and received Instructions not to awak en Miss Lydla but to let her have her sleep out. A few minutes later she left the apartment and walked briskly around the corner to Iirood's home. Fearing that she might be too late, she walked so rapidly that she was quite out of breath when she entered the house. Mr. Kiggs and Mr. Dawes were putting on their coats In the hall preparatory to their short morning constitutional. They greeted her effu sively, and with one accord proceeded to divest themselves of the coats, an nouncing In one voice their Intention to remain for a good, old-fashioned chat. "It's dear of you," she said, hur riedly, "but 1 must see Mr. Urood at once. Why not come over to my apartment this afternoon for a cup of tea and " Mrs. Brood's voice Interrupted her. "What do you want, Mrs. Desmond?" came from the landing above. The visitor looked up with a start, not so much of surprise as uneasiness. There was something sharp, unfriendly in the low, level tones. Yvonne, fully dressed a most un usual circumstance at that hour of the day was leaning over the banister rail. "I came to see Mr. Brood on a very important " "Have you been sent over here by someone else?" demanded Mrs. Brood. "I have not seen Frederic," fell from her lips before she thought "I dare say you haven't," said the other with ominous clearness. "He has been here since seven this morn ing, waiting for a chance to speak to his father In private." She was descending the stairs slow ly, almost lazily, as she uttered the remark. "They are together now?" gasped Mrs. Desmond. "Will you come Into the library? Good morning, gentlemen. I trust you may enjoy your long walk." Mrs. Desmond followed her into the library. Yvonne closed the door al most In the face of Mr. Rlggs, who had opened his mouth to accept the invitation to tea, but who said he'd "be d d" instead, so narrow was his escape from having his nose banged. He emphasized the declaration by shaking his fist at the door. The two women faced each other. For the first time since she had know Yvonne Brood Mrs. Desmond observed a high touch of color In her cheeks. Her beautiful eyes were alive with an excitement she could not conceal. Nei ther spoke for a moment. "You are accountable for this, Mrs. Brood," said Lydia Desmond's mother, sternly, accusingly. She expected a storm of indignant protest. Instead, Yvonne smiled slightly. "It will not hurt my husband to discover that Frederic is a man and not a milksop," she said, but despite ber coolness there was a perceptible note of anxiety In ber voice. "You know, then, that they are that they will quarrel?" "I fancy It waa In Frederic's mind to do so when he came here this morning. He was still In his evening clothes, Mrs. Desmond." "Where are they now?" "I think he has them on," said .Yvonne, lightly. Mrs. Desmond regarded her for a moment In perplexity. Then her eyes flashed dangerously. "I do not think you misunderstood me, Mrs. Urood. Where are Frederic and his father?" "I am not accustomed to that tone of voice, Mrs. Desmond." "I am no longer your housekeeper," said the other, succinctly. "You do not realize what this quarrel may mean. I Insist on going up to them before It has gone too far." "Will you be so good, Mrs. Des mond, as to leave this house Instant ly?" cried Yvonne, angrily, "No," said the other quietly, "I sup pose I am too late to prevent trouble Noah tried to get all the animals Into the ark some of them were trouble somo, and he had to get a dog to help him drive them In. Because of this the dog wag the last to enter the. ark. There wai no room left, so he had to stand In the doorway with his nose outside In the wet, and It has never been warm since Science gives quite another explana tion of the matter. The coldness of a dog's nose Is, It says, due to the fact that It must be kept moist all the time In order to sharpen bis sense of between those two men, but I shall at least remain here to assure Frederic of my sympathy, to help blm If I can, to offer blm the shelter of my home." A spasm of alarm crossed Yvonne's face. "Do you really believe It will come to that?" she demanded, nerv ously. "If what I fear should come to pass, he will not stay In this bouse another hour. He will go forth from it, curs ing James Brood with all the hatred that his soul can possess. And now, Mrs. Brood, shall I tell you what 1 think of you?" "No, It Isn't at all necessary. Be sides, I've changed my mind. I'd like you to remain. I do not want to mys tify you any further, Mrs. Desmond, but I now confess to you that I am losing my courage. Don't ask me to tell you why, but " "I suppose It is the custom with those who play with Are. They shrink when It burns them." .Mrs. Brood looked at her steadily for a long time without speaking. The rebellious, sullen expression died out of her ryes. She sighed deeply, almost despairingly. "I am sorry you think III of me, yet I cannot blame you for considering me to be a a I'll not Bay it. Mrs. Des mond, I I wish I had never come to this house." "Permit nie to echo your words." . "You will never be able to under stand me. And, after all, why should I care? You are nothing to me. You are merely a good woman who has no real object In life. You" "No real object In life?" "Precisely. Sit down. We will wait here together, If you please. I I am worried. I think I rather like to feel that you are here: with me. You see, the crisis has come." "You know, of course, that he turned one wife out of this house, Mrs. Brood," said Mrs. Desmond, deliber ately. Something like terror leaped Into the other's eyes. The watcher expe rienced an Incomprehensible feeling of pity for her she who had been despis ing her so fiercely the Instant before. "He he will not turn me out," mur mured Yvonne, and suddenly began pacing the floor, ber hands clinched. "I'd Like You to Remain." Stopping abruptly In front of the other woman, she exclaimed: "He made great mistake In driving that other woman out He is not likely to repeat It, Mrs. Desmond." "Yes I think he did make a mis take," said Mrs. Desmond, calmly. "But he does not think so. He i a man of iron. He is unbending." "He is a wonderful man a great splendid man," cried Yvonne, fiercely. "It is I Yvonne Lestrange who pro claim It to the world. I cannot bear to see him suffer. I " "Then why do you" Mrs. Brood flushed to the roots of her hair. "I do not want to appear unfair to my husband, but I declare to you, Mrs. Desmond, that Frederic is fully justified in the attitude he hag taken this morning. His father hu miliated him last night in a manner that made forbearance impossible. That much I must say for Frederic. And permit me to add, from my soul, that he is vastly more sinned against than sinning." "I can readily believe that, Mra. Brood." "This morning Frederic came into the breakfast room while we were hav ing coffee. You look surprised. Yes, I was having breakfast with my hus band. I knew that Frederic would come. That was my reason. When I heard him in the hall I sent the serv ants out of the dining-room. He had spent the night with a friend. His first words on entering the room were these I shall never forget them: 'Last night I thought I loved you, father, but I have come home Just to tell you that I hate you. I can't stay in this house another day. I'm going to get out. But I Just wanted you to know that I thought I loved you last night, as a son should love a father. I JuBt wanted you to know it' He did not even look at me, Mrs. Desmond. I don't believe he knew I was there. I shall never forget the look in James Brood's face. It was as if he saw a ghost or some horrible thing that fas cinated him. He did not utter a word, but stared at Frederic In that terrible, awestruck way. 'I'm going to get out' said Frederic, his voice rising. 'You've treated me like a dog all my life and I'm through. I eba'n't even say good by to you. You don't deserve any more consideration from me than I've smell. And, of course, as the mois ture Is evaporating all the time, it keeps his nose cold. A dog depends a great deal on his powers of smell, especially In the wild state, and it Is because of his keen ness of scent that he is valuable to man for hunting purposes. In addi tion to the olfactory or smelling nerves inside a dog's nostrils, the whole black membrane around the nose Is very sensitive, but this sensi tiveness can only be retained by mois ture. Thus it is that when a dog's received from you. I hope I'll never see you again. It I ever have a son I'll not treat him as you've treated your son. By God, you don't deserve the honor of being called father. You don't deserve to have a son. I wish to God I had never been obliged to call you father. I don't know what you did to my mother, but if you treated her as ' Just then my husband found his voice. He sprang to his feet, and I've never seen such a look of rage. I thought be was going to strike Fred eric and I think I screamed Just a little scream, of course. I was so ter rified. But he only said and it was horrible the way he said it 'You fool you bastard!' And Frederic laughed in his face and cried out unafraid, 'I'm glad you call me a bastard! By God, I'd rather be one than to be your son. It would at least give me something to be proud of a real father.' " "Good heaven!" fell from Mrs. Des mond's white Hps. Yvonne seemed to have paused to catch her breath. Her breast heaved convulsively, the grip of her hands tightened on the arms of the chair. Suddenly she resumed her recital, but her voice was hoarse and tremulous. "I was terribly frightened. I thought of calling out to Jones, but I I had no voice! Ah, you have never seen two anry men waiting to spring at each other's throats, Mrs. Desmond. My husband suddenly regained control of himself. He was very calm. 'Come with me.' be said to Frederic. 'This Is not the place to wash our filthy family linen. You say you want some thing to be proud of. Well, you shall have your wish. Come to my study.' And they went away together, neither speaking a word to me they did not even glance in my direction. They went up the stairs. I heard the door close behind them away up there. That was half an hour ago. I have been waiting, too waiting as you are waiting now to comfort Frederic when he comes out of thut room a wreck."' Mrs. Desmond started up, an Incred ulous look in her eyes. "You are taking his side? You are against your husband?. Oh, now I know the kind of woman you are. I know " "Peace! You do not know the kind of woman I am. You never will know. Yes, I shall take sides with Frederic." "You do not love your husband!" A strange, unfathomable smile came Into Yvonne's face and stayed there. Mrs. Desmond experienced the same odd feeling she had had years ago on first seeing the Sphinx. She was sud denly confronted by an unsolvable mystery. "He shall not drive me out of his house, Mrs. Desmond," was her an swer to the challenge. A door slammed In the upper re gions of the house. Both women start ed to their feet. "It Is over," breathed Yvonne, with a tremulous sigh. "We shall see how well they were able to take care of themselves, Mrs. Brood," said Mrs. Desmond in a low voice. "We shall see yes," said the other, mechanically. Suddenly she turned on the tall, accusing figure beside her. "Go away! Go now! I command you to go. This Is our affair, Mrs. Desmond. You are not needed here. You were too late, as you say. I beg of you, go!" She strode swiftly toward the door. As she was about to place her hand on the knob It was opened from the other side, and Ran Jab stood before them, "Sahib begs to be excused, Mrs. Des mond. He Is just going out." "Going out?" cried Yvonne, who bad shrunk back into the room. "Yes, sahlbah. You will please ex cuse, Mrs. Desmond. He regret very much." Mrs. Desmond passed slowly through the door, which he held open for her. As Bhe passed by the Hindu she looked full into bis dark, expressive eyes, and there was a question in hers. He did not speak, but she read the answer as if it were on a printed page. Her shoulders drooped. She went back to Lydla. CHAPTER XVI. "To My Own Sweetheart" When James Brood and Frederic left the dining-room nearly an hour prior to the departure of Mrs. Des mond, there was in the mind of each the resolution to make short work of the coming interview. Each knew that the time had arrived for the parting of the ways, and neither bad the least desire to prolong the suspense. The study door was closed. James Brood put his band on the knob, but, before turning it, faced the young man with an odd mixture of anger and pity in his eyes. "Perhaps it would be better if we had nothing more to say to each oth er," he said, with an effort. "I have changed my mind. I cannot say the thing to you that I" "Has it got anything to do with Yvonne and me?" demanded Frederic ruthlessly, jumping at conclusions in his new-found arrogance. Brood threw open the door. "Step inside," be said in a voice that should have warned the younger man, it was bo prophetic of disaster. Frederic had touched the open sore with that unhappy question. Not until this in stant had James Brood admitted to himself that there was a sore and that it had been festering all these weeks. Now It was laid bare and smarted with pain. Nothing could save Frederic after that reckless, deliberate thrust at the very core of the malignant growth that lay so near the surface. It bad been in James Brood's heart to spare the boy, Hot words were on Frederic's lips. nose is dry and warm be Is III and needs doctoring. Oh, Ye Good Old Times. That the big New York hotels are not homelike or comfortable Is the plaint of a western Pennsylvania man who makes frequent trips to New York. "I suppose this Is New York's Idea of what a regular hotel ought to be like," said the visitor as he looked disdainfully about the gold and gilt trimmings of the music room at the Waldorf-Astoria. "But let me tell you They were alon in bis room. He squared his shoulders, "I suppose you think I am In love with ber," he said defiantly. He waited a moment for the response that did not come. Brood was regarding blm with eyes from which every spark of compassion had disappeared. "Well, it may interest you to know that I in tend to marry Lydla this very day." Brood advanced a few steps toward him. In the subdued light of the room his features were not clearly dis tinguishable. His face was gray and shadowy; only the eyes were sharply defined. They glowed like points of light, unfilckering. "I shall be sorry for Lydla," be said levelly. "You needn't be," said Frederic hot ly. "She understands everything." "Have you told her that you love her and no one else?" "Certainly!" "Then you have lied to her." There wa3 silence tense silence. "Do you expect me to strike you for that?" came at last from Frederic's Hps, low and menacing. "You have always considered vour self to be my son, haven't you?" pur sued Brood deliberately. "Can you say to me that you have behaved of lute as a son should" "Wait! We'll settle that point right now. I did lose my bead. Head, I say, not heart I shan't attempt to explain I can't, for that matter. As for Yvonne well, she's as good as gold. She understands me better than I un derstand myself. She knows that even honest men lose their beads some times. I can say to you now that I would sooner have cut my own throat than to do more than envy you the possession of one you do not de serve. I have considered myself your son. I have no apology to make for my we'll call It infatuation. I shall only admit that it has existed and that I have despaired. As God is my witness, I have never loved any one but Lydla. I have given her pain, and the amazing part of it is that I can't help myself. Naturally, you can't understand what It all means. You are not a young man any longer. You cannot understand." "Good God!" burst from Brood s lips. Then be laughed aloud grotesquely. "Yvonne is the most wonderful thing that has ever come Into my life. I adored ber the instant I saw ber. I have felt sometimes that I knew her a thousand years ago. I have felt that I loved her a thousand years ago." A calm seriousness now attended his speech, in direct contrast to the violent mood that had gone before. "I have thought of little else but her. I con fess it to you. But through it all there has never been an instant in which I did not worship Lydla Desmond. I I do not pretend to account for it It Is beyond me." Brood waited patiently to the end. "Your mother before you had a some what similar affliction," he said, still In the Bteady, repressed voice. "Per haps It is a gift a convenient gift this ability to worship without effort." "Better leave my mother out of It," said Frederic sarcastically. A look of wonder leaped to his eyes. "That's the first time you've condescended to acknowledge that 1 ever had a mother." Brood's saiile was deadly. "If you have anything more to say to me, you would better get It over with. Purge your soul of all the gall that embitters It. I grant you that privilege. Take your Innings." A spasm of palu crossed Frederic's face. "Yes, I am entitled to my in nings. I'll go back to what I said down stairs. I thought I loved and honored you last night I would have forgiven everything if you had granted me a friendly friendly, that's all Just a friendly word. You denied" "I suppose you want me to believe that it was love for me that brought you slinking to the theater," said the other ironically. "I don't expect you to believe any thing. I was lonely. I wanted to be with you and Yvonne. Can't you un derstand how lonely I've been all my life? Can't you understand how hun gry I am for the affection that every other boy I've known has had from his parents? I've never asked you about my mother. I used to wonder a good deal. Every other boy had a mother. I never had one. I couldn't understand. I no longer wonder. I know now that she must have hated you with all the strength of her soul. God, how she must have hated to feel the touch of your bands upon her body! Something tells me sho left you, and if she did, I hope she afterwards found someone who but no, I won't say it. Even now I haven't the heart to hurt you by say ing that." He stopped, choking up with the rush of bitter words. "Well, why don't you say something?" "I'm giving you your innings. Go on?" said Brood softly. "She must have loved you once or she wouldn't have married you. She must have loved you or I wouldn't be here In this world. She " "Ha!" came sharply from Brood's stiff lips. "didn't find you out until it was too late. She was lovely, 1 know. She was sweet and gentle and she loved happiness. I can see that in her face, in her big, wistful eyes. You " "What's this?" demanded Urood, startled. "What are you saying?" "Oh, I've got her portrait an old photograph. For a month I've carried it here In this pocket-case, over my heart I wouldn't part with It for nil the money In the world. When I look at the dear, sweet, girlish face and her eyes look back into mine, I know that she loved me." "Her portrait?" said Brood, unbe lieving. "Yes and I have only to look at It to know that sho couldn't have hurt there are a lot of things missing right here. Where are the big, comfortable chairs fellow can sit In while be rests bis feet on the brass rail and looks through a big plate glass win dow at the crowd passing on the street? Maybe you think your regu lar hotel dweller doesn't miss that window, but you're wrong. And these steam radiators, all gilt and silver or bronze or whatever color they happen to be. Suppose you think tbey make a fellow who Is a thousand miles from home feel so comfortable and bome- you so It must bave been the othcrt way 'round. She's dead now, I know, but she didn't die for years after I was born. Why was it that I never saw ber? Why was I kept up there in that damnable village " "Where did you get that photo graph?" demanded Brood hoarsely. "Where, I say! What damned, inter fering fool " "I wouldn't be too hasty, If I were you," said Frederic, a note of triumph in bis voice. "Yvonne gave it to me. I made ber promise to say nothing to you about it. She" "Yvonne found it? Yvonne? And gave it to you? What trick of fate is this? But ah, It may not be a por trait of your your mother. Some old photograph " "No, it Is my mother. Yvonne saw the resemblance at once and brought It to me. And It may interest you to know that she advised me to treasure it all my life because it would always toll me how lovely and sweet my moth er was the mother I have never seen." "I insist on seeing that picture," said Brood, with deadly intensity. "No," said Frederic, folding bis arms tightly across bis breast. "You didn't deserve her then and you " "You don't know what you are say ing, boy!" "Ah, don't I? Well, I've got Just a lit tle bit of my mother safe here over my heart a little faded card, that's all and you shall not rob me of that Last night I was sorry for you. I had the feeling that somehow you have al ways been unhappy over something that happened in the past that my mother was responsible for. And yet when I took out this photograph, this tiny bit of old cardboard see, it is so small that it can be carried In my waistcoat pocket when I took it out and looked at the pure, lovely face, I M' !Mn mm r ,fcf ' ij: C- ..).. "I Shall Be Sorry for Lydia," He Said Levelly. by heaven,, I knew she was not to blame." "Have you finished?" asked Brood, wiping his brow. It was dripping. "Except to repeat that I am through with you forever. I've had all that I can endure and I'm through. My great est regret is that I didn't get out long ago. But like a fool a weak fool, I kept on hoping that you'd change and that there were better days ahead for me. I kept on hoping that you'd be a real father to me. Good Lord, what a libel on the name!" He laughed raucously. "I'm sick of calling you father. You did me an honor downstairs by calling me 'bastard.' You had no right to call me that, but, by heaven, if it were not for this bit of cardboard here over my heart, I'd laugh In your face and be happy to shout from the housetops that I am no son of yours. But there's no such luck as that! I've only to look at my mother's innocent, soulful face to " "Stop!" shouted Brood In an awful voice. His clenched hands were raised above bis beaU "The time has come for me to tell you the truth about this innocent mother of yours. Luck is with you. I am not your father. You are" "Wait! If you are going to tell me that my mother was not a good wom an, I want to go on record la advance of anything you may sayi as being glad that I am her son no matter who my father was. I am glad that she loved me because 1 was ber child, and If you are not my father then I btill have the Joy of knowing that she loved some one man well enough to " He broke off the bitter sentence and with nervous fingers drew a small leather case from his waistcoat pocket "Be fore you go any farther, take one look, at her face. It will make you ashamed of yourself.- Can you stand there and He about her after looking Into" He was holding the window curtains apart, and a stream of light fell upon the lovely face; so small that Brood was obliged to come quite close to be able to see it. His eyos were dis tended. "It is not Matlldo It Is like her but Yes, yes, it is Matlldo! ' I must be losing my mind to have thought-'" He wiped his brow. "But, good God, it was startling positively uncanny." He spoke as to himself, apparently forget ting that he had a listener. "Well, can you He about her now?" demanded Frederic. Brood was still staring as If fas cinated at the tiny photograph. "But I have never seen that picture before, She never bad one so small as that It-" (TO BE CONTINUED.) like as the old round Iron stoves that used to decorate every hotel lobby? No sir-e-e. tflve me the old-fashioned hotels every time." New York Times Rastus' Hope. Mandy What foh yo' been goln to de post office so reg'lar? Are you cor responding wlf some other female? Rastus Nope, but since Ah been a readln' In de papers 'bout dese "con science funds" Ah kind of thought Ah might possibly git a lettah from dut mlnlfltab what married us. WOMAN COULD ! HARDLY STM Because of Terrible Bad' ache. Relieved by Lydij, E. Pinkham's Vegeta, ble Compound. Philadelphia, Pa.-"I suffered J displacement and inflammation, ids andw backache so M could hardly tJ I took six bottiJ Lydia EPlnuJ Vegetable 0 pound, and now J do any amoitj work, sleep good, J good, and don'thJ a bit of trouble. Pinkham's Vegetable Compound J every suuenng worn am. MrihW Fisuer.1625 Dounton St, Nicctowa, Another Woman's Cage, Providence, R. I. "I cannot rpJ too highly of your Vegetable Compct as it lias done wonder for me would not be without it I had 14 placement, bearing down, and baclue, until I could hardly stand and wajfo oughly run down when I took Lydiii Ffrtkham'a Vegetable Compound y helped me and lam in the best of bn at present I work in a factory til 4 long besides doing my housework ton can see what it has done for me. Igs you permission to publish my nami: speak of your Vegetable Compound J many 01 my irionas. Mrs. abelLu 80N, 126 Lippitt St, Providence, .1 Ttannxk Klfmnl tn Wnmn m-' i m - r - - -- n re what one physician called backup headache, nervousness, and the b! In many cases they are symptom some female derangement or an inSt matory, ulcerative condition, which in be overcome by taking Lydia E ?a h am 's Vegetable Com pound. Thooici A )..... tnnmon Ofillinirln tu..,!.. its virtue. When a married man dlsapiieanJ relatives drag the river. Hut th H tectlves look for his "lady friend.' VOrR OWN DM OOIST Wll.l. TRI.L t frf Murine f Konxdf for Hod, Wink, w J hut Uva ooin'ort. Writ fur Bonk of Ik, li awl 1'ra. Marlns Hit Hamml; Co. UI Mighty Slow Pay. Staylate I always pay as I go. Miss Weary (yawning) Your c ltors have my sympathy. No matter how insignificant 1 1. may be, he is firmly convinced tbatli superiority will some day be ra nked. EI.IXTR BARKK WORTH IT WTICrl IN OUI.I) IN TIIK mil It'l'INK. I contracted ninliirhh In IHttt, autl afir feur' fruitless treiUaiettt liy prmn!:- Vi'sslilng-ton physician, your IJlilr tUh entirely t-utvil me. On urrlvlnir here 1 n- down with lyoph'al mnlnrla the vunitfi and sent home for llaiteH, Airr: proved lis value It Is worlb Its ei2i! Gold here, llrnxle O'llnirnn, Troop , V S. Carslry. Bnlurnn. Philippines. Kllxlr llabrk. M rents, all unmel.un Parcels Post pretta, from Kluciewulu . Waolilnjfton. D. C. The Brighter Side. "The European war affords me e source of consolation, anyway," r Mr. Jabblns. "I'd like to know what It u Mr. Snoozedorf. "It Is Impossible for some ot cj wealthier neighbors to go gadd:. about Europe this year and then ' turn home and make me feel ai L' hadn't been anywhere because I nt ly went to Colorado." Quite a Difference. Delia, after a rain, begged to go r- side to play. "You may go," said her mother, you will stay on the walk, and '' make mud-pies." It was not long before Doll leaning suspiciously far over the "I thought you promised not make mud-pies," .mother called. "I'm not, mamma," replied Df' "I'm making doughnuts." Baby's Bedroom. The room in which a baby il should contain 10 upholstered fu ture or heavy curtains on which i' and germs can find a lodging 1 breeding place. The walls, if post should be so finished as to allow qucnt wiping with a damp cloth. ?! temperature of the baby's room h be kept not higher than 68 or 70 grees In winter and in summer she be kept as cool as possible with lugs and Bhutters. The wind should be, kept open day and night summer and in winter the room shoi be aired two or three times a day. GET POWER The Supply Comes From Food If we get power from food, why strive to get all the power we can. is only possible by selecting food in exactly fits the requirements ot 1 body. "Not knowing how to select the ris- food to fit my needs, I suffered gn ously for a long time from stom' trouble' writes a ludy from a Ut:1 Western tov?n. "It seemed as If I would never H able to find out the sort of food U was best for me. Hardly anything t' I could eat would stay on my sion Every attempt gave me heart-burn " filled my stomach with gas. I got tB,i ner and thinner until I literally'1' came a living skeleton and In time l compelled to keep to my bed. "A few months ago I was pcrsua to try Grape-Nuts food, ami it had good effect from the very beginn-'j that 1 kent tin Ha nnn T waa surer"" at the ease with which I digested It" proved to be just what I needed. "All my unpleasant symptonw. heart-burn, the Inflated feeling gave me so much pain, dlsappe,, My weight gradually increased fro"' I to 116 lbs., my figure rounded out,'! strength came back, and I am no?11', to do my housework and enJof 1 Crape-Nuts did it." ' A ten days trial will show si?"?, some facts about food. J Nnme given by Postum Co., P'1, Creek, Mich. Read, "The Boai WeavlUe," iu pkgs. "There's a Reai Ever read the abore lefferf A Jj, ne appear from time tn time. 1 re ajenntae, trae, as full ot w Interest. 1!' ''i'v' ' ' ' -' Til WTa !j3
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers