®A A' JkAA/XA/ AAAAAAAAAAAAAA# - VESUVIUS « CALMED. ► By J. LUDLUM LEE. i Copyrighted. 190S, by Associated ► < Literary Press. • fVIVWTVTVTWtVTv TW JWVW • Arthur Southgate had never married. Putting it mildly, his temper was not an even one, and he argued that, com bining his own obstreperous disposi tion with the inborn obstinacy of all women, something would surely give way. So he clung to single life as the lesser of two evils. On this particuar Sunday afternoon lie was chatting with several of his tiest friends In the smoking room of the Royal club. I'ulllng out his watch, he saw that It was 5 o'clock—just two hours late for Ills engagement with Irene Arlington. "Jumping Jehoshnphat!" he cried as he pushed back from the table. ' I'll catch it—just two hours late and a woman in a frenzy waiting for me at the other end of the line. By-by. boys," and he was off. Jumping in his waiting car, he urged the chauffeur to make haste, and when be rang the bell of the Arlington borne Irene herself opened the door. "Hello, honey." she greeted him. Southgate was speechless, lie had expected a volley tuned to "Why didn't you?" and "How dare you?" "Oh," sighed Irene. "I certainly am glad you didn't come earlier, for at I! o'clock it was so piping hot, but now"—and she seemed to breathe ex bllaration—"it's perfect." Southgate started into explain his Sateness and decided to tell the truth. He flattered himself that he knew women through and through and ar gued that the truth was the easiest way out of all troubles. Irene seemed bored by his explanations and inter rupted him. "But, my dear Arthur," she said, "1 hate people who are always on time. They never give a girl an excuse to lie late herself." The auto flushed through the city and over the dusty roads. The Sunday erowds were left behind on the popu lar thoroughfares. The quiet country roads which their chauffeur chose were almost deserted. Twilight had begun to fall, and fitful shadows were cast upon the road from overhanging branches. "I thought we would stop at Linden Lodge for supper," Southgate was say r% 'VtTKS DID YOU KIND IT OCT. AND WHO IS THK GIRL?*' ing. "I told Jack Gormley aud Mrs. .lack to look us up there." Then. as if -expecting a protest from his compan ion, he added, "Of course if you varit to go somewhere else"— "Oh, 1 love the lodge." exclaimed Irene, "and"- A sharp report from behind, anil her rentence was lost. The machine came to a standstill. Southgate and the chauffeur both jumped out. A tire bad burst beyond mending. Southgate swore roundly at the chauffeur, who stolidly began the hour's task of tak ing off the old tire uud putting on « new one. "I don't blame you for beiug furl ous, Irene," began Southgate. "I tell you this automobile business is rotten to the core. It's"— "But I'm iiot furious. I'm rather g'.nd we broke down!" cried Irene. "We've been speeding so that I've lost my breath, and anyway just back there are some lovely, wild flowers I want to pick, and, oh. I love to see me chanics work, and when 1 get ihj flowers I'm coming back to watch your inan." » i \ . She gathered up her fluffy skirts anil jumped out ou the ground. Southgate opened his eyes and looked sharply at thn girl to make sure he heard aright. He felt like the small boy who wanted to pinch himself to see If he were awake. "Do you mean it?" he gasped. She assured him that she did, ant! together they walked hack and gath ered the flowers. A scientific man would have had difficulty In figuring out which were the thickest, the wild fin vers or the mosquitoes which feast ed on the newcomers. "I'm eaten alive with these beastly pests," said Southgate as he slappc I one flat on his wrist. "I can't stand it another minute—and really with that thin dress of yours"— "Oh, mosquitoes are no worse tlutii other pests," said Irene. "My little brother has white mice that get out of the cage and run all over the house. Our colored cook has the ugliest black eat you ever saw that scratches me every time I pat her." Southgate thought the heat must have affected his companion and made mo reply. Tbey returned to the car to find the new tire on and again startei ent. They speeded along the dusty road and were nearlng the lodge when the machine stopped and refused to move. Investigation proved that the gasoline had given out. Once more the chauffeur heard Mr. Bouthgate's opinion of him in rather pertinent language. There was noth ing to do but to walk to Linden Lodge, ■o Irene and Arthur started out for the Jaunt. The distance was short, but Irene was dressed for ridiug and not for walking. Her dainty slippers with high heels were little aiiDDort. and, suddenly turning her ankle, she Uttered a little cry. "Are you hurt?" exclaimed South gate with some concern. There was certainly something very congenial about Irene Arlington, he decided. "Not a bit," answered Irene, "only the heel of my slipper has come off " "What the deuce shall we do now?" he cried. She smiled, and before she could answer he added, "For heaven s sake don't tell me that you 'just love to hop on one foot.' " "Not that." laughed Irene, "but do you go aud get a stone aud knock the other heel off; then I can walk in slip pers without heels, as the kiddies do." Arthur Southgate had never learned the cobbler's trade, but as he took off the old slipper be almost wished he had. The heei was knocked off, and be put back the slipper, took off the other and pounded t'ae nails flat, replaced that, ami in a few minute* they were on the porch of Linden Lodge. Arthur sent off a man from tie garage with a fresh supply of gasoline for lils man down the rn.'d. Irene set her hat aright and awaited Arthur's return. "We're pretty late, I gue: s," he said as he joined ber, "for I can't seem t i find Jack and Mrs. Jack anywhere. Arc you co.afy all right?" "Yes, Indeed." assured Irene, "but 1 do wish yon would telepbouc mother that we v. ill be a bit hue. You know mothers will worry." Arthur called an attendant. "Call till" Terrace, will you? And when jou get them I'll taik." "Beg pardon, sir." began the man. "but the telephone ain't wor .in' today. Anything el.;e. sir':" "Yes; get out of here!" roared Sou:li gate. "Well I'll be- jiggered! What next, <lo you suppose?" "Dinner, I hope," said Irene, with a hearty laugh. "I'm a weeny bit hun gry." At the table Arthur Southgaie ate lit tle. lie never could tell himself in after year- whether It was his appe tite that played him false or whether some new quantity came into his be ing and left no room for anything But during that meal Arthur's idea of women In general and one In par ticular seemed to pass through a meta not, at least. Perhaps all women were not spitfire* He knew one who was not nt least, l'orhaps all women were not hysterical and unreasonable—and a lot of other disagreeable qualities with which he had always attributed them. The hot soup was almost cold, the Iced asparagus was lukewarm, and the after dinner coffee was rather bit ter, but Irene ate with a ravishing up petite and said everything was just right. It was a lovely ride home, without any mishaps, and Arthur sat gazing at Irene. Two or three times he started to say something, bat for some reason the resourceful Mr. Southgate could not frame his sentence just right Finally he leaned a bit closer to his companion. "Irene, I'm in love—in fact, I've beea in love for some time, and I only found it out lately." "Oh, how nice!" exclaimed Irene. "When did you find It out, and who's the girl?" "Just found It out about an hour ago, and, well—l wouldn't have to gel out a search warrant to find the girl " Irene was glad the darkness hid her blushes. "Do you think that a girl with the most heavenly disposition in the world —a disposition that absolutely nothing could ruffle—would consent to marry a prickly bear?" faltered Arthur. "Oh. I should think she'd Just love to tame him!" cried Irene before she realized the significance of the remark Hut the prickly bear lost no time In hugging his victim, and her taming methods were as oil upon the troubled waters of life. THE CHYSANTHEMUM. Japanese Legend of the Origin of the Many Petaled Flower. The Japanese have an interesting legend In connection with the origin of the chrysanthemum. In a garden bath ed In the soft moonlight a young girl plucked a lower and commenced to strip the petals to see If her fiance loved her truly. Of a sudden a little god appeared before her and assured her that her fiance loved her passion ately. Your husband will live, he add ed, as many years as the flower which I will let you choose has petals. With these words he disappeared. The young girl hastened to search the gar den for a flower which should have an abundance of petals, but each one ap peared to promise lint a brief future for her beloved. At length she picked up a Persian carnation, and, with the aid of a gold pin taken from her hair, she separated each of the petals of the flower so as to Increase the number of folioles and of the number of years accorded by the god to her fiance. Soon under her deft fingers one, two, three hundred petals, thin, pliant and beautifully curved, had been evolved, and the young girl cried for Joy to think of the happy future which her ruse had assured her fiance. So, runs the leg end, was the chrysanthemum created one moonlight ntght In a Japanese garden where silvery brooks murmur ed softly us they ran beneath the little bamboo bridges.—London Globe. Could Do It. it was a mean trick, but. then, that la the kind that's usually successful. "That dog," said the owner, "will bring me anything I send him for, and I am willing to bet on It." Straightway a bet was arranged, and then the manager of the billiard hall suggested that be would like to hare the pool table brought to him. "Certainly," answered the owner of the dog, and be pointed to the table and nald, "Fetch ItH The dog raced around It once or twice and then grabbed a pocket and tore It off. "Hold on!" cried the billiard man. "He'll ruin the table." "Of course," answered the owuer of the dog, "but If you give bim time he'll get It all over here. You didn't suppose he could bring It In one trip, did you?" But the billiard man paid the bet. If no fight, no victory; no victory, to crown.—Savonarola. i O-O-O-O—c—O—CO—o—o-c—o—O—O [ 0 By Constance D'Arcy Mackay. 9 X Copyrighted. 190 S. by Associated I Y Literary Press. V To look nt Miss Miranda Eldridge you would never dream that she was one of those who keep alight the hld deo fire. She was small and thin and careworn, and her eyes, except when she smiled, were full of the tiredness that a dreary procession of days had put there. The other boarders seated around j the long narrow table of Mrs. Penning ' | ton's basement dining room filled in the pauses between soup and roast j with friendly jocularity, in which Miss 1 Eldridge took no part. To be sure, she answered pleasantly j | enough if any one spoke to her. yet she | always lapsed into silence immediately j afterward and as soon as diuner was j over sought the narrow confines of her little ball bedroom, up four flights of , i creaking, ill lit stairs. Hut us no way is really ever dark to J i those who have the inner vision, so to j Miss Eldridge her skylight room was j not the cheerless place it seemed. To i others it might look sparse aud j cramped and lonely, but to her it was i a sanctuary of dreams, where night J after night she lived over again the j one great event that had crowned her j meager life. Once in a past, now growing very dim aud far, romance had touched her j with a sweep of rosy pinions. That j was twelve years before—twelve dreary, uneventful, work worn years— and yet Miss Eldridge had never for- : gotten. She still held the vision as if j ! it were yesterday. It had begun commonplucely enough. A wealthy aunt had chosen to reniem- j ber Miss Eldrldge's existence, und sent j her a bit of pasteboard that bade her be : present at an evening muslcale. Trem- i bllngly and uuexpeetant, little Miss Eldridge had gone, and had fouud it i like most muslcales until the magical j moment when a tall young man who j looked like a Greek god In evening dress came up to her and wanted to know if he couldn't bring ber an ice. ■ Then he lwd stood with her. chat ting lightly and easily of this thing I aud that, so brilliant, so apart from all that made up her humdrum little i round, that she had listened to him, i rapt and spellbound, as if he were in- j deed the true bringer of the Prome thean fire. And from that time on she had never forgotten him. He was the ideal be- I TO r L-r-m-W -AH* "I THOUGHT OF YOU ANli KUr.T SO I>BS- I'KKATKI.T LOKivLV." | side which sill other men were com- j : pared und fouud wanting. And j though she had never seen him agalu, und though he moved In worlds quite | other than her own, the hope that she j would one day meet him still made i her heart leap, still tilled her days J with expectancy and her nights with dreams. , Though thut oue blissful invitation ' was all that her august auut had ' chosen to send her, were there not otbej places where she might glimpse ] her hero—the park, the bridle path or \ Riverside? It gave au eager uplift to i j each moment without which her life [ would have been bare indeed, j She faded, but her hope never did. | I'erpetual adoration kept it vital aud i alive. Yet there were times when l even her high spirit faltered, times | when something In her reached out : for a more actual companionship than j that of visions, and It was on one of ] these days that she first met the pro- j fessor. Ileally met him, that is, for he had sat opposite her at the table j month In and month out with no 1 deeper acquaintanceship than that ! which arises from politely passing the brend or Intimating one's willingness to share the salt and pepper. But now the professor had met her face to face in the lower hall one 6ul- j try September night when the rest of j the boarders were clamorously scram- : bllng for places of vantage on the stone steps, j Perhaps he read a fellow feeling in i Miss Eldrldge's eyes. Perhaps he guessed that there were moments when she, too, found Mrs. Penning ton's unendurable. Be that as it might, on the spur of the moment he stopped her and asked If she wouldn't rather go for a stroll than "Join that pande monium out there," indicating the doorstep and Its occupants by a vague wave of the hand. Miss Eldridge paused, hesitated and accepted. Not that t»r this was her Idol removed from its niche. Far from it. For oa time progressed the sym pathetic understanding which sprang up between herself and the professor brought to light the fact that he, too, had had his Ideal n woman seen only once, but beautifully remembered and treasured in his middle aged heart as an unfading roae who. e luster dimmed all other flowers. "Any glimpse?" he would ask her whimsically aa they walked side by aide In the crisping November weather. Undlacouraged. ah* wenld shake her hMd. "And you?" •'.Not tin- slightest," he would au swor. And so it wont. Then came the morning when a large, square envelope was laid by Miss Eldridge's plate. Her aunt, glow ing old and feeble, had not the less diminished her social activities. After a long absence In Europe she had re turned to New York and requested the I pleasure of Miss Eldridge's company ! at . Miss Eldlidge put down the invitation, white to the lips, her , heart bounding furiously. Pride urged | her not to accept, but a feeling stronger than any self love swept over i the barriers of pride and brought thciu ! low. The old inextinguishable hope | was there, vital and dominant as ever. I ' On the great evening she arrayed | ' herself with trembling fingers. The 1 face her mirror showed was flushed i and radiant. It was as if her lost | youth had stepped back to crown her i for a moment with the touch of all j sweet, imperishable things. The professor was going to a special meeting of the board of education and j had promised to wait for her at the j car when it was time for her to return. | Ten minules before she arrived be was ! at his post, pacing restlessly. I'nder I the tlii 11 flare of the street lamps his face looked more tired and haggard j , than usual. The glory, too, had faded j | from Miss Eldridge's eyes when she j j came. As she met him she looked j 1 quite worn. The professor guessed at : j the reason instantly, i "Wasn't h,' there?" he asked, a throb j I of commiseration in his voice. | "Yes," she cried, with a little laugh ] that was half a sob—"yes; he was j | there. He—he came and talked to me, j | and instead of—oh, professor, how can ■ i 1 tell you! lie isn't the least bit like iau Apollo Belvedere! He's grown \ stout aud a little bald, and -and"— A | second sob stuck in Miss Eldridge's I throat. Hut she had worshiped unreality so long that now she was determined to j | have the truth at any cost."And I | thought his remarks were exceedingly ! vapid," she ended bravely. Then she glanced up at the professor and noted | the change in him. I "Why, professor," she cried, "has j anything happened? lias"— "Yes," said the professor grimly, "a sreat deal has happened. Tonight at ; the board meeting 1 saw her!" ) Miss Eldridge's question came in a 1 startled whisper. "And is she—still | the same?" "Yes, she Is still the same. She has j preserved her youth, and you know how preserved youth looks. I'd rather have an honest wrinkle than all the"— j He stopped and then went on more calmly: "All my life I have been ideal- I i'/.lng a pretty doll, endowing her with graces of the heart and soul that sho never for an instant had, while here beside me— Oh. I've been blind as a bat, Miranda, blind as a bat, but I'm goiug to make up for it if you'll let nie, tf you'll listen to a poor middle aged suitor after your dreams of Apol lo Belvedere!" The glow had come back agalu to little Miss Eldridge's face Her eyes were twin stars. , "lx»t you?" she whispered "Oh, to- I night, after my eyes wero opened. 1 ; thought of you, and I felt so desperate ly lpnely. for I knew you had some one t'lse, while I" "The school board," said the profess or Irrelevantly, "have raised my salary. | They've offered to make me principal of an outlying school where all the teachers own their homes- beautiful homes, with lawns and vine covered porches." The professor straightened as he ! spoke and looked positively young. And an hour later Miss Eldridge opened the tiny window of her sky light bedroom and tossed out i the roofs a faded bunch of violets that ; she had worn on a memorable night twelve years before and cherished ever ! since. Then she turned abont with a happy sigh, for the dream was ended, and lu its place had come the sub j stance of reality. WHEN YOU WEEP. The Way That Tears Act Upon the Human Organism. Professor Waynbaum, M. D.. of Paris publishes some queer facts re garding the nature and purpose of tears, coming to the conclusion that tears act upon the human organism I "like chloroform, ether or alcohol." "When a human being gives way to sorrow." says Dr. Waynbaum, "the blood pressure In the brain decreases The tear helps in this process, which benumbs the brain for the time being, causing passlveness of the soul *1 most approaching Indifference. '"Tears are blood, changing color by (heir pasaage through the lachrymal glands. One can drown his sorrow in tears as one can benumb his senses by the use of alcohol or drugs. When n person cries the facial muscles con tract and the appearance of the face changes, which action facilitates the white blood letting, driving the blood particles Into the lachrymal gland, from which they Issue In the shape of | tears. "Children whose nervous system is particularly tender derive great ben efit from crying occasionally. The act of crying relieves their brains. The same may he said with respect to wo men." The professor likewise explains why laughter sometimes produces tears, j but the explanation Is too technical I for reproduction. A Remedy For Choking, i Few people know that a very aim i pie nnd effective remedy for choking Is to raise the left arm as high as possi ble, which relieves the person much more rapidly than by the usual method of thumping him on the back, says a physician. Very frequently at meals and at play children get choked, and the customary manner of relieving them Is to slap them sharply on {he back. The effect of this is to set the obstruction free. The same thing can be brought about by raising the left hand of the child as high as possible, and the relief comes much more quick ly. In happenings of this kind there should be no alarm, for If the child sees that other persons or parents get excited the effect U bad. The best thing Is t<* tell the child to raise Its left arm, and Immediately the difficul ty passes away. |n 112 iruta :s u impossiDie to be soiled by aov outward touch as Is the sunbeam BIG SHOOTING MEET.! Greatest International Gathering at Washington Next Fall. FINER PLANS THAN EVER. Nineteen Countries Invited to Send Marksmen For the Match—Champion Shot of the World Will Be Chosen on One Thousand Yard Range. I Arrangements are already being made for the greatest gathering of in ternational riflemen yet seen in the United States, to take place next fall In Washington. The state department j has been intrusted with formal invita ' tions from the National Bllle associa tion, of which General James A. Drain In president, to be forwarded to the ambassadors and ministers from nine j teeu countries interested In rifle shoot j Ins, formally inviting those countries to be represented by rifle teams at the coming international meeting. More elaborate plans are being made : for this series of matches than ever be | fore, lu addition to the Palma trophy j for the military long range champion i ship of the world, which was won in j 190" by the American team at Ottawa, ! Canada, there will be an individual i competition at 1,000 yards, a team | match at 300 meters, an individual I competition at 1100 meters and a re j volver team competition at 50 yards. ! The conditions for the Palma team trophy match provide for teams of eight, using the national military arm of their country. Two targets will be allotted to each team, the distances be | lug 800, 000 and 1,000 yards. The tar j gets will be rectangular, 11! by 0 feet, with a thirty-six Inch bullseye, an In ner circle of fifty-four Inches In dl . amcter, a "magpie square" seventy- I two Inches and the remainder of the | target constituting the outer. The , value of the count will be: Bullseye, D; Inner, 4; "magpie," 3; outer, 2. There will be fifteen shots each man , at each distance, without artificial rest, with two sighting shots addltlon t al. Telescopic and magnifying sights I are barred. There are also minor tech nical conditions such as are prescribed ( from year to year by the country hold ing the trophy Each member of the .! winning team will receive a medal, and other prizes In this match will he determined later. The individual match at 1,000 yards should attract great attention, as America, by reason of Its records and ' Its victories in the Olympic games and elsewhere, claims the distinction of ' having the finest long range marks ' men in tlio world. In this match any rifle with any sights, Including tele scopic, and any ammunition, may be used, thus throwing the match open to the entire world. The distances. ' targets, count and dimensions are the same as in the Palma match. The winner of this match will be hailed as the long range champion of the world and will be given an interna tional championship cup. which will become his property. Other prizes will | be nrranged for In the program. The International team match at 300 meters will be for teams of six men, 1 using any rifle with open fore sights ' and any kind of back sights, with any ' ammunition. The target will be 1 white, one meter in diameter, with a i black center of sixty centimeters dl ' ameter, the entire target being divided Into ten concentric circles, counting from one to ten points. This will be an unusual match for the United States because of the style of target, the distance, the count and the number of shots. Each competi tor will fire 120 shots, equally divided among the standing, kneeling aud , | prone positions. They will be tired In strings of ten shots each without In -1 terruptlon, and ten sighting shots will bo allowed In each position. Another rule of interest in this match Is that after ten shots the target will be , taken down and preserved as a proof tn case of discussion. 112 The official count will tako place under the direction of the committee of umpires Immediately after the shooting Is finished. ( The 300 meter match for Individuals will be shot under conditions similar to those of the team match. The revolver team match will tie j open to learns of four tnen, using any revolver or pistol with open sights, dls -1 tance fifty yards. Two slghters and ' fifty shots will be allowed, a series of Ave shots each, n fresh target being provided for each series. The center I' of the shot hole and not Its edge will determine the value of the shot. Each competing nation will designate 1 ; one delegate to a committee whose 1 ; duty It will bo to settle definitely and without appeal any question which may arise not covered by the rules of the match. The members of this com mittee will be nominated by the team •I captains, and the committee will elect Its own chairman, who shall have a ! casting vote In addition to his vote as a member. The Invitations will be forwarded by j the state department to the diplomatic I representatives of the different coun tries in Washington, to their military attaches here, aud through the Amer ican ambassadors and ministers abroad. • j The nineteen countries and colonies in vited are: England, Canada, Australia, j France, Switzerland, the Netherlands, j Norway, Denmark, Sweden. Italy, Ger - j many, Austria, Greece, Mexico. Argen ! ' tine Republic. Brazil, Spain, Belgium -1 and Japan. Some of these also will re > i celve Invitations from the National I Rifle Association of America direct i through their national rifle asaocla » tlons, such its England. Canada, Aus- I tralla. France, Switzerland, Italy and ( Argentine Republic. i 3 Bualneeslike. , The Beloved One—You object to t Horace because heli not businesslike Stern Parent—Certainly; he's only aft . er you for your money. Beloved One i —Well, pa, doesn't that prove he's I businesslike?— Kansas <ity Tndepend t ent. t I Not a Matter of Chanoe. The Vicar—is It true, Samuel, that your father allows game* of chance to be played In your house? The Boy- There ain't ne chance about It, tur; they all cheats!— London Opinion. | (IH»«VH;mm3 | j Pawitcn's Prisoner. j |[ By W. F. Tiryan. ,» ]> Copyrighted, IMWi, by Associated *, ]| Literary Press. j| ItIUMtHMMtWUHMIUtUUVI 'J Absurd as it may seem, Edith Mor imer had ruu away from happiness. Realizing that Ouy Paulton was de | termined to marry her, she liad looke i J Into the commanding eyes and survey | I ed tiie determined chin and hail fled| i in a panic to the mountains after art ) fully announcing that she was i»oui>l| j for the shore. This was not because she did ut>' want to marry rauiton. To the c«a | trary, the prospect thrilled her withl tender delight, but what she did wan; j was another social season without fit-- j of any sort. She did not want to retire j to the ranks of engaged girls and wall j j flowers after only one year's triumph! | ns the belle of the season. Guy, on the contrary, seemed deter j mined to be married at once, and as a I last resort she had fled to escape hi' j proposal. From babyhood Guy ha I ha ' a masterful way, and Kdith knew tlvr j if she stopped to argue she was lost, j Her old chum, Belle Manton. who 1 was going to Beach Haven, forward, il | Edith's mail and otherwise helped to maintain the polite but obvious fiction. ) Loyally she strove ,to protect her j friend's secret, and. though I'anlton al j ternatel.v begged and threatened, h<*j could gain 110 hint of Edith's where abouts. Edith smiled at the desperate | ; letters he wrote, but she carefullj j saved theu'i in iter little rosewood trav j ellng desk, and could I'aulton have j seen the tender light in iter eyes as she ! reread them in the quiet of the mm ; mer nights he would have been con tent. The trouble was that Paulton ' cotild not see, and he was putting in : most uncomfortable summer. Oddly enough. Edith was really en joying her runaway vacation. She "ai.ls fajr" - ha<l stumbled on a quaint tillage far 1 from the haunts of fashion, lu sim i pie gowns and with her hair in braids she rejoicv«l at the freedom from dress : and social routine that had been her I | portion all winter. In her giughani . j snnbonnet she might have passed for J the daughter of a fanner, and for the . | moment Guy I'anlton took her to be , : such w lien he came upon her in the I | little woodland where fckilth s[>ent most . j of her time. Iter back was turned to I ! hlxn as he parted the bushes and tram I j pled down tiie ferns. , ! Kdith started at the sound of his . I voice, but promptly drew the all con I | eealing bonnet down in front and man - 112 aged to stammer an answer to his t j question If she had seen any soldiers , 1 about. 112 j For the first time she noticed I lull | ho was in uulforin. and she burnetii ! ately realized that the rough service . ! dress was most becoming. I'aulton . 1 was built in heroic mold, and, though j he looked well in the conventional 1 | dress of a man of fashion, the hoavt • ! blue shirt, open to display his tine throat, and tight fitting riding trouseiv emphasized the good lines of his pow ■ ! erfully muscled figure. i Edith shook her head. I j "Yon are certain that there have ! j been no soldiers about," he asked [ again, "no chaps In brown uniformV" ■ I "Haven't <een any," denied Edith la I nasal tones. "You're the first soldier I I've since the county fair. Is it > a parade'-" > "It's a of war," explained Paul- I ton. ".!• divided the militia Into 1 two annie- The browns must beat 112 j the blues in win, and of course we - | blues ure anxious to see that they don't. 1 j 1 am supposed to be scouting" t "Like real soldiers?" she asked inno -1 I ceutly. < j "Of course." «as the impatient reply ] "That is the whole Idea, to train us • S like the regulurs." • 1 Edith giggled In a very good iniita | tion of Dolly Spence, the village flirt ' ! "I didn't know that re'l soldiers, j stopped to talk to girls when there i was a war on." she suggested as she | raised her hand to the bonnet the bet . | ter to adjust its shade. . | The movement was fatal to conceal ! tneut. Paulton noticed that her hand - was unusually white for a girl who 1 worked about the farm, and the next Instant he recognized the slight tlligrep I band that circled one of the slender 1 fingers. It had been his mother's, and how often he bad suggested to Edith to wear It: I "We are like regular soldiers also becanse we are Dot above a pleasant , little flirtation," declared Paulton smil ingly. "I believe that a regular sol dier would kiss such a pretty face as , yours"' ■ , , "How do you know that it is pret ty?" demanded Edith from the securl ty of the sutibounet's shade. It hurt her to think that Guy would filrt with any girl he met, but she was deter t mined to carry the game ns far as she > dared. "I'll take the face on trust," an ; nounced Paulton calmly. "All's fair tn love and war, they say, so your face mn.f u» fair alnca this la mimic war." "Maybe it's only make believe fair, since this Is make believe war," sug gested Edith eoquettlshly. "To the contrary, this is very real war." declared Paulton. "and I nro obliged to place you under arrest." "What for?" demanded Edith, not without some alarm. "You cannot draw country folks into your games." "You are wrong," retorted Paulton. "It is the soldier's duty to take into custody those enemies of his country whose sentiments threaten the success ef a campaign." "But I am not your enemy," pro tested Edith. "F won't be tnken pris oner/' "Perhaps." assented Paulton, "but a stern duty confronts me. I must t ike you a prisoner and linle you before a court martial unless"— lie paused tnntallzingly. "Pnless?" She told herself that if he demanded a kiss as the price of her freedom she would never believe iu men again. "There is but one way out of it." continued Paulton. "Prove your loy alty (0 your country by marrying one of its protectors. There is a parson just beyond here. I passed a church not very long ago We will slip over there and get married, and then I shall be certain that you are not an enemy to the country." "And if I refuse?" asked Edith loft 1 l.v, iu her anger dropping her vocal disguise. "In that case," answered Paulton. "I am afraid that you will lie thrown into the guardhouse until you change your mind." "I shall report you to the colonel," cried Edith angrily. "lie will not tol erate such conduct." , "I am quite certain that the colonel will approve my conduct," said Guy placidly. "Coming up on tb train he told me that I ought tom y, and I assured him that, through 110 fault of mine, bachelorhood was my lot. I am fure that he will be pleased at the promptness with which I have acted upon his suggestion when 1 tiring my bride into camp." "I won't be your bride!" stormed Edith. "You are rude uud ungentle manly to take unfair advautage of it woman." "All's fair tn love aim war," remind ed Paulton. "aud this is both love and war. I am doing the loving aud you have tieen doing the wnrrintr. Do yoiv think It was fair to run away as yon did and never give me a hint of youi j address'/" ! "You know me?" gnsped Edith. I "Most assuredly," declared PaiHiim | "I was not positive until 1 saw that I you were wearing the little ring I gave | you and which you never would v car In town. Then I knew that perhups thcre was a chance. Will you imirry me, Edith " "Not now." protested Edith :i sud den pallia. "<Uiy. don't make tne mar ry you right away. You have your I scouting to do. and—£ never did like ] the minister of that little church," she j added Inconsequential'.,'. '-Or. Miron. Is much nicer." "May 1 come 1.t.-k t\hen this cruet war is over—next week?" asked Guy tenderly. "Then I'll Dr. Miron to | marry us. and we'll have- our friends up to see the prisoner of i. ;ir marry her captor, Just as they do in historical novels." "I think that I'll Just have to marry you," assented Edith. "Yon are such a persistent torment." "All's fair"— Paulton began his fa vorite quotation, but the rest was lost in the pasteboard tunnel of the tmnboo net as he claimed a kiss. GOOD BUSINESS. Th« Thrifty Young Man Found a Prof itable Investment. A millionaire, hoping to enrouragfe his young sou In ways of thrift, prom ised to give him 2 per cent u month In terest upon any money that he might save out of his allowance and deposit in the paternal treasury. The younß man was getting £0 a week for pocket money and promised to show his -*ip preciation of his father's affectionate offer. He began to make deposits, without delay and kept the practice up with remarkable regularity. The old gentleman noticed presently that the deposits exceeded the whole, of the boy's allowance, but neeouotedl for this by supposing that he hadfe saved some money previously, ltesidew this, he received money from his mother. So the fund parent rejoiced In the saving disposition that bis son was displaying. This continued until (be boy's de posits assumed such dimensions as t«> . demand an explanation. It then turned, out that most of the money he ha<fc been depositlug had been borrowed. Inasmuch as be was drawing interest on his deposits at 'i per cent jier niontfv and was paying only 10 per cent per year for them he had found the busl. ness decidedly attractive and profitable, —Pearson's Weekly. "Archie is fairly go In-; crazy over his new motor." "That's strauge. Every time I've aeen him he has liecti going crazy tin der It." sons HEW! A H.ellatole TIN SHOP r#r all kind of Tin Roofing* Spoutlncnnd Control Job Work. •tovoo, Hootoro, Ronvott Pumaooo, oto. PRICES THE LOWEST! WHIT! TUB BEST! t J?V' 1* V S 1 i JOHN HIXSON . «*,*' :* vvtw . «* •*«*. or**'*-. Wfc Uf fi. FBONT IT.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers