a rn fo lil snl of abl kill bafy nig ial That Haunting Thing A COMPLETE NOVELETTE BY ACHMED ABDULLAH Diana Manning was the very last woman to which such a thing should have happened. For there was noth- ing about her in the least psychic or spiritual. She was matter with a eapital M, and sex with a capital 8; §, rather, <ince hers was sex without the ex: cuse of passion—sex dealing entirely and shamelessly with bank accounts, high power racing cars, diamonds, and vintage champagnes. She was lovely, and she drove the hearts and the purses of men as a breath drives a thin sheet of flame. Only her finger nails gave the mark of the east side tenement (she was a nee Maggie Smith) where she had been born and bred; for they were too wel kept, too highly polished, manicured. But men too perfectly They seldom looked 1d not notice it. varther than her hair which was likke a sculptured reddish-bronze helmet, her low, smooth, ivory forehead, her short, delicately curved nose, her lips which were crimson like a fresh sword wound, her eyes which spoke of wondrous promises—and died dam- nably. Her life had been melodramatic— the angle, be it under- and from her cwn since, sublimely was beyond the moralizing sense of bad and, of course, good. There had been death in the trail of her shimmering gowns, man’s not evil, from stood, she suicide, ruin, the slime of divorce courts, disgrace to more than one But she had never cared a whit, She was always petting her own hard thoughts, puncturing the lives of strang —who never remained strangers for long—with the daggel point of her personality, her greed, her evil: and men kept on fluttering around the red, burning candle which life, like silly willow flies. deaths, requiems bought and all that sort of was her Then and thing. Quite melodramatic. garishly so. But—what will you? It isn’t always the woman who pays, stage and pulpit to the contrary. And —if she does pay—it’s usually the man who endorses the note. When she reached her home on the upper west side that Saturday night, she felt the Thing the moment she stepped across the threshold. She felt it shrouded, ambiguous, vague. But it was there. Very small at first. Hid- in the huge, square and peering in upon more paid for, Incredibly, den somewhere entrance hall her mind. She wondered what it was, and what it might be doing there. So she called to her maid: She did not call to reassure herself. For the woman was not afraid. That was it exactly; she was not afraid from first to last. If she had been, she would have switched on the light. But she did not. She left the flat in darkness. Deliberately. And that, ain, was stronger since hitherto she ag had always hated darkness and half- light and graying shadow; bad always wanted and gloried in full, orange bursts of color—big, clustering, cruel lights. She had just that sort of complexion—pallid, you know, smooth, with the color rising evenly, dawn-hued and tender, and rever in patches and blurry streaks. “Annette! Annette!” she called again, a mere matter of habit; for che relied on her respectable, middle- aged Burgundian maid for everything end everything that troubled her, from wrestling with a cynical, in- quisitive reporter to putting the cor- rect quantity of ammonia in her bromo seltzers. seeping, massive, “Yes, Madame,” came the maid's sleepy voice. “Has anybody called?” “No, madame.” “But”—She looked into the corner of the entrance hall. The Thing seemed to be crouching among the reacock-green cushions of the otto- rman there. “But, Annette”’—she . commenced again. She did not complete the sentence. The Thing was there. And what did it matter how it had got in?” “I am coming, madame,” said the maid. “Never mind. Go to sleep. I'll un- cress myself. Good night, Annette!” “Good night, madame!” Diana Manning shrugged her shoul- ders, walked across the entrance hall, and put her hand on the door-knob of Lier boudoir. She said to herself that she would open the door quickly. For she sensed, rather, she knew, that the "Thing intended to follow her. It radi- ated energy and vigor and determina- tion. A certain kindly determination that, just for a fleeting moment, touched in her sense of awe. But the moment she opened the door, the moment her lithe body slid from the darkness of the entrance hall into the creamy, silky, perfumed darkness of her boudoir, she knew that the Thing flitted in by her side She felt it blow over her neck, her face, her breast, like a gust of wind. It even touched her. It touched her non-physically. That is the only way to put it. Nor was she afraid then. On the contrary, she felt rather sorry for the Thing. And that touched in her once more the sense of awe—natura¥g] since to feel sorry was to her a new sensation, since never before in all her life had she felt sorry for any- thing or anybody. The result was she 3 | began to hate the Thing—with cold, calculating hatred, hatred without fear. She locked the windows and doors. Quite instinctively her hand brushed the tiny nacre button which controlled | the Venetian chandelier. But she did not press it. She left the boudoir in For she wag familiar with furniture about the darkness. every stick of place. of the great, carved, crimson-and-gold Spanish renaissance day bed between | | “Madame! Madame! Did you call me?” It was the maid's voice coming from the hall. “No—no! Go to bed, Annette! Go to bed—do you hear me?” as the maid rattled the door-knob. “I don’t want to be disturbed—" “I beg your pardon, madame,” An- discretely. “I didn’t nette coughed She knew the exact location | know that anybody—thought you had come home alone—I—" “Go to bed! At once’ Diana the window and the fire-place, the big | shrieked: then, the maid's footsteps buhl table in the center of the room tre smaller one, covered with a mass of bricabrae, between the two win- dows, the low divan running along the south wall and overlapping toward the fireplace, the three chairs at odd thes four little tabouretts, and, in the northeast corner the Chinese screen, inlaid with ivory and lace and jade, behind which she kept a small liquor chest. She knew the room, every inch of it, and could move about it, in spite of the darkness, like a cat. The Thing, on the other hand, what- ever it was, would find many pitfalls in the cluttered-up boudoir if it tried to get rambunctious. These latter were the exact words with which Diana Manning expressed thought to herself; in this very rmoment of awe and hatred. Remem- born and bred on the Of course, since those days angles, the ber—she East Side. sooty, was sticky, grimy tenement had slur slang of chrysalis, she learned to broad her r’'s and to the 'n her a’s and gutters for race But, that the Thing would change the that of she knew the tracks. some- how, be more familiar with her earlier die- tion. She lay down on the darkness. She decided carefully, to pounce upon and to throttle it. Thing had taken of deliberate, sonal intention of an agressive hos- tility—something which felt and hated, suffered, yet which had no bodily reality. The realization of couch, staring into the had to watch the Thing suddenly the For, somehow, on the suggestion per- even it froze Diana into rigidity—not the rigidity of fear, but something far worse than fear, partaking of Fate— of—she didn’t know what, She only knew that she must watch—then pounce and kill. “I must have matters out with it, “One of us two is mas- ter in this room; it of I. And I can’t afford to wait all night. At half past eleven young Bunny Whipple is ”» she thought. ” calling for me—— Again at the thought of “Bunny” Whipple, she felt that strange, hate- ful sensation of blended with pity. The Thing was responsible for it—the Thing. How she hated it! She clenched her new awe, fists until the knuckles stretched white. What had the Thing to do with Bunny’ Whipple's little blue- oved, golden-haired wife—the bride who Diana cut off the thought in mid- air and tossed it aside as if it were a soiled glove. She watched more carefully than ever, her breath com- ing in short staccato bursts, her body tense and stationed, her mind rigid. She tried to close her mind; she did not want the Thing to peep in upon it. For right then she knew—she did not feel nor guess—she knew that the Thing had the trick of expanding ard decreasing at will. It made her angry. She did not con- sider it fair. For it gave to the Thing the ad- vantage of suddenly shrinking to the size of a pin point and hiding in a knot of the Tabriz rug which cov- ered the floor and, immediately after- wards, of bloating into moustrous size, like a balloon, and floating toward the stuccoed ceiling like an iimmense soap bubble—hanging there —1looking down with that hateful, rather friendly determination Whipple's wife—" she thought again. “I saw her day and the silly little fool nized me. She would have spoken to mie had I given her the chance. Spo- hen to me as she wrote me—asking me to give her back her husband's love—Ilove strange, ‘“ ‘Bunny’ yester- recog- Her mind formed the word, ca- ressed it as it were something fu- tile and soft and naive and laugh- able, like a ball of cotton or a tiny kitten— The next moment, she whipped it aside with her hard will. She sat up straight. For at the forming of the word, the Thing which a second earlier had been a pin-point sitting on the gilded edge of a Sevres vase, bloated and stretched gigantically, leaped up with an immense rushing of wings, appeared to float, leaped again toward the ceiling ag if try- ing to jerk it away from the cross beams. Then just as suddenly, it dropped on the floor. It lay there, roaring with laughter. She felt it. She knew t. pte Too, she knew exactly where it was; between the large buhl table and the divan. She’d get it and choke it while it lay there helpless with merriment, She jumped from her couch, her fingers spread like a cat's claws. “I'll get you—you—you Thing!” she said the words out loud. “I'll get you! I'll get you!” Her voice rose in a shrill, tearing shriek—step by step, she approached the divan. “I'll get you—get you—get you—" pattering away, fell on the couch, pant- ing. She was in a towering rage. She felt sure that if it had not been for the maid she could have pounced upon the Thing while it lay there on the floor, roaring with laughter. Now the laughter had died out and the Thing bad got away. It had shrunk into a tiny butterfly—that’s how Diana felt it which was beating its wings against the brass rod of the portiers. But it was fluttering rather helplessly, blind- ly, as it had lost some of its energy and vigor: and again Diana felt sorry and correspondingly her hatred grew. And her determination. ‘I'll get you—you—" waited until her breath more evenly, rose, walked noiselessly to the portieres and rustled them. The Thing startled. Diana could feel the tiny wings flutter and beat. hear terrible bloat huge and, not succeeding, to a pin-point. making it She came was She could its straining effort to into a coab-bubble shrink into omething im- and Diana knew what it was, that, in one of the hidden back her brain, the thought of Bunny Whipple's silly littte fool of a golden-haired wife had taken But s was rossible, T It was the fact cells of firm root, refused to budge. Diana kept thoneht, nursed it. It seemed like a bait, and So the She she thrust it forward. She spoke out loud, her face raised up to the portieres: ‘Silly little fool of a golden-haired bride” and she added, out of subcons- scious volition: “Silly Bunny!” ; She had spoken the last words ca ressingly, as a naughty boy speaks to a cat before he catches her and tweaks her tail, and the Thing was about to fall into the trap. For a second it hovered on the brass rod, scomed to wait, expectant, undecided Then it came down a few fluttered within reach of Diana's out- stretched hand. But when she closed her hand sud- inches. It denly viciously, it winged away rain, breathless, frightened, but un harmed. It flew into the center of the room. It made a renewed terri- ble effort And this time it succeeded partly. to bloat into a baloon. She did not feel exactly what shape it had assumed, flabby, all over with soft lumps which were very covered Leastly. She followed more determined than ever, and the Thing tried to leap into the It had nearly succeeded when Diana air. with quick presence of mind, thought again of Bunny Whipple and Bunny Whipple's silly, golden-haired wife. me to give her back Bunny's love—his love! God! the silly little fool think that Bunny loves me? Does she call that—lLove?" This time it was Diana who burst into a roar of laughter, and the Thing stood still and listened, its head cocked to one side, stupid, ridiculous, and when Diana neared it, when it tried to fly, to hover, to swing in mid air, all it succeeded in doing was to move swiftly about the room, just an inch or two away from the woman's groping fingers, Diana laughed again, for she knew that the thing had lost its faculty of flying, that it would not be able to escape her for long with the chances 111 in her favor. For the boudoir was ered-up with furniture knew the location of every piece, while the Thing would lose itself, stumble, fall, and then— “Wait! You just wait!” she whis- pered; and the Thing backing away from the center of the room toward the screen, she folk lowed step by step, her fingers grop- ing, clawing, the lust of the hunter in her eyes, in her heart. “I'll throttle you—" Then she reconsidered. To throttle so as to kill, she would have to meas- ure her own strength exactly against the Thing’s strength of resistence, And that would be hard. For the Thing was non-physical. It had no body. But it was sure to have a heart. She would stab that heart. So she picked from the buhl table the jew- eled Circassian dagger which she had admired the day before in a little shop on Lexington avenue, and which Bunny had given to her—with some very foolish remark, quite typical of him—she remembered. “I wish to God you'd kill yourself with it! Get out ot my life—leave me in peace—me and Lottie—" Lottie was the silly, golden-haired wife. But when, dagger in hand, Diana took up the chase again, she was dis- anpointed with the room as she her- self. It avoided sliding rugs, sharp cornered buh! tables, taborets and chairs placed at odd angles. It never as much as grazed a single one of the many brittle bits of bric-a-brac. Once it chuckled as if faintly “She asks Does foolish; cluat and she carved Chinese cmused at something. But Diana did not give up heart. She had made up her mind, and she was a hard woman—her soul a blend- ing of diamond and fire-kissed steel. “I'll get you!” and she thought of and a new better way. She would corner the Thing. Again she advanced, slowly, cau- tiousky, step by step, driving the Thing before her across the width of the room always keeping uppermost in her mind the thought of Bunny Whipple and his silly fool of a golden- haired wife—the thought which paralyzing the Thing’s faculty of bloating and shrinking and flying. The end came very suddenly. was Watching her chance, she had the Thing cornered, straight up against the inlaid Chinese screen. It tried to shrink—to bloat—to fly—to. get away. But Diana had timed her action to the click*of a second. She brought the dagger down—with all her strength—and the Thing crumpled, it gave, it was not. There pain, a crimson smear, and a very soft voice was just a sharp from a far, starry, velvety distance. “You have killed “Killed—whom? me, Diana!” Who are you?” “The evil in your soul, Diana! The evil—" then something which had been congealed seemed to turn fluid and alive and golden; something rose into a state that was too calm to be ectacy. The next morning, Bunny Whipple's silly, blue-eyed, was sitting across wife husband golden-haired from her at breakfast. He haky. ard and pity in and ha looked at was white She him, her eyes. “Have you seen the morning paper, ferior animal. largely of A desirable udder, one composed secretive tissue, should be * nellow to the feel, covered with a soft, pliable skin and fine hair. On the otiner hand, an udder that feels firm and coarse, and which does not de- crease noticeably in size when the milk is drawn, is undesirable, and is characteristic of The importance of udder texture can: Bunny?" she asked. “No! Don’t want to. More scandal about me, I guess—" he bit the wor off savagely. “Only—that—that faltered. “Diana Manni about her?” “She she All right! What found dead last night She had stabbed he heart was of Circassian by her maid. the The papers say through with a that a smile dagger. was on her face—a happy, sweet smile as if—' read the reporter's lyric outburst out loud: “As if death had brought her happi- ness and salvation and a deep, calm, She picked up the Star and glorious fulfilment.” Junny Whipple did not reply. He atared into his coffee cup. Very suddenly he looked up. His wife had risen and walked around the table toward him. She put her slim, white hands on his shoulders. There were tears in her eyes—tears and a trembling question. He drew her to him, and kissed her. Maybe a Water Heater Would Pay You That fountain and heater is the most convenient combination water and profitable hog equipment 1 ever bought.” The speaker was J. IL. Kra ning, one of the good hog raisers in Miami County, Indiana. “You re- member that cold day we had in Januv- ary two ago? Those two oil lamps kept the water so that only a thin coat of ice formed around Most of the time one lamp years warm the edges. is all that is needed to keep the water warm enough for the pigs to drink comfortably.” Mr. Kraning used to water his pigs trough during the cold winter “An hour after I'd chopped the in a days. ice out of the trough and put fresh water from the well in, it would be frozen up, most likely,” he went on. “If any of the pigs did not drink soon after I'd put in the fresh water, they usually had to wait another twelve + housr before they could get a drink. That’s bad business for a growing pig. Ie help dis needs plenty of warm water to his feed and keep his di flushed gestive system out properly. With this water heater my pigs can gel a drink any time they want it—a drink that does not chill them ana make them hump up their backs like my pigs did when they had to drink ice-cold water from a trough.” The heater and fountain that Mr. Kraning uses is a combination affair There are two oil lamps to warm the water. Kerosene is used for fuel. The heater is mounted on iron skids and can be hauled around easily with a horse. It is likely that your local hardware dealer sells such heaters.—James R. Wiley, in Farm and Fireside. How Udder’ Type Affects Production Why the importance of the udder? If you know dairy cattle, you know that upon the size, shape, and general characteristics of this organ and its accessories depend pretty largely the producing capacity of a cow. Size is essential, yet often mislead- ing. The dairyman must keep in mind that a large udder may be due to either an extensive growth of secretive tis- sue or of connective material. In the latter case the abundance of connec- tive tissue often misleads the inex perienced buyer into purchasing what he supposes, on account of the large display of udder, to be a high pro- ducer, but which may be a really in- as it cow of a high-producing the “boarder” cow. not be over-emphasized, yet, strange may the meaty-uddered often the show ring. that the udder animal is liable connective desirable seem, wins in T'his is due to the fact sufficient maintain it in a contain tissue to not to shape under the heavy weight of milk secreted. Length and width is to be preferred Aside from the possibility of a deep udder break- the sur- rather than great depth. strain, is too little the blood the secured. ing down under heavy abjection that it offers the from face for operation of vessels which materials for manufacture of milk While not high production, are always an indication of the prominent veins cannot case in which be associated with abundant milk secretion are few. After the udder the milk veins pass forward along the stomach and disappear in the milk wells. The deeper the milk wells, and the longer and more tortuous the milk veins, the covering better indication that the cow is a good producer. The teats should be reasonably large, three or four inches being pre- Abnormally apt to be as- udder—that is, ferred by most dairymen. large teats, however, are sociated with “cut-up” one the floor of which is irregular and cut up between the teats. Any suci irregularity or lack of fullness means less room for secretive tissue, and hence objectionable. While most authorities prefer that the floor of the udder be flat, it is nevertheless a fact that an udder ¢loping upward in the fore part, such the illustration, usually be secretive as the one shown in or more usually so, may expected to contain more that a The desirable tioned thus may easily only after a cow freshens. tissue flat-bottomed one, characteristics men- far be determined In case the animal is dry, a reliable indication of a good-sized udder, in so concerned, is good of the hip A line drop- will meet the far as length is length between the point bone and the pin bone. ped from the pin bone The of the thighs, too, is a rear attacnment. conformation reliable guide to the breadth an udder may be ex- pected to develop. The thigh should be concave, thus allowing plenty of FIRE fo {| }f PROOF Fr FT 9x14 Portable~Sectional-Durable Bartlett Garages, Inc., 3 N. 21st, Phila. $135% a ! i | Don’t Sell Your Old Tires Send Them To Us By Parcels "Post. 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Haverfo a+ cle Co. oe The House of Real Bargains 503 Market St., Philadelphia room for development, A beefy thigh riles long and as high as twelve per It is a |cent grade.” Another haul was from Camirillo: “When Camirillo to Los Angeles by rail, it breeder of cattle must be familiar, for was necessary to handle bags at least | three times in getting them to the con- the value of dairy animals.—By H. R.|signees’ warehouse, and four times if the warehouse was not on the railroad. This . X . , Camirillo was but fifty miles Doubling the Capacity The truck goes into the field and pulls | out with a load of ten to twelve tons should be guarded against. sure sign of poor udder conformation. Size, shape and texture of .the cow’s | udder are three things with which a | | | upon them, to a great extent, depends Schultz, of Iowa. loads the Leonhardt Truck Company, of Los Angeles, Cal, placed a 3 1-2-ton truck and a four-wheel trailer in oper- eight months ago under | these conditions. 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Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers