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Newspaper Page Text
when they found Mr. Sanders that
night in the dining car he was dead.
Even Kitty did not seem to .realize
that he and were dining together.
Kitty wrote how-much Herbert miss
ed Mr. Sanders and what a good man
"He had no relatives to mourfcr
him," wrote Kitty. "The girl he in
tended to marry died years ago, but
he always .clung to her memory. I
do not think he has ever cared in the
least for a woman since."
How little we really know about
Here is Mr. Sanders, who, when he
knew he was dying, told me that he
loved me, and that after only a very
slight acquaintance! No one in all the
world but myself knows this. Shall
I tell Dick about it? I do not know.
I did not do anything that was in the
least provocative of the declaration
and yet I am almost sure Mr. Sanders
knew I was going to4take that train
and came down the road to meet me.
If I should tell Dick would he un
derstand? It was all so innocent and
it has come to such a tragic end!
I wonder if the end of such episodes
hvllfe is ever otherwise than tragic?
Perhaps it is best to bury the experi
ence and even try not to remember
the man, and yet it seems dreadful
that he should have to die for a sud
A letter from Miene tells me she
will come to me if I need her, but I
know she should not come back to
the city yet with the babies.
There are notes of sympathy galore
from every one, including Bill Ten
ney, which surprised me, as I thought
that I had made him so angry the last
time I talked with him that he would
probably never speak to me again.
After reading the letters I sup
posed I sighed, for Mollie came run
ning to my bed with: "What's the
matter, Margie? Are you in pain?"
"No, dear, but I guess I was just
thinking of what solitary people we
"I guess I was just lonesome for
some touch of understanding that I
shall never have."
"Hasn't Dick been good to you?"
began Mollie belligerently.
"As good as gold, little sister, but
it just came over me, while reading
these papers, in which my friends
have tried their best to tell me that
they sympathize with me, how blind
we all are to the real soul of each
"We can't show ourselves, dear, as
we really are to anyone. We can
catch a glimpse of our real selves only
once in a while, and I can tell you,
dear, the view is not always reassur
ing. "A great sculptor has put this into
a marble poem that has been an un
dying memory ever since I saw it.
About a great tree is circled a group
of men and women, one touching the
other, but each looking out beyond
for something his blind eyes never
sees, while the person who is close
beside us is as far away as though
eternity stretched between. It typifies
our lives, Mollie. Even the one you
love best can never know you as you
really are, however much you try to
show yourself to him."
"Isn't it because we don't know
ourselves, Margie? Sometimes it
seems to me I know myself least of
That Mollie girl is a thinker and,
being a thinker, she will not be a
(To Be Continued Monday.)
(Copyright, 1914, by the Newspaper
Remove peel from ten bananas,
scrape off all coarse threads, melt two
tablespoons of ttutter in agate pan.
Roll bananas in little sugar and place
in butter in the pan. Sprinkle over
top one-half cup of sugar and the
juice of half a lemon. Chop lemon
peel very fine. .Add one scant tea
spoon and bake slowly until bananas .
are pink and tender. Baste occasionally.