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The day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, November 24, 1914, LAST EDITION, Image 19

Image and text provided by University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL

Persistent link: http://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn83045487/1914-11-24/ed-1/seq-19/

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"Well, I won't," snapped the girl.
"They have been prominent in the
social life of the metropolis for sev
eral years. It is said that Kandall,
pere, is not defunct, but separated
from his wife a week after their mar
riage, for reason which are not made
public. Miss Juanita Randall and
Randall pere are therefore blissfully
unaware of each other's existence.'
Need I go on?" continued the wicked
est old man in town.
"How much do you want to keep
that out of your paper?" demanded
Miss Juanita. f
"Tush, my child!" answered the
wickedest man in town. "You admit
its truth, then?"
"How much?" repeated the girl in
flexibly. "I have some other interests be
sides editing my paper," pursued the
wickedest old man in town thought
fully. "I have a good deal of mining
stock."
"How many shares do you want
me to buy?" inquired the girl.
"But it is not for sale. However,
if you are really thinking of buying
mining stock I can put you in touch
with a good friend" of mine who has
some for sale, I believe. I will ask
him to call on you tonight However,
Miss Juanita, it would be better for
us 'to be entirely frank with each
other. Since I gather that you are
averse to having that item inserted
it shall not be inserted. I always try
to please my friends. But now, tell
me where do you come from?"
"What's that to you?" snapped the
girl, rising up. "What do you want
to know for?"
"To complete my "reference cata
logue," answerd the wickedest old
man in town, rising also and indicat
ing the boxes against the wall. "I
have some information here which
would amaze you, Miss Randall. I in
tend to leave this as a curiosity to
the museum after I die. But don't
be alarmed, it is going to be sealed
for a hundred years. Now where
do you come from?"
"I won't tell you."
"Your mother's maiden name,
then," urged the wickedest old man
in town.
"What are you going to do with
that information?"
"Keep it, my dear, for a hundred
years longer than I live. Come, be as
frank with me as you would be with
your lawyer. Who are your people? "
"My mother was a Miss Rogers of
Austin," answered the girl.
The wickedest old man in town
bowed and walking to the catalogue,
took out the Randall card. He
showed it to the girl and then tore
it into tiny pieces, which he let flut
ter through his fingers into the waste
paper basket.
"Good day, Miss Randall," said the
wickedest old man in town. "My
friend will not call on you with that
mining stock."
"But but," stammered the girl,
"the article "
"Will never be published," an
swered the other, taking up the proof
and tearing it likewise into small
pieces. "Good day once more."
"But why did you send for me?"
the girl demanded uneasily.
"To verify my suspicions," an
swered the wickedest old man in
town. "You need have no further
fears. Good day."
When at last the girl was gone the
wickedest old men in town sat down
at his desk and fell into an abstrac
tion. "I wonder what Molly Randall
would say if she knew who her hus
band is?" lie ejaculated. "Gad, that
girl is a hummer! It almost makes
one respectable to be able to claim a
daughter like that."
(Copyright by W. G. Chapman.)
o o
BLOTS ON CIVILIZATION
Monocles.
Aeroplane battles.
Ripe olives.
Tortoise shell glasses.
Boston Glo1ie.
greiMrittrai'

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