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title: 'The Day book. (Chicago, Ill.) 1911-1917, September 16, 1915, LAST EDITION, Image 20',
meta: 'News about Chronicling America - RSS Feed',
Image provided by: University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign Library, Urbana, IL
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loved you. Will you be my wife,
i She looked at him earnestly. "I
love you," she said. "But the shadow
of your boy's death must ever lie be
tween us. I cannot marry you."
"If I should show you"that this lies
at nobody's door but mine?" he
1 "You cannot If it had not been
for us Frank would have lived."
The doctor placed his hands upon
her arms and held her firmly.
"Listen, Louise," he said. "Frank
was that boy adopted by my wife
and me to shield the dead woman
from discovery and to enable her to
meet him. I never had a child."
THE BOY FATHER USED TO BE
Things must have changed a lot
since dad was just a barefoot farmer
lad, with all his many useful ways.
At least, when dad tells George and
me what kind of boy he used to be,
it's not like boys are now-a-days.
Why, he would rather work than
play! He'd be up ere the break of
day and work as long as he could
see; and then, perforce by lantern
light, he'd finish up his chores at
night the boy that father used to be.
He'd milk the cows, both night and
morn, and give the horses hay and
corn, and feed the pigs and herd the
geese; he'd carry wood and hunt the
eggs, and mend the table's wobbly
legs, and darn his socks and peddle
cheese. A million things my dad
could do when he was young and ro
bust, too! He sure was full of pep
and vim! He'd always help his maw
and paw, and never break their home
spun law and none could beat the
likes of him.
Oh, dad was all a boy could be, if
what he tells to George and me but
gosh! I wouldn't doubt it now. Time
does change a lot, 'tis true, and man
kind seems prone to pursue the easy
kind of life, somehow. I know dad
had no little Ford, nor swell clothes
like the modern sport; nor phones of
any kind at all; also, there were no
movies then to take the girlies to like
when now the shades of evening fall.
And father's old and tired out. He's
had his trials and fun, no doubt, and
when I-am as old as he I guessrt'll be
like other dads and tell my strictly
modern lads the boy that father used
to be. Bill Acker.
BOOTS HIGH; SO ARE SKIRTS
By Betty Brown
As skirts grow shorter boots nat
urally grow higher. They're up to
the knees now, but they've lost the
bulky folds of the Russian boots and
the clumsiness of the riding boot and
they fit snugly about the angle and
lace right up to the knee.
The new laced boots are invaria
bly colored, but in subdued browns
or greens or very dark blues, with
trimmings and laces in some con
"I take this woman to be my law
fully wedded wife" until I' meet my.