MAY IS, 1910.
"Are there?" repeated that gentle
man, leaning on the show case and
lighting his cigar, innocent' of inten
tional discourtesy. "Well, I should
smile—and simile broadly, too, Mrs.
Mansfield. There's a Minneapolis chap
here that's buyin' right an' left; Just
slashin' things! He's bought a lot o'
water front property, too; an' let me
tell you right now that Jim Hill's be
hind him; and Jim Hill's the biggest
railroad man in the United States to
day, an' the Great Northern's behind
him!"
■Weil, i hope so.' Mrs. Mansneld
drew a long breath of delight. Mr. Les
ter smiled, shrugged his shoulders,
spread out his hands and sauntered oul
with the air of a man who has the ear
of railroad kings.
"Are you goin' to the canoe races
tonight, Mariella?" began her mother,
in a conciliatory tone.
"I don't know. I might as well, I
guess."
The girl was wiping the shelf bottles
now; her face was pale, but her back
was to her mother.
"Well, we will have an early supper,
so you can get off. Mercy, child! Did
you break one <>' them glass labels?
How otten 'v' I told you not to press
on 'em so hard! What one is it? The
tincture cantnarldes. Well, tie a string
around it so we'll know what it is.
There ain't no label on the aconite bot
tle, nor the Jamaica ginger, either —an'
them settln' side by side, too. I hate
guessin' at things in a drug store
specially when one's a poison. Have
you scoured up them spatulas?"
"Yes'ni."
"Well, I'll go in an' do up the dishes,
an' leave you to 'tend store. Don't for
get to make Mr. Benson's pills."
But Mr. Benson's pills were not made
right away. When her mother was
gone Mariella got down from the step
ladder and leaned one elbow on the
showcase and rested her chin in her
hand. Her throat swelled in arid out
fitfully, and the blue veins showed,
large and full, on her temples. For a
long time she stood thus, twisting the
towel in her other-hand and looking at
the fires on the hill without suing them.
Some of their dry burning seemed to
get into her own eyes.
Mr. Grover, passing, glanced in.
"Mariella," he said, putting one foot
across the threshold, "are you goin' to
the canoe races?"
The girl had darted erect instantly,
and put on a look of coquettish indif
ference.
"Yes, I am." Her eyes flashed at him
over her shoulder from the corners of
their lids as she started back to the
prescription case. "I'm goln' with
Charlie Walton!"
When Mariella had gone to the races
that night, and customers were few and
far between, Mr. Grover walked with a
determined air through Mrs. Mans
field's store, and, pushing aside the
crimson canton flannel portieres, en
tered her cheerful sitting room. On the
floor was a brussels carpet, large flow
ered and vivid. A sewing machine
stood In one corner and Marietta's or
gan in another. The two narrow win
dows overlooking the sound were gay
with blooming geraniums and white
curtains tied with red ribbons. There
was a trunk deceptively stuffed and
cretonned Into the semblance of a set
tee; and there was a wicker chair that
was full of rasping, aggravating noises
when you rocked In It.
Mr. Grover sat down on the trunk.
"Mrs. Mansfield," he said, looking
squarely at her, "I've got something
to ask of you, an' I'm goin' to do It
while Mariella's away."
"That so?" said Mrs. Mansfield.
The color In her cheek deepened al
most to purple. She put one hand up
to her face, and with the other ner
vously wrinkled the corners of her
novel.
"I guess you know what I've been
comln' here so much for. I couldn't
help thlnkln', too, that you liked the
Idea an' was sort of encouragin' me."
Mrs. Mansfield threw one hand out
toward him In a gesture at once depre
cating, coquettish and helpful.
'Oh, you!" she exclaimed, laughing
and coloring more deeply.
"Well, didn't you, now?" Mr. Grover
leaned toward her.
She hesitated, fingering the leaves of
her bcok. She turned her head to one
side; the leaves swished softly as they
swept past her broad thumb; the cor
ners of her mouth curled In a tremu
lous smile; the fingers of her other
hand moved In an unconscious caress
across her warm cheek; she remem
bered afterward that the band, across
the bay on the long pier, where the
races were, was playing "Annie
Laurie," and that the odor of wild
musk, growing outside her window In
a box, was borne In, sweet and heavy,
by the sea winds. It was the one per
fect moment in Mrs. Mansfield's life—
In which there had been no moments
LOS ANGELES HERALD SUNDAY MAGAZINE
flj ijfj MB&&JL
*
SHERMAN FOSSIL BEDS
I) ROFESSOR J. Z. GILBERT, in
structor of the science depart
ment, Los Angeles high school,
declares that the fossils of the huge
mastodon and giant ground sloth, re
cently excavated from the tar sands
of Rancho la Brea, have been imbed
ded in the solid earth for at least
200,000 years. It is believed that both
these prehistoric mammals became ex
tinct before man existed on this earth.
The giant ground sloth, a huge ani
mal weighing from two to four tons,
was In some ways related to the kan
garoo of South America. The ground
sloth made Its way among the dense
forests and undergrowth, which then
covered these regions.
The mastniion is of the elephant
that even approached perfection; In
which there had been no hint of poetry
—only dullest, everyday prose.
It was well that Mrs. Mansfield pro
longed that perfect moment. When
she did lift her eves there was a kind
of appealing tenderness In them.
"I guess I did," she said.
"Well, then"—Mr. Grover drew a
breath of relicf —"you might's well say
I can have her. I want It all under
stood before she gets home. I want to
stop her running with that Walton.
Once or twice I've been afraid you'd
just as lief she's marry him as me. I
don't like to see girls gallivant with
two or three fellows."
Mrs. Mansfield sat motionless, look
ing at him. Her eyes did not falter;
the smile did not wholly vanish from
her face. Only the blood throbbed
slowly away, leaving R paler than
Mariella's had been that morning. She
understood her mistake almost before
his first sentence. While he was
speaking her thoughts were busy. She
felt the blood coming back when she
remembered what she had said to
Mariella. If only she had not spoken!
"Well," she said, calmly, "have you
said anything to Mariella?"
"Yes, I have, lots of times. An 1 I
know she likes me; but she's some
fllrtish, and that's what I want to
put a stop to. So, with your permis
sion, I'll have a talk with her to-
night."
"I'd like to talk to her first my
self." Mrs. Mansfield almost looked
stern. "But I guess it'll be all right,
Mr. Grover. If you'd Just as soon wait
till tomorrow, I'd like to be alone
and make up my mind what to say to
her."
Mr. Grover got up and shook hands
with her awkwardly.
"I'll make her a good husband," he
said, earnestly.
"I don't doubt that," replied Mrs.
Mansfield.
Then he went out and the crimson
curtain fell behind him.
When Mariella came home her
species. The presence of this animal
indicates that this country once con
sisted of jungles and swampland.
These ancient. Interesting relics of
animal life are found from eighteen to
twenty-five feet below the surface of
the earth, Imbedded in a hard sub
stance composed of sand thoroughly
saturated with crude petroleum.
Hundreds of visitors daily journey
to the ranch to view the excavations
being carried on under the auspices of
several different schools and colleges.
Frantz Lehrner, a pupil of the science
department of Los Angeles high school,
unearthed a scapula, or shoulder blade,
of the giant ground sloth. Frank
Walker ,a pupil of the same institu
tion, found three saber teeth, each
measuring eight inches long, belong
ing to an extinct saber-tooth tiger.
mother was sitting, rocking, by the
window. The lamp was lighted.
"Pills," she said, "I want you to
stop goln' with that fello'."
The girl looked at her in silence.
Then she took off her turban and
stuck the long black pins back into it.
"I thought you liked him," she said
slowly.
"I do, but Mr. trover wants you—
an' I like him better."
"Wants me!" Mariella drew up her
shoulders proudly.
"Yes, you," renlied Mrs. Mansfield,
laughing. The humor of the situation
was beginning to appeal to her. "Ho
says he'd told you. Tou must of
laughed after I told you he wanted
me."
"Oh, ma, does he want me, honest?"
"Yes, he does." She was still laugh
ing-.
"An" don't you mind, ma?"
"Not a mite," said the widow, cheer
fully. "I'd rather he'd marry you than
me; only I thought he was too nice a
man to be lost to the family."
"Oh, ma!"
"Well, get to bed now. He's comin'
in the mornin' to see you."
She took up the lamp and stood hold
ing it irresolutely.
"Pills," she said, looking embar
rassed, "you won't ever tell him that
I—that I "
Never, ma!" exclaimed the girl, earn
estly, "as long as I live."
"All right, then. Look out! You're
droppin' tallo' from your candle! Don't
hold it so crooked, child! I wouldn't
like him to laugh about it. Good
night."
As she passed through the kitchen
she called out: "Oh, Pills! Mr. Jor
dan brought in a mess of trout. We'll
have "em fried for breakfast."
The girl came running after her
mother, and threw her arms around
her.
"Oh, ma, are you sure you don't care
a bit?"
"Not a bit," said Mrs. Mansfield,
kissing her heartily. "I Just thought
he ought to be in the family. I'm glad
it's turned out this way. Now, you
go to bed, an' don't forget to roll up
your bangs."
She went into her room and shut the
door.
BARGAIN ADVICE
So far as we know, John D. Rocke
feller has never told this story. More
over, he probably never will.
An old negro woman had gone to a
lawyer to obtain assistance in collect
ing a laundry bill of $2 from a former
customer. The lawyer had told his
client what to do about the matter,
and she was preparing to depart when
she remembered that the attorney
would probably expect a fee.
"What's de damages?" she asked In
a businesslike manner.
"Well," said the lawyer, winking at
his confidential clerk, "my usual con
sultation fee is $25, but I will only
charge you $10."
"Merry 'pon us!" exclaimed the old
woman. "Dat bill am only two dol
lahs an' "
"But a lawyer must value his time
and experience and advice at some
thing, you know," the attorney broke
in.
"Ah 'specks so," the client admitted
reluctantly. Then, brightening up and
speaking with the decision of one who
is determined to make the most of a
bad bargain, she added:
"But yo' gibs tradln' stamps, doan't
yo'?"—Woman's National.
MEDICAL PROFESSION ADVANCES
Since the dawn of civilization, and
chronicled from the beginning of his
tory, man has made almost every con
ceivable endeavor to unravel the prob
lems and unveil the secrets of life, in
both its normal aspects and morbid
changes. The accumulated medical
knowledge of centuries of unremitting
observation and persistent investiga
tion has been so prodigious that in our
time it is one of the most profound of
the learned professions, and nothing
less than years of education and a life
time of devotion to its arduous de
mands fits a physician for the best
service to humanity.
To this end the profession of medi
cine has been continually raising its
standard of requirements, to both the
entrance and final examinations deter
mining the qualifications of apllcants
to college, to the degree of M. D., and
license to practice. The degree of ex
cellence attained by practitioners of
medicine, however, is not the exclusive
concern or province of the profession
per se, but of the laymen as well. The
profession is largely as good or bad as
the public demands.
FOLLOWING DIRECTIONS
"The trouble with a great many peo
ple who go to a doctor when they are
sick," said the physician, "Is that they
fail to follow his Instructions. I wish
there were more people like the orphan
girl whom the Jastros adopted. 1'
Mrs. Jastro came home one day and
looked at the box of pills which she
had instructed Annie to take during
her absence. Discovering that only
one pill was gone, Mrs. Jastro asked:
"Annie, why haven't you been tak
ing your medicine?
"Please, an' it was because I
couldn't be after followln' th' direck
shuns,' Annie explained.
"What are the directions?" Mrs.
Jastro inquired.
" 'It says to take one pill ev'ry thray
'ours,' Annie explained, 'an' after I
took the first one It wouldn't come
back, so I fought I'd wait'll you got
back 'fore I took chanstes with an
other.
FABLE OF THE MICE
The town mouse and the Country
mouse, engaged in a friendly rivalry
to see which could best entertain the
other.
The town mouse led off. He Intro
duced the country mousce to a great
many people of the right sort, who
graciously lapped up all the cham
pagne he cared to buy—ln short, ex
hausted the resources of urban hos
pitality.
"Pretty good!" the country mouse
admitted. "But say, you come out to
my place in your car, and run as fast
as you like. I'm Justice of the peace."
Thereupon the town mouse had to
acknowledge that the rustic life held
the greater possibilities.—Puck.
"I want to get something to blacken
a hat." Do you keep anything of that
sort?"
"Oh, yes, madam; what color did
you want?"— Newark Star.
9