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FOR THE FAIR SEX THE GIRL WHO BOARDS SHE TELLS HER TROUBLES IN A LETTER When the Man of the House Takes Hold the Boarders Don't Have Enough to Eat—Suggestion for a Home for Working Girls Marie, what is going to become of the working girl who is forced to take her meals in the average St. Paul boarding house? It is getting to be a mighty serious matter, as only those who have tried it can testify, and the act of eating becomes a disagreeable task, instead of a pleasure. When a mans finances run a little low he and his wife have a heart to heart talk and decide to keep a board ing house. They advertise —good home cooking! home made bread! They know the bait that will catch the tired and hungry working girl •who wants a wholesome meal. The first week the girl feels as though she had at last found what she has been spending weary months looking for. Before the week is up the nura- . ber of boarders has doubled. The woman of the house begins to realize that she ftas a bigger proposition be fore her than she anticipated- The man of the house concludes that he should manage the financial part of the enterprise, that there is money in it, with proper management such as he would be able to contribute, so he gives up his position and takes things in hand, explaining to his wife that he feels she need? his assistance, that the work is too heavy for her alone. Now they begin to plan on not how good but how cheap they can buy, not how much but how little, and the first thing you know the boarders are supporting the family (which is usu ally large) on the fat of the land, while hash and such like is their por tion. The boarders hang on week after week." trusting that their first cherished hopes might again be real ized, but not so. and they seelt other fields only to find similar conditions existing. Now, Marie, what we want is to interest some enterprising man with a charitable heart in the building of a home for girls (not a cheap one. either) to be run on a co-operative plan, and self-supporting: the object of the home being not for poor girls—for the Women's Friendly association covers that nicely—but a home for girls who are able to pay for what they cannot get, the protection of a home, and home comforts and accommodations. This is carried out in many large cities successfully. —A Working Girl. Your letter is very interesting and concerns something I had not thought of before, except that one's heart goes out to the many girls who are obliged to board. The suggestion you make nbout a home for girls is a good one, if the right person could be found to manage it and if the city is large enough for that sort of thing. What you mean, I fancy, is a sort of apart ment house or hotel Cor women such as has been established in New York. I suppose you know that it Is a diffi cult matter lo lmtke money out of a hoarding house and at the same time give the boarders a very good table. So. at least. I have been informed. It is, of course, easy to see that when the man of the house gets into the busi ness, that the boarders are not likely to have as good a time as before. He usually sweeps the porch; bows the people in and out of the dining room and collects the bills very promptly. He also keeps tab on the affairs of th"se in the house. Boarding houses should always be kept by widows. Now, if some St. Paul man with large means looking for an . investment, should happen to read your letter he may make use of your suggestion and do something for you. -'' * Bis- \v*^; #*^K9 V|iA cv \ **'\ * v Vi^ i Miss Nellie Holmes, treasurer* of the Young Woman's Temper ance Association of Buffalo, N.Y., strongly advises all suffering women to rely, as she did, up on Lydia E. Pinkham's Vege table Compound. " Dear Mm. Pixkham : — Your med icine is indeed an ideal woman's medi cine, and by far the best I know to restore lost health and strength. I suffered misery for several years, being troubled with menorrhagia. "My back ached, I had bearing-down pains and frequent headaches. I would often •wake from restful sleep, and in such pain that I suffered for hours before I Could go to sleep again. I dreaded the long nights as much as the weary days. I consulted two different physicians, hoping to get relief, but. finding that their medicine did not seem to cure me. I tried your Vegetable Compound on the recommendation.. of •* a ; friend from the East who was visiting me. "lam glad that. I " followed her ad vice, for every ache and pain is gone, and not only this, but my general health is much improved. "I have a line appetite and' have gained* in flesh. My earnest advice^ to suffering women is to put aside all.'other medicines and to take Lydia E. Pinkham's Vege~ table Compound." — Mips i Neixie^ Holmes, 540 No. Division-St.. Buffalo, N. — $5000 forfeit if original ofabQi'i Utter pro £.•"3 genuine,-: ca/.i.ot be frounced. •; , FASHIONS FROM VOGUE Prepared Specially for THE CLOSE " ''' '" m With the revival of the charming Marie Antoinette effects has come the use of real laces, and treasured bits, however small, are being brought out to be applied as the necessary trim mings. It is needless to say that point lace and filmy Valenciennes are the favorites, for a glance at the ball room where the debutantes are gathered proves the fact, and also that the soft, faint colors and exquisite color com binations of that period have returned to grace this with their dainty beauty. The gown illustrated today is in that indescribable shade of yellow, neither lemon nor straw color, having a little pinkish tone that suggests the palest tea rose, and is in silk mull, mounted over a still paler two-toned taffeta, which, being shot with white, has a sil very gleam, and is veiled with chiffon. Cluster rhinestone buttons hold the straps across the front pane!, and these are frilled with rare old Valenciennes, matching the wider lace on the edge of fichu and the full flounces that finish the elbow sleeves. The skirt is in seven gores, the front panel plain, those at (Mainly About People The Knickerbocker Dramatic club, headed by Mr. Roswell F. Fisher. Miss Gwendoline Trevalyn and Mr. Freder ick R. Pattison, will present "At the "Pine Tree' Inn," "The Jewel Mys teries" and "The Secret of the Mask," this evening at the residence of Mrs. C. W. Fisher, of 6 Irvine park. The cast will also include Mr. Armin Sohlichting. Arthur T. Prest and Louise Compton. Mrs. Frank Schlick, of Dayton ave nue, is going to Mackinac for the re mainder of the summer. Mrs. George M. Space and daughter Margery, of Fairmount avenue, have gone to Chicago. Mrs. Jones, of Chicago, is visiting Dr. and Mrs. Little at Dellwood. Mrs. Philip Reilly and the Misses Reilly, of Dayton avenue, have gone to Prior lake. Mr. W. E. Dolan, of Western avenue, has gone to New York. Mrs. li. L. C. Brooks, of Western avenue, leaves tonight for the East. Mr. and Mrs. J. H. Lewis, of Mar shall avenue, are at Atlantic City. Mr. Clarence Halbert has gone to Montana, The Woman's Homo and Foreign Missionary Society of the First Ger man M. E. Church will have a picric at Bald Eagle on Thursday. Miss Julia Shaughuessy gave a clin ner Sunday evening in honor oi' Mr. and Mrs. Thomas J. Scanian. • Mrs. J. J. Hill will entertain Thurs day evening in honor of Cardinal Salolii. Y. W. C. A. Education SILVER BAY, N. V.. July 11.— Mrs. Emma Hayes, of Chicago* today presented to the conference of Young- Women's Christian associations the educational department report show ing that in the ninety-three associa tions affiliated with the American committee there are 306 Bible classes with 5,147 enrolled, 434 physical cul ture classes with 8,678 -enrolled, 67C general educational classes with 7.877 enrolled, 227 domestic science, classes with 2,194 enrolled and 225 domestic art classes with 3,074 enroled. Paynes Go to Mains WASHINGTON, D. C, July 11.— Postmaster General and Mrs. Payne and their niece, Miss Jones. left hero today for New York, where thc-y will spend two days, and then go to Port land and Poland Springs. Me-. They -will be away about two weeks. PEOPLE AND THINGS Economic equality between the sexes, at least as It exists in France, does no: seem to be the gay and glorious privi lege v.-hich women suffragists and othe aspiring souls in this country picture it. In France women toil in the fields sweep the city streets and draw carts hitched up yith j O gs. Flora McDon ald Thompson, who comments on this slate of affairs in the July Harper's Bazar, says that tc an eaemioujs exteni THE ST. PAUL GLOBE. JIJESDAY, JULY 12. 1904 sides and back are almost in straight breadths, with fullness gathered at waist line, falling in soft, graceful folds, the dress training slightly. The bodice has the material shirred -to drape in crosswise lines, and under the_ bolero the ends of fichu are drawn: from knot at front loosely to. center back, where a large strasse bHickfe holds a similar knot, from which erfds. hang to hem, and are trimmed wftfit rows of the narrower lace. The bolero is full gathered into a narrow border insertion and a button trims in each lower front corner. Black velvet rib bon ties at elbow, the bow drawn through a small strasse buckle. With such a frock one Involuntarily looks &tt the powdered hair and coquettish paten, indeed, it is prophesied that these are soon to be adopted. The lift of the skirt reveals a fas cinating slipper in satin to match, trimmed with a fluffy tulle rosette and a rhinestone buckle. The stockings are of fine silk in the same shade and. have lace instep insertions and com plete this daintiest of toilettes. women engage in mercantile pursuits in France, to the exclusion of any gen uine home life, home being at best a room or two, stone paved, dark, stifling, in the rear of the shop which com passes the woman's whole existence. "As a rule," she adds, "the children of these women workers are taken from the mother immediately at birth, and sent away for rearing. Of such rec ognized importance is the purely eco nomic production of women in France, peasants renting a farm are commonly obliged to write in the lease that no child born to the woman shall be reared at home. This is to insure that "the proprietor shall suffer no possible loss resulting from the woman's labor being in the least diverted from the farm to the care of her babies." There is something very attractive to the American who is fond of ani mals in the way the Japanese treat dumb creatures. The Youth's Com panion gives Prof. Morse as the au thority for this pretty description of Japanese feeling for animals: "Birds build their nests in the city houses; wild fowl, geese and ducks alight in the public parks; wild deer trot about the streets. He had actually been fol lowed by a wild deer in the streets nib bling melon rind out of his hand, ass tame as calves and lambs on our farms. A dog goes to sleep in the busiest streets: men, turn aside so as not to disturb him. One day a beautiful heron alighted on the limb of a tree, and the busy, jostling throng stopped. No one attempted to injure the bird, but sev eral began sketching him." "While I sympathize with the Japa nese in their victories as heartily as any American," said a New York wom an the other day, "my heart goes with every fresh one that is reported to the poor czarina. That she has been ter ribly shocked by the disasters to the Russian arms is not surprising. All patriotic Russian women must have suffered intensely. But there is no woman in Russia who has been sub jected to more abuse and unkind criti cism than the czarina, and years of this treatment have naturally worn upon her nerves. For a considerable period she has been in a deplorable nervous state, and every fresh reverse plunges her anew into the deepest grief. I hear she is in the hands of several great nerve specialists, who are kept in a constant state of dread over the war news from day to day. To me the czarina is very much to be pitied." "Royal Shamrock"—that is the new est thing in perfumes in England, where the visit of royalty to the Em erald Lsle has drawn popular attention to Ireland and tended to popularize it with the English. Of course the name is a misnomer. Shamrock has no odor, to begin with, and royalty, it is said, has neither adopted the new scent nor shown it marked favor. Queen Alex | andra, gossip says, remains faithful to I her own private and particular scent. i the name and manufacture of which are kept a profound secret. It is de scribed as a delightful perfume by those who have sniffed its royal fra srance. and people who know, or think they know, say it is expensive, which iis not unlikely. The queen, however, is no more extravagant or self-indul gent in her personal tastes than was Queen Victoria. The young czarina, on the contrary, is popularly credited with spending SIO.OOO a year on scents and soapa. It hardly seems credible, unless such things are far more ex pensive in Russia than they are in the United Slates or "Western Europe. Her fancy is for violet, and so fond is she of this exquisite perfume that her rooms ar<- every morning filled with the freshly cut flowers, while her wardrobes are vaporized with the scent. The violets* '•from which her toilet water is made are gathered es pecially at sunset, so rumor runs, their scent being at its best and strongest at that hour, accor-dinjc?;Jo the -empress' imagination. The little queen of the Netherlands dislikes£%.ll scents except clean, old-fashioned eau de cologne. Queen Victoria unsaid tQ, have used only lavender Water, arid "the queen mother of Spain to have loved Deau d'Espagne, which was made expressly for her by a Madrid firm of perfumers. For true conservatism the women of France appear to take the lead among the people of Western Europe and America, to judge by an interesting ar ticle which lately appeared in Le Con seil dcs Femmes on careers open to women. From .this it appears that only eighty-three women in France practice medicine —seventy in Paris and thirteen iv, the provinces. Eighteen women have taken up dentistry, only a very few are apothecaries (which seems strange, considering that phar macy is a calling, to which women are well adapted), and there is only one woman oculist in the country. Since November, 1899, when the disabilities were removed from women lawyers, only two women have availed them selves of a legal career,. There are no women architects in France, and no women horticulturists, although Amer ican women have followed the former profession with success, and English women the latter. Of the arts, music, claims 4,000 Avomen, painting 2,000 and sculpture 87. An up to date Parisian face masseur has turned his attention from women to dogs, and has sent out the following price list: Putting Sprinkles on bull dogs' faces, 80 B(kncs; making straight tails curly, 2s£rancs: making bulldogs* forepaws crofllted, 100 francs; making drooping eai*£rect, 20 francs; cutting tails as wisired, 20 francs; changing color of ifoats, 30 francs. GOSSIP FROM GOTHAM One of the tom-fool fads of London just now is naming one's gown, the same as bestowing a" title on one's horse or dog or country home. An ex ceedingly smart <B^d street dress maker has started by-ticketing the models "The Ki&£. /'The Maiden's Blush," "The Dreatii of Paradise," and, curiously enough, gfiese inane names suggest the gowi^j-I>; rThe Dream of Paradise" is a cr^wfe]: evening gown that gjytetens with"* JfSerisp shower of glass beads. T?inp. tulle finishes the "dream" at the corsage line and at the skirt. "The Hiss" is a rich pink affair of chiffon with-lace and-rosebuds. "The Maiden's Blush" ls-a pale embroidered muslin that mlght,,represent the flush of a miss sseventee#<years old. London women, always keen for sensation, Have taken up the cue, and they are -.naming their gowns after men friends. One peerless grass widow of the West -end-Is calling her Irish lace frock her "Donald," and it will not be long before Newport women will be wearing "Har rys" and "Elishas" and "J. Henrys." ( fti !a-: tfaiet 1 way" %tndy- Naylor-Leyland • is one of the mQStJnflueniial women in London, and with the feminine side of' the royal family: she ip in prime fa vor. Lady Leyland wra» a Miss Jen nie Chamberlain, a, Cleveland girl, and is now a widow pf enormous wealth Her house at Alert's Ga.te is as dainty and artistic as .she. Lady Leyhmd has never attempted to float wealthy New Yorkers on, the social sea, nor is she so aggressive as Consuelo, Duchess of Manchester, or Mrs. Ronalds. She goes her way quietly, and is identified with the oldest of the British nobility For a woman of such wealth her jewel display is moderate, and she disdains the vagaries of the so-called smart set or Mayfair. Of course, Lady Naylor-Leyland's prominence followed the famous re mark of the Princess of Wales, then Duchess of York. This woman, who will some day be queen, dislikes Amer icans, especially the climbing sort. She enjoys snubbing them, and there are only a few of the American-born duchesses whom she tolerates. But the quiet and unostentatious Lady Navlor- Leyland caught the fancy of the duch ess Lady Leyland, spoke like an Eng lishwoman, and while the princess con versed with her the royal woman at tacked Americans several times. "Par don me. your grace,", retorted Lady Naylor-Leyland. *'I itn an American and I cannot listen, to your opinion of my country." Taken aback by this bold ness, the princess said: "You have more courage than most of the Ameri cans, and I admire you very much. I admit I was both (harsh and tactless." From that day the princess and the Cleveland girl became good friends, and when once the princess is elevated' to the throne, the former Miss Cham berlain will rise proportionately in the social world. Lady Cheylesmore.- who is to visit the Alfred Vanderbilts in Oakland farm, Newport, this season, is one zt the titled Englishwomen who have taken an active part in helping- the poor women of Ireland to earn a living by labor other than work in the fields. She originated the curious doll indus try in Dublin, which consists of dress ing dolls to represent children famous in past history or the world of the present day. In common with all of these movements of recent years, the doll industry has met with marked success, and is followed by many poor women in Dublin. Lady Cheylesmore is a sister of Mrs. Alfred Vanderbilt. ! As she is to bring her sons with her and her mother, Mrs. Francis Ormond French, is to spend the summer in Newport, there will be a strong gath ering of the French clan. Embracing a bag or peanuts, Mrs. R. Livingston Beekman walked about Coney Island a few nights ago and she and her friends did everything from gliding through the canals of Venice to the more thrilling shooting the chutes. Mr. and Mrs. Sydney J. Smith and Mr. and Mrs. Edward R. Thomas were with the Beekmans. This party had motored over from Sheepshead Bay, and it is quite the usual thing now for race parties to end up at West Coney Island.' Faultlessly groom ed men and womin <no longer amaze the everyday Coney Islanders, and mo tors and coaches that pack Surf ave nue are no longer iovelties. Mrs. W. G. Loew, in all the glory of a lavendpr chiffon frock, descended from her hus band's coach at the- entrance of one amusement place without exciting many comments. She was with Mrs. Alfred G. VanderbHt and Miss Eve lyn Burden. CASTOR IA For Infants and Children. '.\ The Kind You Have Always Bought ]*_ - Bears the /7% >'^ //f7]_^." I Signature of L^i^x!f^^^^ I A DEBT REPAID J V By FRED J. COX O \ S LEONARD CAWTHORN walk -^*- ed down the narrow lane under the shade df the overarching hedge rows it occurred to him that there is a good deal of happiness to be got out of existence if only a man will go the right way to work to get it. He glanced about him with an eye of sober delight. The surrounding landscape was precisely that which had always formed the background of his dreams when, at night time, in his lone Canadian ranch, the current of his thoughts had involuntarily set home ward. The harvest moon was just ap pearing above the horizon line, the segment that was already visible show ing reddish through the autumnal mist, which gave the charm of nebulosity to the wide sweep of stubble land. As he remembered it as a boy, as he had dreamed of it as a man, so the picture remained, true down to the smallest of its details, even to the wisps of straw caught by the projecting forks in the hedgerow when the corn laden wain had passed. It was in such a setting that he had always thought of her. Indeed, the landscape without her would, for Leon ard Cawthorn's eyes, at least, have lost more than half its charm. Presently the corn lands ceased, and the lane, broadening 1 out, ran by the side of undulating meadows to the village of Nethercote, lying in the val ley below. He was about to take the short cut he was accustomed to through the fields, where his eye met the following menace on a notice board: "Trespassers will be prosecut ed. By order, Mark Cawthorn." For the moment he forgot the sting ing injustice which those few word* implied—the closing of an undoubted right of way which had existed for generations. His indignation was swallowed up by the strange emotion which filled his mind at seeing once more his stepbrother's name. Mark had evidently extended his pos sessions. Their father's farm lands had terminated a good quarter of a mile lower down in the direction of the village. Surprise at his halfbrother's success was the last thing he would feel, for he knew well enough that, al though Mark lacked the large imagina tion dowered with which a man may grasp the skirts of Fortune in the open daylight with a strong hand and an intrepid bearing, he had neverthe less all the smaller faculties which bring wealth in a slow but steady stream. The.love of money for its own sake, its acquisition by all means re puted to be fair, the parsimonious handling of it when acquired—such ; traits made Up the strength of Mark Cawthorn's character and its weakness. < A long, flat wagon, on which his stepbrother's name was painted, came -rumbling down the lane. The wagoner as he passed wished the stranger "good night." ' ' Leonard Cawthorn returned the man's greeting and then asked, "How long has this path been stopped?" "Five year and more, sir," came the reply. "Who stopped it?" "Master o' course," the man replied, jerking his whip at the name board of the wagon. "But what did the village do?" asked Leonard, surprised. .-.J'Said a lot, but did nowt. "What could us do agen a man like Mr. Caw thern? What could anybody do?" Leonard .walked away with a cheery "good night" to the wagoner. The story ttt his brother's meanness was not pleas ant to his ears. Nethercote Farm lay back from the roadway, just at the edge of the village. As Leonard walked up the path which led to the house, a troop, of early memories crowded in upon him. Some of them were not particularly pleasant, for the injus tice which Mark had done him was clear and palpable. He had a clear right to a share of the property after their father's death, but Mark seized everything with that grasping nature of his. and soon made it plain to Leonard that his room in Nethercote would he preferable to his company. Feeling- this, like a sensitive man he had resolved to emigrate, and this resolve was industriously fed by Mark, who lent him £150 to start ranch life in Canada. Fortune had smiled so pleasant ly upon him that the repayment of that sum was. now. after fifteen years, quite an easy matter. He knocked at the door, which was presently opened by a round shouldered figure of a man who with one hand held aloft a small metal lamp, and with the other shaded his eyes and peered at the stranger. "Well. Mark! You'll hardly know me, I guess?" \ The hand which -held up the lamp was thrust forward at Leonard, and the keen look of inquiry in Mark Cawthorn's eyes deepened. At length-he withdrew his out .stretched hand and muttered: "Oh, it's you, is it? You' 3 best :come in." •Leonard held out his hand and his step brother took it half-heartedly. Either Mark Cawthorn had no fraternal feeling to. exhibit "or he. was an expert in the art of ■concealing 1, it. ■ - He:led ' the way into the farm parlor, a large room meagerly furnished.: for the illumination of.:which the glimmer of the little lamp was absurdly inadequate. The passion for economy which Mark had dis played : from - a very early age had evi dently increased with time. Leonard took' a chair facing his brother and leaned his arm on a round deal table ridiculously 1 small to serve as a.centerpiece of so large '■ an apartment. . Although he felt acutely hnrd^f / r, fl L gid rec?ption ' he trie<* his hardest to be cheerful.. "Well Mark." he said, "how've things gone . with you all these years?•" a Mark's wrinkled; brows', contracted as. gazing at his brother through half closed eyelids, he replied: "Not; over grand " ■ : Leonard : laughed." "Why.. the farm's twice the size it used to be!" ; -Oh f you've noticed that, have you? How long have you been here then?" : --.VJust. arrived at Nethercote. I landed at Liverpool only yesterday.'! "That accounts' for your' knowing so much. ' retorted Mark. sarcastically. "Don't judge by appearances.- The bigger a man's farm the greater his ruin- that's the rule in England today: I just manage to rub.along, that's all." He paused per haps exhausted by the long speech, for Mark was as sparing- of his words, as he was of his money. "But you—l suppose you've made your, fortune?" -. .- / - ;, "Not exactly that." Leonard replied in a - friendly tone, .."but I've nothing much .to complain about. There's more ■ room for the farming- man in our country, you see." He gave '.. the impression -of trying !to ! set the success which he had achieved to f.the credit of circumstancesi • rather than : to his own . endeavors. ..--->:- "And of course, your land's much bigger than mine?" Mark asked. A note of envy sounded unpleasantly in his tones. But Leonard was determined to avoid the region of invidious comparison. "Just a bit." "he replied, quietly, "but you must understand this. Mark, on a small scale the game isn't worth the candle out there." "They'll be sending you to Ottawa one of these fine days as a parliament man!" said Mark, with clumsy irony. Leonard kept his good humor. "Not much fear of that. Mark." he returned. "I find enough to do at the fnrm and be sides I was elected mayor last fall. But there, let as change the subject. How about yourself, Mark? Married yet?" The wrinkles opened on the low forehead of the elder man as he replied. "Are you?" The unexpected question took Leonard aback. "I? Married? No; I'm not mar ried." "Still waiting for Thirza LcvtvJay. I s'pose?" There was something unsympathetic— almost hostile—in his .brother's voice which irritated him. "Well, and what of it?" he asked more sharply than he had yet spoken. "She'll never have thee, that's all." was the other's sullen reply. "What," exclaimed Leonard, leaning for ward eagerly toward ljis brother. "Is she married already?" Mark did not answer. "She is your wife?" said Leonard, hoarsely. , "And what if she is?" retorted Mark, evasively. "Can't you answer a plain question, man.?" cried Leonard, his temper rising at his brother's lack of candor. "If you've married Thhza» don't think I've come to upset her happiness—or yours. Things must bide as they are. that's all. My dream is over, for I've, had my dream— a dream that has supported ami comfort ed me during these long years of toil and hardship. Day. in and day out I've worked to prepare a home for her. What's wealth to a man who has lived the simple life of the ranch? Naught. But shared with the women he-loves it brings heaven a sight nearer to earth. Why do you stare at me like that. Mark? Take off that black scowl and show a little human feeling just for once. Surely you can af ford to." he added, bitterly. But Mark, answering never a word; only stared at the fire, puffing his pipe sullenly. Leonard rose from his chair and peered through the dim lamplight at a portrait standing on the high chimney mantlepiece. "Why, it's Thirza:" he cried in an ex cited voice. "So she is mistress of the old place and you are her husband. Do I guess aright?" Mark did not stir nor speak; he only went on smoking. "A nice brotherly welcome," cried Leon ard, bitterly. "I see how it is. 'Tis the same as 'twas fifteen years ago. The sooner I'm out of Nethercote the better it will please you. I won't trouble you long, but before I leave your house to night I've determined to settle up a little business with you." "What business?" asked Mark, looking: across at his brother with cunning shrewdness. "A strange question coming from you," replied Leonard". "You're about the big gest contradiction on earth, Mark. When we were boys together I couldn't borrow a penny from you but you worried me until it was in your pocket again, but when it comes to £100 and more you let the matter slip your memory." Mark looked artfully across at his brother, and then compressed his brows in deep thought. "Don't you remember?" asked Leonard, impatiently, "or what game is it you're playing? Can it be that your heart has warmed toward me after all these years, and that you think the money which you lent me only represented my portion of vhe property—my share in thia farm of our father\s?" "You never had no sort of right to anything here." growled Mark. "Look here," exclaimed Leonard, quick ly, "stow that kind of talk. I told you pretty strongly what I thought about that question before I left Kngland. Don't let's reopen it now. You've got every thing, and I've come to give you a bit more. I've come to pay back your money, for I wouldn't be beholden to you for a farthing." A strange glitter came into the other's eyes. He was beginning to understand. "Here's the money." shouted" Leonard, laying a bundle of bank notes on ,the ta ble. Mark seized them with trembling fin gers and counted them twice in the feeble light of the lamp. "There's only £140 here," he muttered, "'Twas £150 I lent you." ..... "Bah!" retorted Leonard. "You're, the last man in the world to teach me any thing about a debt of honor. Here's the rest of it." he cried. He counted out ten sovereigns and threw them on the table, and Mark placed them carefully on the top of the notes. Just then the click of a latch at the back of the farm was heard. Both men started. "Who's that?" cried Leonard. "Quick! before anyone comes, tell me— what about interest on the money?" The door leading from the farm kitchen into the parlor now opened and a woman entered bearing a lamp which at once gave a cheerier aspect to the room. She was fairly tall, a little over thirty years of age, and dressed becomingly in black. If she had known trouble. It was indicated only by the general pallor of her features, for no line or wrinkle marred their symmetry. Dark brown curls clus tered above her forehead, and her eyes as they glanced inquiringly at Leonard Cawtborn had a rare sweetness of ex pression. He rose quickly as she approached and hold out his hand. "Thirza!" he cried. "Why, it's Leonard," she said in a voice that was tremulous with excitement. "How well you look, and how glad I am ft Sale Ten Million Boxes a Yean ■ gj The BEST HOT WE*THER MEDICINE A CATHARTIC ,^tf^ : "ii WM iiiiiiii, Mi«iiiiiii' 111T!lWiiP r • 25c, sOc7^^H4|pPWiit?ii™MJlßnaUßilllßiglHaJ^^ AU M"' -^^BBg|^^jyjyyy|jyg^j^^»B«^^ Druggists j Iti SUIWiBEB BOWEt, TROUBLES JB BUT 5 DAYS REMAINES O@imt(iiß 01©iii Satainfe^ 7 B p o m* A $5.00 SUBSCRIPTION SECURES 1000 VOTES Following Is the Standing of the Contestants up to 2 p. m. Monday: MISS EVA E. WHITE. Park Rapids, Minn.'..••■"'■ Cv'. • . E. E. PARENT, Somerset. Wi3. MISS EMILY; WOODS. ; Eau Claire. Wis. MISS ELLA SYDLER. Bannon's.St. Paul. Minn. MISS. FANNIE "MARMION STONE. 466 Dayton ay . St. Paul. Minn. ELLIS; LAWSON. Dry Goods Dept., Golden Rule, St. Paul Minn. MISS KATE SCHUBERT. Hastings. Minn. i MISS FANNIE SWENSON, Cashier. New Spencer. St. Paul. Minn. MISS M. A. [ MAHER, Teacher, Jefferson School St. Paul." Minn ~:~J CHARLEY EASTWOOD. Fireman. Eng.': Co; No.: U. : St. Paul . Minn. WILL S. BATES. N. P. Gen. Tel. Office, St. Paul. Minn. MISS BLANCHE F. KELLY. .Teacher. Drew School. -St.; Paul, Minn. FRANK BODLNE. Riehwcod. Minn. :. \ SBRi : MISS JESSIE A. BRADFORD. . Teacher. McKinley School. St. . Paul Minn. MISS : SADIEVMACDONALD. Teacher. Edison :School; St. Paul Minn " : MISS ROSE LA VALLE. Michaud's Grocery. St Paul. Minn. " - ' .MISS ANNA KEARNS. Maiinheiraer Bros.. St. Paul. Minn. •MISS NELLIE HAWLEV. Sandstone; Minn ' : MISS GERTRUDE THIESEN. West Pub. Co.. St. Paul. Minn. '; MISS AMY WILKINSON. Teacher. . McKinley ' School. St. Paul. Minn. E. P. BOLTON. Letter Carrier. St. Paul. Minn.::';: . "■'.'..;'■'' ~^": "'" ■ MISS HELEN KOPPELBERGKR-. S2O First ay.. Eau Claire. : Wis. • MISS'• ALICE M. HOSMER. Teacher, Central High School.- ?:. Paul. M'.rr; . MISS MAUD STOCKING. Hutchinson. Minn. ' - * " MISS • KATE EAGAN, r. Hinckley, Minn. ? LILLIAN PERKINS. Pine City. Minn. ROBERT COLE. Associated iPi:e:s.s.:St.v Paul. ; Minn " MISS ANNA ELCOCK. Kenyon. Mini •; - \r: ; ; - JdISS aUUD BUACia^TT, 2dora. iiiiui. to see you back in Nethercote again " She gazed up in his handsome, sunburnt face. Mark, sat, sullen and morose, regarding the pair. "Yes. Thirza. I'm back again," said Leonard. "I wanted to see the old vil lage again. Though, perhaps, 'twas hard ly worth while, for there's not much in Nethercote to interest me now." He looked down into her eyes sadly, almost reproachfully — "but there was a little business with Mark I Wanted to settle Now that's done with," he laughed bit terly, "I fancy Nethercote will see very little more of me." "But what business?" she asked eagerly. She glanced across at Mark, who sat crouching in his chair, and as she did so her eye caught the glint of the gold lying on top of the notes. Swiftly and uner ringly her womanly intuition explained the situation to her. "A business which don't concern no one but us two." growled Mark. "Why be so secret about it?" said Leonard contemptuously. "The fact is. Thlrza, I owed your husband"—he no ticed that she started violently at the word—"a large sum of money which he lent me when I went away. I've now re paid him—thafs all. Where's the need to be close about a job like that?" Without waiting to hear more she walk ed over to Mark, and pointing to the money on the table she said sternly, "Re turn that at once."' "But why?" asked Leonard, thunder struck at her strange behavior. "It has been paid already," she said in a low voice. Without looking at either of them Mark collected the money and handed it to Leonard, who took it without quite know ing what he did. "I'd almost forgotten." said Mark, at tempting a lame explanation, "but now I come to think of it Thirza's right. The money was paid back some years ago." "Who paid it?" asked Leonard with a dazed look. "Thirza." Mark answered sullenly. "She said you'd sent it her. though why you couldn't have sent it on straight to me I never quite understood. Too proud to waste a line on your brother. I 'spose. Why do you look so puzzled? Other peo ple have got bad memories besides me, it seems." 'I sent it to Thirza?" said Leonard, completely bewildered. "What does it all mean? Thirza, I seem to guess. You paid the money yourself." She dropped her eyes and the color rushed into her pale cheeks. "Let us go away," she said. She moved quickly to the door, and Leonard, after taking a last look at his stepbrother, left him to his feelings. What those feelings were can only be conjectured, but it la to be hoped that a little shame mingled with the wrath of his avaricious soul at being suddenly deprived of a snug ,sum already well within his grasp. "Thirza." said Leonard, as they walked away from Nethercote in the direction ho had come only an hour before, "there are two things that puzzle me greatly. What is this about the money, and why did you marry—him?" "I have not married him.* she said quietly. His heart beat high with ex ultation. "Thank God!" he cried fervently. "But why were you in his house tonight? You came in as though you belonged to the place." Slowly he gathered from her that her family, having fallen on evil days, with her father dead and her mother con stantly ailing, she was obliged to work. Mark Cawthorne finding that she would ' not come to Nethercote Farm in any other capacity, begged that she would at least come in every day and tidy up ihe place for him. He paid her for this, she said, and it was a great help. "Better a thousand times be that man's' servant than his wife." he cried. "But. dear Thirza, I am still in the dark about the money." It was some time before she answered. "It's a long time ago," she said at last. "He wanted me to marry him and threat ened that if I didn't he would do all sorts of things against you. And he was begin ning to talk about you in the village and"— "So you paid the money to save my good name," broke in Leonard.- "Darling Thirza: 'Twasn't much of a name to save, but you have a right to it because you saved it. Will you take it for your own and its owner with it into the bargain?" Her fingers played nervously with a wisp of straw that she had plucked from the hedgr-row. but at last she gathered courage to look up into his face, and it was then that he clasped her passionately in his arms. They were standing under the notice board which contained Marks unlawful menace against adventurous pedestrians. It was on the crest of a ridge whence could be seen the slumbrous hamlet lying in the hollow. " 'Tis a peaceful place," said Leonard, 'but there never seemed any rightful corner in it for me. Dearest Thirza, it's a wilder country where I live, with none of the homely features that you see here; but you will come with me there, won't you. darling?" For answer she only nestled closer to him. while the stars and the round har vest moon smiled down upon them in ben ediction.—The Tattler. 7