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The Libby herald. [volume] (Libby, Mont.) 1911-1913, October 24, 1912, Image 3

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85053292/1912-10-24/ed-1/seq-3/

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WHEN THE HOURIS
DRIED THEIR HAIR
Or What the Doctor Discovered
In the Heat of New York.
By JUNE GRAHAM.
aopyraght. 11, by Associated Ukders
Press.)
"Did he take It, mother, did het"
"Now girls," Mrs. Vernon protested,
breathlessly, "not all at once, please.
Yes, he took it. Bab, dear, don't
pranes"
"But, mother, I'm dancing for Joy,"
mll, fiiteen-yearold. Bab protested
'He's such a dear."
"For how much?" asked Josephine,
briskly. "It's worth ten with break
fast, mumsle, summertime, you know."
"But he takes his meals all out, Jo.
Lnd I let him have it for eight He
e*ems such a quiet person, Just a big
aloe boy."
"Boy? Hasn't he a Vandyke and
moustache, mother?"
"Carlotta, not so loud. No, he is
gufte smooth shaven. He is a doctor.
He has come on from the middle west
-Indiana, I think he said-to take up
a special summer course here, and he
oeeds a quiet place to live, with no
istractions."
She paused impressively to let this
point penetrate. The guilty four sur
tounded her with sober faces and
Trave, sympathetic eyes.
There was Bab, blonde as a Christ
ass doll, and tall for her age; Joseph.
2me, demure and brown eyed, with
'atin bands of dark hair bound about
her small head, Madonna-wise. Bab
msid that Jo resembled a sleek young
Joe, with wide surprised eyes.
u rsmua came next, wonarously
gentle, and fair like Bab. All the
Vernon mischief found spring and
fount in Virginia's silence, and Just
Row she sighed, as it over the doctor's
inpending fate. Last of all, Carlotta
with her fox hair and fox eyes, half
closed and full of amber glints, Car
totta who would- wear gowns of dull
apple greens, and tenderest browns
and mauves, and look like a grave.
sweet princess maiden.
"We won't bother him, mother
dear," said Carlotta now, kindly and
understandingly. "Don't you worry."
So Dr. Arnold settled down in his
summer quarters contentedly, thank
fully. The house was one of the old
mansions in the Washington square
district, long since turned into a select
rooming place. With four daughters to
care for and educate in her widow
hood, Mrs. Vernon had chosen this as
the most comfortable, and as Virginia
put it, inconspicuous way of earning a
dlying in New York.
The doctor liked it. -He was from a
small town, thriving, but lacking frills.
He was past his first struggles, and
Las succeeded. Ever since his interne
dlays in Chicago he had longed to
spend a season each year in New
fork, taking up special courses in one
branch and another, and this was the
frst chance. There were no distrac
tions, no annoyances at the Vernon
rouse, he found. True, in the early
morning as he passed out for break.
'ast he caught sight of various young
persons, all with averted faces and
hasty footsteps.
"Good morning, doctor," each would
murmur, and gravely would the doo
tor acknowledge the greeting. He
wondered how many daughters Mrs.
Vernon had.
Saturday afternoon there were no
plasses at the clinics. The afternoons
were for home study, he had decided.
Seated by one of the long French win
dows, half hidden by cool art scrim
ourtains, he beheld one very young
person sally stealthily forth into the
back garden and proceed to dry her
hair in the sun.
It was a pretty garden, small as
some toy one of Nippon. A stray bit of
holy writ flittered airly through the
doctor's mind. "My love is like a gar
den inclosed."
This was a garden inclosed in high I
brick walls, hidden by heavy masses
of ivy. In the small diamond center
of grass stood a tiny arbor, overrun
with wistaria. There were pansy beds
and mignonette borders, and low
groups of dusky red and gold nastur
tiums. e
The doctor closed his book and re
garded the young person drying her
hair in the sun. It was beautiful hair,
She might have been the love of the
South Wind, My Lady Dandelion, with
that golden glory falling about her.
Her hair took on most wondrous glints
in the sunlight, the doctor mused. This
must be one of Mrs. Vernon's daugh
ters. The youngest, possibly. Her
shoulders drooped in schoolgirl fash
ion.
The doctor resumed his reading.
Presently when he glanced up there
were two girls In the garden. Indus
triously and without regard for the
world above the garden, they dried
their hair in the sun.
Josephine's hair was very long. She
looked like some brown nymph of the
woods when it fell about her. The doc
tor became meditative, almost retro
spective. In this day of artificiality and
pretense it was refreshing and reas
luring to find here, in the heat of New
York, such normal, beautiful crowns of
glory, he told himself. It showed poise
Df health, of mental and physical
health.
Here Virginia stole forth, robed in
the white garments of a blameless life,
her long blonde curls dripping like
some Lurline of the Rhine.
"You'll get your kimono all wet," ad.
•onished Jo, the practical. Virginia
laid her fingers to her lips.
"Mother says we must not talk. We
might disturb the doctor, girls."
The doctor elesd his book and laid
It a the desk. Beneath his windows
to and fro along the marrow walks,
edam the girls, drying their hair in
the sunlight. Women to him meant
frail, nervous, pitiable reatures, hand.
leapped by the old curse of Eden
Young or old, rich or poor, he had
grown to class them indiscriminately
s patlnts of the Inflnite, ever alling.
These girls were not of this class.
Every vibrant eleotric hair on their
lovely heads upheld its own amidavit
A to their perfect health, and even
while the doctor mused, Impersonally,
Professionally even, out stepped Car
lotta, her tawny curls clinging to her
head, a huge turklsh towel wrapped
around her shoulders over a dress of
silk the color of a lily leaf.
SuBnlight and firelight mingled, the
doctor thought, watching that radiant
topknot steal the sun's glory. She low
ered her head and swept the curling
mass forward, and the doctor knew no
man's eyes had ever seen its like be
fore.
lie moved the ourtains back with one
hand, and lo, the four lifted innocent
eyes of wonderment, and Virginia
asked: Are we disturbing you, doo
tor?"
And the doctor was abashed. He
protested that he was not being dis
turbed, but that it was a great pleas
Bab chuckled. The doctor bowed
discreetly and withdrew his head,
seised his hat and went out for a walk
to forget the view of the garden dis
closed.
"I'm afraid we did disturb the doc.
tor, girls," said Carlotta. "Maybe he
isn't used to a galaxy, girls."
"Are we that, Carlie?" Bab cried
joyously. "8omething starry and beau
teous He looked at you the longest."
"His eyes were glued to your hair,"
pronounced Jo.
Carlotta laughed.
M6u.' a neat litte picture, Jo, I
must say. Hope they come off easily.
Remember once at school when a boy
threw chewing gum at my hair, I mean
my rippling curls, and you girls had
to out it out before mother discovered
it..
"Well. I don't care," said Virginia,
firmly. "I think the doctor is Just as
tame and intelligent as he can be."
"Intellectual, Goen* Animale are it
telligent"
"Man is the noblest brute of all,
saith someone. He has a most Intelll
gent face."
Every Saturday afternoon the doo
tor's study hour was interrupted by
what he called in his heart of hearts
the hair washing festival of the houris.
Did he watch for it? The doctor was
young and human, and he had an ap
preciation of the beautiful. Also, had
he not come to New York to study life
in all her myriad phases. Most of all
he watched for Carlotta and her
strange red gold curls, tawny as some
fox of the woods. And he prolonged
his weeks of special study.
One evening he was late from a leo
ture. As he bounded up the stairs,
Mrs. Vernon met him, a trifle pale and
worried.
"Was there any accident in the sub
war, doctor? The girls are late, too."
"None in the subway. There's a big
fire uptown. I stayed to watch them
take away the injured. It's the Wash
ington theater."
"The girls are there, Bab and Car
lotta and Jo. Virginia stayed to keep
me company. Oh. doctor, my girls-"
The doctor became suddenly his pro.
fessional self.
"Get rooms ready. I may be able to
bring them home. And keep yourself
steady. They will need you, you know.
Nobody was killed, Mrs. Vernon."
His cheery, strong voice buoyed her
up even after the door slammed be.
hind him. Swinging along Waverly
place, around Fifth avenue, and so to
the Eighth avenue stand, the doctor
took a taxi up to the hospital where
the njured had been taken.
Iii, more was a Miss Vernon, they
told him. Her sisters had only minor
o injuries in the crush that followed the
fire panic.
He told them he was the Vernon
family physician, and was taken to the
h long ward where Carlotta lay with
a other girls and women. He drew the
r screen around her cot and knelt
n "Dear, dear, are you badly hurt?"
he asked huskily. For the first time
in his career the doctor lost his pro.
fessional calm. Carlotta opened her
eyes and smiled.
"Not much, doctor, not nearly so
r much as most of the poor creatures.
My shoulder hurts, and-what do you
* think-my hair caught fire from a fall
ing curtain as we came from the
boxes. Not all of it-"
It lay on the pillow about her, singed
and shortened, but beautiful as ever,
and the doctor pressed his face down
on it.
"I came to take you home to your
mother, Carlotta," he said. "Do you
mind?"
"Mind what?" asked Carlotta.
"I'm awfully in love with you, dear,
and upset, and-oh, don't you know
what it all means to me?"
Carlotta's hand stole out to rest on
his bowed head.
"I know," she whispered. "I'm
afraid we did bother you, doctor."
"Say Jack."
She moved her head nearer on the
pillow. "Better take me home, hadn't
you-Jack ?" i
First Time George Leaves Home.
"George is always looking for op
portunities to show his devotion."
"Yes."
He said if I telegraphed him he °
wanted me to be sure to send a night
message. Dear boy. He wants to
sit up all night to get it."
Worse.
She-I got an awful shock last
night when I looked under the bed, D
He-You didn't see a man therel
She-Mercy, nol A mouse
WHY CONNIE STONE
CHANGED HER MIND
Chanoe Remarks Heard In I
Bridle Path Unite Two
Loving Hearts.
BY CLARISSA MACKIL
The path followed the windings o1
the well-maoadamised highway and
afforded a leafy, shaded way for Ore
oral miles before it took a sudden, u.
expected turn and wandered ofi
through the deep woods to. the river
and the bridge
Connie Stone rode dreamily along
the bridle path, her brown eyes flied
on the green perspective ahead. From
the highway came the sound of swift
ly flying motor ars and the rumble of
carriage wheels to the accompaniment
of horses' hoots.
"It would be lovely if It were not
for the noises from the road," sighed
Connie at last. She flicked Brown
Ben lightly so that they would reach
the turn in the path and ride toward
the river.
"Ah, I wish something might hap
pen-something perfectly lovely!" she
sighed again. "My life is so cut and
dried-plenty of money and even my
future husband selected for mel If
Uncle Remus had only spared me that.
The very fact that I am bound to mar
ry Phil Baring has prejudiced me
against him. I can't bear him--I wish
he would go away!"
This unhappy victim of match-mak
Ing parents and a worldly old uncle
and guardian sulked openly as she
rode along, for now her grievance
against the world in general, and Phil
Baring in particular, quite overpow
ered her delight in the fresh morning
air.
A saddle girth had slipped and orn
Sie alighted and bent to tighten it.
As she did so, standing there In the
green-brown woods only a stone's
throw from the highway, she heard a
motor oar jar to a sandstill close at
hand and two feminine voloes eagag
ed in conversation.
"- and we all think it was per
fectly horrid of old Remus Barrie to
agree with the girl's parents that
when Phil was twenty-five he should
marry the girl. No, I've never seen
her, but you may take it for granted
that she's a fright, Adele! If she
were not her parents wouldn't have
been to such pains to marry her off."
"And so Phil Isn't quite happy over
!t?" asked a lazily amused voice.
"Wretched! Why-you know, my
dear, it's no secret that he's breaking
his heart over little me-and there's
that fright of an heiress standing lkoe
a mountainous wall of money bags be
tween us. Of course, Phil couldn't
marry me without some of his fath
er's fortune-and there you are."
"Poor Elizabeth!" derided the voice
of Adele. "If you only knew Phil Bar
ing was free to marry, you wouldn't
care two pine for hlml"
"Adele!"
"And so he has poured out his
troubles to you?"
"No. He isn't that sort, and you
know It, Adele. Only he looks mis.
erable, and I understand the reason."
The motor suddenly started nois
1ly and drew away from the spot
where Connie Stone stood, a crim
soned, palpitating eavesdropper. With
a swift movement she pulled out a
gold vanity case and scanned her re
fection In the little mirror.
She saw a blushing face framed in
a mlst of jet black hair, brown eyes
with golden specks In them, a perfect
nose and mouth and a white chin with
a deep dimple.
"If she calls me a fright, I wonder
what she looks like!" exolaimed the
indignant Miss Stone, and she mount
ed Brown Ben and Bashed down the
bridle path.
As she rode along the letatrewn
way she thought of her first meeting
* with Phil Baring. He had returned
1 from a long residence abroad, and al
though he was a very grave, good.
looking young man without much to
say for himself, Connie had mistaken
his silence for awkwardness and she
was angry with him from the begin
ning.
When he did try to be agreeable
and displayed some admiration for
this cousin who was to be his bride,
Connie became contrary and erratic
in her moods. Somehow she felt that
his admiration was affected. He was
trying to play his part.
And all the time he was in love
with a horrid creature named Eliza
beth, who shrieked when she talked.
Connie could have spared herself
any qualms-he was not in love with
her. He was miserable at the idea of
this foreordained marriage. He was
unhappy.
"I hate him!" cried Connie as she
flew around the sharp bend away from
the high road and into the stillness of
the thick woods.
Here the trees grew gnarled and un
shapely, bending down from the high,
mossy banks on both sides to form
arches overhead. A scarlet tanager
flashed across the road and made a
spot of gorgeous color against a
brown tree trunk.
A hermit thrush sang from some
bidden covert and a thrill of unearth
ly happiness was in his tender notes.
Tears sprang to Connie's eyes for
this love and happiness that would
not be hers, a
'I ought to have had a chance---"
Her mutinous voice broke sharply, for c
ahead of her there came the thud of
boots on the bridle path.
She drew Brown Ben aside under
the trees as the hoof beats became r
louder. Then a black mare streaked tl
Dast and disappeared in the direction
wheneo Connale had come.
Connie felt sick and faint The
black mare was Phil Baring's favorit4
mount and the saddle was empty.
In another Instant Brown Ben wai
flying down the ~th and Cennie'
ees were half featully searching fto
a limp form in the road.
All at once she came upon it. A
still gray-clad form stretched beside
the road.
Connie slipped from her horse and
knelt beside the form of her fance.
"Phil, oh, Phill" she cried broken'
as she slipped a warm little palm
under his cheek and endeavored to
turn his face to hers.
Slowly his eyes opened and stared
at her in wide surprise. stimy he
turned, rose to an elbow-a perfectly
sound and good elbow, to Connale's
amasement-sat upright, stared again
at Connie, at Brown Ben and then
gased around in startled fashion.
"Where's Nellybird"' he cried,
Jumping to his feet.
"Oh, are you all right?" cried Con
nie, standing beside him. "You see,
I met your mare running away-and
I-I thought you were dead or hurt
and so I came." She paused with a
little break in her voice.
"You came and found me napping
beside the road-Nellybird must have
become frightened and bolted. I'm
sorry, Connie----I hope you were not
disappointed at finding me unhurt?"
He smiled rather wryly at this pretty
distant cousin.
Connie tried to smile, blinked and
suddenly began to cry softly.
"Connie! You didn't care, did you?"
he asked in a sharp whisper. "Of
course you wouldn't believe me if I
swore that I loved you and that your
coldness is making me wretched
but, ahl Connie, do you care? Can
you ?"
Connie found her answer when
their eyes met, and what she said
was perfectly satisfactory to Phil Bar.
ing. Love had performed a bit of
magic that June morning, for he had
turned a plain bridle path into a rose
strewn bridal way.
s PUT MUCH RELIANCE ON ANT
Use of the Little Insect in Medielne
F and Surgery Has Been Well-Nigh
Universal.
o Among the last of the remedies pro
vocative of nausea of the imagination
to disappear from the lists of official
n remedies have been preparations made
d from ants. Such preparations, how
ever, have not obtained much recogni
tion in this country even among the
wise old women in domestic practice
*r -though in parts of Europe they are
yet in use. Ant baths, made by boil
V ing ants in water, are yet in use by
I Bavarian peasant for rheumatism and
* gout, and also in Hessen and in Hun
° gary. In Bohemia, it is said, for par
alysis of the lower limbs patients are
placed in an ant hill and allowed to re
main until the whole body is covered
by the insects, which are then shaken
off when the cure is effected. In
Brandenburg an aching tooth is rubbed
with blood by means of a crust of bread
and the crust is then placed in an
ant hill. Impoverishment of blood is
cured by means of an egg buried in
the hill of the large red ants. The
eggs must have been laid by a pure
white or pure black hen, and must
have been found when still warm. In
Oberwalz the crushed eggs and larvae
of ants are stirred up with cream and
used as a remedy for colic. A salve
made from wood ants, dog fat and coal
dust is said to be used by Hungarian
gypsies against goiter. There is also
in use in Montevideo the "ant suture,"
In domestic surgery. Those who had
been bitten by ants noticed that the
heads remained clinging to the skin
when the body was torn away, being
held in place by the powerful man
dibles. The idea was thus suggested
that the ant's Jaws could be used to
close the edges of wounds. The edges
of the cut are pressed together, an ant
is held so that its jaws will grasp both
sides and its head is cut off. Several
are applied along the wound and serve
instead of the usual catgut stitches.
STAND ASIDE FOR ELEPHANT
Animale of the Jungle Have Well-Reo.
ognized Etiquette Observed at
Drinking Places.
A moving picture firm has been tak
ing some remarkable pictures at a war
ter-hole in Abyssinia of animals which
come there from miles around to
quench their thirst.
It is the etiquette of the Jungle for
the elephant to drink first. No mat.
ter how many animals are around the
water hole, they all stand aside for
the greatest beast of all. Many of
the animals come 40 or 50 miles for a
drink, and there is a truce between
even the most deadly enemies. After
the elephant comes the rhinoceros.
Although most of the other animals ob
serve the water-hole truce faithfully,
two rhinos will fight over their preoe
dence. The cinematograph operator
obtained wonderful pictures of two of
these huge animals going at it hammer
and tongs. The fight only ended by
one of the animals being killed.
When the rhinoceros had finished
the giraffes drink their fill, followed
by sebras. Zebras always travel in
herds, and sometimes 40 or 50 will ar
rive at the water hole at a time. Ac
cording to the etiquette of the jungle,
however, they only come in fourth for
the drinking stakes. The first four
animals are fixed in order, but the rest
get a drink just how and when the(
can.-Pearson's Weekly.
A Political Wrangle.
"I hear your club was divided over
reOommending a suffrage plank for '
the Danocratlo platform."
"Yes. Some wanted a maple wood
plnk, but the others held out for ma
oalr with a dull flnsh."
NEW HANDKERCHIEF HAT
Photograph by Underwood & Underwood. N. Y.
A new creation copied after the Indian Rumchumda hat. The trim
,,!i'i;:: ~ :::ijrj
. :: . ·.·.·'~si i~i! :iiii;il;::::;.: iij! ....·
ili! .... . ...:' .....' : · g
ming of the handkerchief, which is of a plaited Indian silk, covers a
Leghorn straw. A feather running on the side of the hat completes the
trimming. It is good for summer out door wear and prevents sunburn.
COMBINE BLACK AND VIOLET
Mlixture of Colors That the Expert
Dressmaker Uses to Much
Advantage.
Dress is most alluring this season,
and there is such variety in style that
aot only every taste but every indi
vidual figure can be suited. Black
and violet as regards dress for recep
tion and every afternoon wear is a
lashionable alliance, and we note it
principally in taffetas and satin cos
tumes, while with the black cloth or
sponge tailor-made a blouse of bright
relvet charmeuse and guipure inser
Jton veiled with black ninon de sole
aB fitting accompaniment.
The mauve foulard with black or
mauve ninon overskirt is being ex
ploited with success, as is the pannier
:oat costume of black and deep purple
Liberty satin.
A charming model of this style has
:he coat gathered at the waist, with
belt coming high in front and made
if exquisite black, purple and ecru
embroidery. This continues in band
'orm on either side of' the coat fronts,
while the bodice portion is arranged
in wide pleats, and the pearl-shaped
sleeves reach only a little way below
the elbow.
IN OLD ROSE.
d
Here is quite an inexpensive dress
>f old rose casement cloth. The skirt
has a seam up center front and is
trimmed with a fold of black satin
and a row of black buttons with sim
dlated holes.
The bodice, which is cut Magyar, is
tucked each side front and back, also
Dn the sleeves; it fastens in front,
where it is trimmed like the skirt.
The collar is of the material finely
tucked, and a black bow finishes the
neck.
Hat of cream Tagel, trimmed with
lace and roses.
Materials required: Four yards 40
Inches wide, one-half yard satin on
the cross, about four dozen buttons.
The Corsage Bouquet.
The corsage bouquet is one of the
prettiest fancies in dress ornamenta
tion. On special occasions, when one
wishes the austerely tailor-built cos
tume to take on a glorified and festal
air, a modish flower arrangement
pinned to the coat front will work a
very pretty miracle. The most fash
lonable of these artificial posies is a
combination of orchids with lilies of
the valley, or, if the bouquet is of
violets or roses, sprays of lily of the
valley must be tucked in.
AVOID THE COLORED FROCK
Average Woman Will Make No Mis
take When She Pins Her Faith
to White Material.
The woman of limited income
should not be tempted by colored
linen frocks. They are not a wise
investment when gowns must neces
sarily be few in number. They a
almost sure to fade, and even whi
they possess all their original glo
they cannot be touched up and vari
by colored cravat and belt, as t:
white outfit can. Such is the impL_
ishable beauty of white that even the
inexpensive material known as sail
cloth, which can be bought for about
30 cents a yard, can be made to look
smarter than the average colored lin
en. Those venturing upon costumes
of sail-cloth should, however, to make
assurance doubly sure, see that the
material has been well shrunk before
it is made up.
Now the "Jupe Pantalon."
The latest thing in tailormades is
I the "Jupe pantalon." It has little in
common with the "jupe culotte," or
harem skirt, except that that gave us
the bottom of the trousers, and the
"Jupe pantalon" gives us the top of
the same garments. It is a skirt with
a series of little close gatherings at
the waist. These are confined by small
buckles similar to the one used on
a man's trousers. At each side of th,
skirt is a pocket, and in order to con:
plete the resemblance to masculin
wearing apparel, braces fastened b;
buttons back and front hold up thl
skirt. With this garment is worn a
shirt of white percale, perfectly fiat
and plain, with long sleeves, wristlets
and a high stiff collar, in fact a man's
shirt in all its unadorned severity.
The wearers of the "Jupe pantalon"
costume when sitting around their
clubs, smoking cigarettes, look at first
sight like men in their shirt sleeves.
Collarless Frookse.
The girl who realizes how ex
tremely becoming the collarless frock
has proved to be will be glad to learn
of its continued popularity.
For this reason the high-neck ruf
fles and ruches of tulle, chiffon and
taffeta, with their small clusters of
flowers set at intervals around the
collar, will be worn when furs are di.
carded and it is necessary to have
some protection.
If one chooses to wear a collar.
band, it must be unusually high. In
models from Paris the high collars
are shaped to follow the outline of
the hair back of the ears.
The little pleated frill, so dear to
the French woman, makes a soft be
coming line around the face.
Plush for Winter Hats.
Hatters' plush is expected to
used on many of the new fall ha
and beaver cloth will doubtless
seen on the tailored hat. This cle
will probably be popular with the bu..
ness women, as it wears so well, and
a hat of beaver looks trim and neat
to wear with a tailored suit. Dresden
taffeta will be much used for trim
mings, especially in the way of large
bows.
For the Small Boy.
One of the prettiest novelties this
season is the suit of brown linen for
small boys. These are embroidered
with silk to match. Sailcloth is a
practical material; it launders well,
holding its color. For warm weather
these are made with knickerbockers
and tunic tops caught about the waist
with a belt. Dark blue sailcloth linen
with collars and cuffs of white is an
other pretty combination.
Ribbed Fabrics.
It is said on good authority that
corded weaves will be very pope
In the autumn. These new ribbed- I
rice will include materials so light
weight as to be suitable for dress 4
peries and heavier ones adapted i
suits, outer wraps and trimm.~

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