The San Francisco call. [volume], November 28, 1913, Image 11

About The San Francisco call. [volume] (San Francisco [Calif.]) 1895-1913

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& Growth Comes With Exercise. Your Troubles Grow With Each Additional Time You Relate Them &
The Call's Magazine and Fiction Pages
My Own Beauty Secrets
THE CARE OF THE HAIR
By ANNA HELD
Star of John Corfu ••All Star Varlete Jabilee."
Copyright. 1913. International News Service.
HAVE you not often noticed how
charming a plain woman man
ages to look if only she arranges
her hair becomingly?
Herein lies a bit of very deep phil
osophy. To arrange your hair well,
you must have soft, plentiful locks.
To have soft, plentiful locks you must
give them plentiful care.
Hair that is dank and greasy falls
with a lifeless droop that is just as
unbeautiful as the words that I have
used to describe them. It arranges
Itself with unbecoming indifference to
all your desires to arrange it. Give
but half the effort that you waste on
uncared for hair to caring for it sci
entifically and, even if you are a
plain woman, you will soon grow
from adorably plain to plainly ador
able. .' •
1 have a little hair drill that I
practice every day. Will you follow
my example, madam?
On rising I wash my scalp with 1
water. Water bad for the hair? Mais |
non. That is not so. Water is good j
for all growing things. Of course, if j
your hair is wet and you dress it so, j
it will be harmed. If you fold wet |
garments and lay them away they '
will mildew, you know. But I wash
THE SCALP, and so cleanse It from
dust and foreign particles that might
clog its pores. First, then, wash the
ecalp. Feed the roots of your hair ,
With a wee drink of water.
Then, even if at first it pains you a j
bit, brush the hair with a stiff brush
that will penetrate to the scalp.
BRUSH THUS FOR TWENTY MIN- !
L'TES. Brush your hair "continually,
constantly. Always brush it for sev
eral minutes at a time. Comb as little
as possible. Stimulate the scalp. Do
not Irritate it.
Now perform the rest of your toilet
with your hair hanging loosely, open
to the air. If you can, sit in a sunny
window for 10 minutes, each morning.
Water, air, sunshine—all in modera
tion—are the best, because the most j
natural, tonics of the hair.
If your hair is very dry, buy some
simple oil—olive oil, oil of cocoanut.
crude oil, or even vaseline will do.
Part the hair carefully when you
apply oil, so that the scalp may be
fed it the batr shall not be made
an oily dust collector. Never apply
oil more than once a week. The hair
cells are tiny and can take up but a
small amount. If this is carefully
applied and rubbed in once a week,
end the shampoo indulged in but once
Tabloid Tales
WHAT is meant. Mother by "as
beautiful as a dream"?
It is an expression. My Child,
whicti men use idly, and women, with
out thinking, accept as a compliment.
In dreams, something big and black,
With cruel teeth and eyes and claws,
is chasing the dreamer. If a woman
lodfced like that she would be locked
up.
Is there such a thing. Mother, as
unanimity among the women of the
tame households?
Yes, Child. They always agree on
this: That Father's overcoat will do
for another Winter.
When a woman begins to talk of at
last having found a Kindred Soul
among the other sex, what does It
mean, Mother Dear?
It means, mv Child, that trouble,-la
Miss Anna Held
a month, dry hair should soon have a i
natural gloss and luster and new life,
too.
If you are a victim of dandruff, ap- |
ply this simple tonic three times a '
week: Four ounces imported bay ;
rum, 10 grains of quinine and one
tablespoonful of witch hazel. Apply
with a medicine dropper and rub well
lata the scalp. One night a week ;
wipe off the scalp with absorbent
cotton dipped in warm witch hazel.
If the dandruff persists consult a re- ;
liable hair specialist. If your scalp is !
diseased you must have the germ of 1
sickness killed.
A SHAMPOO
..For healthy hair 1 recommend a
fortnightly shampoo. And be sure:
that occasionally just before your
shampoo you have the split and I
broken ends of your hair singed ori
cut. It makes a little difference!
which —for I am trusting that you
are above the superstition of our
bourgeoise.
Now train your hair to fall in a
i■• iNSTAXT CURVE. In hair as In
dress ihe unbroken line is always
prettiest.
Of course you will not dye your :
hair. Nature sends snow in winter—
it is just as pretty as are the green
trees of summer. If you have snow
on your head leave it. If your hair
is red or brown or golden or black
each shade has its admirers —be sure
of that. Eet nature, who is the true
artist, attend to your color scheme.
And the re<rt of the arranging is fit to
take all your energy.
in sight for her, and that she likes
the looks of it.
Why, Mother Mine, do men Just
naturally drift into compliments when
talking to women?
They don't. Little One: it is the in
terpretation that makes their remarks
complimentary. If a man says a
woman has an unusual face, she
thinks he means she is beautiful. If
he says her letters sound Just like her.
she takes that to mean that they are
Interesting. . >
Does a college graduate make a
good wife, mother?
She does, if she will let her husband
forget she was a college graduate.
What. Mother Mine, *ls an Ideal
Man?
It is ajwaifi, J4Ule One, a xnajried
ANNA HELD
Here are two of my pet coiffures.
! Perhaps one of them will suit your
face. The one on the right shows hair
parted in the center, pulled softly
over the temples, and again arranged
in softening line over ear. With the
comb you may pull the hair into
shape, and it will soon fall in the line
of your training. Now catch the hair
in a great, soft coil across the back
of the head, and add great pins of
bone or shell for the day time and
of brilliant for evening.
In choosing hair ornaments match
the hair as nearly as possible for the
day. and at night have the brilliancy
of contrast.
To obtain the effect of Figure 2 (on
the left) part the hair over the left
eye. or catch it back in a low pom
padour and pull out softening locks
over temples and ears with your comb.
If you are tall, a coil at the base of
your neck will be simple and pretty.
If you need height, pile the hair high
on your head. If your face is neither
unduly flat, yet guilty of some promi
nent feature, you will find a Psyche or
a great bun at the crown of your
head most effective.
Soft bandings across the hair are
I universally becoming, and a high up
standing ornament will give both a
piquant charm and a sense of impres
siveness.
Train your hair, Madame, and ar
range It after due study of your face.
For so shall you attain charm of ap
pearance and the reputation for
beauty under your sparkling natural
crown.
FRANCES L. GARSIDE
woman's description of the kind she
didn't Ret.
"What, Mother, is meant hy "an
gelic disposition"?
It is that disposition which many
nice young girls have hefore they
learn the men. After a girl with an
angelic disposition has met and loved
a man and married him she becomes
as changed as if she had been put
over to boll and modeled all over
again.
What, Mother, is Transmigration?
1 can define Transmigration best.
Little One, by giving an illustration.
The woman who refuses to gr> to
church on Raster because she hasn't
a new hat will wake up when she
reaches the next world to find she has
been transformed Into a sheep.
The
Seven Mistakes
Of Matrimony
No. 7.
DOROTHY DIX
THE seventh deadly mistake of
matrimony is:
NOT TO MAKE MATRIMONY
A PROFESS I (
'Perhaps the greatest mistake of
all, and the one that sums all the
others up, consists in regarding suc
cess in marriage as an accident in
stead of a premeditated result.
The most mischievous idea that has
ever been promulgated is that mar
riage is a lottery, in which everything
is determined by blind chance, and
in which it is a mere matter of luck
whether you get a desirable life part
ner or an undesirable one, or are
harpy or miserable.
Nothing on earth is further from
the truth than this. Nowhere else
does the inevitable logic of cause and
effect work out so relentlessly as in
the domestic relationship. Nowhere
else do we so absolutely reap as we
sow as in the family circle, and, given
certain people and certain conditions,
it is just as demonstrable that a
marriage will work out wel, or badly
as it is that two and two make four.
The trouble with us is that we have
never yet elevated matrimony to the
dignity of a profession, for which we
have thought it worth while to pre
pare. That is why we fail in the
most important thing in life. Xo
young man would expect to make a
howling success as a surgeon or a
lawyer if he had never even contem
plated seriously mcdic 1 no or the law,
yet a poor deluded woman marries
him under the impression that she is
getting a first class husband, and he
himself has no doubt of his qualifica
tions on that score.
A young woman who wants to be
an opera singer devotes years of
arduous labor to fitting herself to
sing on the stage, hut she does not
spend an hour preparing herself to
fill the far more difficult and com
plicated role of a wife and mother.
\ WRON<G *SSI MPTIOV
People seem to think that a knowl
edge of how to be good husbands and
wives comes by nature, as Dogberry
thought the knowledge of how to
read and write did. Both assumptions
are equally false. It takes effort and
perspiration as well as inspiration to
succeed in any calling, and especially
the domestic calling.
Undoubtedly the matrimonial situa
tion would be enormously eased if
men and women would married
life by a thorough understanding of
just the elementary things. If every
Woman kn.'w how to kt-r-p house and
make a comfortable home when she
marries, instead of having to learn
her trade on her husband, and if every
man could be brought to realize be
fore marriage just how much money
it costs to support a family, a vumg
couple would start out with an in
finitely better chance for happiness
than they have where the wife gets
hysterical over her inability to cook a
meal that isn't a menace to life Itself,
and where the husband is in a perpet
ual grouch when it dawns on him that
matrimony is conducted on a cash
basis, instead of the hot air currency
of courtship.
The hope of tile future is for intel
ligent people to regard marriage as a
profession that is worthy of pro
found study, and in which it is as
much a disgrace to fail as It is In the
practice of any other profession.
A SECRET
It is literally true that almost any
marriage could be made happy, or at
least endurable, if either husband or
wife would puseue the method that
he or she would iri trying to attain
success in any profession or business,
and all that would be necessary to do
this would be to use the same tactics
that are used in the practise of busi
ness or the professions.
Take the matter of the husband*
and wife's relationship. That is merely
a partnership, and all that any mar
ried couple need to achieve idea!
happiness is just to rise to the point
where they can treat eac'i other as
two men in business together do.
Find a husban*J and wife who work
together with the same interest in
view, who are climbing up together,
who share equally in the profits of
their joint labor, who talk things over
together and have an equal voice in
deciding things, yet who allow each
other in their individual capacity per
sonal liberty, and you have got a
husband and wife whose domestic
felicity is strong enough to draw
money on at the bank.
Furthermore, a man who has any
intelligence tries to >jet along with
the people with whom he deals. If
he was always quarreling with his
partner he would ktiow that the
house was bbund to come to disaster.
He would be aware that if he did not
exercise tact and diplomacy toward
his clients that it was a mere matter
of time until the sheriff sold him out.
Women know these things too, and
there is nobody who is more long suf
fering, and patient, and filled with
forbearance than the business or pro
fessional woman who has to cajole
the men above her in order to hold
down her job.
J VST SI'IMPOSE
Suppose these men and women who
are so plausible and suave in order
to succeed in their business should
apply an equal amount of diplomacy
at home: suppose these men and
women, who are so careful to side
step the little peculiarities of their
customers, would be as nimble in
sidestepping the little peculiarities
of their husbands and wives, wouldn't
they make matrimony as great a suc
cess us they do law, or medicine, or
the grocery business?
Yea. verily. We quarrel with those
with whom we live because we do
not think it worth while to keep the
peace. W° s »y brutal things to them
because- there is no money in our
pocket for being polite. We wound
them In their tender sensibilities be
cause they can't get away rrom us,
anyway. We make marriage a failure
because wo are too ignorant and lazy
and careless to make it a success.
And the shame is on our own heads.
It ought to be just as much a reflec
tion upon any man's qi- woman's abil
ity to be a bankrupt in domestic hap.
plness as a bankrupt in business.
And it will be when we take mar
riage out of the amateur class and
i put It in.the professional.
THE FAMILY CUPBOARD
As Dick entered Kitty turned .
joyfully to see him, and as she
hopped from her chair she
seemed to drop some of her as
Yon Can Begin This
Great Story Today by
Reading This First
THE opening scene is laid In the
palatial home of Charles Nelson,
whom the world calls a successful
man. In reality, Nelson's money has
caused his wife to become a society
leader, so that he gradually finds his
home becoming more and more cheer
less and less like a home. He enters
his house to find his only son drunk
and attempting' to kiss Mary Burk,
Mrs. Nelson's secretary. He upbraids
the boy, who turns on his father and
accuses him of maintaining another
establishment uptown. Mrs. Nelson
enters the room just In time to hear
the accusation. Nelson confesses to
her that the charge is true. She
declares she will leave him. Alice,
the daughter, sides with the father.
Kenneth, the son. takes the mother's
part. Nelson takes lodgings at the
Alpine apartments. Through a device
of Mis. Harding, a mutual friend of
the estranged, couple. Mrs. Nelson
goes to the Alpine. There she meets
Kitty Claire, the girl to whom Nelson
had given his attentions.
Now Read On
C\OVEMZED BY)
(From (Iwen Pavta' play now being presented
■ t the Playhouse by William A. Brady.—
Copyrighted, 1913, by International News
SerTlce.)
Continued from Yesterday
"Because 1 might have been fool
enough to forgive him!" The wife
spoke In a toive of grim Judgment.
She had seen the "girl"—there would
be no forgiveness now.
"So you know. That's why he left
home? Oh. I am sorry." Kitty Claire
was thinking of the man both women
loved. Emily Nelson was thinking of
her own proud, beautiful self.
"You have no need to be sorry.
Now you may have him all to your
self." Cold disgust, hatred almost,
spoke in Emily Nelson's clear cut
syllables.
Kitty hesitated. "He's a good man
•—suppose 1 was to go away!"
Adapted from Owen Davis' Broadway Success.
sumed refinement and to become
her real self.
"Dick!"
"Kitty May!"
"Your movements do not interest
me." There was the chill cold ot
liquid air in the answer.
PLAIX ANSWERS
"Emily!" cried Sarah Harding.
There was pity—for both women in
her voice.
'1 mean it. On tlie level. I do!"
said Kitty.
"Do you think that I would trust
you." said Mrs. Nelson in utter scorn.
"No. 1 guess not." Kitty looked her
over with careful thoroughness. "You
haven't the brains."
Mrs. Nelson scorned to be insulted
by Kitty Claire. "What you and he do
is nothing to me."
Kitty dusted off a corner of the table
and perched herself on it with elab
orate care.
"Then I'll may. I've often won
dored how any woman lucky enough
to be his wife could bear to lose him.
I know now! He got enough of the
lady thing at home, and it's about all
he did get. Thank God, I made him
forget his troubles sometimes; that's
more than you ever did."
"Come, Sarah."
With one look of withering scorn at
the cause of it all, Emily Nelson swept
into the hall and away. Kitty swung
her feet Impudently and lamrhed care
lessly.
Trembling, hesitating, in the ex
treme depression of all her plans gone
astray, Sarah Harding followed her
angry friend. For one moment her
sense of humor triumphed over the
difficulties that beset them all. and
she stopped to speak to Miss Ryan:
"My dear, we shan't want that Fourth
avenue apartment!"
Kitty slid from the table, straight
ened her coat with sundry little pats
at the hips and marched independ
ently over to Miss Ryan.
"I want to *cc Mr. Nelson," said she.
With a hard look at Kitty, Miss
Ryan spoke into the phone:
"A lady"— she winked insolently at
Kitty—"has called —No. sir—they went
—Yes, sir-—departed hastily."
She tuyned to Kitty. "Name, please?"
"Miss Claire. I will go up."
Coldly Miss Ryan answered: "Not
in this house, you won't."
"Miss Claire—yes, sir," she an
nounced into the phone, and then
turned in triumph to Kitty: "He'll be
DOWN."
Whereupon she picked up her red
backed novel and ignored Miss Kitty
Claire.
KITTY'S FATHER
At this moment a blowsy old fellow
with obvious signs of a fatal fond
ness for gin entered the hall. He
wore a sort of half-livery and ap
peared Just what he was—a night
hawk cabby of the old school trying
to look like a private chauffeur ot
the new regime. He made up for any
lack of style by a manner of extraor
dinary* cheerfulness.
"Say, Kitty," he began with an air
of importance. The red faced old man
appeared like nothing in all the world
so much as a little child who has a
secret to tell.
"I told you to sit in the machine and
keep It warm!" said Kitty, angrily.
"Guess who's outside?" asked her
chauffeur with a calm air of intimacy.
And why not? For Jim Garrity,
chauffeur to Miss Kitty Claire, was
none other than her father, and he
himself had carried her to church the
day she was baptised Kitty May Gar
rity.
"Guess who's outside?" said he.'
"Judging from your smile it must
be a barkeeper," said she with a calm
lack of filial respect.
"Dick le Roy!"
"No!" Kitty fairly danced in glee.
"Dick le Roy," indeed! Her old
vaudeville partner. This was Kitty's
own world.
"Yes! He spots me sittln' up in
the car. And the first thing I heard
somebody says, 'My Gawd! Gasoline
must be cheap!"
"Same old Dick! - ' cried Kitty in
high glee.
"You bet!" I told him you was in
side. Can he come in?"
"Sure he can, why not?"
Jim ran to fetch "the same old
Dick." And "the same old Kitty
crossed over to the high mantel,
climbed on a conveniently placed
chair and examined her reflection in
the mirror. While she was arrang
ing her hat at a more satisfactory
angle, Dick le Roy entered the hall
way and stopped in the door. Dick
was a good looking young chap in
clothes that he would have described
as "classy." A "song and dance
artist" was Mr. le Roy—and he looked
the part. Kitty turned joyfully to
see him. and as she hopped down from
her chair she seemed to drop some of
her assumed refinement and to be
come her real self.
"Dick!"
"Kitty May!"
AN OLD FRIEXD
Kitty ran to Dick and kissed him
with the warmth of real affection.
In a manner expressing extreme dis
approval. Miss Ryan arose and with
a gesture that she took to be majes
tic drew the heavy curtains of the
door, closing off the room and Dick
and Kitty from her offended gaze.
"Dear old Dick!"
"Immense:" replied Mr. Le Roy.
"Two years, Dick."
"Been playin' the Sullivan and Con
sidlne time. They wouldn't let me
get home. I'm the big scream west
of Chicago."
"West of Chicago ain't a scream;
it's a sob."
"What's doing. Kitty? Yon look
like four million dollars! There's even
class to Jim! Got a live one?"
"Don't get fresh. I'm Kitty Claire.
Forget that Kitty May thing. I'm
out of the business."
"That old guy from Alorristown,
the gink with the wind tormenters,
didn't marry you, did he?"
"No. He died, but he don't know
it yet." Kitty suddenly observed the
compromising aspect of the closed
curtains. She crossed over and drew
them apart, prepared to speak re
provingly to that telephone girl, but
thought better of any exhibition of
temper, as an attractive young chap,
with clothes that had been built in
the heart of Fifth avenue, stopped
by the desk. Kitty had found that
observation was the better part of
valor, so she waited.
"Mr. Nelson?" said he of the Fifth
avenue air to Miss Ryan.
Kitty looked with deepening in
terest.
"Name, please?"
"Say to Mr. Nelson that his son has
called.
Kitty's look grew intent. Even
minnows might be fish when they
came to her net.
"He's expecting you." said Miss
Ryan affably. "He phoned you was
to come right up. Show the gentle
man up, William."
As Kenneth Nelson disappeared un-
John K. M»teO^^Pr^B^^^^^^^
Grant Avenue*at Geary St., San Francisco. Phone Sutter 36(X
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Take notice! We close at 5:45 p. m. We were
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i employes.
A Dramatic Story of
Society Life in New York.
der William's guidance, Kitty came
wonderingly back to Dick.
"I know that kid." remarked Mr. le
Roy. "Met him in the Vandergilt bar
night before last. He's a friend of
Billy Webb's. You know Billy?"
"Yes," said Kitty, making a few
mental notes for future reference.
A SWELLED HEAD
"Kid's name is Mason or Nelson
something like that. Got a bad caae
of swelled head and an awful appe-
I tite for booze. But he's class, even if
he can't remember that he met me."
But the time was not far away when
Kenneth Nelson would long In vain
to forget that he had met Dick le Roy.
"Is it all right my buttin' in, kid?
I don't want to spoil nothin'," said
Dick with a touch of anxiety—tender
ness, almost.
"Why shouldn't it be all right? I'm
not ashamed of my friends." Kitty
tossed it off with a fine little show of
spirit. •
"You look sweller than ever, Kitty,
but ain't you never hungry to get
back to vaudeville?"
"I quit being hungry when I quit
vaudeville," said Kitty tersely.
Dick smiled—and then pleaded his
cause.
"Believe me, you had a swell fu
ture:"
Kitty was quite airy now. "Maybe.
But I had a bum present. Say. Dickie
boy, here's my card. Come up to see
me one day. Do now!"
"Well, I declare—(lass, class, kid.
West Ninety-fifth street: That's go
ing some. When can I come?" Dick
tried the society manner, too.
"Any old time." said Kitty pertly.
"That's tonight. 1 got a date every
other night until tomorrow. Honest,
I'm awful glad to see you:"
William, the dusky deity of the ele
vator, shot it down to the hall.
Charles Nelson stepped out to the
door of the room and stood there
looking coldly at Dick le Roy.
"Hello! You took your time. Thrfc
is an old friend of mine. Mr. le Roy,
Mr. Nelson."
"How are you?" said Nelson, with
unwavering coldness.
Dick crossed over to Nelson with
assured friendliness. His hardy
perennial smile was blooming in full
force, and his hand was extended
with all the good fellow spirit in his
power.
"Glad to know you. I was just
tellin" Kitty"—
Charles Nelson turned coldly away.
He wondered to what extent he must
know Kitty's—friends.
"Dick!" cried the astute and dis
cerning young woman.
"Yes?" said Dick, blandly.
"There were a lot of big buildings
went up while you washout west.
Suppose you go and look at one of
them."
B ELSOX HE ARS AM.
The hardy perrenial had been a
bit nipped by the trost. But with a
fine air of being at home in chilly
reception halls or among tall build
ings, Dick made his exit.
"I gotcher. Glad I met you, sir;
see you later. Kitty, be good."
Netaon drew the curtains and stood
looking sternly at Kitty.
Kitty wondered a bit uneasily if
she had blundered in letting; l»ik
penetrate the Alpine apartments. She
sat on the little just made for two
sofa and brushed her skirts aside
with an invitation her eyes seconded.
"Dick's all right. I used to work
with him. You don't mind my asking
him in here?"
Nelson sank beside her —not affec
tionately—almost in abstraction.
"How did you know that I was
here?" he asked, with a sternness
that did not seem entirely due to his
talk with Dick.
"I got it out of your man Johnson
at the office. I didn't make any fuss
—honest, 1 didn't —but you haven't
been up for a week." Her voice was
like a pouty child's.
"I had no time," said Nelson in a
tone of finality.
Continued Tomorrow-