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"oryrirh;, J»i3, Interottiooml News 3*r»lc«) A Question of Names .- —<■» Tomorrow: The Kokkle Roach [ THE SOLUTION j Senator La Follette, discussing a trade condition, said: "In this difficulty my solution would be the minister's. A minister, a doctor and a lawyer were dining at a lady s. The lady complained that her man servant broke a great deal of china. Her three guests then advised her what to do. "Fire him!" said the lawyer. But tlie lady had had him for many years, and lie was old, and she liked him. "Take hi; breakages out of his ■■rages." said the doctor. But he al ways 1 roke. It pppeared. more than "Then raise Lis wages," said tile The Dingbat Family Polly and Her Pals Us Boys THE KING OF DIAMONDS I HONIE a THRILLI KG STORY° r Continued From Yeatrrday "Ah, there you are right," was the ready rejoinder. "The Gaiety is her right place. She would be admirable in light opera. The conversation languished. The suggestion that Miss Atherley was best fitted for the stage was displeas ing to Philip, he scare Knew why. The girl was given a nearty encore, ' and her next song was a simple, hu morous little ballad about a miller and a maid. It was charmingly sung and acted. The critic leaned back in his chair and smiled at Philip with the Indulgent air of the man who says: "I told you so." Soon Philip rose to go. "Good heavens, man, you do not in tend to leave before Jowkacsy plays the suite in F minor?" queried his amazed acquaintance. "Sorry. I have an engagement." He quitted the hall, his tall figure riveting a good many eyes as he made his way toward an exit. One man, watching him from the gallery, smiled cynically and rose at the same time. Philip found the foyer to be prac tically deserted. He asked a police man on duty to call Mr. Anson's carriage from the ranks, and a foot man came, quickly, running lest he had incurred a reprimand for not being on the lookout for his master at the entrance. In a very little time Miss Atherley appeared, and with her a handsome, elderly lady, who was quite obviously her mother. The girl was radiant. She never expected a cordial recep i tion from a high class audience such ias gathered to worship the violinist j "Mother dear," she cried, "this is I Mr. Anson, who very kindly came to my assistance when a cabman gave me some trouble last night." Mrs. Atherley gave him a pleasant ; greeting, but turned to her daughter. "Why didn't you tell me of any 1 dispute when you returned home? J You know how nervous 1 am when THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1913 LOUIS TRACY you are out at night." The girl laughed merrily. "You have answered your own question, carlssima. That is precisely why I did not tell you." "Miss Atherley was good enough to permit me to meet you here after the concert," put in Philip, "so that I might add my assurances to her own that the affair was of no con sequence. It is early yet. "Will you come with me for some supper, and thus give me a chance of telling you how much I enjoyed your daughter's singing?" Wise Philip, to pay court to the mother. Mrs. Atherley, in no way deceived, yet gratified by the deference shown to her, gave the gill a questioning glance. "Oh, do let us go, mamma! I am famished, I candidly admit it. Mr. Anson, I have subsisted since lunch eon without a morsel." "We will be delighted—" began the older lady, but her attention was at tracted by the footman holding open the door of the carriage. "Is that carriage yours?" she said to Philip. "Yea." "Where do we sup?" "At the Savoy." She flushed slightly. "Not the Savoy," she faltered. "Why not, mother?" cried the girl, spiritedly. "Mr. Anson, my mother does not care to meet associates of of other days. I tell her she thinks far too much of these considerations. Why should she fear to face them simply because we are poor?" "I think, Mrs. Atherley," he said, quietly, "that you are very rich, far richer than many a mere de famille we shall meet at the restaurant." This neat compliment turned the wi ale of the mother's hesitation. In deed, she might well be proud of her beautiful daughter. The two ladies seated themselves in tut> luxurious landau with an ease that showed familiarity, but Mrs. Atherley. being' a woman, could not help being troubled in the matter of dress. "The Savoy!" she murmured, as the rubber tired vehicle glided away noiselessly. "I have not been there for years. And people at supper are always attired so fashionably. Could we not" — The girl put her arm around her waist. "Just for once, mamma, you shall not care a little bit, and none may be the wiser. Here is. Mr. Anson—quite an elegant himself—he would never guess that our gowns were home made." "The women, dear one. They will know." "Oh, you deceiver! You said my toilet was perfect, and I am quite sure yours is." This logic was Incontrovertible. Mrs. Atherley sighed, and asked what took place the previous night. Philip imagined that the girl hung back, so he boldly undertook an ex planation. By describing the cabman as apparently intoxicated, and cer tainly impudent, he covered a good deal of ground, and the rest was easy. When they reached the Savoy the anxious mother had relegated the in cident to the limbo of unimportant things. Only one other matter trou bled her —the somewhat unconven tional origin of her daughter's ac quaintance with this pleasant man nered young gentleman. She was far too tactful to hint at such a point just the-n. It should be reserved for home discussion. Meanwhile, they were early arriv als. The head waiter marshaled them to a window table. Mrs. Atherley smiled; she knew her Liondon. "You were sure we would accom pany you?" she cried. "Not at all sure; only hopeful," said Phillip. "Ah, well. It is good oocasionnliy to revisit the old scenes. No, Elf. I will sit here; I will not be en face to the row of tables. Half a dozen people would certainly recognize me, and I do not wish it." Elf! The name drove Philip's thoughts backward with a bound— ba<-k to a torrential night in a Lon don square arid the tearing open of a carriage door in time to save a sweet little girl all robed in white. Who, but for him, would have fallen with an overturned vehicle. lfllf! It was an unusual pet name. The child of 10 years ago would be about the age of the lively and splr ltuelle girl by his side. The child had faced her enraged uncle on that memorable night; the woman had refused to leave him when she thought danger threatened in the dark. t'ouUl it be possible! He was startled, bewildered, utterly dum founded by even the remote possibil ity that another figure from the past should come before him in such wise. "Mr. Anson! What have.you found ln the menu to perplex you so ter ribly? Does danger lurk in the agneau dv printempts! Is there a secret horror in the salmi?" Evelyn's raillery restored his scat tered wits. "May I say something personal?" he inquired. "About the lamb?" "About you? Mrs. Atherley called you 'Elf* just now." "Yes. I regret that I earned the title in ages past. The habits have ceased, but the name remains." "I once met a little girl named Elf. Tt was 10 years ago, on a March even ing, in a West End square. There had been a carriage accident. A pair of horses were frightened by a terrific thunderstorm. The girl was accom panied by a somewhat selfish gentle man. He jumped out and left her to her own devices; indeed, slammed tlto door in her face. A ragged boy"— "A boy with newspapers—a boy who spoke quite nicely—saved her by running Into the road. The carriage overturned in front of Lord Van- house. I was the girl!" Both ladies were amazed at the expression on Philip's face. He be trayed such eagerness, such intense longing', such keen anxiety to estab lish her identity with the child who figured in an accident of no very re markable nature that they could not help being vastly surprised. Their astonishment was not less ened when Philip exclaimed:' And I was the boy!" "But I said a 'boy with newspa pers.' " "Yes, a very urchin, a waif of the streets." "My uncle struck you." "And you defended me, saved me from being locked up, in fact." •'Oh. this is too marvelous. Mother, you must remember"—. "My dear one, I remember the event as if it had taken place yesterday. Your uncle would not have cared , were you killed that night. All ho Anyway, Skinny's Got a Good Disposition* • • United States Patent Of Acs) * ."" . wanted was your money. Now he has that, and mine. He was, Indeed, a wicked man." "Mother, dear, he is unhappy. Are we? But, Mr. Anson, what wonderful change in your fortunes has taken place since our first meeting? Is the newspaper trade so thriving that a carriage and pair, a supper at the Savoy, stalls at the Regent's hall and a bouquet from Rosalind's are mere trimmings, so to speak, to a busy day?" "Evelyn!" protested Mrs. Atherley. But the girl was too buoyant, too utterly oblivious of all that this meet ing meant to Philip, to cease from chaffing him. "Please, Mr. Anson, do tell us the secret. I will sell any paper you name. I get five guineas for singing two songs, I admit, but I may only sing them once a month. I have loads of time to run about crying. I This is India-Ceylon tea —more I I refreshing than green tea I 1 .r* and goes further. w I L f&gwqys %a J Mrs. D. Has No Show (Copyright, 1»18. International Newa Service) * • • 'Extrey speshul! 'Orrible disawsterV Or does the magic spring from writ ing those thrilling stories one sees placarded on the boardings? 1 be lieve I could do it. I once won a prize in a lady's magazine Tor a set of verses, the genuine and unaided production of a girl aged under 14." Philip compelled himself to respond to her mood. He promised to reveal his specific for money making at some future period, when she was sufficiently dazzled to accept his words as those of a prophet. With the tact of a woman of the world, Mrs. Atherley led the conver sation back to less personal channels. The great restaurant was rapidly fill ing now. The occupants of neighbor ing tables cast occasionally glances at the merry trio which discussed the foibles of tlie musical world, the ways of agents, the little meannesses and petty spites of the greatest ar Set Off the Alarm (Copyright, 1913. International Newt Service) ttsts, and. incidentally, did ample Jus-" tice to an excellent meal. Philip thought he had never before met such a delightful girl. Evelyn was quite certain that some un known good fairy had given her this pi.-asant acquaintance, and Mrs.* Atherley. after a silent spasm of re gret that her daughter should be de nied the position in the greater world for which she was so admirably fit ted, abandoned herself to the Infec tious gayety of the younger people. Both she and Evelyn confessed, to a feeling of renewed surprise when Philip happened to mention his Lon don address. Continued Tomorrow If you mix a little common baking soda with the bathbrick you will find the knives will clean easier.