Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume], July 27, 1916, Image 2

About Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916

Image provided by: State Historical Society of Iowa

                
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CHAPTER X. (Continued.)
The rings were really valuable.
jTbetr grandmother, their mother's
Jiother, whom they had never seen,
had $vid£d her "real Jewelry" be
reett.'hejr tvo' daughters. And the
other ol.t^ese parkon^ge girls had
rther jmVJjJedl iier portfoii'to make-It
»cti tkrotigh her own family of
ftirls! Prudence had a small but beau
'iBfur^hjaln tiny pearls. Fairy's
^fhare'Cotiaisted of a handsome brooch,
iprlthliv"Blire eribugh diamond" in the
nterl The fwfln rubies of another
•ooctffoad been reset in rings for
irol
vat*I
's probably stolen already," ob
^sted Fairy.
j'."Well, if it is, we'll find out who did
!, and have them arrested. I'm going
|§awn to telephone to the police. You
jglrls must lock the door after me, and
itay right here."
The little ones screamed again, and
{Hairy said: "Don't be silly, Prue, if
J*ou go I'm going with you, nf course.
|We'll leave the kiddies here and they
|ean lock the door. They'll be per
jfectly safe in here."
i. But the children loudly objected to
jtfcls. If Prue and Fairy went, they
!would
*ETEY DINK HE'LL GET ONTO IT FINALLY
ovi NOV/— Do
PRUDENCE
OF THE PARSONAGE
THE FAMOUS STORY OF A HAPPY EAM1LY
*gf$
J3y EtJjel Ihies^on
ConruOTt 1911 BY Til BOBM-MIMILL Co.
Lark, arid Were the price-
„«s t*«Muj»sbf h6tr lives! And in
he dungeon wais'a'solid gold bracelet,
rtit^g imtir Connie's arm should be
ieM3jr developed to do it justice.
W rttifes! Our rings J" the twins
rere -#®Hliig, and Connie, awakened
|y tfcS#%dlse, W dis crying beneath the
reiffef her Wed.
"Mi#be we'd" better phone for Mr.
ulai^ suggested" Fairy. "The girls
|re they will b« hysterical
tfifc^flnS* we finish searching the
wUiEfl r..:-.
"Wdii let's do the upstairs then,"
Id'PrBdenoe. "Get your slippers
lHmonos and we'll go into daddy's
Swt&iMide the door of daddy's room,
tth the younger girls .clinging to. her,
id Fairy looking odd -and-jdisturbed,
gudence stopped abrupt aiid-^t^red
Ut the room curiously.
F»$y didn't father leave his
,tch hanging on that nail by the
e?. Seems to me saw it there thip
ijng. remember thinking I
d. te4se. him for feeing forgetful."
nd the watch was not there.
'I: think It was Sunday he left it,"
iWered Fairy in a low voice. "I re
ber seeing It" on the nail and
iking he would need it—but I be
eve it was Sunday."
Prudence looked under the bed, and
the closet, but their father's room
empty. Should they go farther?
a moment the girls stood looking
one another "queetionirigly. Then—'
iy heard a loud thud downstairs, as
some one pounding on a door,
ere was no longer any doubt. Some
ewas in the house! Connie and the
screamed again and clung to
dence frantically. And Fairy
,d, "I think we'd better lock ,the
and stay right here until morn
g, Prue."
But Prudenoe fsuqed .them stubourn
"If you think i'm going to let any
.e steal that fifty dollars, you are
staken. Fifty dollars does not
often enough for that, I can tell
go! So down the stairs they
itrooped, a timorous trembling crowd.
'^Prudence went at once to the tele
phone and called up the residence of
(tie Allans, their neighbors across the
Itd^treet. After a seemingly never end-
Hng wait, thtf kind hearted neighbor
his bed to answer the insistent
telephone. Falteringly Prudence ex
jplained their predicament, and asked
mat
^oqaooe and search the house. He
tfOmfad te be there in five minutes,
Vdtfc W son to help.
g.*'Now," said Prudence more cheer
filly, "we'll just go out to the kitchen
wait. It's quiet there, and away
MfOrom the rest of the house, and we'll
fee perfectly safe." To the kitchen,
4jben, they hurried, and found real coni
rffiact in its smallness and sepureness.
'Prudence raked up the dying embers
'of the fire and Fairy drew the blinds
to their lowest limits. The twins and
Connie trailed them, fearfully at ev
ery*, step.
When the fire was burning bright
ly, Prudence spoke with great assur
ance. "I'll just run Jn to the dungeon
and see for sul-e If the money is there.
I do not honestly believe there is a
soul in the bouse, but I can't rest until
I know that money Is safe."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," said
Fairy, "you'll stay right here and wait
with us. I do not beHeve there's any
one fti the house, either, but If there
is, you shan't run into hira by your
self. You stay right where, you are
»nd don't be silly. Mr Allan will do
the investigating."
Every breath of wind against the
-windows drew startled cries from the
younger girls, and both Fairy and
Prudence were white with anxiety
when they heard the loud voices of
the Allans outside the kitchen door.
Prudence began crying nervously the
•moment the two angels of mercy ap
peared before herL aiid Fairy told their
tale of woe.
"Well, there now," Mr. Allan said
with rough sympathy, "you just got
scared, that's all. Everything's sus
picious when folks get scared. I told
my wife the other day- I bet you girls
would get a good fright some time
left here alone. Come, on, Jim, and
we'll go over the house in a jiffy.".
He was ".standing near the dining
room dopr,. H,e li.ft.ed his' head sudden
.ly aiyj geJkfiaed jo snij^ "a "Uttl^.. .There
wks undoubtedly a faftit odor of to
bacco in the house.
"Been any men in here, tonight?"
he asked. "Or this afternoon?. Think
now!"
"No one." answered Prudence.
aI
was alone all afternoon and there has
beeft no one in this evening."
He passed slowly through the din
ing room into the hall, closely followed
by his son and the Ave girls,* already
much reassured. As he passed the
dungeon door he paused for a moment,
listening intently, his head bent.
"Oh, Mr. Allan," cried Prudence,
"let's look In the dungeon first. I
want to see if the money is safe." Her
hand was already on the lock, but he
shoved her away quickly.
"Is there any way out of that closet
besides this door?" he asked.
"No. We call it the dungeon,"
laughed Prudence, her self possession
quite recovered. "It is right under the
stairs and not even a mouse could
gnaw its way out, with this d6br shut."
"Who shut that door?" he inquired,
still holding Prudence's hand from the
lock. Then without waiting for an an
swer, he went on, "Let's go back in
the other room a minute. Come on,
all of you." In the living room he hur
ried to the telephone and spoke to the
operator in a low voice. "Call the
police headquarters and have them
send two or three men to the Metho
dist parsonage, right away. We've got
a burglar locked in a closet and they'll
have to get him out. Please hurry."
At this the girls crowded around him
again in renewed fear.
'Don't be scared," he said calmly,
"we're all right. He's in there safe
enough and can't get out for a while.
Now, tell me about it. How did you
get him in the closet? Begin at the
beginning and tell me all about it."
Carol began the story with keen rel
ish. "I woke up and thought I heard
some one In the room. I supposed it
was Prudence. I said, 'Prudence,'
and nobody answered, and everything
was quiet. But I felt there was some
one in there. I nudged Lark and she
woke up. He moved them, and we
both heard him. He was fumbling at
the dresser and our ruby rings are
gone. We heard him step across the
room and into the closet. He closed
the door after him, didn't he. Lark?"
"Yes, he did," agreed Lark. "His
hand was on the knob."
"So we sneaked out of bed, ran
went into Prudence's room and woke
her and Fairy." She looked at Con
nie and blushed. "Connie was asleep
and we didn't waken her because we
didn't want to frighten her. We woke
the girls—and you tell the rest, Pru
dence.'
-v*" V"
The Courier's Magazine
3'
OU. THE
Love
OF MIKE
ASAIVJ
"We didn't believe her, of course.
We went back into their1 room and
there was no one there. But the rings
were gone. While they were looking
at the dresser, I remembered that I
forgot to lock the dungeon door where
we keep the money and the silverware
and I ran downstairs and slammed the
door and locked it and went back up.
I didn't hear a sound downstairs."
Mr. Allan4laughed heartily. "Well,
your burglar was in that closet after
the money, no doubt, and he didn't
hear you coming and got locked in.
Did you make any noise coming down
the stairs?"
"No. I was in my bare feet and I
tried to be quiet because if there was
any One in the house, I did not want
him coming at me in the dark. I ran
back upstairs and we looked in fath
er's room. I thought father had for
gotten to take his watch with him but
it wasn't there.—Do you really think
it was Sunday he forgot it, Fairy?"
"No," said Fairy, "it was there this
afternoon. The burglar's got in the
dungeon with hkn, of course.—I Just
said it was Sunday to keep from scar
ing the twins."
In a few minutes they heard foot
steps around the house and knew the
officers had arrived. Mr. Allan let
them into the house, four of them, and
led thera out to the hall. There could
be no doubt whatever that the burg
lar was In the dungeon. He had been
busy with his knife and the lock was
nearly removed. If the officers had
been two minutes later, the dungeon
would have been empty. The girls
were sent upstairs at once, with the
Allan boy as guard—ae guard, wthout
regard for the fact that he was prob
ably more frightened than any one of
them.
The chief officer rapped briskly on
the dungeon door. Then he clicked
his revolver.
"There are enough of us to overpow
er three of you," be said curtly. "And
we have men outside the house, too.
If you make any disturbance, we shall
all fire the Instant the door is opened.
If you put your firearms on the floor
and hold both hands over your head,
you'll be well treated. If your, hands
are not up, we fire on sight. Get your
revolvers ready, boys."
Then the officer opened the door.
Evidently the burglar was wise
enough to appreciate the futility of
fighting against odds. Perhaps he did
not wish to add the charge of man
slaughter to that of robbery. Certain
ly, he did not feel himself called to
sudden death. At any rate, his hands
were above his head, and in less than
a second he was securely manacled.
The chief officer had been eying him
closely. "Say!" he exclaimed. "Aren't
you Limber-Limb Grant?" The burg
lar grinned, but did not answer. "By
jove!" shouted the officer. "It is! Call
the girls down here," he ordered, and
when they appeared, gazing at the
burglar with mingled admiration, pity
and fear, he congratulated them with
considerable excitement.
"It's Limber-Limb Grant," he ex
plained. "There's a reward of five
hundred dollars for him. You'll get
the money as sure as you're born."
Then he turned again to the burglar.
"Say, Grant, what's a fellow like you
doing a fifth rate job as this? A Metho
dist parsonage is not just in your line,
is it?"
Limber-Limb laughed sheepishly.
"Well,' he explained good naturedly,
"Chicago got too hot for me. I had
to get out in a hurry and I couPdn't
get my hands on airy money. I had
a fine lot of jewels but I was so pushed
I couldn't use them. I came here and
loafed around town for a while, be
cause folks said Mount Mark was so
fast asleep it did not even wake up
long enough to read the daily papers.
I heard about this parsonage bunch
and knew the old man had gone oft to
get more religion. This afternoon at
the station I saw a detective from Chi
cago get off the train, and I knew what
that meant. But I needed some cash
and so I wasn't above a little job on
the side. I never dreamed of getting
done up by a bunch of preacher's kids.
I went upstairs to get those family
jewels I've heard about, and one of
the little ones gave the alarm. I al
ready had some of thera, so I came
down at once. I stopped in the dun
geon to get that money and first thing
I knew the door banged shut. That's
all. You're welcome to the five hun
dred dollars, ladies. Some one was
bound to get it sooner or later, and I'm
partial to the ladies, every time."
Limber-Limb Grant was a modern
thief of the new class. At that mo
ment, in Chicago, he had in storage a
hundred thousand dollars' worth of
jewels, which he could not dispose of
on the pressure of the moment. Th&
law was crowding him close, and he
'was obliged to choose between meet­
OTTUMWA COURIER.^ WSDAV^LY 27,
But 'Mount Mark had aroused from
its lethargy. Limber-Limb Grant was
In the hands of the law.
Mr. Starr had been greatly interest
ed in the accounts of the evangelistic
services being held in Burlington. The
workers were meeting with marked
success and Mr. Starr felt he should
get in touch with them. So on Thurs
day morning he took the early east
bound train to Burlington. There he
sought out a conveniently located sec
ond class hotel and took up residence.
He attended the services at the taber
nacle in the afternoon and evening and
then went to bed at the hotel. He
slept late the next morning. When he
finally appeared, he noticed casually,
wtihout giving it thought, that the
clerk behind the desk loked at him
with marked interest. Mr. Starr nod
ded cheerfully and the clerk came at
once from behind the desk to speak to
him. Two or three other guests, who
had been lounging about, drew near.
(To be continued.)
Eo ening Story
ON THE
Suddenly something hit him with
sickening force in the solar plexus,
and he sat up before he was awake
with the dim idea that the largest pro
jectile of a foreign bombardment had
selected him for a traget.
Then something said softly, "Goo!"
and, with a few delightful gurgles,
"Goo!" again. A baby looked up at
him with placid blue eyes and twisted
the corners of its little rosebud mouth
into a thousand smiles, beating the
air at the same time with two pink
fists that fairly vibrated with excite
ment.
"Where did you come from, baby
dear? Out of the everywhere into the
here!" came into Ted's head.
"Hello, there, mister or miss or
whatever you are!" he exclaimed.
"Where did you come from?"
Baby gurgled in answer.
"You don*t say so! Well, if you had
only sent word I might have been bet
ter prepared to receive you. But it
seems to be the thing nowadays to
drop in informally. I suppose—" Ted
looked around and saw no one who
appeared to have lost a baby recently,
or who might in any way be associated
with one. "I suppose," he said, "that
you fell out of the chair, seeing that
you had such a nice soft thing to land
on!"
"Here—that won't do!" as baby tried
to stuff a moist, sand-covered hand In
to its mouth. "I'll bet you're a boy!"
brushing it. off and grabbing the other
just in time to prevent a like accident.
"Boy's are always thinking of their
stomachs! But when you smile at me
so sweetly-1 think you're a girl. The
girls all like me to pieces. Honor
bright!" The wide-open blue eyes
searched him inquiringly. "All except
one, and she doesn't think I'm worth
two for a' cent. But it's all because
she doesn't know me. We have never
been introduced. By Jove, here she
comes now!"
A variety of reasons caused him to
pick the baby up just then—either to
hide the confusion which he always
felt when the girl came near, or be
cause It looked heartless to let a beau
tiful, embroidered, shell-pink baby lie
unprotected on the sand. But, any
way, he picked it up and laid it over
his shoulder in the way babies love,
as though he had beeB head nurse in
a foundling asylum all his life.
The girl passed, but not before she
had taken in the stage setting and the
chief performers of the little act.
To go back, Ted and the girl were
staying a't the same hotel. He had
tried to meet her—as he had explained
to the baby—but no mutual friend, had
TRN TO COWCEWT««T*
OKI »T HOW,
AOAIVJ-
I
ing the law or running away from it.
He ran. He reached Mount Mark and
trusted to its drowsiness for conceal
ment for a few weeks. But that after
noon the arrival of a detective gave
him warning and he planned his de
parture promptly. A parsonage occu
pied by only five girls held no terrors
for him and with fifty dollars and a
few fairly good jewels a man of his
talent could accomplish wonders.
1R\CHT SttOUlDfitt.
A-RVtS
-SAND.
By LOUISE OLIVER.
(Coypright, 1916, by the McClure
Newspaper Syndicate).
The swim out to the sand bar and
back six times repeated had made Ted
tired. Add to that a scorching July
sun. the inviting shade of a. beech
chair and a natural propensity for
sleep at any time and under all con
ditions, and you can readily under
stand why Morpheus found him an
easy victim that eventful morning.
so far appeared. But he had man
aged to let her know he was interest
ed. She had fairly to fall over him
on her way to the dining-room, he
chose to bathe at the place where she
took her daily dip, and at the same
hour, and he frequented the amuse
ments she liked best. On the other
hand, the girl continually frowned her
displeasure at his presence, and it was
evident that she was just as keen to
avoid meeting him as be was anxious
to meet her.
The girl walked along with her com
panion, but turned back as she saw
something lying on the sand. Ted's
heart nearly stopped when he saw her
coming, and he almost dropped the
baby, but he clutched it tightly, des
perately, when she picked up the top
and handed it to him, with, "Here is
your baby's rattle!" and, half stopping,
"Cute little thing—looks like you!"
She was gone with that, and Ted
suddenly wished the sands would swal
low him and spare him any further
torment of living. His baby! Merciful
heavens!
"So you look like me! We aught
to be chums, then, I suppose, with a
common grievance like that but I
think it's time we parted company.
Back you go where you came from,
babykin. Nurse or some one will be
back soon. I'll come along in five
minutes or so to see if you are all
right." He laid the baby in its soft
nest, gave it the rattle and tried to
collect his scattered senses by another
swim to the bar.
Sure enough, when he returned baby
was gone! He breathed more freely
then. He felt personally responsible
as long as no one else materialized.
Another day Ted came out of ,a
movie just as a woman passed wheel
ing a baby perambulator. Something
flew out of the carriage and landed
at his feet. He recognized the blue
rattle of his friend the baby and hand
edit over.
"Oh, thank you!" beamed the moth
er. "She's always throwing it out."
She was young and pretty—scarcely
more than-a girl. It occurred to Ted
to relate the episode of the baby's fall,
and he did so, suiting his step to her
own.
Of course the girl passed just then,
as the young mother was listening
with all attention to Ted.
"Darn!" he exclaimed stopping.
"I beg your pardon!"
I^e apologized profusely. "I forgot
something and must go back if you
will excuse me," he said, as he lifted
his hat and turned in the direction
the girl had taken. He could still see
her and, thank heaven, she was alone.
He followed unabashed, desperate!
She turned into a pavilion. facing the
sea, sought a comfortable chair in a
quiet corner and opened a book. It
was late afternoon and the evening
breeze was already blowing gently.
Ted came up beside her and after
an irresolute minute spoke. "I should
like to talk with you just a minute
if you don't object!"
She looked up. "Object? Well, I'll
have to listen, I suppose. Go ahead."
She closed her book.
"That baby Isn't mine!"
know it Isn't."
"What! Excuse me—I didn't under
stand. I thought, you thought—"
"He thought, we thought, you
thought, they thought," she finished
mockingly.
Ted Was very, red In the face by this
time.
"Now listen," said"" the girl, "I am
that lady's aunt. I was only teasing
you, so don't worry about it any more.''
He digested this. "Why don't you
like me?" he went on. "It's been so
evident in a hundred ways that you
don't. I'm really curious about it. Do
you mind telling me?"
"Mercy!" she cried. "I have cer
tainly developed into a regular bureau
of information. But I'll tell you that,
too! It's because you are here having
a good time for a month while George
Brownson, your partner, who happens
to be my brother-in-law and that baby's
father, is at home working his head
off in a hot office when he is dying
to be here with his family. He can't
leave as long as you are away."
Ted was speechless. "But I'd have
gone a week ago if—if—it hadn't been
for you!" he declared suddenly.
Then the girl smiled, the very" sort
of a smile he wanted to -see. "It's
wicked for me to keep George away
from May and the baby, isn't it?" she
s.aid. "I'll go home tomorrow."
"Then I'll go, too," smiled Jed.
REAPER HURTS GIRL.
Traer, July Z5.—While James Paua
tian, six miles west of Traer, was .test
ing a reaper, his little daughter, four
tfears old. stepped in front of the cycle,
while it was running. The big tendon
at knee was severed.
^r yi -«, r.jhiry-^
A^w,
Sovrr
,cvr
Sowe, SArt?«e
A
FFEU-E« CAVI?
U£A«U
ENT
FORGES
So for the physical exercise and
the sense of rhythm, I advise
dancing.
Questions and Answers
There is a deep cut in th» *kin at th*
tip of my notfi Jw# to falling on a ttliarp
stone while a child. The mark hat been
there twenty years: It spoifs my face, &«*»
I
accepted
it
6
•^1 \4«**ror
"n',. **-.•• •*#•'*. ^.-I ^t1'.'I'V^r* '7F"
Classic Dancing And Beauty
Mv LATEST ADVICE to beauty seekers
has been—learn to act! I am going
to supplement that with the advice—
learn to dance. Perhaps the latter is
nearer the reach of the average wom
an, for not every town has a dramatic
society or school that amounts to
anything.
But with the present erase for
(Bathetic dancing even the smaller
towns have teachers of this new-old
art. And few things will benefit a
woman more than this kind of
dancing.
For instance, a woman I know had
bewailed her homeliness and awk
wardness for years. She was getting
along In the thirties, losing all her
youth and elasticity—and she never
had been the least bit pretty. Some
how she started studying elassic
dancing. She abandoned corsets,
'earned to hold herself well without
them, studied dancing enthusiastical
ly. The exercise took ofT a pair of
'arge hlpe jand a large stomach,
rounded thin arms and shoulders
her grace of movement and line,
slcnderness and a youthful, elastic
figure. It did more than that, it gave
her an appreciation of melody that
she never had had, gave her a sense
of rhythm, lacking before, made her
supple, charming.
Of course, like most of those who
follow the footsteps of the assthetic
dancers, she did little with her
knowledge. That is, professionally.
She had not the ability nor the de
sire to appear in public and dance,
but she affected the classic, draped
type of garment to a certain extent,
forbore corsets, carried herself with
the graceful, sinuous manner of the
dancer. She was a hundred times
more attractive than she had ever
been.
^.v H.TV.W
So
BY A. VOIGHT
many
something unalterable
until I began reading your Chats. You
-rwifc of plastic surgery. Could that help
,?M's troublef—One of Your Renders.
A
€fm
Reply—Plastic surgery cannot hdp a
•kin you need a dermatologist
This trouble, as you call it, can b« aaallj
flyad do not think the expense WMI«
be great- It would eertalnfy pay you tc
consult
one ot
th#ae skin specialist*.
The classic dance develops the
personality
women loss
become fat
fhtfr
and
flabby
child. I
,0^7^21
a J2
ft
Ho,w did they locate Capt KMd's treasure
COMPLETE THJB. PICTURE BY THAWING
A
B&ra A1LN& 1 ANZTTA1UB T&Btt
I.IN£
ISSStZJr .... „.._.isr2==rr2
v»
tST-.
on*
after Wrt» oj
want to keep the^ young and
slim figure 1 have.
sets soon
Should I wear *r-
after the birth and up to a
short time before itt—Expectant Mother.
Reply—No—corsets reatrlct the groKrth
of tha child, and are only necessary ir.
some cases—tor support. Thta is a matter
for your doctor/"" After the birth, tho
trained nurse will bind the waist and hips
tightly with wide strips pf muslin, to hold
In place the weakened muscles, to preservo
the shape of the hips.
,... yp.tthew Adams
Courier's Drawing Puzzle
16
25 1-1
17
ThilOVQH
TUB D03&